Growing Older (Sol)

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Her time aboard the Whaledon was always limited, but Loklorien s'Ilancy had - as of late - been spending more time aboard the Jedi's main training ship. Normally on the Valiant, she was all too often buried in clerical duties or other ship to ship paperwork. In a sense, her presence within the Wheel was a loan, as the bulk of her time was spent with Dan and the Dauntless, operating as his counsel and adviser. One might even consider it a step up from their days of hopping from planet to planet, system to system, with her functioning as his 'Jedi Guardian' as many had come to call her.

Of course, years go by and times change. She'd gone from her self-imposed exile to once more fall into place at Dan's side, only in a capacity that was far more militarily political, if one could even call it that. She had once made a joking remark to Sanis that she was for lack of a better word, Dan's secretary. In some ways one might consider that statement to be truth.

But the times that she was with the Jedi, though often short-lived periods, were never particularly marked with actual interaction. She knew hardly any of those within the Wheel with the exception of a few. Her presence on the Whaledon even was something short of a miracle. But aboard the Whaledon she was, having found herself in one of the hangars that had been converted into a sabre practice arena of sorts.

She sat along one of the far walls, on a bench that was less than comfortable. A few stared, but most went about their activities - what was it that they were observed by a one-eyed Jedi with cream colored robes? Most had probably never heard of her, and for that she was eternally grateful.

Her gaze wandered from dueling pair to dueling pair, analyzing in her own peculiar way the moves each student went through, executed, and blocked. A stray thought occurred to her, and the Lupine sat up straighter - an imperceptible shift beneath her robes. It was a strange observation, and one that she kept to herself.

"Odd," she whispered to no one in particular.

[Rev Solomon]

"What's odd, specifically?"

Solomon may as well have materialized alongside her. It wasn't his intent to sneak up, but he had such a quiet way about him, a holdover from his warrior days when Master Tau had trained him not to make any unnecessary noise.

He'd left his nerfhide coat in his quarters but had buckled on his lightsaber. Off to one side of the cargo bay, he saw one of the elder students patiently taking a handful of younglings through the basics of Shii-Cho, and he smiled at the sight of little Zyani Astaroth swinging her practice staff with an exaggerated flourish.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

His voice had startled her to a degree, but the Lupine showed no outward reaction at his sudden appearance. Instead, she turned her eye toward him, the corners of her mouth turning upwards ever so slightly.

"I see so much before me."

She blinked, then turned back to look at the gathered youngsters.

"But it is so different from when we were young, you and I."

In a way she was not surprised, and her next words were spoken quietly so that none but Sol could hear her.

"None seem to be learning Vapaad."

For herself, it was a plain observation, yet she knew well enough that her own training so many years ago had been unique in its' own way; no other student she'd known of at the Temple - before the Purge - had been taught that one method of fighting that had been so favored by Master Windu. Of course, that she had been Mace Windu's Padawan and subject to his leanings was not an unfamiliar concept.

"But, I suppose with the passage of time even our old methods become somewhat... antiquated... and too dangerous, to some."

[Rev Solomon]

"Even in the old days, most of the Jedi thought Vaapad was dangerous," Solomon recalled. He could still see her in his memory's eye, a graceful young creature in an inscrutable dance, weaving a shining ribbon of destruction that few could understand, against which even fewer could defend.

"I asked Master Tau once to teach me the basics of Vaapad. Just enough to surprise you at our next sparring session, maybe pick up a little more from you as time went on."

He shook his head. "He refused. Didn't think I was ready. Looking back on it now, I think he was right. That's a lot of aggression to keep a lid on. That's something I always admired about you, and about Master Windu. Your ability to find a balance between the darkness and the light."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

At that the Lupine lifted her hand to her mouth, attempting to hide a chuckle. The thought of him - all those years ago - wishing to unbalance her during one of their sparring sessions was... sweet. At least to her it was. s'Il let her hand drop to once more rest in her lap, and her smile melted into a wistful stare that was given to him.

"My dear friend," she started in a low, gentle voice, "Thank you."

She looked at him for only a moment longer before turning to those before them.

"It was so easy back then," she admitted.

"A child can do so many things that seem impossible to those of us who are older. Trust comes so much more easily, and everything is so much more simple; the line between black and white a clear thing."

A sigh, and she reached over to grip his hand in warmth.

"Everything is possible when you are young."

Another few moments of staring at those busy with their lessons, and s'Il turned to regard him once more.

"For as often as you and I faced each other, I cannot help but remember your peace. If there is one thing that I will never forget, it was your calm."

And indeed she could still see him, ever the resolute pillar of strength that continued to persevere. The longer she gazed at him, the younger his face seemed to grow, shedding age and the lines brought by the passing of time. It made her smile, and she slowly rose to her feet, her hand still holding his.

"Come with me," she grinned quietly.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon tilted his head in an unspoken question and rose to his feet beside his old friend, towering over her.

"Now, I remember that smile," he said. "It usually meant I was about to get my ass kicked."

But he smiled back and followed.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Nonsense," she playfully admonished as the two slowly made their way past small groups of duelists. There was an open corner of the practice bay that she'd spied, and the Lupine wished now to use it.

"You did not always lose, Sol Iman, and you know it."

She gave his hand a squeeze as she led him on.

[Rev Solomon]

"No, not always," he allowed. "Just enough to keep me humble. Which was a chore back then, if I recall."

He slipped his hand out from hers and took up his position, five paces away from her, as if their last spar had only been yesterday. He flexed his hands, which cracked like old timbers, bringing a chuckle from the preacher. "It's been a long time, Lok."

His saber hilt, half again as long as most Old Republic sabers, found its way into his hand, angled downward in one of the classic opening forms of Makashi.

"Too long."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

For her part, s'Il shed her robe, folding it over her left arm with a smile.

"That it has."

In years past, she had fought with a conventional sabre, the blade an amethyst color - much like her master's. In fact, she had kept the weapon with her until that disastrous confrontation with Callomas Savoc on Dantooine. There she had lost it when his actions resulted in its' destruction.

Now she used solely the dual sabre gauntlet that she'd constructed for herself on Cathar. It was that constant presence on her right forearm that few had actually seen her use. Normally hidden by the wide sleeves of her robes, it was now in plain sight; a sleek and rakish weapon that she had styled after finding inspiration from Cathar weapons. Even if her self-imposed exile had been spent mostly in quiet and solitude, the Jedi was mindful enough to familiarize herself with the many methods of Cathar fighting.

In fact, her time among the felinoid peoples had been a boon, and her own training had evolved into something beyond what had started as merely Form VII.

To that end, the Lupine shifted her body to allow Sol one side of her. Her muscles were relaxed, though her eye upon him sharp. Her sabre-gauntlet she kept at her side as her head angled slightly downward, gaze never faltering from her old sparring partner.

And for old-time's sake, the Lupine grinned that very same grin she had always given to him before the start of their lessons together...

[Rev Solomon]

It was a familiar game to both of them: Makashi, which operated on straight lines, forward charges and backward feints, an active blade and minimal footwork, versus Vaapad, the most dynamic of the saber styles, aggressive and theatrical, full of circling movements and daring leaps that dazzled and overwhelmed one's opponent from all quarters. Solomon was the tall rock standing in troubled tides, and Loklorien was the hurricane.

Solomon's ice-blue blade flashed to life, and he swept it upward to deflect the first savage blows from s'Il's saber gauntlet. He'd never known her to waste time testing an opponent she already knew so well.

"The gauntlet's a new innovation," he remarked, batting the double-blades away with a sparking hiss. "You come up with that yourself?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She pivoted on her heel, a movement that brought her a whisper away from him on a path that would bring her around to his back.

"An adaptation."

Which was the truth - she'd not conceived of the design herself, but rather used the base of a popular sword style that many Cathar used.

Her simple answer wasn't much, and as she faced away from him, her orange blades came around in a backhanded strike aimed for his thigh. It was a predictable move, and one that Sol blocked easily. They held for a scant few moments, and in that time she answered him more fully.

"I'm hardly smart enough to think of it myself."

Another twist of her torso, and she broke away. Her body danced, as though the dual blades were her partners, moving around her body in smooth motions before she came to a stop, her body angled toward him, her sabre-tips held outward to the side.

Unlike before however, her movements weren't meant to overwhelm; rather they were to test, and as she darted forward once more the Lupine brought her sabres around in a sweeping arc, following the path her arm took with the rest of her body.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon's movements were precise and economical, never leaving his feet, only stepping aside or back or forward to change the angles of leverage, to turn a direct attack into an oblique one, to force a more agile opponent to waste energy probing for a weakness that would never appear.

He gave away ground so their sabers did not make contact at the strongest point of s'Il's swing but the moment afterward so that the brunt of the force behind it went into the air instead of into his arm. His blue saber glided down the length of s'Il's gauntlet blades, threatening to sever her arm at the wrist, until s'Il twisted and pinwheeled his blade away. He swiftly inverted his saber into a backhand grip to block the inevitable counterstrike, and their blades stuck together for a moment, shedding white embers on the hangar deck as the duelists circled.

"You've adapted more than your saber," he said. "I'm used to sensing your passion in a fight. But you're more guarded now. Like you're hiding it."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"My passion still exists, it is simply refined."

She pulled her blade away then, sweeping it to the side as if to air it out. Taking a few steps back, the Lupine let her body relax as she rolled her shoulders. As she had done so many times before with Zem during their training sessions, s'Il let her body fall into a defensive stance, centering herself and anchoring her feet to the deck. Each blow of Sol's blue blade was deflected in rapid succession, the movements and motions of Form III - Soresu - obvious. Rather than attack, she let him come to her, watching and studying each move he made...

... and yet at some point during their trading of blows her eyes had closed.

Now she was seeing him through the Force. Seeing how it moved through and around him, how it guided his movements and actions. Colorful eddies painted a picture that was as real as if her eye was open. A ghostly smile touched the corners of her mouth as she parried, spun, blocked, and wove herself around each strike with fluid grace.

With a flourish, she darted away, pausing momentarily as they faced each other, her eyes still closed. Her chest rose and fell; she felt invigorated by an activity that she had once taken for granted.

"You've more muscle behind your blows than I recall," she admitted ruefully, giving a light laugh.

[Abarai Loki]

On his way to another piloting lesson with Inyos, Loki froze. There was a resounding crash followed by a long tortured sizzle. Then silence, after a crakling sigh of release, only to be broken again by an angry hiss. The young Jedi felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He turned on his heel and swept back down the corridor towards the hangar bay, and the sound of crossed blades. Sure enough, there was a cacophony of lightsaber noise coming from the hangar, but these particular sounds were made by deft hands; experienced hands.

The sight of Solomon and Loklorien s'Ilancy facing off drew him in, and with rapt fascination he watched their combat unfold, content for once to be late for an appointment.

[Rev Solomon]

"For a Lupine, you have a silver tongue," Solomon replied. "Driving eopies on Dantooine isn't quite the same as warrior training."

Now that she had turned to Form III, it was up to him to take initiative. It was a mark of the intensity and aggressiveness of Vaapad that Solomon had looked like the passive agent while exercising the duelist's form of Makashi. Against a turtling opponent using defensive-minded Soresu, his saber came alive, striking Lok's defense from above, the side, underneath, forcing her to extend, to open up her center.

He grew more aggressive in leading the dance, in threading out her defense, in seeking the lines of leverage that favored hammering force over speed and agility, but it was not until he shifted to a two-handed grip that he fully transitioned to Djem So. His strokes became tighter and swifter, forcing Lok to brace her parries or to give ground. Djem So against Soresu was a gambit of intensity against endurance. Solomon already had a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but so did s'Il.

"We're drawing a crowd," he said as they pressed blades. He'd noticed Abarai Loki observing them, but now the younglings had suspended their own practice drills and were gathering to watch the two warriors. "People are going to think we're a couple of show-offs."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The delight in her eye was the same as had shone through in those early years when they found themselves paired together, and s'Il flashed a grin as she shifted her stance.

"It is not so different from how we used to be," she reminded him.

And indeed, she felt taken back through time, to exist so many years before. They were young once again, drilling relentlessly, driving one another to exceed their own boundaries.

Her transition back into Form VII was swift and smooth, yet the style that she had mastered had become something more. Her body moved as the wind, eschewing the normal turns and leaps that were the hallmark of Vaapad for something more contained, more exact, and as she met Sol's blade time and time again, it was plain to see that she had become lost in the art that she now created.

The orange of her sabres ran in smooth arcs, sometimes acting as a counterbalance to her body's motions while other times they moved in concert. But each motion, each step, each strike was placed in such a way that while it was apparent that the style was Form VII, it had become something new.

[Rev Solomon]

Now she was back on the offensive, and he found himself keeping his saber closer to his body, giving up his advantage of greater reach so he could weather the storm of rapid, compact strikes that Loklorien was dishing out. This was Lok as he remembered her, the best of her: fierce, inventive, exuberant, more alive than anyone else he'd ever met. It made her an invigorating and terrifying opponent.

"I can sense your passion now," he said, grunting with every blow. "Your joy. Your exhilaration."

She charged and chased his blade in a spiral, forcing him to give up meters of ground. Their blades locked again, and her face drew near his, shining in the glow of the sabers and in the exultation of the match.

But all of a sudden, a cold feeling came over Solomon as he looked into her sightless right eye.

"But there's something else, too," he said. "Something I don't remember."

He wrestled free of the blade lock and stepped aside into the clear, his stance neutral, his mind now out of the fight.

"You're in pain," he said, softly, so the others would not hear.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

It all ended too suddenly, and blinking in confusion, s'Il stood panting. Beads of sweat rolling down the sides of her face, she turned a quizzical look to Sol. Why? Why had he stopped? Chest heaving, the Lupine seemed to put an effort into standing up straight, her head angled back and eyes closed as she basked in the afterglow of their far too short match.

She'd felt young, fresh, untouched by the trials that she'd had to endure. Sparring with him had let her retreat to a world that she'd never thought to visit again.

She thought on his words, deactivating her sabre gauntlet before tilting her head back forward.

When she answered, her voice was as low as his.

"I am."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon extinguished his own blade. He'd lost all awareness of the rest of the cargo bay - there was only his old friend before him.

"Why?" he asked. He stepped closer and, unthinking, raised a hand toward her scar.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She looked down, rubbing an impatient hand down one arm then the other, as if to clean herself of any dust or dirt that might have accumulated during their bout. It was a ridiculous notion, and she frowned.

"I am a mother who has lost her daughter," she finally admitted.

She ignored his hand as it drew near, but used the excuse of retrieving her robe to evade his touch. A sorrowful smile to him as she straightened back up, and the Lupine gave a pat to his still outstretched hand.

"It is not anything that anyone here should worry for."

[Rev Solomon]

"Lok..."

His voice was infinitely patient, deep in compassion. That he would turn a blind eye to a friend's suffering was unthinkable. He caught her hand in his own, enveloping it.

"I've spent months finding Force-sensitive children and ferrying them to the Wheel. If we work together, I know we can find her."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"I... "

She was speechless, not expecting his desire to help. Her hand in his, the Lupine lowered her gaze to the deck, but soon enough her eye swept those who had gathered to watch their duel, now looking unsure. A few of the younglings even had begun to toe their way closer to possibly catch an ear about what the two elder Jedi spoke of. It made her give a half-hearted smile, which she turned back to Sol.

"We should discuss this later," she whispered, slowly nodding to their observers.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon looked at her questioningly, then followed her eyes and saw the little ones gathering around. Sheepish, he relented. "All right. Maybe you could come by the Exodus later. I could make us some Manellan Jasper tea."

[Abarai Loki]

"Old warrior Solomon," came a voice from behind the towering preacher, "It is a relief to see your lightsaber free of dust."

It had been a tantalizing display of combat prowess from both parties, and the young Jedi had revelled in the electricity he felt between his dueling elders, but it was over all too soon. And the gathered padawans weren't alone in their disappointment.

"And Loklorien s'Ilancy," he said, when she appeared next to Solomon, "You must inform me of your next duel. Your Vaapad is intriguing."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Any trace of her previously troubled countenance dissipated, and s'Il nodded genially to the young man who'd approached herself and Solomon. Abarai Loki. She knew of him, but had never had the chance to actually meet him face to face.

Perhaps spending time with the Wheel was a beneficial idea.

"Abarai Loki," she nodded in greeting. It was the first time that she's even spoken to him.

"My next duel is... " she hesitated, casting a sideways look up to Sol's face, her mouth slightly open as she tried to formulate the best response. It wasn't long before she turned back to Loki, a gentle smile touching her features.

"... sometime in the future."

She looked down, idly tinkering with the underside of her gauntlet and unsure of how to approach his appraisal of her use of Form VII.

"It is not something I do often."

[Rev Solomon]

"We should change that," Solomon said, watching Loklorien intently. "Get to know each other again."

He reached out a hand toward her, a silent plea.

[Abarai Loki]

"Solomon is right. Dueling is an excellent source of excercise, especially with the onset of old age. Excuse me."

Oblivious to their flickering intimacy, Loki closed the distance between himself and the elder Jedi to carefully inspect Loklorien's gauntlet. Never before had he seen anything like it but he made certain not to touch it out of respect. There was no mistaking the fascination in his voice.

"Loklorian s'Ilancy, your weapon is a curious thing. One would be forgiven for mistaking it a clumsy relic from an age of barbarism... but it lends itself so well to your style."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"The onset of old - " a befuddled look was given to Sol as she absently unlocked the gauntlet's latch system which kept it on her arm. Sliding it off, s'Il held it out to Loki so that he could take it if he so wished. With her other she grasped Sol's earnestly outstretched hand. It was warm, and comforting.

An amused look up to her towering friend, and she gave a good-natured grunt.

"I was not aware that fifty standard years was old... "

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon saw s'Il's befuddled look and raised her an eyebrow. Loki had a gift for unintentionally backhanded compliments.

"He should look so good at fifty. Maybe the two of us should put on a clinic for the terminally young."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki was stunned, to be so casually offered another Jedi's weapon was unprecidented, and he accepted it in both hands with a thankful bow. His wide eyes lifted to Loklorien and he watched her interact with Solomon, their words lost to him as he retreated a few steps to inspect the gauntlet.

First, he studied its design; the interlocking plates of folded metal etched with exquisite lettering. Its symbols were completely alien to him but they drew to mind the engravings on his own lightsaber. Immediately his estimation of Loklorien s'Ilancy leapt. While the craftsmanship itself was remarkable, the gauntlet was somewhat savage in appearance, intended to intimidate he figured. And unable to resist any longer, he strapped it to his arm.

It was a loose fit and felt much heavier on one arm than it did cradled in both hands. He refused to activate the blades, feeling that would be taking a liberty too far when entrusted with such a treasure. Another lengthy period of scrutiny then, using his free hand to hold it secure, he burst into action. Carving the air with a succession of strokes and attacks, he cycled through the forms, sampling the gauntlet against an invisible foe. Then at length he paused and contemplated it once again. Suddenly, he lashed out with a sharp jab, then another, and followed it through with a snappy backhand; the duel had turned into a boxing match. Hooks, overhands, haymakers, uppercuts - he tested them all until he was satisfied the enemy was defeated, impaled no doubt upon his imaginary blades.

Now with a light sweat on his brow he returned to his fellow Jedi and graciously presented Loklorian with her weapon. Once relieved of its weight he gave a contented nod.

"It is not without a certain rustic charm but lacks the natural elegance of a traditional lightsaber."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

It was a strange feeling, standing with Sol and watching a young Jedi so studiously take himself through the rigors of practice - short as it was. She'd never thought to consider the other side of things, the side of the elders who watched the younger generations rising before them. But now here she was. Her and Sol both, watching as Abarai tested the limits of her weapon. And in that moment she knew how both Master Windu and Master Tau felt as they watched their Padawans face each other in the sparring rooms.

"It is strange to be the ones watching," she remarked with a healthy amount of introspection weighing her words.

She smiled at the boy as he returned, holding the gauntlet out for her. She took it with a respectful nod, but rather than replace it on her arm, s'Il cradled it with one hand; her other still in Sol's.

"I've found that elegance is not in the object, but in how one uses it. Anyone can swing a lightsabre, but few can truly dance with it."

[Rev Solomon]

"Do you remember the demonstrations Master Tau used to give?" Of course she remembered, Solomon knew, who could forget - the progression of all seven forms as interpreted through the dual-saber discipline of Jar'Kai. He'd used one blue saber and one yellow, and he had woven them through the air so fast they were like ribbons of light.

"I once tried adapting his routine to rhythmic Corellian poetry," he said. "Bass so loud the whole training room was shaking. When I saw Master Tau standing in the doorway, I thought for sure I was going to get the reaming of a lifetime for disrespecting the sacred art of the saber - but he wanted me to tighten up my timing to the beat."

He laughed and shook his head. "No disrespect to Master Windu, but he never had Soren Tau's grace. Nor yours. Sometimes I think we wound up with the wrong masters. You two could have danced to anything."

[Abarai Loki]

"While I appreciate the artistry of lightsaber combat," Loki interrupted, wearing a troubled look, "Don't you find a dancing Jedi somewhat... unmasculine?"

That wasn't the word. Not at all. But he'd said it now and wondered briefly if that was how he truly felt. It was true, he'd spent the last thirteen years of his life in the company of men, but equality and fairness were part of his master's teachings. Why, then, did the thought of a dancing Jedi bother him so much? Taking note of Loklorien's expression he suddenly remembered himself and offered her the sincerest of bows.

"Forgive me, it was not my place. Please continue your story."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She released Sol's hand then, amusement drawing the corners of her mouth upwards into an almost lopsided grin.

Yes, she most certainly remembered Master Tau's demonstrations; they had been captivating and beautiful. The man was a true artist of the sabre. She also remembered having been witness to the very event that Sol spoke of. It had been so bizarre to watch, and the young Lupine was struck by what - to her - seemed an entirely new concept of pacing each movement and swing. It was fascinating to ponder, though she would have never admitted it then. Instead, she would have called it a peculiar exercise in testing the limits of a person's tolerance for loud noise.

Her hand, now free of Sol's grip, reached up to give him a pat to his cheek.

"I still suffer from an occasional ringing in my ears," she teased before turning to Abarai.

His confusion was to a degree expected, and s'Il made a gesture that the three of them walk. It would be preferable to simply standing in her estimation.

"Oh, it is not 'dancing' in the sense that you might think of it as. It is more the product of how you move with your weapon, what you are able to do with it and how connected you allow yourself to become with it.

"Grace in all things, including battle."

[Rev Solomon]

"In those days, we could afford to make an art out of the lightsaber," Solomon said, picking up where Lok had left off. "It was more than mere utility and survival. It was elegance of form and motion. Some of the sabers themselves were works of art. Now..."

He unclipped his own lightsaber again - a poor cousin to the savage simplicity of Lok's saber gauntlet, it looked like a rejected part from a hyperdrive surplus store, little more than a pipe with rubber grips and a tuning knob, covered with evidence of makeshift repairs made with humble means.

Of course, the only reason he'd been able to carry it so long was because only an expert would recognize it as a saber. The emitter end was tapered and unassuming, and on the butt end were the coils and prongs of a stunstick, a valuable defense against hostile wildlife on the open plains of Dantooine.

"As rare as sabers are, it's rarer still to find any with any artistry to them at all."

He laughed then. "Listen to us, Lok - have we become a couple of saber snobs?"

[Abarai Loki]

"It is foolish to compare the artistry of lightsabers. The lightsaber is not an ornament and neither is it just a weapon. A Jedi carries his weapon through life, and it is in turn shaped by his life, as he is shaped by it. In its properties, in its design, in its strengths, faults, and scars, a lightsaber shows the truth of your life. It is a vessel for the soul. And each is equally beautiful."

Clearly, Solomon had touched on a topic close to the young Jedi's heart; the lightsaber, the core of his teachings. His tone quickly switched from one of mild reprimand to that of reverance, and in his voice there was the same kind of conviction the old preacher had when he spoke of God. One last glance at his lightsaber and the boy returned his gaze to Solomon.

"Old warrior Solomon, you are a man of humility; the wanderer with a strong hand, who adapts, disguised a peasant amongst peasants, purpose lost to his refuge."

"And Loklorien s'Ilancy," he said, turning his eyes on her mighty gauntlet, "Pride and tradition guide your hand, but your are malleable; influenced by great things; you are a protector, and you protect your domain with feral resolve."

He looked up, studying them both inquisitively, "They tought this at the temple?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

There was a raised eyebrow at Abarai as he spoke, and s'Il made a note to at some point ask him about his time growing up; learning of the Force and his teachings. This young one was so full of conviction that the Lupine found herself wondering at his past.

To Sol's observation of their 'snobbery', she gave a laugh, her head angling away as crows feet creased in minute trailing lines away from the outer corners of her eyes.

Her laugh transitioned into speech however, in answer to Abarai's question.

"Oh, they taught many things at the Temple. What you learned after you were given to a teacher was subject to his or her ways.

"Master Windu took me as his learner from nearly the first day that I arrived, and what he taught to me was often not what Master Tau taught to Sol."

Her tone lost the lightness it had taken from her laugh, becoming a touch more serious.

"But times change," she reached out to rest a hand on Abarai's shoulder as they walked, "... and so do perceptions. Those like Sol and myself, we change, but we also cling to elements of the past that spoke to us then, and speak to us still."

Her grip on his shoulder tightened barely in reassurance.

"Those who come after - so long as they remain true to the light and remember who they serve - are just as free to realize their own ideals and find what speaks to them."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon wasn't certain where they were going, but for the moment it didn't matter. Even an aimless walk among friends was time well spent.

"There's a lot to celebrate about the old Order," he said, "but a lot to regret, as well. When something grows as old as the Jedi Order, you start to imagine it as an element of nature. You think of it as outside time, and outside the people who give it a reason for being. When I was your age, Loki, I thought the Order was eternal and unchanging. Now..."

He watched as a pair of teenaged girls passed by - Kalan'dryl the half-Nautolan and a black-furred felinoid whose name he hadn't caught yet. Under the old Order, they would have come to the Jedi as little more than infants, young enough to be molded to the ways of the Order, to be purged of their racial and family identity in the great melting pot of Jedi conformity. He wondered if that sort of thinking had contributed to the Jedi's downfall, the way a homogeneous population of nerfs could be wiped out by a single blight.

"There's a saying from the Book of the Faith: 'I am willing to become all things to all species so that I may win a few to the Light.' It's time we learned to be what the galaxy needs us to be. It's good to remember the traditions of the past, but not at the cost of growing old and irrelevant. This is a new Order now. It should be shaped by the voices and spirits of the young. Like Navaria, Corell, Kala, and you, Loki."

[Abarai Loki]

"Perhaps if I were to write a book and bind it fine leather, you would embrace me as the supreme being? My first commandment would remind you that a Jedi does not bend to the will of the galaxy. And my second would read: Thou shalt not worship false idols."

There was an unmistakable tone of irritation in Loki's voice which seemed to surface everytime the Jedi preacher made reference to the dusty old tome he cradled everywhere he went. It was out of sheer frustration the youngster venomously rebuked Solomon's faith, figuring the old warrior used the book as a crux in place of his own substantial intellect. They arrived at a junction in the corridor and Loki came to a halt.

"This conversation has been... somewhat stimulating, but I must depart for the airlock lest I keep my flight instructor waiting. Just because there is no reference to punctuality in the Jedi Code doesn't mean there shouldn't be," he raised his voice a dangerous fraction at that, eyeing a couple of padawans as they dashed by, "Master s'Ilancy, I would be honoured if we could discuss the seventh form, and your application of it, at a later date."

Before he turned to leave, he offered them a curt bow, "I am grateful for your company."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon could only smile and shake his head at Loki's estimation of his faith. "May the Force be with you, Loki."

When the boy had disappeared, he turned back to his companion. "That offer of Manellan Jasper still stands. You'd better get in on it before I drink it all myself."

His mouth smiled, but his eyes were creased with worry. He wanted to know what s'Il wasn't telling him, what she'd refused to discuss in earshot of others.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She watched with absent interest at Loki's departing figure; his pace, his gait, the way he held his head, everything. In the wake of the boy's convicted words and curt mannerisms, she found a ghostly, if not rather amused smile touch her lips. It was like looking into a mirror almost, and seeing herself from so many years past.

Sol's words brought her from her thoughts however, and she pulled in a long breath, looking up to him.

"I think," she started slowly, her smile softening "... that Manellan Jasper tea would be wonderful."

[Rev Solomon]

The Exodus was an old Theta-class 2c shuttle (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Theta-class_T-2c_shuttle) fitted for medical duty. It was unarmed, but it gave Solomon an excuse to pass Imperial pickets, and by law they couldn't fire on a ship with the universal blue stripe medical markings. The compact interior still had room for a nook for meals and a tiny kitchen with a hotplate that worked just fine for a tea kettle.

Solomon trapped the sachet of jasper leaves in the top of the pot as he poured cups for himself and his guest. "From the moment you said you had a daughter, I knew I'd want to meet her some day," the preacher said. "What's she like?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The Lupine watched him work, and after a few moments turned to carefully deposit her sabre gauntlet and folded robe on the small countertop. It was a bit of a balancing act, but not impossible.

"She... "

A sigh that was somewhere between happy memories and sadness. It had been long enough since she'd sent Teagan away that she wondered how her daughter really was growing up. Before she'd always found something to smile at, but now?

"She always smiles. It doesn't matter where she is or what she is doing, she will find something to smile about."

Just the thought of it made a slow grin creep onto s'Il's own face, and with a grateful nod in thanks she accepted the cup that Sol held out for her.

"There is so much of her father in her that I admit to a small bit of jealousy."

She gave a small self-depricating laugh at that before gently blowing at the steam rising from her tea.

"Perhaps it is a normal thing though, for any one parent to feel in such a way."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon had never been a parent, but he'd shepherded his share during his time on Dantooine. Some things were universal.

"I'm sure she's a credit to you both." And then he realized he knew nothing about that situation, so he prodded at it as gently as he could. "Would it be unbecoming of me to ask about her father?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

It was a strange mix of common knowledge and not-so-common, the long and close relationship shared between General Dan and his Jedi life-partner.

With a faint smile laced with a constant underlying air of contentment, s'Il looked down into the swirling patterns of the tea she held.

"General Dan."

[Rev Solomon]

It hadn't been common knowledge to Solomon. He knew of Dan by reputation but had never met the man. He couldn't imagine Lok being captivated by anyone but a complex and confident individual.

"I don't imagine a heavy cruiser is an ideal place to raise a child," he said sympathetically. "Does he know your daughter's missing?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Yes."

They bore the pain of Teagan's absence together, husband and wife.

A tentative sip, and the Lupine went on.

"She was born on Cathar, and I kept her there for the first six years of her life, but circumstances did not allow me to tell him of her until only a little over a year ago."

It was such a long story, her constant trials from the moment she'd escaped the Temple with Zem until now. Her never-ending flight from the Sith who had haunted her dreams and invaded her thoughts.

"Her name is Teagan."

[Rev Solomon]

There was so much history contained in those few words, more than Solomon had a right to. But there had to be something, something astronomical, that she was leaving out. He couldn't even begin to imagine what would keep a woman of s'Il's resources, drive, and abilities from scouring the galaxy for her missing daughter, even if she were locked up in the Imperial Citadel itself. Much as he wanted to push straight on in, to start hatching a plan to rescue a child from possible danger, he needed to reacquaint himself with the woman sitting across the little table from him.

Teagan. Somehow the name completed a picture in Solomon's mind, a smiling little girl with s'Il's ice-blue eyes and nearly transparent yellow hair, wild with the joy of life. The image brought a smile to the preacher's face.

"You know I don't want to poke around in matters that aren't my business," he said. "We've been apart longer than we'd known each other before the fall of the Order. That's a whole lot of catching up to do."

He picked up the pot and refreshed her cup of tea. "Where were you when it happened?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

What followed was a sort of rambling tale, starting from her terrible experience in feeling Master Windu's death, feeling the same wounds that he had taken before his end. She spoke of her escape with Zem in the brutal onslaught of Order 66, and their maddened rush to stay ahead of the Empire on a myriad of worlds that she had long ago forgotten the names of.

With each refilling of their tea brought on new chapters of her life - from Zem taking her as his Padawan, to their rescue of the General and the rest of the passengers aboard a freighter that was doomed to fall into a star. The time spent alon with Zem, learning all that he had to teach her, and their eventual reunion with Dan and his small Rebel cell.

At that she paused, looking down at the table in contemplation, knowing that she'd not told half of the story so far. A sigh, and she looked at Sol.

"It is all so much I know, but there is always more. So much more."

She smiled, draining the dregs of her tea.

"But I have talked for so long that I fear I must take a break.

"Tell me... what happened to you? Where did you go in those dark times?"

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon listened, spellbound. So much of it sounded very familiar, except that s'Il had the blessing of a companion - someone to be strong for, and someone to be strong for her. He wondered how different his own story would have been if he had found another refugee and not been left to the torment of his own wounded soul.

"Master Tau and I were on Geonosis when the order came..."

It was not long ago that he had told this story to Abarai Loki. This time it was less sermon, more confession. His face was grave as he detailed not only what he'd endured, but also what he'd done.

"...Finally I found time to heal and figured out my transport off of Geonosis. But by then I'd heard what had happened across the Galaxy. I'd like to say I was stronger, but I wasn't. The pain and the anger overtook me. I must've cut through a hundred Clones on my way to the hangar. But it wasn't defense. It was revenge. By then, the damage was done. I had fallen to the Dark Side."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

s'Il was captivated, any thoughts of more tea forgotten as she stared at Sol, nearly unblinking through his own tale.

It wasn't unexpected, but it still hurt to hear of Master Tau's death - the Lupine had always enjoyed the man's artistry, and respected him highly. She wiped at a small tear, gave a light sniff, and leaned back as Sol continued on.

But, at his very last revelation, the Lupine fell speechless, her lips parting a hair's breadth as she blinked. The Dark? Sol Iman? Fallen? It was such a shock to hear that she at first refused to believe.

But, the look in his eyes was enough to lay to rest any doubts, and s'Il felt her pulse quicken as her voice came out at barely above a whisper.

"Oh Sol... "

She wanted to pull him to her, to embrace him tightly. Instead, the Lupine merely reached a cautious hand across the table to lay it over the top of his.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon couldn't help but be warmed by the motherly gesture. He turned his hand over so he could curl his fingers around hers, and they shared a moment of understanding as powerful and intimate as the duel had been.

"For a while there I was as lost as a person can be. Had designs on revenging myself on the whole Empire. Even..." He pursed his lips and swallowed as if ridding his mouth of a bad taste. "Even found someone as twisted up as I was to help carry the torch. We egged each other on, but I don't think either of us really realized what we were doing. By the time I saw what I had become, I thought I was beyond all reclamation."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Her hand felt so small in his, but she held on firmly.

"Nobody is beyond redemption."

Her other hand came out then to further reinforce her hold.

"Nobody. You just have to know how to reach those lost, and bring them back to the light."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon smiled, as if to prove the story got better.

"I know that now. Lok... I've learned something extraordinary. There's a Jedi aboard the Wheel who has communed with the spirits of the Jedi masters of past generations, including ours. Yoda. Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan Kenobi. And Anakin Skywalker."

He paused to let the enormity of what he'd just said sink in.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

As if his admission of his fall was not enough, Sol had seen fit to bombard her with yet another piece of information that was no less astounding. The Lupine let out a long exhale, her mind parsing this new knowledge. In the end, her features creased into confusion.

"... but how?"

It was plain to see that she had been taken by complete surprise, and s'Il stared at Sol with an intense gaze, eager to know more.

[Rev Solomon]

"I didn't think it was possible when I first heard it," Solomon said. "But then they appeared to Loki and me as well. And I heard it from Anakin himself."

He leaned closer over the table. "Luke went to the Death Star at the Battle of Endor to try to his father. We thought he'd failed. But when the Emperor turned his wrath on Luke, Darth Vader struck down the Lord of the Sith at the cost of his own life. Not to seize power or to take revenge, but to protect his son. Love, Lok. That's the power that casts out the Dark Side. The power the Dark Side cannot understand and cannot dominate. The Force binds our bodies together. But it is love that binds our souls."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Love...

It was all so much. What Sol spoke of now struck her so thoroughly that the Lupine was rendered speechless. She blinked at him, all thoughts of refilling her tea forgotten.

Her mind reeled, and s'Il felt herself fall into a moment that stretched forever.

Until...

"I have to go."

It was said in a whisper, but she made no move to pull her hand away, nor even rise to stand.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon's face fell. He wasn't ready for the moment to end.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "We have so much more to talk about."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

That seemed to cause her a moment's pause, and the Lupine gave him a perplexed look.

"It is all so much, everything that you've told me."

[Rev Solomon]

"I suppose it is," he admitted, softening. "I can't rightly say that I've finished wrestling with it myself."

Gently, he squeezed her hand in his. "The redemption of Vader is a beacon of hope. Not just for the Jedi, but for the whole galaxy. It means the dominion of the Dark Side is crumbling. Anything can happen now."

Somewhere in the Exodus an old-style mechanical chrono whirred and began to chime the hour. Solomon sighed and shook his head. "Here I am talking your ear off. But it was good to have your company, Lok. You know if you ever need anything, you only have to ask."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"It is good to know," she whispered, a smile passing over her features, "... that though we've grown older, we're not held back by the inability to change and learn new lessons."

Slowly, the Lupine stood from her seat, but her hand stayed in his, and with a gentle tug s'Il pulled him up into an embrace.