Cline's Training, Lessons Learned [completed]

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville cracked her neck as she waited for her reluctant apprentice to arrive, her lightsaber hilt firmly in her hand. As yet it was deactivated, but soon it wold be finding a use.

[Michael Cline]

OOC:Well like I talked to you earlier about, family problems, you know how it goes.

IC:

::Cline walked slowly from his room, after a rather odd night. He had gotten little sleep, and looked like the waking dead at this hour. But training was training and he had been told to show up. He walked down the hall and towards the training facility. He entered slowly and yawned slightly::

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She eyed him icily. "You are late."

Lilaena tossed him another lightsaber, one with an white focusing gemstone. "Perhaps you remember this?"

[Michael Cline]

::The room fell silent with her initial comment::
"My apologees, one has little use for a schedule when you're in an asylum. "

::He stared down at the saber, rolling it against his palm::

"My... saber."

::He glanced up at her::

"The one you took from me."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"I'm surprised you remember." Her tone said otherwise. "We are going to run through a short spar, to see how much you've lost while being locked away, forgotten by the Jedi."

She ignited her blade, and the air was filled with the resonant hum of the lightsaber.

[Michael Cline]

::His breathing shortened as he stared at her saber, and glanced down at his::

No. We NEVER agreed to this. I will not be a party to physical violence of any kind.

::He glanced back up a stern resolve showing behind his glasses::

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"This is not violence, persay, it is survival training. And if you do not survive, you will recieve no more training, and I will not have to worry about where you have wandered to anymore."

De'Ville stepped up menacingly, and Cline began to wonder why she'd brought him here in the first place. "Defend yourself, or die." She swung her saber two handed at hip level, ready to slice his firm resolve in half....along with the rest of his body.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Cline parried in desperation, deflecting her saber up from its orginal path. De'Ville backed away, and circled her 'apprentice,' lightsaber vibrating with a deadly hum. "Defend yourself, Cline! You will be no use to anyone...in fact, you are of no use to anyone. The Jedi left you to rot in that insane asylum."

She was trying to push her apprentice's buttons, to get his goat, to cause his anger to rise and let the Dark side flow through him. Cline did glare at her, but seemed to still be wrestling with his conscience. She stutter-stepped forward, and slashed at him, not going all out, but giving the impression she was not holding back. Cline blocked again, just in time.

He batted her saber away, and stepped back. Anger flashed in his dark eyes. "De'Ville, I will not be a part of this! I want to learn about the Dark side, not -" he desperately brought his saber up for another block, "not fight!"

"If you are my apprentice you will get over this moral objection to combat." De'Ville snarled, letting the Darkside fill her as she whirled in closer to him, purplish saber streaking through the air with the smell of burnt ozone. Cline leaped away, finally utilizing his white bladed saber properly, batting hers to the side.

But instead of leading into a counter-attack, the new Dark Jedi simply remained where he was, lightsaber positioned to defend.

De'Ville could feel his anger, and the Dark side flowing through him. But he was stubborn, and defiant, resolute in his non-violence. "You never had such qualms about combat, when you were a Jedi, did you? We fought once, that is how I got your saber.

"Well," she conceded, "You never were very good at it."

Cline glared at her furiously, his fingers tingling, but he didn't know what to do with the sensation. "Fine, bitch! I'll fight, but this is the last time!" He put out a hand, and dark side lightning flew off his fingers, nearly catching the Dark Jedi master by surprise.

A split second's premonition, and she brought her saber up, catching his attack on the blade, where it sizzled and dissapated. "You are learning quickly, Cline." After he relented, she swung her blade around in an easy arc, aiming up from his hip to his collarbone.

In theory it would have been an easy blow to deflect. His saber was right there, and she was not attacking full force, letting her actions slow a little, to give him chance to respond. And he did, in fact, move to block, the sabers coming together with dueling resonances, letting off an acrid odor.

And then, the unexpected occured. The Force did not warn either combatant of it, and so, in the end, it was most likely meant to be. As the Force is, so it is, and there is no Higher Consciousness in the Force, determining what happens to who. Yet, there was no way to stop what happened next.

Inexplicably, the agedean crystal in Cline's white bladed saber cracked, just before impact with De'Ville's blade. As the sabers came together, there was a surge of energy, and then his saber simply gave out, the blade dissapating.

Suddenly unchecked, the jaded purple lightsaber of De'Ville slid into Cline's body like a hot knife into a stick of butter. She gasped in surprise, halting the movement, but it was too late.

Cline looked down at the blade sticking out of his breastbone, his arms falling to his sides and the useless lightsaber pommel falling to the ground with a clatter that jarred the senses. De'Ville thumbed off her lightsaber, and he sighed, seeming to deflate as his legs buckled.

There was no blood, the cut from his left hip to his solar plexus was instantly cauterized from the heat of the lightsaber. He looked at her as he fell to the cold ground, anger still radiating from his eyes behind his glasses. De'Ville knelt beside him, feeling no remorse, but still surprised.

"Lesson learned, Cline? A man should always check the weapons he is given." She hadn't done anything to the saber, but it was still a good point. "Let's you to the med ward..." The smaller woman moved to pick him up with the Force, and then stopped, looking at his face again.

There was still anger in the expression, but there was no soul behind the eyes. Michael Cline stared blankly ahead of himself, as if watching his spirit leave for the physical for the spectral. De'Ville sighed, and used her fingers to hold his eyes closed. He'd had potential...dammed accidents! All that work, for nothing. She'd been years at working on him, and once he'd finally sought her out, and decided to investigate the Dark Side and all it could offer him, this had happened.

It was the ultimate joke. Only she felt like kicking the dren out of the jester, instead of laughing.

She would arrange a proper funeral pyre for him, as befitted ...

...wait...

De'Ville stood, looking down at the body, and then grinned. Yes...that will do nicely. She thumbed her comm. "Vega, come to room 33C please."