The door is open...

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson stared at the doorway to the large, domed building. In regal-looking aurabesh, it read Jedi Academy Training Facility. The Jedi hopeful froze in his tracks, taking a deep sigh and a nervous gulp. He wasn't technically a Jedi yet....but he would be soon! But still, he hesitated, unsure if he should take advantage of the opportunity that lay in front of him.

The Academy's front door was ajar. Despite the young man's best efforts to resist his desire, he couldn't let this pass without acting on it. Quietly, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The facility sprawled within, with grandiose form and layout. It was the most beautiful thing Jackson had ever seen, and his mouth fell agape.

He just stood there...

[Zeke]

"Impressive, ne?"

Zeke approached from behind, careful not to startle Jackson.

"This is where the Jedi come to learn about almost anything they could hope to know. I take it you've come for the same purpose?"

[Jackson DeWitt]

His eyes widened as he turned around to face Master Zeke.

"Um...I know I'm not supposed to be in here, sir. The door was cracked a little, and I...well...I've always wanted to see it."

He berated himself mentally, hoping that his recklessness hadn't affected the pending decision of his admission.

[Estelle Russard]

Turning from where she was replacing a staff or "fighting stick" back to its designated hooks on the training wall, Estelle noticed the new arrival, and the recently knighted Zeke enter into the training room behind him.

She said nothing, but continued packing up from her training session, wiping her brow with a fluffy white towel.

[Zeke]

"Don't worry about it." he said with a reassuring smile. "I wont tell if you wont."

Even though the man wasn't a Jedi yet, and yes, he really wasn't supposed to be there, Zeke didn't see how it could hurt to let the guy wander around...but Estelle on the other hand, seemed to have an opposing view.

[Jackson DeWitt]

He looked to Zeke, not really sure how to ask what was on his mind.

"Master Zeke...I've got a question, if you don't mind."

He started, paused, mentally checking his word choice, and regrouped.

"Are there any job openings? Y'know, sir...not specifically talking about Jedi business, cause I know my application's still pending and all. But...well, is there anything you need done around here, like groundskeeping, cleaning, or maybe something else?"

He shuffled on his feet a little, clearing his throat.

"I'm only askin out of preference, sir. I suppose I could get a job workin on repulsordrive repair, or maybe flipping dewback burgers at a greasy spoon. But..."

His eyes betrayed his thoughts, looking around the place like a kid in a palatial candy store.

"I'd be obliged if you could find anything here, sir. I don't even need much pay, and if that's even a problem, I can do it for free if you'd like."

[Zeke]

"A job? Cleaning house in the Academy, eh? I don't see why you couldn't. And as for pay? Not sure we could pay you money, but I wouldn't mind giving you a warm place to stay and 3 square meals for your efforts."

But then, he wasn't sure they needed such service.

"What do you think, Estelle?"

[Estelle Russard]

She packed her towel away into a small pack, looking busy, but really she was just stalling.

Word had gotten out of this eager country boy with jedi aspirations..the story was familiar and one she recognised to be so very close to home. But there was some reservation voiced about this hopeful innitiate, and Estelle herself was curious as to why.

She acknowledged Zekes and the newcomers presence with a nod, but still preferred not to enter into conversation with them, but rather attempted to evaluate the young man from afar.

It was not usual for Estelle to be so.....scruitinising, but she knew that the road of a Jedi was a hard one at times, and if one was going against their destiny, no matter how enthusiastic that person was, it could be a much harder road. If not disasterous.

Finally she zipped up her bag and headed towards the door, bowing slightly to both the men as she approached to go by them.

As she came closer, Zeke asked her opinion and so she stopped to greet them both.

"I think that is a very sound idea, Zeke."

She smiled and introduced herself to Jackson. "I am Estelle Russard. By the way Zeke" (she turned to wards the new knight)
"well deserved congratulations on your promotion."

Moving off toward the door, she gave Jackson a parting smile. "Your help in the training room would be great idea."

[Jackson DeWitt]

"Thank you, ma'am!"

He corrected.

"...I mean, Estelle!"

---

"...I mean Master Russard, ma'am! Thank you!"

His eyes turned to Zeke, bright and wide.

"Master Zeke, you won't regret this, sir. I'm a hard worker and I'll be ready for work bright and early! I can even get to work now, if you want. All I'm doing is waiting on any news from recruitment, and it would really be my honor, sir."

His eyes turned to rows and rows of lockers that lined the far walls of the training facility...and he found his feet carrying him forward. Upon each door, was a simple, yet beautiful plackard, each with the corresponding Jedi's name etched into it. Jackson walked along, his fingers trailing on the edges of the doors.

"Ryla Relvinian...Ki Adi Kindo...Jakob Burton....Dasquian Belargic..."

He pointed at another locker, turning back to Zeke.

"You know whose locker this is? Its Liam Jinn's!"

His eyes blinked away moisture that was threatening to creep over the edge.

"And here...this is where Luke Skywalker trained..."

He held his hands in two fists, end over end, like he was holding onto a lightsaber. He parried, thrusted, and moved in time with the beating of his heart, voice carrying through the spacious building.

"NEVER!"

He lunged, swinging dramatically as he jumped from a nearby bench, feet sliding and tapping on the hard floor. He finally swung a gigantic arc downwards, and stared to look at his right hand, and down at the ground, where nothing in particular lay.

"No."

He threw his imaginary saber to the side.

"I'll never join the darkside. You've failed your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

The smile on his face beamed, and Jackson jumped in the air.

"YES! AA HAA!!"

Energetically, he ran around the arena, fingertips slapping against metal locker doors as he ran, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest.

[Zeke]

"Find mine. I forgot where it was."

Zeke leaned on the wall, watching Jackson with a smile.

"You'll be bunking with me and my roommate, Kindo. You're welcome to the contents of our refridgerator. That's your pay for cleaning the place."

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson yelled as he ran along the perimeter.

"YOU WON'T REGRET IT, SIR! THANK YOU!!!"

[Zeke]

"You're welcome."

Zeke pulled his saber from his belt and fired it up. Light green, it was, with a silver hilt. Jackson's swordplay had reminded him of it.

"Hey, Jackson..."

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson skidded to a halt, the green of the saber reflected in his eyes. He said nothing, but approached Master Zeke in total silence and awe.

[Estelle Russard]

She watched Jacksons exhuberant display, a kindness in her eyes expressing she understood some of how he felt.

She slipped out the door unnoticed by either of them as Jackson was now really getting in the spirit of things, Zeke leaning against the wall, looking on.

A check in her spirit though caused the smile to fade almost as quickly as it had come. She feared for Jackson, for many reasons, but mostly because she feared he was in for further disappointment.

She got a clouded sense from him - no clear discenment where the force was concerned, or where his destiny lay. As sweet natured as he appeared, Estelle Russard did not believe his place was with the Jedi.

Estelle walked deep in thought down the long gleaming corridor and out of the Academy training building.

[Zeke]

"Y'ever see actual lightsaber swordplay?"

He couldn't teach Jackson, but he could certainly do a few routines. Maybe he'd pick something up from watching...you never know.

[Jackson DeWitt]

"N...not actual, sir..."

He found his voice through dry lips.

"...seen some holos, but...not the real thing, sir."

He looked up and down the magnificent, shimmering emerald blade. It hummed and thrummed, casting its brilliant ambience all around him. He was completely enraptured by it all.

[Zeke]

Zeke called a practice saber to his hand and stepped into one of the training rooms. This one had a large circle enscribed on the ground.

"This chamber is meant for lightsaber sparring."

Zeke bounced lightly on his toes and started to warm up, spinning the blades about lazily. He frowned; it'd been a few weeks since his last fight, and it he was surprisingly rusty. Maybe he could get Verse to teach him a few tricks to the 2 sword style...

"Tell me what you know about sabers, Jackson."

[Jackson DeWitt]

"They're energy swords, focused plasma inside a magnetic bottle."

His brow furrowed as he watched poetry in motion.

"...an elegant weapon, with a more civilized edge..."

[Zeke]

"Not as random as a blaster. This one requires a bit more control..."

He spun the sabers in a simple flourish and took a stance.

"Should I start with 2 sabers or 1?"

[Jackson DeWitt]

He barely managed a whisper.

"...two..."

[Zeke]

"Two it is!" Zeke stepped forward, striking with both sabers at the head of an imaginary foe. He spun with a horizontal slash and stepped back, blocking up, down, left and right in a star pattern, then moved forward again, horizontal, vertical, diagonal, stab... then spun with another block and relaxed his stance, as if watching several enemies approach.

[Jackson DeWitt]

The battle philosopher. The warrior poet. The priest of righteous action. Motion was musical in its warm thrum as ribbons of trailing color wrapped about Zeke like ethereal silk, his motion was so swift and smooth. Jackson could only look on. It was the first time he had ever seen an actual Jedi Knight in motion before.

So beautiful, fast, and awe-inspiring. It was as if Zeke had become the avatar of some nameless goddess that bestowed the touch of grace that men were never meant to grasp. The young man from Tattooine had to remember to breathe...

[Zeke]

Zeke drew a deep breath and rushed suddenly forward, his sabers a blur of motion, cutting down enemies to the left and right. A forward flip and finished it and he ran back the other way, repeating the motion once more, before entering a series of blocks that encompassed his body. By now it wasn't even about simulating a real battle which was the purpose of most kata; he was gonna show the full potential of Jedi swordsmanship to this aspiring Jedi-to-be.

[Jackson DeWitt]

Time slowed around the two of them, and Jackson took in the lightsaber show with wide-eyed acceptance, like a proverbial Alice finding just how far the rabbit hole went. One day...one day that would be him, training, and moving with grace he currently did not possess. He didn't envy, but down inside...he felt an assurance that soon, he would understand the beauty he now saw.

[Zeke]

Zeke snapped suddenly to his stance, then relaxed, disengaging the sabers and bowing low. He looked to Jackson with a grin.

"And there are those here that can do far more..."

[Jackson DeWitt]

He exhaled with a rush, once again forgetting the breath in his lungs. A smile of contentment graced his features, small but prominent. Zeke's demonstration had meant the world to him.

"Thank you, sir."

[Zeke]

"Hey, its no problem."

He replaced the training saber and put the other in his pocket.

"Come on, I'll show you the room where you'll be staying. You'll hafta take the couch for now, until we can move another bed in. As for work, I'll give you a week to settle in, then you can start up on your job cleaning the Academy."

The two walked out the doors that still stood open, off toward the Living Quarters.