Gabriel Xeanos
Jun 18th, 2002, 11:01:50 AM
((OOC: I should mention that the story you read on SWFans forums in Storytelling is a alternate version. As in I fast forwarded it to what Gabriel might be when a Knight, this version is the hands down realistic one where he is just a Padawan.))
“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 far, and 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.
Gabriel didn’t look up at first, his red eyes strewn upon the patterns of the marble flooring. He was trying to understand why it happened, and if it was destiny or the fate that all Jedi were so high on. Fate that he still didn’t understand and what made him nowhere near to the trials. When he did look up however, what he saw astonished him for a moment. The lightsaber handle in Master Lowe’s gloved hand sparkling with resonance of the sunlight that came from the entrance to the hall. Gabriel was always jealous of Master Dune’s lightsaber handle. Only because of its indifferent design and small tassel that ran down at the end with a very small gold medallion on it.
Gabriel was in awe, it made very little sense, and usually the lightsaber would go with the body, especially with something as personal as that. He looked up at Master Lowe who had a smile. Gabriel let the lightsaber float of out of the master’s hand and slowly transverse the air to his held up hand, the sparkling medallion twisting along with the tassel that it hung from. He then clenched it lightly while speaking. His voice was very dark but had a sound of care and light within it as well,
“What did I do to deserve this...I…don’t understand…I,” Gabriel said, his words holding astonishment and wonder within them.
Master Lowe sighed as he knelt down in front of Gabriel to speak. “Master Dune told me before he died that to give you his lightsaber. So far you were the best pupil he ever had. When we went on that mission together and he had fallen to the blade, those were the last words from his mouth,” Master Lowe smiled then patted him on the shoulder. He got up putting his hood back on, the cloth of his robe fluttering to the small movements as he turned.
Gabriel sat there his eyes were bright with a new beginning as he looked at the lightsaber. He then realized something.
Within seconds Lowe was gone and Gabriel stood alone, strapping the second lightsaber to his side. In all actuality he did not know if this was good or bad. The light that controlled some of his anger at himself was gone, burned away in ceremonial form. Yet, he was free of mind, a Padawan set on his own. Only time would tell of his new beginnings.
“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 far, and 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.
Gabriel didn’t look up at first, his red eyes strewn upon the patterns of the marble flooring. He was trying to understand why it happened, and if it was destiny or the fate that all Jedi were so high on. Fate that he still didn’t understand and what made him nowhere near to the trials. When he did look up however, what he saw astonished him for a moment. The lightsaber handle in Master Lowe’s gloved hand sparkling with resonance of the sunlight that came from the entrance to the hall. Gabriel was always jealous of Master Dune’s lightsaber handle. Only because of its indifferent design and small tassel that ran down at the end with a very small gold medallion on it.
Gabriel was in awe, it made very little sense, and usually the lightsaber would go with the body, especially with something as personal as that. He looked up at Master Lowe who had a smile. Gabriel let the lightsaber float of out of the master’s hand and slowly transverse the air to his held up hand, the sparkling medallion twisting along with the tassel that it hung from. He then clenched it lightly while speaking. His voice was very dark but had a sound of care and light within it as well,
“What did I do to deserve this...I…don’t understand…I,” Gabriel said, his words holding astonishment and wonder within them.
Master Lowe sighed as he knelt down in front of Gabriel to speak. “Master Dune told me before he died that to give you his lightsaber. So far you were the best pupil he ever had. When we went on that mission together and he had fallen to the blade, those were the last words from his mouth,” Master Lowe smiled then patted him on the shoulder. He got up putting his hood back on, the cloth of his robe fluttering to the small movements as he turned.
Gabriel sat there his eyes were bright with a new beginning as he looked at the lightsaber. He then realized something.
Within seconds Lowe was gone and Gabriel stood alone, strapping the second lightsaber to his side. In all actuality he did not know if this was good or bad. The light that controlled some of his anger at himself was gone, burned away in ceremonial form. Yet, he was free of mind, a Padawan set on his own. Only time would tell of his new beginnings.