- Joined
- Jan 2, 2013
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Flashback Thread
The training room in the Coruscant temple was bare and desolate. Nary a whisper fluttered through the hollow rooms, save for the muffled sound of shuffling feet. Constance was in the training room today, attempting to find what happened to her balance. The remorseful memories of her mother's death stalked the shadows of her mind, haunting her consistently. Her prowess with the scythe-saber was waning, and she was determined to get it back. She had been holed up in the training room for hours, not once departing for food or drink or the medical attention she needed.
Her arms, face, legs and torso were singed from the training mode. It was a customary scenario of trial and error, and Constance had found herself erring more than she was succeeding. The evidence was irrefutable; the minor burns attesting to her repeated failures. It had taken hours, but it seemed she had finally regained her composure. Her last few attempts had proven fruitful, though not fully completed. Training mode was deactivated this time and if she fouled up, she would be gravely injured. The serenity of the training room would become sanguinary tout de suite.
Concentrate.
A spiraling bedim ascended into the air, light glinting in rapid succession off the immaculately polished stave. The monotone gray blur suddenly became polychromatic with a tinge of green, a snap-hiss sound pervading the otherwise silent atmosphere. As the stave's upward momentum began to wane, it came to its inevitable undulation. It plummeted down from the air, the menacing, phosphorescent green and gray spiral threatening to cleave Constance in two. The spiral closed the distance cursorily, and the impending mutilation seemed inevitable.
At the very last second the young girl performed an elegant spiral, scantily avoiding the blade. Arriving at the culmination of her spin, she thrust out her arm and seized the weapon with unprecedented precision. Redirecting the incredible momentum, Constance lashed out with the scythe-saber at an approaching practice droid. Several incandescent trails were left behind fleetingly, the blade humming maliciously with each swipe made; one from the right to left, redirected into a horizontal, upward left-to-right uppercut, then an identical attack in the mirrored direction.
The droid gurgled malfunctioning warnings in its metallic voice, chunks of the automaton sliding off in succession. The seven-and-a-half foot handle gripped securely in her right hand, chest heaving from excitement, Constance deactivated the saber-scythe. The retreating blade made a final hiss as it disappeared.
Finally, Constance thought to herself.