- Joined
- Dec 28, 2011
- Messages
- 1,480
- Reaction score
- 2
“Keter, focus,”
“Keter, focus,”
He sat alone, waiting in the dim arrows of crepuscule light spewing from the halogen lights of the waiting area. It was almost time to step out into his sparring session, something inside Keter told him he was about to be severely disappointed. He sunk his head to the floor, eyes closed and face hidden by his straight mane of ebony hair; black gloved fingers dug deep trenches in amidst the mess. He was not feeling well enough for this.
Keter had not been sleeping well, his dreams plagued by nightmares of a cryptic nature. Visions of a black orb surrounded by whiteness. Thick black rings had formed under his deep crimson eyes, he looked tired and unwell. The teenager inhales sharply, ready to step out to spar, as was the training exercise for today.
He stood slowly, raising his head to face the arch of light before him, post-human ears picked up the roar of the temples duelling chamber systems, and he knew that sound well. He walked with a confident stride, heavy footfalls of booted feet placing him quickly in his corner of the ring. To his opponent, upon arrival, he would look like someone ready or a fight; black gloves wrapped tightly around wraithlike fingers, standard white Jedi Padawan robes clothing his lithe form.
His sparring opponent was another Padawan known as Vei Hettoran, a Jawa with a predisposition towards dual wielding, a more advanced lightsaber technique. Keter had accepted, even relished this opportunity due to the fact someone with that style would likely be skilled in use with a saber, something Keter felt desperately he needed to prepare himself for as he performed jobs for the Order on his path to Knighthood.
Keter sat on the floor of the sparing chambers and crossed his legs. Within moments the Padawan was levitating in the centre of the room, awaiting his opponent. Ethereal, psionic tendrils drifted from his mind, feeling across the room, sensing the presences in the force outside the chamber. He breathed deeply.
When the Jawa would enter, Keter would know it, and be ready.
…”Focus, Keter,”
“Keter, focus,”
He sat alone, waiting in the dim arrows of crepuscule light spewing from the halogen lights of the waiting area. It was almost time to step out into his sparring session, something inside Keter told him he was about to be severely disappointed. He sunk his head to the floor, eyes closed and face hidden by his straight mane of ebony hair; black gloved fingers dug deep trenches in amidst the mess. He was not feeling well enough for this.
Keter had not been sleeping well, his dreams plagued by nightmares of a cryptic nature. Visions of a black orb surrounded by whiteness. Thick black rings had formed under his deep crimson eyes, he looked tired and unwell. The teenager inhales sharply, ready to step out to spar, as was the training exercise for today.
He stood slowly, raising his head to face the arch of light before him, post-human ears picked up the roar of the temples duelling chamber systems, and he knew that sound well. He walked with a confident stride, heavy footfalls of booted feet placing him quickly in his corner of the ring. To his opponent, upon arrival, he would look like someone ready or a fight; black gloves wrapped tightly around wraithlike fingers, standard white Jedi Padawan robes clothing his lithe form.
His sparring opponent was another Padawan known as Vei Hettoran, a Jawa with a predisposition towards dual wielding, a more advanced lightsaber technique. Keter had accepted, even relished this opportunity due to the fact someone with that style would likely be skilled in use with a saber, something Keter felt desperately he needed to prepare himself for as he performed jobs for the Order on his path to Knighthood.
Keter sat on the floor of the sparing chambers and crossed his legs. Within moments the Padawan was levitating in the centre of the room, awaiting his opponent. Ethereal, psionic tendrils drifted from his mind, feeling across the room, sensing the presences in the force outside the chamber. He breathed deeply.
When the Jawa would enter, Keter would know it, and be ready.
…”Focus, Keter,”