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STAINED JOURNAL_
“The night my mother tasted her last breath, a monstrous terror overtook her. …It was me. She died later the next morning after giving me life. The obstetrician droid came to no conclusion as to how she died, not linking the fatality to the effects of delivery or pregnancy. My father knew. He forced himself not to believe it, but when he finally told me her last words to him; it was the way he said it. He knew. I know that I was the cause. And I’ll forever remember it. He said that she was taken over by a dream like none she ever felt before, so tangible in the way that it tore at her flesh and nerves and excruciating like the kind of torture that slowly peels away your beliefs and all that you know to be true. I don’t remember which came first, but I know that the dream she had and the reoccurring nightmare that I suffer from is the same. I haven’t told any one what happens in the dream. I haven’t even written down what happens in the dream in case I give my fear too much a hold over me. Some of the Masters have figured out that I suffer from night terrors. I don’t know if all this is right for me…”
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JEDI-RECORDS_ (UPDATED BY :illegible signature:) INITIAL ASSESMENT_
Human Male Jedi-Padawan, 19, 5’9”, 145lbs, Green Eyes, Brown Hair, Athletic, Timid, Anxious, Sleep Deprived, Abeyant yet- Dynamic, Impetuous yet- Canny. He will be his own most difficult opponent.
General background notes include home planet - Antemeridias, though registered into the Ossus birth records and incubation log hours after conception. Mother - deceased. Father - unknown. Anonymous holo-messages arrive annually from one who describes himself as his father, delivered in such a way that prevents any request to end ties. Ossus facility only came with a first name, thus tagging the boy with the term “Archetype”; eventually lending itself to the boy’s request of last name.
Physical notes include an unusual birthmark covering the majority of the left side of his face and a curved demeanor, likely from self-scrutiny and judgment of physical appearance resulting in a lowered stature.
Personality notes include incredible work habits, diligent at fault to experience, even hides in his work. Seemingly, the only place he is willing to excel is where he believes he is not noticed. Seems to have little to no close friends, yet has been seen among those who would embrace him. Has, however, been the source of incident when sparring. The extent and reason for initial cause is inconclusive.
Idiosyncrasy notes include a cataloged archive of trivial and inanimate object's unproven or unexplored locations throughout the galaxy mostly related to religious relics such as jewelery, ancient household items, tribe leader's symbols of staffs or clothing emblems, and so on; yet all are listed with their corresponding tails and fictional legends, which in effect were what lead hints to their lost locations.
Tests summary notes include fair performances, hints of exceptional talent and merit occasionally surface, supposedly “lost” or “unfinished” works have been found to not only be completed but exceedingly researched and well written far beyond the capabilities first believed. He does the work, he puts in the time, he sweats and bleeds ..but when it comes to performance, he shows no interest or pride in his earned excellence.
In conclusion, it is difficult to gauge this young man and the levels of his ability due to his lack of willingness to stand out. An ongoing process continues to fall short of his needs in finding a suitable Master.
General background notes include home planet - Antemeridias, though registered into the Ossus birth records and incubation log hours after conception. Mother - deceased. Father - unknown. Anonymous holo-messages arrive annually from one who describes himself as his father, delivered in such a way that prevents any request to end ties. Ossus facility only came with a first name, thus tagging the boy with the term “Archetype”; eventually lending itself to the boy’s request of last name.
Physical notes include an unusual birthmark covering the majority of the left side of his face and a curved demeanor, likely from self-scrutiny and judgment of physical appearance resulting in a lowered stature.
Personality notes include incredible work habits, diligent at fault to experience, even hides in his work. Seemingly, the only place he is willing to excel is where he believes he is not noticed. Seems to have little to no close friends, yet has been seen among those who would embrace him. Has, however, been the source of incident when sparring. The extent and reason for initial cause is inconclusive.
Idiosyncrasy notes include a cataloged archive of trivial and inanimate object's unproven or unexplored locations throughout the galaxy mostly related to religious relics such as jewelery, ancient household items, tribe leader's symbols of staffs or clothing emblems, and so on; yet all are listed with their corresponding tails and fictional legends, which in effect were what lead hints to their lost locations.
Tests summary notes include fair performances, hints of exceptional talent and merit occasionally surface, supposedly “lost” or “unfinished” works have been found to not only be completed but exceedingly researched and well written far beyond the capabilities first believed. He does the work, he puts in the time, he sweats and bleeds ..but when it comes to performance, he shows no interest or pride in his earned excellence.
In conclusion, it is difficult to gauge this young man and the levels of his ability due to his lack of willingness to stand out. An ongoing process continues to fall short of his needs in finding a suitable Master.
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...There is only darkness. But in this suffocation of the void expands with new rhythm. A heartbeat. It is so beautiful in its ignorant and innocent stretching of space, yet tearing at its simple embrace. The echo of the pulse quickens, accelerating like comets scorching across the night sky in their roaring arcs that silence all other sources of light and peaking interest in sight.
Gasps violently pull open the vividly painful depiction of somehow familiar faces, yet the initial feeling remains and quickens still. In that feeling warms a source of a constant, one that lingers with a piercing steadiness; burning with truth like only pain can. Soon each of those familiar squeeze their fingers tightly into connected fists that line the cuts from start to finish now opening up as wounds received along their tearing bodies.
One by one they fall with surrounding scenes, objects and people overlapping those scenes fantastically into one bloodied pile; each rendering carrying significant information in the scene, yet somehow it is lost to memory. Each mimes passing on the same weapon and cause of their affliction, ending with a mother. Her streaming tears draw attention down her already stained wet garments to a bloody mess across her stomach and legs. Reaching out, she pulls all notice back up towards her face and her palm there before it. A new hand glides its fingers into the mother's palm, so tenderly trembling with regret.
That burning truth sears at that heart's thumping existence with a heat that splits a planet, cracking open its layers and foundation to expose its inner blinding temperatures. This world explodes just as it implodes like the dropping gulp of fearful regret and true sorrow.
Her hand falls deep from reach as the planet drops in from the vacuum, and blackness is shattered. Hundreds of pieces of light shatter upright into a rapidly assembling mirror that splatters smoothly melded without flaw but stained by webbing red blood stemming from the upper right corner, now known to be a fist. The fist is reflected in dual harmony. Another hand stained with dirtied wrappings embraces and falls down over the fist, as this robed figure looms over with its own painful and twisted weight; but only darkness is left under the hood.
There is more to the smack-bloodied fist, dual in its reflection. It reaches an arm, that reaches a torso, that reaches a face in the dark. It's me...
Gasps violently pull open the vividly painful depiction of somehow familiar faces, yet the initial feeling remains and quickens still. In that feeling warms a source of a constant, one that lingers with a piercing steadiness; burning with truth like only pain can. Soon each of those familiar squeeze their fingers tightly into connected fists that line the cuts from start to finish now opening up as wounds received along their tearing bodies.
One by one they fall with surrounding scenes, objects and people overlapping those scenes fantastically into one bloodied pile; each rendering carrying significant information in the scene, yet somehow it is lost to memory. Each mimes passing on the same weapon and cause of their affliction, ending with a mother. Her streaming tears draw attention down her already stained wet garments to a bloody mess across her stomach and legs. Reaching out, she pulls all notice back up towards her face and her palm there before it. A new hand glides its fingers into the mother's palm, so tenderly trembling with regret.
That burning truth sears at that heart's thumping existence with a heat that splits a planet, cracking open its layers and foundation to expose its inner blinding temperatures. This world explodes just as it implodes like the dropping gulp of fearful regret and true sorrow.
Her hand falls deep from reach as the planet drops in from the vacuum, and blackness is shattered. Hundreds of pieces of light shatter upright into a rapidly assembling mirror that splatters smoothly melded without flaw but stained by webbing red blood stemming from the upper right corner, now known to be a fist. The fist is reflected in dual harmony. Another hand stained with dirtied wrappings embraces and falls down over the fist, as this robed figure looms over with its own painful and twisted weight; but only darkness is left under the hood.
There is more to the smack-bloodied fist, dual in its reflection. It reaches an arm, that reaches a torso, that reaches a face in the dark. It's me...
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