Ana surveyed the mess that had been accumulated in her dormitory room as of late. Normally her room was very sparse, with emphasis on drab colors, but ever since she had come back from that damned planet she had taken a fancy to acquiring all sorts of rubbish that were spread out neatly on her windowsill. Her sleeping pallet in the corner was rumpled and two of the wooden slats were broken from her constant tossing and turning; the blankets she had wrapped herself in every night were balled and tossed messily into the corner of the room. An empty box which was supposed to help her transfer her belongings to the apartment she would now share with the almost-stranger Qui-Gon Jinn was standing solidly in the center of the room. She sighed and went over to her windowsill, examining the flotsam and jetsam that had fascinated her in her dull stupor following the immediate days of Master Wathearu's death. A feather streaked with more colors imaginable - vivid purple, royal blue, majestic crimson, emerald green, bright yellow - sat daintily atop a blue bottle worn completely smooth by the ocean. A bone clasp that had once belonged to a cloak fastener had broken into a jaggedly odd angle, giving it the appearance of a hooked claw. Two smooth pebbles, one creamy white, one solid black, rested on top of one another.
Yin and Yang.
The familiar prickle of the Force alerting her of someone's arrival sparked the nape of her neck, and she turned towards to doorway. She saw the pale blue mottled skin and thick tendrils out of the back of Clah'Diam's head, the sympathetic smile, the warm yellow eyes, and the loose Padawan robes. Ana gave her a watery smile - suddenly her throat was very tight - and hugged her friend. No matter how mean or cruel Ana was to her, not matter how many times she would scream at the stocky Twi'Lek to leave, no matter how many occasions had prompted her to insult her harshly … Clah'Diam always came back with a hug and a smile, like now. Ana accepted the warm embrace with a choked laugh. "I'm such a terrible friend," she said hoarsely. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. Why are we even friends, anyway?" she asked. Clah'Diam released her and smiled fondly at the distraught human, then pinched her cheek.
"Hmm…You know, I honestly don't remember. Probably because you let me eat your food when I think you're not looking." Clah'Diam said with a trace of a smile working it's way up her plump lips. She put her hands on her hips and began surveying the disaster area that had once been La'Ana's room. She whistled low in her throat. "Why haven't you packed?" she asked. Ana raised and lowered one shoulder. "Don't know where to begin?" Clah'Diam asked. Ana's silence was her answer. "Well, let's get all your clothes in the box first, then your trinkets."
Ana began folding the fancy robes that she only wore to special occasions when they were on missions. She held them against her slim figure and almost laughed. It was a wonder she even fit into anything anymore. For several days she hadn't eaten a bite, and her sides were losing some of the healthy weight and muscle she had put on with Master Wathearu. "So, how is your new Master? What's he like?" Clah'Diam asked. "From what I could tell, he seemed very wise and solemn."
"He is," Ana said slowly, unsure how to put her feelings into words. "I think he's suffering too, but on the inside. I don't know why Master Yoda put the two of us together." She decided not to tell her friend about her minor breakdown in the library yesterday; that would be embarrassing and Clah'Diam would most likely scold her lightly. "He failed a Padawan. I wonder what his training methods are."
"Most likely something very serious," Clah'Diam said. "The Padawans around here like him. Apparently he meditates by himself and rarely eats in the dining hall. Nobody knows much about him, but the apprentices like him because he's 'approachable'." Ana snorted.
"They just like him because he's handsome," she said. Clah'Diam laughed a very chirruping laugh that sounded like twittering birds. Ana was always comforted by Clah'Diam's laugh. She turned to the blue-skinned alien and saw that her yellow eyes were bright with merriment.
"Oh, so you think he's handsome?" Clah'Diam asked demurely, folding Ana's spare set of Padawan training robes. Despite the prickle of anger directed towards the suggestive tone in her voice, Ana managed to keep her temper under control. However, there was a certain snap in her voice as she answered her old friend.
"There is nothing wrong with being attractive. I'm merely noting on something that everyone in the Temple probably already knows. You know how difficult it was going through puberty; remember when you had a crush on Master Windu?" Ana said. This was her last dig. It was an eternal cause of shame to the small Twi'Lek, and Clah'Diam let out a helpless giggle and a flush stole over her cheeks.
"Oh, hush, you," she said, flapping one of Ana's rumpled blankets. "That was a long time ago. Be quiet, silly thing. Now, do you want to keep these?" she asked, gesturing towards the trinkets that bedecked her windowsill. Ana struggled inside herself for a moment. Allowing Clah'Diam to throw them out would symbolize her moving forward, but she wanted so desperately to cling to the last remnants she had of her old master. Silently she took the two pebbles from her friend and ran the smoothness over her fingers, allowing the slightly calloused digits to caress their surfaces.
"No." she said after a long silence. "Tuck them into a corner." Clah'Diam obeyed, although she gave her friend a doubtful look after doing so. Ana slipped the two pebbles in her pocket and heard the minute clicking of the stones striking one another. "Here, lets bring them up the stairs," Ana said, and a knot appeared between her slender dark brows. The boxes rose of their own accord, and Clah'Diam followed Ana up the stairs. Master and Padawan duos had their own separate floor plan in the Temple, and Ana fearlessly navigated through the bewildering maze. However, when she took a left instead of a right at the corner she always turned with Wathearu, she hesitated for the briefest instant. The boxes dipped threateningly low to the floor, and Ana hastily caught them.
Apartment 501 was roomy and spacious, yet cleanly sparse of any debris from the last Master and Padawan. The palm scan had already been coordinated to her skin, and the light flashed green. Clah'Diam ducked under the low entry and the two women went into the large apartment. Ana allowed the boxes to float to the center of the room, then gently rest on the floor. In one corner was a small kitchenette in case the Master and apprentice wished to eat inside instead of traipsing to the dining hall; through a short hallway was a tiny bedroom with a small sleeping couch and a lovely view of Corscourant, twinkling in the midday sun. The bedroom was smaller than the one she had shared with Wathearu, yet she found she didn't mind. At least there was a windowsill.
Qui-Gon Jinn waited impassively for his new apprentice to enter the training grounds. He had only been waiting a few moments when he caught sight of her. She was stripping off her outer garment and piling it neatly next to her Twi'Lek friend's own robe. There was a look of vague fear and unease on Ana's face as she shrugged herself out of her tunic, leaving her torso bare save for a tight white set of breast bindings. Her leggings were dark brown, and she rolled them up slightly so she could unlace her boots. Obviously she intended to stay in this arena until she was dripping wet and so tired she could barely move. Qui-Gon flexed his biceps almost imperceptibly. He could arrange that.
She approached him and bowed slightly. "Master Jinn," she said in a tone of layered calm and a simmering frustration that lingered just underneath the surface. He touched her mind gently, using the Force with the greatest possible care, and found that her shields were rock hard and firmly intact. This was a girl who didn't want anybody probing into her mind. Qui-Gon unlaced his boots and stood them off to one side. The supple leather boots stood like referees about to blow the whistle for the boxing match to begin. Qui-Gon went off to the side and took out two hardwood sticks of polished oak. He tossed one to Ana, who caught it easily with one hand. She twirled it experimentally between her hands, testing the weight and balance of the staff. It was heavier than a lightsaber yet somehow seemed less potent.
"Calm yourself," Qui-Gon ordered. "Empty your mind, and we will begin." Ana waited for a moment, trying to rid her mind of any thoughts of Wathearu. This was a near Herculean quest, because the mere presence of another Master sent a strange throb of guilt striking her heart. In some bizarre way, she felt as though she was cheating on her beloved master by studying under Qui-Gon. She reminded herself firmly that Wathearu would want her training to finish. He would want her to become a Knight. That would be his greatest achievement, his proudest accomplishment: sculpting rebellious La'Ana into a model Knight that would make her mark on society.
Without warning, she struck out against Qui-Gon with her stick. He parried it easily, twisting his stick out of the way, and the duel began. She used the Force as much as she could, relying on it to predict his next movements. She lunged for him and was rewarded by clipping him on the ribs with her hardwood stick. He sidestepped, feinted to one side, and drove the butt of his stick into her stomach. She doubled over for a moment, gasping, and swiped at Qui-Gon's legs with her stick. The stick cracked across his left shin and for a moment pain flitted across his face. She spun in a circle and attempted the movement she had completed on Clah'Diam, somersaulting between his legs. This worked to a point; Qui-Gon, having seen this move before, scissored his legs and caught her in between then. Using her stick as a crowbar, she butted him in the Achilles with her stick and his legs opened. She completed the maneuver and nearly caught him across his back. He turned, once again exhibiting an eerie speed and gracefulness that should not have belonged to a man of his age, and the blow glanced off his stick.
Everything was super-sensitive; Ana was suddenly aware of how quickly they were moving. Adrenaline was singing in her veins, and she threw herself into the battle in earnest. The telltale crunch of sand underneath his bare feet warned her where he was going to strike next. The Force made her aware of every minute muscle in his arms and legs, revealing to her where he was shifting his weight. She had never achieved this in a spar before, but often she had almost always relied this heavily on the Force when she was training by herself. She thrust her stick against his bicep but he dodged and thwacked her hard across her upper thigh. She yelped in pain, momentarily losing her focus, then plunged back into the battle. It felt so good to be able to fight something that would strike back at her expertly, something that would actually feel pain that she was inflicting. Every time her stick made contact against Qui-Gon - which was rare - she gritted her teeth and put all her energy into it. Deep in her, the black heart that had been growing slowly next to her soul throbbed with pleasure. She wanted him to feel how much pain she felt, how much hurt she was going through. Psychical pain was momentary; emotional pain was forever.
Then his stick made contact with her wrist and she dropped her stick with a cry of pain. Already a puffy red welt was springing up on her arm, but she ignored it and glared at Qui-Gon, feeling a stab of mean pleasure to see he was breathing heavily. He sent the stick skimming across the arena floor. "Pick it up." he commanded. His dark blue eyes were expressionless, and she bit back a snarl of rage at his bland tone. She bent slowly as if seriously hurt, picking up her staff with movements that conveyed a world of pain. Then she struck fast, aiming for his left pectoral. His stick was a blur as he blocked it, and he winced slightly at the vibrations that went shuddering down his hands. She gritted her teeth and this time the stick cracked him across the abdomen. Another bolt of savage joy ripped through her, and the adrenaline that had been singing before was now screaming at the top of its lungs. She had never felt this alive, this fast, so full of energy. The sticks were in constant movement, and so were they. Spectators stood and admired their bodies as they dueled furiously, identical looks of fierce concentration on their faces.
He tripped her suddenly, sending her crashing into the dirt. Instead of striking her as she suspected he would, he lowered his stick. They were both soaked with sweat, and Ana's dark hair was plastered to her neck and forehead. She actually felt sweat dripping down her spine and into the small of her back. It had been nearly a month since she had been this exhausted. The black heart that had been pulsing with anger a moment ago had disappeared like smoke in a stiff breeze. Now she felt weary, completely wrung out, defenseless. It was as though a sponge had been soaking up her anger and guilt for weeks, and in one savage sparring match it had dried it up. She still felt the ember of guilt buried in her heart, ready to spring into flame the moment she thought of her master, but it was almost nice to be so tired. He offered a hand to her, and for a moment she considered rejecting it. But her muscles felt like they had been stretched into oblivion, and she accepted the offer. She half expected him to yank her up roughly, due to the severity of the battle which had just ensued, but he gently righted her and appraised her openly and honestly. "Do you feel better?" he asked. She was surprised. How did he know how she felt right now? She didn't like being submissive or defenseless, and feeling this tired was causing that. A slight smile quirked the corner of Qui-Gon's mouth. "I know a good spar always calms me." he said quietly, giving her a sidelong glance.
She shrugged and didn't answer, merely walking over to the bench where she had thrown her tunic and robes. She tugged on the pale tunic, struggling slightly with the cloth that was clinging to her damp skin, and then slipped into her outer robes. She heard the rocks in her pocket clink together. Qui-Gon must have heard the same thing, and his sharp eyes noticed her hand dart to her pocket and finger something. Two round objects, roughly the size of her thumb, were nestled in the fold of her pocket. "What are those?" he asked interestedly. She gave him a strange look. He might have relaxed her slightly, might have just sparred brutally with her, might have just managed to keep her mind off of her master for more than five minutes. But he might have done that by accident. She still didn't trust him.
"Nothing."
A/N: Yay to Solo again! All of you, review! I feel amazingly inspired, so I though I'd put up another chapter! I'm writing like a house on fire! J