The word 'poise' comes to mind at the beginning of every single day, every time Yoda watches Yan pour the morning tea. His padawan is the perfect picture of confidence and grace, serenity mixing with power.
And Yan is powerful. Yoda wonders if the boy knows it yet. He thinks not, simply for the way Yan is always seeking to impress and constantly brooding upon every failure.
"Tense, you are," he observes before taking a slow sip of the tea that Yan has set before him. The taste sends a shiver of pleasure through his little frame. A perfect blend of sweet spices and bitter gnute water. His padawan has learned the art of tea-making well...
Seemingly ignorant of the silent thanks that Yoda has sent him over the bond, Yan shuffles a bit and looks away. "No, master. I'm tired is all."
Yoda sets the tea down, slightly irked that he's been forced to forego yet another peaceful morning... but his padawan is far more important than his own wants. He settles back and stares steadily at the lad. "A question, it was not."
The dark-haired youth flicks dark eyes to him once more. "Why won't you let me enter the tournament, master?"
Ah, so it is that again. Yoda is no fool; he does not miss the pride that is building up around a slowly-growing ego. A 'poised' ego, yes, but an ego nonetheless. It is a fire just waiting to be fanned.
"This conversation, yesterday we had," he answers, squinting a little. The Force has suddenly grown a shade colder. "Too prideful, you are. Think yourself above them, you do."
He never was one to mince words, and with a selectively ignorant padawan he is not about to change it now. He watches as Yan's eyes narrow slightly. Perhaps the boy does know how much power is running through his veins. "All due respect, master... but I am above them. I've excelled in all of my courses. I'm leagues above their level of mastery. Master, I would school them."
Yoda has to agree, and he is proud of the boy for how much he's achieved at such a young age. And yet...
"Different is your Force, young one?" he questions, reaching for his tea once more. He takes a lazy sip, letting the hot nectar soothe his throat.
His padawan's brow furrows. "Different, master? Well, no. I don't suppose so..."
"Stronger?" he inquires.
Yan shakes his head, his black braid whipping back and forth. "No, master."
"Brighter?"
"No... master, why do you ask? I already know this."
And therein lay the issue. Yoda smiles gently. "Do you, padawan?"
The boy finally reaches for his own tea and takes a tentative seat across from him. "Yes, master."
"Hmph," Yoda huffs, taking another sip. "Know, you do. But believe it, you do not. Serve the same Force, all Jedi do, Yan. Serve this family, you shall, and usurp them, you shall not."
Yan answers with something of a forced smile, and Yoda senses a shadow yet again.
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