Chapter Nine: Flow (Part One)
The air was calm and heavy in the early morning, dense with moisture. The temple grounds were quiet, its usual inhabitants still in their rooms, tucked beneath their sheets. But whilst the other Padawans rested, two were up and out amongst the dewy hills and trees of Tython.
Atop a ridge that overlooked the temple, Osetto stood across from Ryska and Torzin. The teenagers were awake and ready to proceed with the day's lesson, albeit with a somewhat haggard countenance. Their robes were wrinkled and slightly offset, hanging off their bodies as if sluggishly thrown on. Their eyelids hung as heavy as the surrounding air. Meanwhile, the Consular stood upright and energized, donning a most pleasant expression.
"Today, we're going to learn about the Force," Osetto revealed. The words were almost lost on the drowsy Padawans, the white noise of the nearby stream filling their ears.
The Cathar rubbed her eye with the back of her hand, releasing a drawn out yawn. "Haven't we been doing that for the past few years?"
"Consider this an advanced course," Osetto delightfully detailed.
"Will Master Norrida be joining us for this lesson?" Torzin asked. The Mirialan was the more presentable of the two students, but even his adamant nature could not overpower the lethargy of the early morning.
"No, it'll just be me for this lesson," Osetto informed. "Dehros is busy seeing to some matters concerning later trials."
"What kind of trials?" Ryska wondered.
"Well, since he'll be handling your martial training, he's likely procuring the necessary items," Osetto reasoned.
Torzin perked up, a glint in his eye. "Like lightsabers?"
"Most likely," Osetto plainly stated. "But as he trains your bodies, my responsibility rests with training your minds… or rather, your spirits."
The Miraluka began to slowly walk away from his students, leaving the befuddled pair to look at each other before being waved to follow. The Padawans complied, feeling their bodies come to life as their muscles moved, as blood pumped through their veins, as every breath drew in the wet air. The Consular came to a stop a short distance from his original spot, standing beside a gently flowing stream. The clear waters flowed over the various pebbles beneath, following the straight path before falling over the ridge's edge.
Slowly, the Miraluka lowered himself to his knees and silently beckoned the Padawans to do the same. The three of them lined up, side by side, at the edge of the shallow stream. The Consular turned his head to the left and the right, being greeted with the eager face of a Padawan on each side. Within the quaint arrangement, they took a moment to bask in the peaceful environment, locked in an almost meditative state.
"The Force flows," Osetto began. "Water flows. A Jedi is neither the lake nor the mountain. Neither the source nor the terminus. We are the channel. The Force flows through us as water does through the river. It can be gentle. It can be chaotic. It can be natural. It can be forced. It can build. It can destroy."
"You're talking about the light and dark side, right?" Torzin inquired.
"In a way, yes," Osetto admitted. "But also the multifaceted, and sometimes contradictory, nature of the Force. The Force fuels us, and we can utilize it through near infinite applications. To alter. To sense. To control. Ourselves and others. Whatever limitations we encounter, they reside in ourselves, not the Force."
The calm was broken by the Cathar offering a polite chuckle. "So you're saying it's our fault if we can't lift a big rock."
"Precisely," Osetto replied, equally enthused. "And it's my job to make sure when the time comes, you can lift that big rock. Firstly, by getting rid of the notion that all the Force is good for is moving heavy objects."
A sharp grin stretched across Ryska's face. "But you gotta admit, it is pretty good at that.
"You have no idea," Osetto warmly stated. "Everything I needed to learn about the Force, I learn from Master Joren. He was a friend of my Master and a Kineticist. He didn't use a lightsaber. Didn't need one.
"Was he a pacifist?" Torzin wondered.
"On the contrary, he was one of the greatest fighters I've ever known," Osetto revealed. "He walked into battle armed with only the Force and was more than a match for any Sith."
"What happened to him?" Ryska asked.
"He was with my Master, as well as Dehros', during the Sacking of Coruscant," Osetto answered, noticeably solemn. "He perished in the battle, but not before he kept an entire skyscraper from collapsing long enough for us to make our escape."
"Wow," Ryska muttered, eyes growing incredibly wide. "I didn't know a Jedi could do that."
"Like I said, any limitations rest with ourselves, not the Force," Osetto repeated. "But even if he is no longer with us, I can pass along his teachings."
The Padawans watched as the Consular leaned forward until his face was over the gently flowing stream. Carefully, the Miraluka reached out with his hand, dipping his fingertips into the water. Taking a closer look, the students noticed that not a drop of water managed to actually touch the Master's fingers. Instead, the stream parted and flowed around his hand before converging on the other side.
"Joren used to say that the biggest roadblock in a Padawan's training stemmed from the fact that they are so focused on moving the motionless," Osetto declared as he retrieved his hand, still as dry as the moment prior to entry. "The Force is about flow."
"But what about things that aren't, you know, flowing?" Ryska wondered.
"Even if something seems stilled, it does not exist in isolation," Osetto explained. "Water, air, gravity. When you attempt to move an object with the Force, you are not merely moving that object, you are guiding it through the flows around it. Ignore those flows and you will struggle. Watch."
The students looked closely as the Consular held out his hand, this time flat over the water's surface. Below, a small pebble resting on the stream's bed began to slowly lift itself. As it swam toward to surface, it began to wobble and shake before being swept away with the gentle current.
"Focus too hard on the pebble, and you lose it to the stream," Osetto stated. "One must guide it, bending the flows around it so as to remain in control."
"But how do you overcome something like gravity?" Torzin wondered.
"The Force exists in all things. Flows through all things," Osetto answered. "As you strengthen your connection to the Force, you'll be able to sense such flows and work with them so as to work against them. If you would, attempt to dip your hands without getting them wet."
The two Padawans paused as they gathered themselves, wanting to succeed in their task. They carefully extended their hands, straightening out their fingers before hovering them above the water's surface. The gentle flow threatened to lap at their digits as they focused their minds.
A small indentation appeared beneath the Cathar's fingers as an invisible force began pressing against the water's surface. Slowly, she attempted to part the waters, taking things slow and steady.
On the other side of the Consular, the Mirialan began exerting his spirit upon the spot preceding his hand. He erected a barrier with his mind, an invisible construct that the stream was forced to flow around. Slowly, he began to expand the barrier until there was a deep enough trench for Torzin to dip his hand in. However, as he lowered his fingers, rather than flow around the Padawan's barrier, splashes of water began to flow over it, wetting the teenager's hand.
"The trick with the Force is to not force it," Osetto said with a smile. "I know, an odd concept if you think about it. You aren't trying to block the stream from reaching you, you're trying to guide it around you. Do not stop the flow, merely divert it."
"Master, I think I did it!" Ryska declared.
The Consular looked over to the Cathar's hand dipped into the stream, albeit at only half the distance he had done. The water seemed to gently pass around the Padawan's hand as the air would to a wing.
"Very good Ryska," Osetto congratulated. The teenager wore a bright smile, the water collapsing around her hand as her concentration broke. The young Cathar immediately withdrew her hand, batting off the droplets from her fur. Ryska scrunched her nose in disappointment, but the comforting smile of her Master put her at ease.
"I think I've done it," Torzin calmly stated. The Miraluka turned to see the stream successfully flowing around the other teenager's hand.
"Very good, Torzin," Osetto congratulated. "Remember, not everything is a fight. Do not try to beat the water if you can cooperate with it."
The Padawans watched as the Consular leaned forward once more. He dipped his fingers into the stream again, but this time at an angle. The students were amazed to see a small rivulet of water flow atop the Miraluka's hand and up his arm. Keeping with the stream's gentle pace, the diverted string of water went up and over the Consular's shoulders before coming back down the other arm. Eventually, the water flowed over Osetto's other hand, resuming its journey back down the stream.
It was a completed circuit, as water continued to journey up and around the Jedi, gliding over his flesh and robes, not a drop actually touching him.
"The Force is about flow," Osetto repeated, maintaining the stream of water with almost no sense of effort.
The Padawans looked upon the Master with a genuine admiration of his skill. It wasn't levitating a starship or healing a grievous wound, but somehow, the display proved most impressive. It had resonated with the students. It spoke of a mastery that even they could achieve. Simple and understandable. Soon, the Consular stopped drawing up water and the last drops flowed over his shoulder, rejoining the stream as gently as they had left it.
Gazing into the flowing waters of the stream, Ryska carefully reached out, emulating her Master. Dipping her fingertip into the water's surface, she closed her eyes and concentrated, getting a feel for the motion. Focusing her mind, she reached out with the Force and a small rivulet began traveling up her arm. Opening her eyes, she looked upon her actions with amazement before her lapse in judgment sent the diverted stream of water splashing into her face.
The Padawan winced at the soft, yet strikingly cold impact. She muttered a quick curse under her breath as she dabbed her fur with the collar of her robes. As the Cathar regained her senses, she heard a soft chuckle emanate from beside her. Turning her head, she had expected its source to be her ever pleasant Master. Instead, she found the Mirialan hiding his mouth beneath the palm of his hand.
The girl's face scrunched as she sharpened her eyes toward her fellow Padawan. Extending her arm, she made a wide sweeping motion, kicking up a small splash of water upon the Mirialan with the Force. The other Padawan froze as the water washed over his robes and trousers, mouth hanging agape. Turning toward the cause, he saw the Cathar playfully sticking her tongue out at him.
Osetto let out a brief chuckle. "Let's continue… shall we?"
Back at the temple, the cogs were beginning to turn as its denizens prepared for the day ahead. Masters had awoken from their slumber, ready to tend to their various duties. The sounds of construction began echoing throughout the open chambers of the temple as workers expanded the grand halls.
A lone Jedi walked amongst the stirring grounds with calm steps, no sense of eagerness in his gait. The Human wore his usual dulled expression as he would proceed along his path, pause, and resume walking again. Continually scanning his surroundings, Dehros attempted to find his way through the half-finished halls. But the Guardian was patient and in no rush.
Passing by unfinished archives and classrooms, the Jedi eventually found his destination in the form of a quaint storeroom. Within, a number of supplies were under lock and key in a number of cabinets and safes. Supplies for students and instructors alike. Resting behind a counter, they were joined by an elderly man garbed in light robes. The aged Human leaned against the flat surface of the counter, thumbing through what looked to be a series of pages physically bound together.
"Is that a book?" Dehros bluntly asked.
The elder Human lifted his gaze to see the emotionless Guardian standing across from him, stance rigid and unwavering. The storeroom keeper possessed the appearance of a man in his later years, wrinkled and bald of head. He looked upon his guest with heavy eyes, donning a dulled expression of his own.
"Never seen a book before?" the keeper countered with a low drawl.
"Not in recent memory, no," Dehros admitted. "Did they not give you a datapad?"
The keeper let out a low chortle as his wrinkled face donned a smile. "You ever think maybe I just enjoy reading something not coming out of a screen?"
"Sorry, I thought maybe they were making you keep physical records of supplies," Dehros confessed, not an even a slight intonation of actual guilt.
"Jedi may be archaic, but we ain't cruel," the keeper joked before returning his heavy gaze to the book.
The room fell to silence. The Guardian remained awkwardly standing as the storeroom keeper casually perused his literature. Finally, after letting the quiet persist for a few moments, the younger Human purposely cleared his throat.
"Um, excuse me?" Dehros calmly, but firmly, spoke up.
"If you need something, you can just go ahead and ask," the keeper stated, not lifting his gaze.
"Very well," said Dehros, taking a calm step toward the counter. "I was looking to procure some supplies for my Padawan."
Slowly, the keeper raised his gaze from the book, studying the other Jedi with heavy eyes. "Kind of young to be taking on a student, aren't you?"
"We all have our duties to the Order," Dehros declared. "Mine is training the next generation of Jedi."
The keeper let out a soft chuckle. "Let me guess. You took part in that apprenticeship day, didn't you?"
"That is correct," Dehros admitted. "In fact, my friend was responsible for organizing it."
"He the same age as you?" the keeper asked.
"A little younger, in fact," answered Dehros.
"My how the times have changed," the keeper replied, a subtle warmth in his voice.
"I take it you've seen quite a few changes within the Order," Dehros bluntly suggested.
"More than I care to admit," the keeper offered alongside another chuckle. "You get to be my age, you start to see the change in everything. But enough of my prattling, what sort of supplies were you looking for?"
"Power cells, focusing lenses, crystals, casings…" Dehros listed.
"Yeah, I got those… but what would you be wanting with them for?" the keeper insistently asked.
The Guardian took pause. "I thought it'd be obvious."
"I know to craft a lightsaber, but I was asking why you wanted them," the keeper clarified. "Don't tell me your Padawan's already finished their trials."
"No," Dehros quickly replied. "He's still in the early stages of training. But he possessed a weapon during the war. I'd like to continue where his old master left off."
"Understandable," the keeper said, softly tapping his fingertips on the counter. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't oblige. Council says no lightsaber until a Padawan is finished with their trials. It's training sabers until then."
"I heard they were entertaining the idea, but I didn't know they had reached a decision," Dehros stated.
"I'm afraid so," the keeper replied. "Welcome to peacetime, kid."
"Is there a way I could appeal to the Council? Get an exception for my Padawan?" Dehros patiently asked.
"I wouldn't count on it," the keeper answered. "Even if they weren't taking a hardline stance on the issue, the chances of getting an audience with them is slim. They're rather busy as of late."
The Guardian remained silent, lost in his own thoughts. The keeper expected more out of him, but nothing came.
"Would you like to requisition a permanent training weapon?" the keeper asked.
Snapping out of his daze, the younger man offered a hesitant nod. With a grunt, the aged man removed himself from the counter, turning his attention to the secured racks and containers along the wall. Unlocking a cabinet, the keeper looked upon a row of metallic rods the length of an activated lightsaber. Slowly, he took one in his hand, removing it and gently setting it back down atop the counter.
It was elegantly simple, a shaped hilt and a 'blade' composed of a reinforced rod lined with energy arrays. Programmable to various heat settings and capable of generating fields similar to those that surrounded a lightsaber's beam of plasma. Turning back to the cabinet, the keeper was about to close and lock it before he was interrupted by the stoic Guardian.
"Could you get another one? I'd like to pick one up for a friend's Padawan," Dehros explained. The keeper's hand lay stilled over the cabinet's handle for a moment before complying with the request. Soon, two training sabers graced the countertop between the two men. The keeper paused for a second, waiting to see if the Guardian had anything more to say before finally locking the cabinet.
Returning to the counter, the keeper reached beneath the flat surface, returning with a datapad in hand. "Just give me your name and the one of your friend and acknowledge that the chosen items are entering your possession," the keeper dully stated as he handed the small device to the younger man.