Gabriel Xeanos
Jun 18th, 2002, 08:09:35 AM
(OOC: Continuation of origin/story I put in the OOC forum)
“He is dead and so is the world around me…yet the tears that roll down my cheek are not for sorrow or care like a Jedi’s would be, no, they are of hatred…”
Fire flickered the room of elegant marble and worn columns. A single figure lied on a stone altar setting, his robes consenting to the flame that engulfed him. Obviously dead to the plain of life and the force, one who knew it well and chambered it within his heart and soul as well as his mind. Several men and women stood there, their hoods bringing a perpetual feel of lifelessness and lost thought. Mourning for the Jedi was like the rest, loving and caring to the loss. Though very few had time to do anything like that anymore. So the few masters and knights there watched on with their indifferent eyes of calm ease, but hearts that weighed on them heavily.
One of the few there may not have looked different to the naked eye, his brown burlap robe falling to the ground in grace like any other Jedi. His hood was down however, exposing his sharp and pale young face along with his long black hair that at the time had been tied behind his head and a small section braided like a Padawan’s would be. Telling of his ascension to the Trials. This one was close, but had obviously not gone through with them yet. The most protruding likeness of this young man however was his eyes. His eyes were not blue, hazel, or even a rare green. No, this young man was different; his red eyes scanned the altar that the body lied upon like a hawk.
Under his robe was a fairly basic Jedi gi. It had a reddish brown leather V that went down into a lone like cloth with a heavy black sash over it. Near that was his belt, his black and sliver standard lightsaber hanging amongst the clothing. Beneath that was another layer of clothing that was a slight shade of black with rather big robe like sleeves that led out to his brown gloves. His pants were a black as well with his boots another deep black. He could be mistaken as a Sith at first glance, but those who knew him had known, without a shadow of doubt, that he was caring, yet very quiet and dark to his proceedings. That was why when one of the masters saw him crying, his eyes narrowed with wonder. It was not normal for this young learner out of all to be crying. He had ascended so quickly and was already fairly known. However, the master still had something to give him, requested by the Padawan’s former master, Ko-Hai Dune.
When the ceremony was over it seemed still in the room, the body had been moved away and most of the others were gone. There still was the young man, sitting against a column that surrounded the altar. His robe pushed away and his hands lazily strewn over his knees. A shadow flailed over him slowly as he looked up to see Keppa-Dar Lowe, master of the force like any other. The Jedi pulled his hood back revealing his sleek ebony skin with several blue tattoos painted along his face. He looked down at the learner who did not bother to do anything but stare at the altar that still was solemnly placed in the center of the four columns there.
“He wanted you to have this Gabriel. As much as the normal Jedi code calls for not doing anything like this, I see it fitting at the moment,” Master Lowe said the words with a humble and deep care as he outstretched his hand.
“He is dead and so is the world around me…yet the tears that roll down my cheek are not for sorrow or care like a Jedi’s would be, no, they are of hatred…”
Fire flickered the room of elegant marble and worn columns. A single figure lied on a stone altar setting, his robes consenting to the flame that engulfed him. Obviously dead to the plain of life and the force, one who knew it well and chambered it within his heart and soul as well as his mind. Several men and women stood there, their hoods bringing a perpetual feel of lifelessness and lost thought. Mourning for the Jedi was like the rest, loving and caring to the loss. Though very few had time to do anything like that anymore. So the few masters and knights there watched on with their indifferent eyes of calm ease, but hearts that weighed on them heavily.
One of the few there may not have looked different to the naked eye, his brown burlap robe falling to the ground in grace like any other Jedi. His hood was down however, exposing his sharp and pale young face along with his long black hair that at the time had been tied behind his head and a small section braided like a Padawan’s would be. Telling of his ascension to the Trials. This one was close, but had obviously not gone through with them yet. The most protruding likeness of this young man however was his eyes. His eyes were not blue, hazel, or even a rare green. No, this young man was different; his red eyes scanned the altar that the body lied upon like a hawk.
Under his robe was a fairly basic Jedi gi. It had a reddish brown leather V that went down into a lone like cloth with a heavy black sash over it. Near that was his belt, his black and sliver standard lightsaber hanging amongst the clothing. Beneath that was another layer of clothing that was a slight shade of black with rather big robe like sleeves that led out to his brown gloves. His pants were a black as well with his boots another deep black. He could be mistaken as a Sith at first glance, but those who knew him had known, without a shadow of doubt, that he was caring, yet very quiet and dark to his proceedings. That was why when one of the masters saw him crying, his eyes narrowed with wonder. It was not normal for this young learner out of all to be crying. He had ascended so quickly and was already fairly known. However, the master still had something to give him, requested by the Padawan’s former master, Ko-Hai Dune.
When the ceremony was over it seemed still in the room, the body had been moved away and most of the others were gone. There still was the young man, sitting against a column that surrounded the altar. His robe pushed away and his hands lazily strewn over his knees. A shadow flailed over him slowly as he looked up to see Keppa-Dar Lowe, master of the force like any other. The Jedi pulled his hood back revealing his sleek ebony skin with several blue tattoos painted along his face. He looked down at the learner who did not bother to do anything but stare at the altar that still was solemnly placed in the center of the four columns there.
“He wanted you to have this Gabriel. As much as the normal Jedi code calls for not doing anything like this, I see it fitting at the moment,” Master Lowe said the words with a humble and deep care as he outstretched his hand.