by shike77
Chapter V
Determination
Notes: This chappy isn't one of my best ever, but I did struggle through it. (It didn't go as planned, but I'll see what you guys think) I'm hoping things'll get easier after I say good-bye to Nar Shadda. Even though the planet itself intrigues me, pretty much all my plans for this fic are down the road. On Korriban. And not on Onderron. I can see myself rushing to the end, here. I don't want to, but it's probly gunna happen. Eh.
There's a tidbit in here on weapon training—Kudos goes to my Fencing instructors, Dave, Alex and Dennis. I miss that class so much… Ah, well. Maybe I'll go back to the CFC next year. My foil is looking rather lonely over in the corner of my room…
And thank you so much for all the reviews. Every one of you rock my world. :hugs everyone: I wish I could promise you a swift next chapter, you guys deserve it. But I'm so busy… Performance second last week of April:crosses fingers: Ai, this will be stressful.
Is it a bad sign when your best friend calls you a nerf-hearder? And she's only played a little of KOTOR I?
Kavar walked into the meditation room, watching the lights flicker on with a wave of his hand. Lost deep in thought, he paced idly around the cushions, as if trying to find one that suited him. Not likely; he preferred the floor, when he did use the conventional methods of meditation.
Something stirred in the corner, and when the Jedi Master paused, he could hear the slow breathing of someone sleeping. Soft, barely audible, the sound of someone who knew how to be silent so well they did it automatically, without even thinking about it. In spite of this, the Force swirled around her, uncontrolled and raw in form, so strongly and persistent that once you saw it, you couldn't ignore it.
She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands resting at her sides, head drooping, and most definitely asleep. Kavar recognized her immediately as one of the children who had stowed away on the ship both himself and Vrook were taking to Dantooine. Although her skin was raw with a recent scrubbing, her hair shone like soft gold and the red streaks had faded considerably, she still retained her rougeish looks by wearing clothing six sizes too large and letting her hair fall messily in front of her face. Which was harder, since it was so clean.
He tapped her on the shoulder, smiling softly. She started awake, blinking blearily. The darkest shade of blue eyes imaginable, he noticed now that her hair fell every which way when she moved and wasn't stuck in one place by the grease and grime of a hard life.
She slurred something completely incoherent, but he could have sworn he picked up a 'Mazzer Vazz' somewhere in there. He couldn't resist a smile; the girl was obviously used to the meditation charade by now. Although, with the way the currents of the Force flowed in and out of her, he found it no surprise that she'd have trouble clearing her mind and focusing the traditional way.
When her eyes focused on his face, they narrowed in temporary confusion, then widened again as she jumped back.
"Wha-?" she recovered from her initial shock quickly, however, and moved to scold him. "Master Kavar, I was tryin' to medimitate. An' I think I got it, too, but you had to int'rupt me and now I have to start all over again."
The Jedi Master couldn't help but smile. She scowled at the expression on his face, scrunching up her own. "Guess that 'there is no emotion' crap really is a load of bantha shit, then."
He shook his head, still smiling. "Jedi shouldn't swear, Disciple…?"
"Saer. Saer Zeyl. And I ain't no Jedi."
He dropped from his crouching position into a casual sit.. "And you weren't meditating. You were sleeping."
She made a face, and he thought that she looked remarkably like a kath hound pup when she did. "Well, fuck."
He smiled, crossing his legs and letting his hands fall to rest on his knees. "I assume this is not new to you."
She brushed irritably at her hair, which she obviously was still unused to being clean, then blurted, "I don't get it."
He waited, patiently, for her to ellaborate, and she did. "I mean, this whole… calm, thing. It might be my fault, but whenever I close my eyes and stop focusing on everything that's in front of me…" she hesitated, but Kavar was silent. She seemed to approve of this, and continued, "When I'm trying to tell myself to shut up, it's like I can feel everything else around me. And everything's just so… not loud here, it's like the hum of a hyperdrive. It makes me fall asleep."
Kavar felt a twinge of sadness that a child would attribute a hyperdrive to a lullaby instead of a parent's voice, but there was nothing to be done about it, so he patiently placed that thought on a mental shelf for later consideration.
"There are some Jedi," he began, slowly, "who can achieve a sort of 'moving meditation.' Activities that they are familiar with become as instinctual as breathing, and they have… 'blanked out' while practicing fighting or repairing machinery." He paused there, letting this words sink in. "I have experience with this type of meditation-"
"What's so special about it, anyway?" she blurted. "I mean, I've never heard of Jedi running around, then stopping and going 'om' or whatever and bad guys dropping like flies around them."
He smiled at that thought, the mental picture more amusing than he cared to admit. Her description was uncannily similar to the rare technique of battle meditation—with one or two key differences, of course. But that was a lesson for another day.
"Meditation helps a Jedi to connect with the force; through it, we center ourselves, take away the presence of the world around us, and see deeper into what the force really is." He stopped there, considering for a moment, then spoke again, "I could train you to meditate using basic fighting techniques-"
"Really! You'd do that!"
He smiled, reminding himself to teach the girl not to interrupt others. "- If you wish," he finished, nodding.
She gave a small 'whoop' of joy as she jumped to her feet, then tackled the Jedi Master in a brief hug. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" She then jumped to her feet again, grinning. "When do we start?"
He smiled at her. "Where are you supposed to be, right now?"
"What time is it?" she asked, pulling back her sleeve to reveal a rather large collection of smudged notes on her right arm.
He glanced at his wristpiece. "13:00."
She switched arms. The writing on her left arm was the messiest scrawl he'd ever seen, even when compaired to what had been on her right. She squinted at it, decded that she couldn't read it, then shrugged. "Nowhere special."
He smiled at that, catching a decent glimpse of the characters on her arm and realized that they weren't even in basic. "What language is that?" he asked, curious.
"Wha? Oh, this," she pulled back a sleeve and held out her arm for him to examine. "Some of it's Cathar, and some of it's Twi'lek. I think that one's Huttese, and that might be Bith… Oh, that I know's Duros…"
He smiled again, examining the letters carefully. Most of them were poor copies of their original language, but he supposed she could interpret them fine enough. "Where did you learn these?"
"Well, the Boss taught me a lot of Cathar. I can even swear in it, too." She held a great pride in that statement, and Kavar decided not to coment. "And Haelyhh was teaching me Twi'lek, too. Although most of it just don't make sence. The rest are from ships we hitched a ride on."
"You never learned to read Basic?"
She made a face. "What, the stuff we're talkin'? Nope."
He nodded, sagely. "I suppose that's why you're not using a datapad for your schedule."
At the guilty grin on her face, he almost laughed. "Y'see, I was attacked by these Ninja Gizkas…"
s-n-s
Kavar was jolted out of his thoughts at the sound of the door opening and closing. Queen Talia entered the throne room with the light-footed steps of one befitting her station. Her eyes were darting about the massive chamber, watching for assassins, as if Vaklu would dare stage another attack on her friend's life. That, Kavar figured, was unlikely. One could fool a Jedi by hiding in a crowded room, but when there were few energies to distinguish from each other, it was difficult to catch them off-guard.
He bowed as she came by, but she waved the gesture off. The trade of formality and acknowledgement of friendship was a habit to them both, so much that neither really recognized that they did it. She paced, absently, then flopped onto her throne with as little royal grace as possible. "I've secured passage for your friend, but I don't know how to contact her. I don't even know what she looks like, Kavar." She fiddled with her headpiece, eyes narrowed. One of her hands went momentarily to her mouth, but she yanked it away before she could start chewing on her nails. She had a hard time with that, but she was slowly getting out of the habit.
"I believe that we might be able to contact her on Dxun…"
The Queen frowned, jolted out of whatever thoughts she'd sunk into. "Dxun? But no one's been on that moon since the Wars."
"There have been rumours of Mandalorians regrouping on the jungle moon," Kavar ellaborated, ignoring the look on the woman's face as he spoke. "Intelligence reports that my friend's ship was forced to land on Dxun, and that Vaklu sent a ship to its surface to search for her. They retreated when their scouts never returned."
The Queen shook her head. "But that does not explain everything. If your friend fought in the war, then why would she be willing to work with the Mandalorians now?"
He sat on the steps leading up to her throne, resting his chin on one of his hands, propped up on his knee. "She always was a strange one," he mused, touching a pocket in his robes. "But there was a Mandalorian in her company when we met in the Cantina."
"Mandalorians have been reduced to bounty hunting and wandering the Galaxy," the Talia replied, tersely. "She could have just hired one to remain in her company. A body guard."
Saer never liked body guards, he thought wryly. She always felt like they were an insult to her abilities.
"I recognized that armour from texts I've read on the Mandalorians," he sat forwards a bit, dropping his hand from his chin. "It was Mandalore's."
A sharp intake of breath came from the Queen. She stood and began pacing, her soft boots padding on the stone floor. "They say there was a Mandalorian in the company of the Jedi Revan…"
He nodded. "Revan could very well have appointed a new Mandalore."
Talia didn't seem to like that idea. The Mandalorian War was still fresh in her mind, although she had been nothing but a child when it came crashing down on Onderron. "And we're encouraging this because…?"
Kavar smiled. "They pose no threat. They are far too busy trying to rebuild their own people than to be taking over yours."
She was momentarily relieved at this, then narrowed her eyes. "How do you propose we contact these Mandalorians, then…?"
He cast his gaze to the ceiling and smiled. "Just give me a shuttle and a starport visa, and they won't be able to ignore me."
s-n-s
Everyone had heard the argument between Kreia and Saer but Disciple. None of them really knew what to make of it. Bao Dur was examining the half-repaired droid the General had found in the ruins on Dantooine when it had started. The old woman creeped him out, and he was perfectly fine when she chose to ignore him. General Saer and her constantly argued over the little things, though; the old woman had practically flipped when Saer mouthed off some begger looking for credits, then tossed a few into his hand when he persisted. She didn't like being 'goody-two-shoes', as she put it, but couldn't really explain her desire to do good, however well-hidden it was. He'd suggested that perhaps there was some Jedi left in her after all, and she'd waved him off. Just like he'd known she would.
Kreia, however, refused to be waved off. The old woman would goad the General into arguing with her, unhappy unless she had a solid reason for Saer's actions—and she would never give one. But this conversation was unexpected. Bao Dur knew that Atton wanted Saer—he had to admit that he was surprised when Atton had approached him about the matter, on their second night aboard the Ebon Hawk, en-route to Dantooine. But it had slowly started to become obvious afterwards; especially after Disciple joined their company. He'd never spoken to the General about it, but he figured that she might have known these things of her own accord. Maybe she didn't mind—she seemed to thouroughly enjoy Atton's company, and when she wasn't helping him repair the ship, she was playing Pazaak with the scoundrel. Or maybe she didn't notice. She seemed to act like there was nothing going on between the two of them. A relationship was a good thing for her, though; she needed to relax. She was always too uptight, and maybe a romantic—or purely sexual—interest in someone would be a good outlet for her stress.
Disciple had come out of the refresher three minutes after Saer had stormed off the Hawk, followed by Atton. "Everyone seems disturbed," he commented, a little confused. "Why?"
Unlike Atton, Disciple had been completely unable to hide his feelings for the General. While Bao Dur was not human, he had spent enough time around them to know that they tended to fall in love on a far more regular basis than the rest of the species in the Galaxy. Having two humans of the opposite sex in a confined space was enough to cause some stir—but when there was three, things were bound to get worse.
"Kreia and the General fought again," he replied, calmly. This was nothing new to the entire ship, and he figured that Disciple didn't need to know the reason why.
The blonde human frowned, confused. "This is not unusual," he stated, almost sounding amused, "but where have Saer and Atton gone?"
The kid was naïve, Saer had complained, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that there was something going on, and wasn't going to let up until he had some sort of answer. Bao Dur shrugged. "Atton's off to make sure she doesn't do anything she'll regret."
The Consular frowned. "Was she that upset?"
"Not that she'd admit it," came Mandalore's comment as he entered the room. Bao Dur shot him a look, but the warlord continued, regardless. "She caught the old witch crawling around in her head."
Disciple's eyes widened. "That… is peculiar. I had thought that Kreia respected Saer too much to be reading her mind."
"The old one greatly respects Saer," came Visas' comment, from where she'd been working on her lightsaber at the workbench. "However, through the bond she and Saer share, she is more often than not subject to flashes of memory, nightmares, or patterns of thought that none of us can detect. I believe that her curiosity to know more about the events she'd witnessed drove Kreia to investigate further."
"But, what would Kreia want to know about Saer that she hasn't already told us?" Disciple wondered, brows furrowed in thought. "She went to war, yes, but so did countless others…"
"There's always a backstory, kid," Mandalore interrupted, dryly. "Everyone always has some dark secret that they'd rather not let anyone know about. Especially Jedi."
The Disciple still seemed skeptical for a moment, but his retort died on his lips before he could say anything, an idea lighting up his eyes. He paused for a moment, then frowned. He excused himself rather suddenly from the conversation and walked off down the hallways.
"What's eating him?" Bao Dur wondered, and Mandalore shrugged.
"Must be a Jedi thing."
s-n-s
Atton was not quite sure how, but they wound up fighting. Not just a barb with words; the actual bout they'd bet on earlier. In a sparsely-populated corner of the sector they faced off, starting by making slow circles around the other. Atton counted possibilities instead of cards as his feet went through the movements, so many scenarios were running through his head. Saer was silent, her eyes narrowed and some of her hair already falling out of the braid she'd thrown it into a minute beforehand.
When they moved it was in sync, their bodies twisting and winding towards and away from the other, testing the motions of any battle plan either had come up with—after that initial moment of conflict, Atton scratched the plan he had in mind and set about selecting another one. She was far too skilled with the double-bladed variant of weaponry for anyone to be able to catch her hilt with two single ones. Unperterbed, he sifted through old memories as they both settled into circling again.
There was something about the spot Saer had chosen that caused his heart to beat just a little faster… something was nagging at the corner of his mind, driving the adrenaline through his system with a deep-rooted urgency that was hard to ignore. Whether or not it was affecting Saer, he couldn't tell—he really didn't have time before she rushed him again, her blade held low, the tip towards the ground.
He moved to the side, and when she spun and whipped her weapon around behind her, Atton caught her blade with his just long enough to stop it, then ducked underneath their arms and used his other to throw a hit towards her side. Saer twisted out of the way, pulling her blade back and shifting out of range. They both started to circle again.
Atton waited for a moment, catching his breath. She was doing some of the same things he'd seen when she was dancing with him, just the other night…
He lunged forwards, his blades crossed. When she moved her own weapon into a vertical position as if to block his attack that way. Knowing that any attempt of twisting her vibro double-blade would only result in his disarming, he seperated his blades and made an attack on either side of hers. She spun her weapon, twisting his own blades around each other, and Atton didn't have time to dislodge them before dodging a fierce kick aimed in his direction. He dropped the sword in his left hand long enough for it to fall away from the other, then caught it and pivoted on his back heel, bringing both weapons around towards her left hip. She half spun her weapon and deflected his attack with the blade closest to the ground, then spun her weapon over her arm, the blade headed for Atton's face. He snapped the blade in his left hand up to block, pivoting on his back foot and moving his right to deflect the attack she made on his hip with the back end of her blade.
They pulled away, circling again. Saer had a knowing look in her eyes, some inner question answered through those traded blows. She's testing me, Atton thought, eyes narrowed. Why?
Before he could even begin to ponder, she was at him again, her weapon lowered for a thrust at his lower torso. His right blade was raised to deflect her attack, but she reversed her blades and sent the opposite blade spinning towards his knee. He moved a step to the side, using his left to protect his opposite leg as she twisted her weapon in an attempt to hit his thigh. Their weapons met with a resounding clang and then jumped away as Saer switched her grip on her weapon so that she might block the attack Atton made with his left, aimed towards her chest. They pulled away and started circling again, faster, like they were driven by a beat that they both felt instead of heard. Faster, faster… Suddenly they were moving so fast that they were just fighting in a circle. Back and forth, their movements guiding them one way or the other around the shape.
As Atton darted in for another attack, he took a sudden step backwards and pivoted on that heel, bringing the weapon in his right hand towards her hip. He pivoted again after she blocked with the flat of one of her blades, aiming for her torso on her other side. She dodged, sidestepping and turning all in one motion, bringing her blade around in the most complex twisting motion Atton had ever seen. He ducked under the attack aimed at his neck, then snapped his left blade in front of his face to block the back half of her sword. He feinted with his right towards her thigh, then slashed across her torso with his left. She spun her blade deflty, knocking the threatening weapon out of his hand. At that precise moment, he used the vibroblade in his left hand to knock her own weapon off balance, and she was forced to drop it as she caught the blade she'd pried from his grasp. There was a momentary pause in which Saer was obviously fighting back the urge to call her blade back to her hand with the Force, and Atton took that opportunity to rush her, one hand held out and his weapon aiming for her neck.
She collided with the wall with a snarl, bringing the weapon she'd commandeered about so that she could cut off his neck with a flick of the wrist. When they both stopped moving, his weapon was in a similar position. He looked down, raised an eyebrow, and asked, out of breath, "… Did we ever decide what happens in a stalemate?"
She smirked, cocky as ever. "What makes you think this is over?" Atton found some satisfaction in finding her panting as well.
"Well, for one, if either of us moves, we're both dead," he mused, glancing at their surroundings momentarily. "And for another…" he looked back at her and the words died on his lips as his eyes met hers.
He wasn't quite sure why he hadn't noticed it before, but she was stunning in her element. The wild exhileration of battle shone in her eyes with a passion, probably fed by adrenaline or her own individual lusts for the action that battle gave her. There was a slight sheen to her skin that seemed to reflect even the smallest amounts of light, and the way she was smiling…
He was still staring when she kissed him.
The movement had taken him quite by surprise. At first, he thought his imagination had gotten the better of him. It had taken him precious seconds to discover that her body was pressing closer to his, and he really was standing there. But when she started to pull away, he caught her lips, fighting to keep that connection between them. His weapon slipped out of his grasp, almost of its own accord, and his hands flew to her shoulders, slowly removing her jacket as they ran down the length of her upper body, coming to rest at her hips.
She broke away again, panting. "I win," she breathed, and Atton realised with a start that she still gripped her weapon. He stared at it, then looked back up at her, then started to laugh. Figures the only time Saer would even feign interest in him was when she wanted to win a duel… But why did he feel so hurt?
He looked down at her again, laughter dying. He traced the scar on her cheek with a knuckle. Followed the line down to her lips.
Fuck, he thought sharply, Kreia's right.
She was about to say something when the com beeped. Bao Dur's voice came over it, genuinely confused. T3's rapid noise-making could be heard in the background. "General, Atton, do you read me?" Her eyes darted away from his, and she bit her lip.
"We can ignore him," he whispered, voice strained. "We can get lost here. Just for a little while."
She hesitated. Weighing her options.
"General, Atton… are you two there?"
Saer refused to look at him, pressing a button on her com. "I read you, Bao Dur." Was it just him, or did she sound resigned… dissappointed, even?
"We've received a transmission," he informed her, perhaps not noticing the change in her tone. "It's for you, but I think everyone should hear this."
"All right. We're on our way."
She pressed a button to turn off the device, then looked back up at Atton with an alologetic smile. "Later," she promised softly, then slipped out underneath his arm and went to retrieve her fallen blade. She turned back to face him, smiling. "You do owe me dinner, after all."
He stood there for a moment, watching her turn the corner, smiling. Things were starting to look up, after all…
Unnoticed, two Twi'lek detatched themselves from the shadow of a doorway, above them, and started to trail behind them.
s-n-s
Kavar stood casually, allowing the warriors to search him, holding his lightsabers out in front of him for them to take, if they wished. They did not, seemingly content with his compliance. The Mandalorian in front of him was not the same one who'd accompanied Saer to Iziz, which dissappointed him, but he knew that the warrior clan would not consider him worthy enough to speak with their leader. He was only a man, afterall, who claimed he knew an Exiled Jedi. Who he suspected they had helped reach Onderron's surface.
"Do you know Saer Zeyl?"
The unspoken 'Exile' rang in his mind, accusatory in tone, but he shoved it away. He had done what he needed to do, and what he had believed was right. Even in Exiling his Padawan and close friend, he had followed the code. Always following, never straying, no matter how much it had hurt him. Or her.
The Mandalorian replied, warily, "Yeah, and what of it?"
Kavar smiled. It was obvious from the man's tone that he didn't like her—she had probably done something humiliating to him, or beat him in battle. "I have a message for her, if I could speak to her."
"She's not here," was the grudging comment. "She's gone with Mandalore to gather more warriors to our clan."
The Jedi Master highly doubted that, clipping his weapons back onto his belt. Her presence, however, was not in the camp. Highly unsurprising; he hadn't expected her to sit around and wait to speak to him. She had probably left to find someone else to pester… or kill. Her restlessness had not left her during her Exile, but he had senced it had deepened, during their brief meeting. He hadn't expected it to. Saer wasn't going to stop living on the edge, no matter what was done to her.
"Do you know how I can contact her?" he asked, hoping beyond hope that they would trust him enough with her location.
"I can contact her," the Madalorian replied, dutifully. "I can relay your message, but whether or not she chooses to respond is of no concequence."
Kavar had figured that would be the responce. The fact that they were unwilling to let him know where Saer was meant one of two things; either she had impressed them enough that they were loyal, or they were jerking his chain. Unphazed by the current turn of events, he continued, "Then tell her that the Queen has arranged safe passage to Onderron for her."
The Mandalorian was silent for a moment, but then nodded. "I'll do that," he replied, as if that made him content. "But I suggest you leave and wait for her on the planet, Jedi."
Kavar nodded, turned on his heel and left. Nothing else to do, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath. Nothing to do but wait.
He'd waited years for her to return—surely another couple of days couldn't be that harsh?
s-n-s
"Stand like this," Kavar told her, spreading his weight in between his feet . One foot in front, the other behind. "Bend your legs."
She complied, wobbled a little, but soon found her center. She raised an eyebrow at him, her hands flopped at her side. "Uh, is this it?"
He smiled, walking over to one of the weapons' racks in the training room. "Are you-" There was the sound of her body colliding with the floor, accompanied by her small 'oof' of complaint. "-balanced?"
"Yeah, perfectly," she replied quickly, and his heightened sences picked up the sound of her scrambling to her feet. He pulled two soft wood stalves off of their racks, then turned around and tossed one at the girl.
"Good," he replied as she caught it, albeit rather clumsy. She almost fell over again, so uneasily she held the stance. "Your feet are too close," he informed her idly, and she corrected that. "Bend your knees more." She bit her lip, but complied. He nodded, satisfied, then crossed the rest of the distance over to her.
He fixed her grip on the staff, remembering that she was left-handed. Once he was sure she had it down all right, he moved the staff and her arms so that the weapon was held horizontally in front of her. "This is to block a basic vertical attack."
She nodded. Made the motion again. Kavar corrected her mistakes throughout, and she tried again. Pretty good.
He slowly used his own staff to show her a vertical attack. She raised her weapon, shakily, to block his, as he had shown her. He nodded, smiling, encouraging. Beaming at the support, the next time he 'attacked,' he weapon rose to meet his more confidantly. After a few more attempts, she was up to speed.
He showed her two more blocks, and each one she learned faster than the other. A quick learner, he thought, watching her block each attack of his consecutively.
"Now, I'm going to take it a step further…" her eyes widened, and she grinned. "I want you to learn how to anticipate my attacks, because I'm not going to tell you in which order I'll be delivering them."
Her jaw dropped. "How'm I s'posed to do that!"
"Watch my body," he replied, falling into the fighting stance. "The Shii-Cho form is easy to detect movement in; it is the simplest of the forms, and is normally used when outnumbered. As a result, the movements are large and sweeping; you should be able to clearly see which attack I'm going to use, in time. Now watch my torso; my shoulders," He paused there to move his arms, and he noted how closely she was watching. She'd maintained that concentration throughout their entire session. "… will give away the movement of my arms. My hips…" he shifted position, like he would during the attack, "will signal a change in my stance."
She nodded. "Your shoulders lift up before your arms, and your hips shift before your feet do."
"Impressive," he replied, smiling. "Now, watch for the horizontal attack…"
She was off to a shaky start, and more than once Kavar had to stop himself before he hit her. Occasionally she would catch a delayed movement on his part and their weapons would meet, and her confidance began to build from there. Slowly, she caught each movement as he made them, until she was finally snapping her weapon into place before he'd even completed the attack. At which point in time he'd promptly changed the direction of his weapon and stopped it as it hovered near her right thigh.
"Now you're blocking too soon," he corrected, smiling. "You have to time it so that your opponent doesn't catch onto what your doing and counter your block."
She made a face, settling back into her position and gripping her staff. "All right, so, how do I do that?"
Kavar glanced at his wristpiece and winced. They'd been at it for three hours… he was going to be late for his meeting… "That's enough for the day, Saer."
The blonde girl, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong, looked up at him, wide-eyed. "But I don't have it yet!"
He smiled at her, picking up the short staff she'd dropped and moving over to place it in its rack. "I told you that you would not get it the first time. Don't be so hard on yourself."
She made a face at him, standing. "But-!"
"You did exceptionally well," he interrupted. "I didn't expect you to do so well your first time."
She beamed at him, and he thought that if she'd had enough energy left to do so, she'd be jumping up and down. "Really!"
He nodded, knowing that she'd have to work hard to learn to calm her emotions. But that was later—it would come with meditation. "Yes. This method will take much longer to learn than conventional meditation, but you are progressing much faster than I initially thought you would."
It was odd, he thought, that she was progressing quickly—must faster, in fact, than he cared to admit. He could already feel the tell-tale signs of a Force bond between them, even without the control of meditation that was required to master the Force. This could mean something; although the girl seemed brash and impulsive, and she must have quickly grown impatient with the techniques Vash was trying to teach her, when there was a weapon in her hands she was calm and ready, waiting for further instruction.
She grinned, looking for all the world like she was walking on air. "Same time tommorrow?"
He smiled down at her. "Sounds like fun."
