The Angel of Insanity

[Farran Esrimoure]

The great cliff, called Keisenjaro by some and just 'that huge wall of rock' by others, had been looming in her thoughts and dreams for three weeks now. Three long weeks spent staring up at the sheer face. It reminded her of the icewalls back home, on Helska IV. Master Davola had called them the Guardian Walls, and had once sent her out to ascend their vertical surfaces. She'd never succeeded. Each attempt met with failure, and though his words spoke of understanding, his eyes shone with only a strange sort of disappointment.

It was what fueled her every year to try and scale them, and every year she couldn't summit. She couldn't reach the top, and stand atop that jutting outcropping of nearly unimaginable height.

It was her great failure as an Padawan. Her great failure as a Jedi. Even after Master Davola had given her the status of Knight, she still could not scale the Guardian Walls. Her last attempt had nearly ended in her death, the sleeping nook she'd carved into the face collapsing and sending her tumbling. Her saving grace had been an outcropping of rock that the ice had formed around. But even then it had been almost the end.



Now though, staring up at the cliffs before her, Farran Esrimoure felt that old obligation welling up inside. She felt the old challenge, the old call. The old requirement. But more than anything, she yearned for the eyes of a man she would never see again to look upon her with pride.

After so long, she wanted her Master to be proud of her.

A hand went out, feeling along the rock for any hold no matter how small.



* * *


She was halfway up.

Muscles taut and sweat beading her forehead, Farran doggedly continued upward. She had no ropes, no spikes, nothing. This was, to her, the final test. If she fell, that was it; plain and simple. It wasn't a game of half-measures now. She needed to prove herself, even if she was the only one that would understand it. The insurmountable could be achieved, it was just a matter of patience and time. It was a measure of her determination and strength of will.

Too many time she'd failed the test.



* * *


She could see the top. See the cliff's edge. It was so close...

A hand slipped, sending her swinging to the left as she dangled from one white-knuckled grip, over nothing but a dizzying height. The trees below met the edge of Sanctuary in an easy grade, the buildings like small dots below her. In a mad scramble she found purchase once more, and a grunt of exertion brought her finally up and over the edge.

First her upper body, then a leg. The both legs. She rolled away, coming to a stop on her back and staring up at the twilight sky.

It'd been early morning when she'd started, but now the sun was beginning to kiss the mountaintops of the range for to the west.

The brighter stars were beginning to peek out in the steadily growing dusk.

And in the moment, Farran Esrimoure laughed, her arms reaching up to push sweaty bangs from her eyes as she continued to lay back on the gravelly summit of Keisenjaro.

[Zem Vymes]

"Well, it's about time you made it up. People in camp were beginning to talk."

Farran's moment of victory solace was spoiled by the voice of a man sitting a short distance away. He paused, biting into a bit of ripe fruit, careful not to let the juice dribble down his chin.

[Farran Esrimoure]

It was a voice that she wasn't expecting to hear, but she didn't pull her hands from her face. Rather, Farran peered through widened fingers at the man who'd spoken. She recognized him from the Council Chambers, and from the few times that she'd seen him about Sanctuary.

Her hands fell away then, to rest together over her stomach as she turned her head away. She stared at the jutting clouds as they displayed their brilliant colors with the setting sun.

"Then let them talk," she finally got out.

[Zem Vymes]

"Well, far be it from me to plug the dike with my thumb against a sea of gossips."

Taking another bite, Zem broke his attention from the woman to admire the scenery of the view.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

She still felt distant to these Jedi. They seemed so different than the Jedi that Master Davola had told her of in his stories and lessons.

"Who said I was looking for anything."

She breathed in deeply, pulling the evening air into her lungs before letting it back out in a long exhale.

"Maybe I climbed it because... " Finally she shifted, her arms coming down to help lever her upper body up as she moved into a sitting position. Her eyes went to him, then.

"... because it was there."

[Zem Vymes]

"I'm here too. Hopefully you don't go getting ideas about further expeditions. I'd hate to slip a disk."

Cracking wise with a wry grin, Zem hopped up from where he sat to take a seat right at the edge, letting his legs dangle. He eased forward, getting a good peer down the sheer cliff face, to which he gave a low whistle.

"Well, at least your experiment with existentialism worked out. They'd have to pour you into a bucket if you took a wrong step."

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Lucky for them I managed to keep my wits about me, then."

She propped her elbows on raised knees, following him as he moved to sit on the precipice. His presence here was puzzling. She'd not told anyone where she was going or what she intended to do, and Farran found it a bit worrisome that one of the new Order's masters was seemingly keeping tabs on her. She would've expected the padfoot, Ndonsa, to be the one waiting if there was to be anyone. It usually was, anyway.

"What are you doing here."

It was a pointed question that wasn't exactly a question. More of a demand, really.

[Zem Vymes]

"It's a good view." Zem replied matter-of-factly, taking another bite of fruit in the process.

"Then I saw you down there, taking all damned day to fight that cliff face. I like your grit. Figured there was a story to it."

[Farran Esrimoure]

She stared at him, unsure of how to respond. He was peculiar, sitting there eating fruit on the edge of a cliff that, should he fall, would be the end of him.

Pursing her lips, Farran finally looked away while in the same motion mildly rolling her eyes.

"Stories are for younglings. Something like that," she gestured with an offhanded wave to the edge of the cliff, "... is a lesson."

[Zem Vymes]

"The lesson is that, it's there?"

He considered her earlier reasoning with a shrug, tossing the spent pit of fruit over the cliff.

"You'd be suprised how often story and lesson go hand in hand. The funny thing about both of those things is that they might be for younglings, but younglings get older. They collect them. All those stories and lessons become wisdom."

[Farran Esrimoure]

"All of the stories and lessons I was told had to do with a Jedi Order that's nothing like what I'm seeing now."

Not exactly spoken out of accusation, it was an admission that perhaps opened up a wider view into her own closed-off nature in her interactions with the others in Sanctuary. She was aloof, and mostly stayed to herself, choosing to mostly watch rather than actually participate.

And in a brief moment of candid frustration, Farran made a face.

"It's... disappointing."

[Zem Vymes]

"I can imagine."

Zem nodded, considering the shoes Farran occupied.

"The Order of old was in many ways a grand and majestic institution those long years ago. Compared to such stories, we must seem a shabby lot."

[Farran Esrimoure]

"That's putting it lightly."

Her better judgement reigned her in, and the blonde looked away as a silence descended between them.

Finally, she ventured on.

"I'm... sorry. I don't mean to seem ungrateful."

She closed her eyes, running a hand through sweat-saturated bangs.

"It's just not what I was expecting."

Her eyes returned to him, staring at his back as he sat.

"My Master always told me these grand tales of the Knights and Masters, and of the Temple and... and I guess I was expecting everything to be the same."

[Zem Vymes]

"Yes. I remember those days, many years ago."

Thinking back on the bygone era brought a wistful gleam to the Jedi Master's eye.

"There was a time when what your master said was true. The Jedi Knights protected the entire galaxy for over a thousand generations. Tens of thousands of Jedi, united in the pursuit of light to ward off the darkness. A long time ago, I could be counted as one of them."

[Farran Esrimoure]

"I suppose it was too much to hope for, that everything would be the same."

She shook her head in self-admonishment.

"My own fault."

Farran let her eyes track upwards to the dying light of the sky. She sighed.

"Master Davola used to make me climb the ice walls every year. He called them the Guardian Walls. He said they were a test of will and patience and determination. Every year I tried," her eyes closed, and her head bowed.

"... every year I failed."

[Zem Vymes]

"And now you have succeeded."

Zem patted the cliff edge with a hand for emphasis.

"You won't hear any words against your will, patience, or determination from me."

The Jedi Master turned his eyes again to the view below.

"Did he tell you what comes next?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Not really."

She pulled a face at that.

"I never could get far enough."

Again she fell back on her old brusque habits.

"It doesn't really matter now though. He's not here to tell me what comes next," rocking forward, she rose to stand, her hands patting the sides of her pants to remove accumulated dirt and pebbles. Thankfully the walk down the opposite side of the mountain was a much easier task than the sheer climb, and Farran gave a last look to him before starting on the worn path that would take her downward.

"So I'll just have to figure it out on my own."

[Zem Vymes]

"That's pride talking."

Zem also righted himself to his feet, following leisurely on the return path after the troubled padawan.

"That notion to go it alone. It can seem noble, sure. But you've only seen so far of the path, and the rest of the way is hidden."

Catching up with Farran, the Master continued.

"Have you considered the notion that your master sent you beyond to complete your training?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

"The thought is not one that had occurred to me, no."

And it was the truth. It didn't make sense in her mind anyhow, for the simple fact that...

"Master Davola gave me the rank of Knight before I left, so I do not see why he would consider such a thing."

[Zem Vymes]

"Then your learning is finished?"

Zem turned to the woman with a curious expression.

"Hmm. If that is the case, then I have at last met a Jedi without equal."

[Farran Esrimoure]

She made a face at that as her head followed the direction of her rolling eyes.

"Hardly."

She reached out, catching a handful of wide leaves from a shrub as they passed by on their way down the mountain.

"Just that I'm not a Padawan, and no longer need any sort of dedicated teacher to follow about."

[Zem Vymes]

"I see."

It was hard to argue that point. Her master had found it fitting to bestow to her the title, and Zem Vymes was hardly so imperious to question his wisdom in those proceedings.

"So you consider yourself beyond the need for lessons from the likes of a teacher, in lieu for the lessons from the face of a cliff? I wish I had your surety of mind, young one."

[Farran Esrimoure]

Farran looked sideways at him, a single brow ticked upward. His voice held no malice or sarcasm, just simple fact. It almost reminded her of Master Davola, except for the fact that there was far less of a shrill tone in Master Vymes' words. It made her wonder. In fact, all of the goings on here at Sanctuary puzzled her - not for the hand-to-mouth existence that the Jedi here seemed to live with - but more for the attitudes. Master Davola had been nearly imperious. He had been at times demeaning. And he had been, above all, a man who constantly reminded her that he was her better. But she had never questioned his habits and behavior. To her they were normal, and all of what he spoke of regarding the old Order she had trusted without question.

Here now though, in the presence of these Jedi?

It gave her pause.

"There is more to the Jedi here that is different to what I was told," she began haltingly.

How best to describe the divide she was seeing?

"Master Davola spoke of such rigid separation... " The leaf she held was turned over in unwatched hands. She felt along the thin veins and velvety-soft underside.

"... but I see none of that here."

[Zem Vymes]

Zem looked her over. In every aspect of Farran, there was something she said without uttering a word. Whether that was by choice or not, it was presently the language divide that separated them.

"I didn't know your Master, but it seems he knew the Order that I once did. A time years ago, when our ranks counted in the tens of thousands. It seems so strange that it could all fall apart in such a small amount of years. Did he ever speak of the fall?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Only to say that it was the end of all things civilized and orderly."

She shrugged, unsure of exactly how to answer.

"He often spoke of everyone having a specific place within the galaxy and within the Force, and that it was the Jedi who kept true chaos from overtaking everything. He spoke of them being the pinnacle of life and the highest form. But here, it is not that way."

A hesitation, and she amended.

"Or at least, it seems as such."

[Zem Vymes]

"The pinnacle of life?"

Confusion spread across Zem's face. This was the lasting lesson Master Davola had given his student? It was imperious and arrogant and dangerous. Suddenly, Master Vymes realized the real danger that this new potential was in.

"The Jedi Knights are gifted individuals. Rare and few, and with the ability to use the force beyond the comprehension of others. But we are not in a vacuum. We inhabit the same existence as everyone, great and small. Many times, even, you will find wisdom in the lowliest that you would never find in the ivory towers of the old way."

A touch of sadness crossed Zem's face.

"It's unlikely your master told you what I've come to see. For all the grandeur and splendor of the old Jedi Order, there was an equal measure of arrogance and blindness. We may not have sparked the war into flame, but our ignorance ensured the fire would spread."

[Farran Esrimoure]

She drew up, a look of partial concern crossing her features and knitting her brow. She stared at Master Vymes, unsure exactly of how to respond. Making a face, Farran let the leaf fall from her hands before hooking her thumbs through the belt-loops of her trousers.

She was caught by surprise, that much was evident.

"But... wouldn't it make sense that those on the old Council knew all? That they would have risen to their stations by their knowledge of life? How would they be capable in any capacity if they didn't hold the wisdom to dictate truth?"

The words spoken to her now were in such sharp contrast to what she had grown up learning, and a small ball of apprehension and fear came into being in the pit of her stomach.

[Zem Vymes]

It was a question as simple as it was complicated, and Zem gave her a smile of complete empathy. Bittersweet.

"If only that were true. The Council of old could see many things, and were gifted beyond reproach. But they were not gods. They weren't invincible, and neither are we."

Vymes took the time to search Farran's feelings, and the tumult of conflict within. He sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"The journey is not that simple, Farran Esrimoure. This path we take. The difficult path of only a few. We take it because even of those with the means, only few choose it. It can be lonely and difficult, and even in those days, it carried with it limitations."

Zem let his hand part, and took a moment to evaluate the complete picture of the knight before him.

"Master Devola gave you the title of Knight, a title I won't presume to debate here. You have the innate talent and the ability. Even the training. But you stand at a dangerous moment. More dangerous than that cliff ledge. This is a time when temptation assails you, and through your yearning, you might be tempted to a quicker path."

He extended a hand to her.

"A Jedi Knight's journey is never presumed complete. Allow me to continue your training."

[Farran Esrimoure]

"But I'm not tempted- "

She snapped her mouth shut as her eyes went down to his extended hand. In conjunction with his offer, there was more than a bit that made no sense in her mind.

You are a Jedi, but not wholly so, Farran. You lack wisdom and vision, and I will give those things to you. In time you will understand. The will of a Master is to not be denied, never forget.

Master Davola's words rang like a clear bell through her mind.

On instinct she slowly reached out, and after a moment's more hesitation, grasped Master Vymes' waiting palm.

The Masters are your betters, and the highest form that anyone can achieve. Listen to them.

She frowned.

"I... "

They are your betters.

"... if you think it best."

[Zem Vymes]

It was the first moment in which Farran had let go of her expectations, and sought to understand the reality around her. And that was enough. Zem closed his hand around hers with a soft smile.

"I hope to prove that to you, Miss Esrimoure."

Gesturing back to the long path, Master Vymes nodded along with his head.

"Now, if you're done out here in the wilderness, I think it's probably supper time for the both of us."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

* * *

The Next Day


The translucent blue of her figure, at a 1:1 scale, stood in the middle of the main living area of Zem's home on Ossus. She had received his comm some hours before, and only now was able to answer him. He'd requested that she forego the normal courier services she favored, and instead spoke as face to face with him as she could manage. Which placed her in an interesting position. It was not one that she found herself in unless she was dealing with her superior officers.

"It is a bit after the fact, I apologize," she offered in explanation for the time that it'd taken her to respond. Meantime, she reached for something unseen outside the view of her holoprojector's sensors.

"I've been having to deal with... problems. You understand... " her arm came back into the frame, holding a small datapad that she tucked beneath one arm.

"Things have been busy as of late."

But, the manner in which he'd contacted her; s'Il knew that it would be best to simply cut through the initial pleasantries. He only really asked for her so directly when the matter was pressing or there was a weight upon his thoughts, and she wasted no time.

"Teagan hasn't started back to skipping her classes again, has she... ?"

[Zem Vymes]

"Hm? No, no. Teagan's doing well."

Zem looped his thumbs into his belt as he went through the usual progress report.

"Her master is quite a teacher. I can't imagine she'd find better here."

But as he'd said, this wasn't the reason he'd called. Pacing the hologram a bit, he ran a hand through his lengthening mane of hair. He'd have to trim the shag down soon.

"There's a student here I want to talk to you about. Young woman named Farran Esrimoure. I don't expect you to know her, but you might recall the name of her master. A man named Davola."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Elys Davola?"

The name left her mouth with an accompanying look of surprise. Memories of her time with Inyos, of their dogged survival after crashlanding on Helska IV. And then... and then their encounter with the Mad Jedi.

"That madman had a student?"

The shock of this new information was enough to catch her unawares as she spoke aloud the thoughts that her mind now reeled in.

[Zem Vymes]

Master Vymes nodded.

"He did. Raised from a very young age, from what I've discovered. It seems that before she left the Helska system, he made her a Jedi Knight."

Loklorien had spoken little of her encounter on that frozen world, but Zem knew how it had ended. What a pity.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Zem, I don't know what happened to him on that planet, but he lost his mind completely. He was fit for institutionalization."

Whatever mood that she'd been in before seemed to only grow more dim.

"He spoke of talking to the dead spirits of clones; kept a room full of their bones. He said they were his children and needed his protection."

A pause, as she thought back to those handful of days spent with a man so lost in insanity. The memories brought a scowl to her face.

"He never mentioned a student, however."

[Zem Vymes]

All of this was troubling. From what she'd spoken on, Farran's recalling of Master Davola's words were dismaying to a degree. Now that he had the why of it, gravity settled in.

"I'd sensed that he had led her astray from conventional teachings. I didn't realize how far he had fallen. He seems to have given his student a history of the Order more grandiose, total, and powerful than reality. To say that her expectations haven't been met would be something of an understatement."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Not surprising," she snorted.

"But what you're saying sounds about right. He sometimes went off on lectures of 'proper Jedi', and what it meant to be looked upon as godlike. The way he spoke of it all... he truly believed he'd been deified."

The datapad still cradled beneath her arm was all but forgotten by now.

"There was a morning, when he dragged me out to some massive cliff. He said that only a true Jedi would be able to scale it, and I'd have to climb the damn thing to prove to him I was who I said I was. I don't even remember what nonsense he demanded of Inyos. Something to do with homegrown alchemy, I think. Either way, the man was too far gone for too long to even hope of reaching his better senses."

[Zem Vymes]

Lok's retelling elicited a nod of familiarity in Vymes.

"Ah yes, the cliff. I've been introduced to that particular teaching method already."

Self-deification. God complexes. It certainly seemed to be the end-game for the view of the Jedi that Farran held so sincerely.

"I don't know the state of the man when he taught this student, but her talent in the force is real and it is nurtured. I need to know if there was anything else you may have discovered in your time on that planet."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Other than Helska IV was cold and the man was one foot into an asylum?"

His question was one that made her think beyond the almost casual brushoff that her words seemed to paint. She fell silent for a short while, her gaze angled downward as she tried to remember.

"There's something on that planet," she started slowly. "I don't know what it is, but it seems to amplify anger. I'd almost say that it feeds off of it."

A helpless shrug, her hands going out in apology.

"I don't know where it came from, though. Just that it existed."

[Zem Vymes]

Master Vymes considered his companion's insight, glancing away in thought. He'd detected a sense of standoffishness and frustration from Farran, but nothing of a flash of anger. That was understandable in her state. She'd been painted a world in one color, only to see the real image used another shade entirely.

"I wonder if Master Davola knew this somehow."

He met eyes again with Lok.

"He'd sent her away...to seek the Jedi. A man who believes himself God would have little use for the likes of us, would he?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"I doubt he did. Or if he was aware, he'd stopped caring about it long ago and just gave in."

There wasn't any bitterness to her words, only simple truth and the facts as she remembered them.

"For so long stranded there, it wouldn't surprise me at all if he turned away; or at least found a rather skewed coping method to deal with it. If he began to place the old Order on a gilded pedestal, it's entirely possible that after so long he came to believe the lies he told to himself. In turn, it wouldn't surprise me if he sent this woman, Esrimoure, away to find them. Not so much as him not having a use for the likes of us, but more an issue of thinking himself as a deity away from the rest of the pantheon."

A pause as she seemed to consider her own words, and then shook her head in apology.

"I'm afraid that's the only explanation I have, Zem."

[Zem Vymes]

Vymes grimaced as he took in the little she was able to give.

"So we get the proverbial baby on a doorstep, only this Farran Esrimoure is far from a child, and has spent many years in training."

The Jedi Master sighed deeply.

"I wonder what the old Masters would have done in this situation."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Isn't that the sixty-four thousand credit question."

Falling silent then, s'Il clasped her hands together in front of her.

"I'm sorry that that's all I can give to you."

A few more silent minutes passed, and she looked at him.

"Would I be correct in the assumption that you've taken her as your learner, then?"

[Zem Vymes]

"Not formally, no."

Zem's hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe as he laced the fingers together.

"Her master, in whatever condition he may have been in, has seen fit to pronounce her a Knight. Until I have reason to, I see no cause to diminish her to anything less than she claims to be. Nevertheless, her situation is special, and I believe she needs someone to continue her education, or to at least ensure the transition isn't painful."

Somewhat more resolute, Zem expelled a drawn breath.

"For better or worse, we're not the Order of old. The rules the masters followed then do not fit our reality. We can't turn away a special case like Farran Esrimoure; cast her into the galaxy alone. It would be dangerous to her, to us, and to others."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She thought on this, eventually giving a nod.

"Seems the most sensible option."

Something tickled at the base of her thoughts though, and the Lupine knit her brow in concern.

"Only... I would think that Master Davola's faculties, or rather lack thereof, she be taken into consideration. The man thought that climbing a sheer mountain face was some sort of indicator of a Jedi's power. Which is to say nothing of how distorted his view of the old Order became. Thinking that he could communicate with the dead I might be able to forgive owing to it possibly being a coping mechanism due to being on Helska IV for so long."

[Zem Vymes]

Master Vymes nodded at where Lok was going with her introspection.

"It may be wise to take all aspects of his teachings with skepticism, and I agree. I plan to put young Farran through a shakedown before we do anything else. She has the talent, but I'd like to see if she has the discipline or the wisdom too."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She nodded at his judgement, though her furrowed brow still showed a mind deep in thought.

"From what I remember of the old days, Master Davola was heavy into Djem So. His style was fairly unmistakable. If he passed it to her, then I would have a sliver of hope that his mind was not completely shattered. Have you seen her in a spar, yet?"

[Zem Vymes]

"No I haven't."

This was a good start, and Zem appreciated the angle she was taking. There was a practical aspect to judging Farran's progress.

"There was an incident early on between her and the tribal, Ndonsa. I was not there to witness it, but it did not come to a duel."

The Jedi Master nodded.

"I will evaluate her on her technique. From there, I may find better perspective on our newest student."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Then I wish you luck- "

Something caught her attention then, and the Lupine shifted her arms, taking the small flimsi from under her arm and passing it off to some invisible hand outside the periphery of the holoprojector. She gave a nod before turning back to him.

"Just try not to throw too much fruit," she half-grinned, memories taking her back to those old days when many of his lessons involved being hit with some form of overripe fruit.

[Zem Vymes]

"I have no idea what you mean" Zem replied innocently-enough. He winked, a smile punctuating the deadpan.

"Thank you for your advice. I will let you know how it goes. It's been a long time since I trained a student. Give your best wishes to Farran Esrimoure. She has awfully big shoes to fill."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

A knowing smirk at that.

"Flattery will only get you so far, Master Jedi."

[Zem Vymes]

"For the remainder, I will have to trust my instincts."

His smile more polite now, Zem gave a parting nod of his head to his companion.

"May the Force be with you, Master s'Ilancy."

And with that, he ended the hologram connection.



*** Later that morning ***

Zem made no attempt to seek Farran Esrimoure out. If she was determined to honor the words she'd spoken the previous day, she would already be looking to find him. So instead, the Jedi Master spent an hour of idle time at the barber station, taking in the small comforts of a daily shave before he carried out the rest of the day's duties.

[Farran Esrimoure]

The layout of Sanctuary had been easy enough to memorize, and though it was constantly changing - growing outward - there was a fluidity to it. It was predictable, but only in the innate way that seemed... right.

Master Vymes' words had stuck with her enough that Farran felt herself thinking about them more than she'd expected to. He spoke plainly, and there was no real mystery to the words he spoke. It was so much unlike Master Davola, and she had to wonder if there was more to the older man's words. Perhaps his words were like the cliff? A test... ?

She took her breakfast in the mess hall, alone at the farthest table away from the rest. She ate in silence, her thoughts whirling around in an almost manic gale. This way, then that way. Then the other way.

And when she tired of trying to find the meanings she was sure were buried within, she pushed her tray away in a small amount of disgust.



* * *


She caught sight of him at the barber's.

From across the dusty 'street', Farran held up to allow a small eopie-pulled cart pass by. Moments later found her long strides bringing her closer to the barber's, and her pace slowed the closer she got.

[Zem Vymes]

He'd sensed her approach before he'd seen her, and as Farran remained patient - for the moment - standing in his sun, Zem Vymes raised a hand to her, an unspoken request for a little more patience. The barber continued his work, deftly drawing his blade under Zem's jaw. One pass, then two, and then the task was finished. A hot towel was pressed around Zem's face, and he sat up in his seat.

"You've had breakfast?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

"I have."

She turned to look in the direction of the mess hall.

"It was good enough."

She made a strange face then, recalling some of the idle chatter that she had heard during her time eating there. Some spoke of the food as barely edible, but to her it was much preferred to the food she'd lived on on Helska IV. Old ration cubes, powdered blue milk, and sometimes dried flesh of the indigenous snow scutters. Truth be told, there had been more than a few times when she gorged herself on the food that was offered beyond the planet that had been her home for so long.

"It was better than much of what I grew up on."

[Zem Vymes]

"I don't doubt it."

Zem raised from his chair, returning the towel to the barber as he stepped away.

"Helska IV is a place for only the very hardy. I myself have spent much time in places that leave me to appreciate the little we have."

The pair walked along, and Zem allowed himself to be distracted by the glint of metal swinging from her belt.

"At least you found enough time through your survival to construct a lightsaber. That in itself is a difficult journey."

[Farran Esrimoure]

It was a necessary one," she countered as they walked.

Then again, so much of the things that she did under the watchful eyes of Master Davola had been necessary.

"Correctly reading the Cards of Fate was as important as eating food."

She could remember many nights that she went without food due to misreading the tattered deck of cards that her old Master had often made her try to understand.

"A person cannot have one without the other."

[Zem Vymes]

Just as with the cliffs, the legacy of Master Davola's alien teachings reared it's head again with the mention of...

"Cards of fate?"

Nothing of the sort existed within Jedi dogma, but that in itself wasn't alarming. Perhaps it was a matter of teacher's improvisation. Of course, given what he knew of Master Davola currently, skepticism was only natural.

[Farran Esrimoure]

"You know... "

A hand came up in an almost flippant gesture.

"They show the reader the Dark and the Light," another test of her knowledge.

"The Will and the Way."

She still had the deck that she'd brought with her.

"The four states; Life, Death, Love, Hate," a small shrug, "... the four passions; Honor, Sacrifice, Joy, and Sadness."

[Zem Vymes]

"May I?"

Zem helped himself to the offered deck. rifling through their well-weathered edges. It had a touch of the home-made, and while all of this was intriguing to the Jedi Master, he began to consider that such things were one of many creative deviations Master Davola had fancied.

Vymes' weathered hands moved the cards from front to back, inspecting each in a casual manner.

"Do you know the Jedi code?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

It wasn't an entirely strange request, and Farran nodded.

"Emotion in Peace.
Ignorance in Knowledge
Passion in Serenity
Chaos in Harmony
Death in the Force."

It was a simple creed. One that she had committed to memory long ago in her youth.

[Zem Vymes]

Zem remained silent for a moment after her profession. She'd answered readily enough, but her response was wrong. All wrong.

"It seems you recite well. What does this mean to you?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

She blinked, but maintained her pace as they continued down the main thoroughfare.

"That... "

She frowned.

"That what is necessary for our lives as Jedi are found in the base needs of life itself."

[Zem Vymes]

"Ah. Then you believe to fully assume the responsibilities of a Jedi, one must take in all aspects of the living experience? Even the notions of passion and self?"

This was dangerous. What he was hearing in Farran was a path that could easily lead her into ruin.

[Farran Esrimoure]

This was territory that Master Davola had never truly ventured into. He had simply drilled the notions into her head and let them be. How she interpreted them... she'd once tried to delve deeper into their meanings, only to be chided.

You would question those tenants that are most sacred to Jedi. Do you truly wish to place your existence upon such a precarious perch?

"I... I don't know."

There was a strange tone to her voice then; one of supplication.

Farran looked away, almost afraid to go on. If what Master Davola had said was truth, then there was no room for her own misgivings.

"I do not question the Creed," she amended quickly, hoping to avert any disastrous ramifications of her own inner questioning.

[Zem Vymes]

Zem could already feel her conflict within. She was undone despite her words.

"Walk with me."

Master Vymes turned onto a path that would lead them to the outskirts of Sanctuary, and towards open ground.

[Farran Esrimoure]

She didn't break stride, instead offered a frank assessment of things as they stood right now. She kept pace with him even as they turned off the main 'roadway' and onto a path less traveled.

"I'm already doing so."

[Zem Vymes]

"Someone once said that truth depends on one's point of view. It's a tenet based on empathy, wisdom, and the ability to listen."

By now, they'd arrived at a riverbank beyond a hill of hardscrabble. Zem paused, turning around to face his new student.

"I believe that Master Davola was telling the truth, and I believe you when you say he did. Our problem is that what is true to you, and what is true to the Jedi here are now apart from each other, as surely as the banks of this river here."

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Then the Jedi of Ossus and the Jedi of the old Order are not the same."

There was no real disappointment, only a finality that seemed to drive home the divide that she'd already been feeling.

[Zem Vymes]

There was a twinge of sadness in Master Vymes' eyes at the thought of her observation.

"In many ways, no they aren't."

Zem sighed.

"Nor were they what Master Davola seems to have believed them to be."

The Jedi Master turned to watch the river burble past. It was almost half a meter below it's usual level, but they were now in the long dry season.

"I don't envy your position, Farran. You've spent a long time searching for something that may not exist. All I can offer you is my own truth, and hope you make it yours as well."

[Farran Esrimoure]

She followed his gaze, staring at the water as it tumbled over the rocks in the bed.

"So then it changes... " Her shoulders slumped almost, and as an afterthought she accepted the deck of cards that he held out to her. Her body sank into a crouch, and after a moment she slid the two top cards from their spot on the deck, laying them out before her.

"Sadness," she intoned, a finger running over the image of a crying Bastilla Shan, "... the Way," the illustration of Master Thon was more than recognizable.

A third card was drawn, then.

"The Denier... "

At that she looked up, two fingers holding the card that showed the unmistakable image of Ulic Qel-Droma.

[Zem Vymes]

"People change too. The Force is as much a part of us as it is the universe. Don't give in to despair. Many have walked the path, and of those, many have stumbled or strayed. Including me."

He watched her draw her cards, their arcane mysteries only holding power because a part of her believed they did.

"You have something that many Jedi sometimes lack."

[Farran Esrimoure]

Still holding the Denier card, she kept her eyes trained up to him.

"Master Davola said that the Cards do not lie."

The honesty in her words was sincere. She ignored for now, his admission of stumbling upon the path.

What engaged her interest now was this strange brushing off of what she was sensing. The Cards of Fate that Master Davola had once spoken of as being the undisputed Voice of the Force were being dismissed so easily.

"Do you speak against the Cards, then?"

[Zem Vymes]

Zem's eyes returned to the weathered deck in her hand.

"I think that...whatever transpires, you will find a truth connecting it to them."

Perhaps too polite, but he needed to wean Farran Esrimoure off her diet of absolutes.

[Farran Esrimoure]

She gave a shrug at that. A strangely noncommittal expression as she reshuffled the thin deck and returning it to one of the wide pockets on the legs of her pants.

"I suppose not everyone finds comfort in their destinies. Least, that's what I was always told."

Her eyes went to the water, and reaching forward, Farran let two fingers trail vanishing pattern's in the stream's surface.

"I never wanted to leave," she finally admitted, "... but he made me go. He said I deserved to see the Order and witness the knowledge of its' Masters."

[Zem Vymes]

"And now you have."

It was put simply. Master Vymes clasped his hands before him as he gave Farran the time needed to ruminate over her obedience to her master, her journey, and her destiny.

It seemed like forever. At last, Zem's hands parted, and fell to his sides.

"If you honor your master's wishes, and if you are here in order to continue in the ways of the Jedi, there is one thing I must ask you."

[Farran Esrimoure]

She kept her eyes on the water, trying to stare through the distortions to the stony bed. In her mind's eye she could still see the frozen tundras and foothills that gave way to grand cliffs of ice, far off in the distance. She could still see the Venture, the hulk of the Venator that had been her home for the entirety of her life.

"Then ask," came the eventual mumble.

[Zem Vymes]

"Let Master Davola go."

That was all. A simple request, and one that Vymes knew would be a journey for Farran to undertake.

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Let him go?"

It was - to her - a strange request.

Rising up from her kneeling position, she looked to Master Vymes.

"I don't understand... "

[Zem Vymes]

"The lessons you have learned from your Master are so far removed from the order of old and even from the teachings of the order here. I believe you can only be true to yourself in your journey if you are willing to unlearn them if necessary."

It wasn't an easy request he made, and Zem knew it. The sooner he could put it to her, the better. She needed to hear honesty, and to know exactly what it might take for her to continue her path among the Jedi.

[Farran Esrimoure]

She took his words in in silence, mulling them over with a strange look.

"Then, Master Davola was wrong about the Jedi?"

If he was, then what was to be said of the Knighthood he'd bestowed upon her?

[Zem Vymes]

There was that absolutism again. Zem shifted on his feet.

"I believe that he believed he was right. I told you that truth requires a point of view, and I mean it. No Jedi truly closes the book, and part of our responsibility remains to keep searching for truth, even if we believe we already understand it."

Master Vymes clasped his hands together in front.

"Master Davola and I both learned the beginnings of the force from a Jedi who was wise and ancient. For hundreds of years, all Jedi learned from Master Yoda. If there was ever a Jedi who deserved to close the book by virtue of the body of his experience, it would have been him. And even then, Yoda himself was mistaken at times."

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Whatever truths a single man believes have a hard time standing in the face of disagreement from a collected group," came the groused answer.

Scowling, Farran looked at him. The frustration was easily evident on her features.

"Then I am no Knight, if I am to align myself with you and your Jedi here, on Ossus."

The disappointment she now felt... the almost sense of betrayal...

It was almost crushing. Everything that had been told to her was falling away to dust in the face of a changed Jedi Order.

[Zem Vymes]

"What makes a Knight? The word of a teacher? The time spent in study? Your body of work? A quest completed?"

Zem gave no answer for these things, because Farran now had to evaluate what she'd taken from her master, juxtaposed by the world she now inhabited.

"Perhaps those things. Perhaps more. But there's one thing that's important too, and that's your own belief in that word. If you say you are no Knight, then perhaps you aren't."

The Jedi Master shrugged.

"You are free to remain or leave of your choosing, Farran. I can only guide and teach. I am not here to compel you to do anything. If you reject the possibility, then you will have Master Davola's legacy and your convictions. I hope they are enough."

Zem smiled. It was an earnest smile, with patience and hopefulness.

"I do hope you choose to remain. Whatever you call yourself, it does nothing to diminish your opportunity to discover."

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Ha!"

Farran couldn't help the laugh that escaped, her head rolling up and to the side before dipping down once more.

"Stay or go."

She shook her head.

"What a choice. Cling to the memory of Master Davola's tellings, or strike out to something else."

Her eyes found his then, her own icy gaze locked with his.

"I grew up one way," her voice was not exactly a hissed sound, but it was certainly not warm.

"... what you're asking me is to turn my back on all of that."

[Zem Vymes]

There was something between her ears that was preventing listening from becoming hearing. Whether that was Master Davola's dogma, her own pride, or a deeply-rooted insecurity or fear. Any of these would hold her back on her journey as a Jedi, but there was no easy path in setting this right. The Council of old had put limits on a candidate's age because the older a student was, the more difficult it could be to overcome these matters. Their wisdom was called into question since, but Farran Esrimoure represented a new challenge. Who was to tell her she wasn't a Jedi? And if that were the case, what would she become?

"You're angry."

It wasn't said as an accusation. It was an observation made in a state of calm. She was flesh and blood like anyone else, and even Jedi touched that particular emotion from time to time. Yet much like touching a wild animal, one must be wary of the boundaries put into place.

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Should I not be?"

Her brow furrowed as she looked away. A silly question to ask, she knew.

"I know that I should not be," she let out a long breath.

"But everything here, now... it is so different. I do not know which view of the Jedi I should go with."

And then came the confession in all of its' pure roots. She had spoken her next words in a roundabout fashion she knew, but the rawness of them being spoken plainly was like a fresh realization.

"I'm confused."

[Zem Vymes]

"It's not a sin to be confused, Farran."

He'd at last found the root of the young student's conflict, and Zem's face wore the patience that years of experience had tempred. He knew the feeling so very well.

"We all find ourselves in that state, from time to time. If a dogma existed that deflected all questions set against it, it would be easy to be a Jedi. That journey never ends, you know. There are always questions that remain. Always answers in need of discovery. Sometimes those answers create more questions. As a Jedi, you will spend your entire life in pursuit of that great mystery. That journey is your enlightenment. The search is sacred."

Zem's eyes drifted to the object held against Farran's belt.

"Your lightsaber. May I see it?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

Not exactly expecting the request, Farran dropped her eyes to the crossed hilt hanging from her belt. The phrik had been polished to a shine, the crosspiece gleaming even despite the admittedly cloudy day. Leather strips had carefully been wound down the length of the hilt, stopping at a small spot of exposed metal before continuing on down to the pommel.

Almost reluctantly she pulled it free from its' clip on her belt, and holding it for a short moment, her gazed tracked back upwards as she held it out to him.

[Zem Vymes]

Zem received the Jedi weapon with both hands, a respectful nod of his head at the sign of trust she'd given him. He turned the weapon over in his grasp. It felt weighty and sturdy, and while unconventional, it seemed to be a weapon constructed of great thought and consideration, rather than rote mimicry.

The Jedi Master took a full step back and to the side, holding the weapon out as he activated it. The false mass of the magnetic bottle sheathing plasma immediately demanded correction in his hands, as well it should. This was a weapon made with the careful consideration of the one who constructed it, as there was little doubt as to how it would be used.

"What form of the Jedi arts did you learn?" Zem gave the lightsaber a few cursory swings, feeling it respond in his hands.

[Farran Esrimoure]

"Form V."

The answer came on instinct. She could still remember the endless sessions she'd endured. The thought of them didn't exactly bring a frown to her face, but there was a hardening at the edge of her eyes regardless.

"I... there were nights that I was not allowed to sleep if I failed a test," she finally admitted.

"I failed a lot, but the one thing that counted," a gesture to her sabre, "I made sure to do the best that I could."

[Zem Vymes]

He wouldn't speak ill of the dead here. It would do no good. Instead, Zem internalized his objections. Failure, at some point or another, was a certainty. Sometimes the best means of overcoming it was with a night's sleep and a clearer head the next day.

Instead of making this observation known, the Jedi master extinguished the blade, returning it once more with both hands.

"Was this Master Davola's preferred form, or did you find it in discovery of yourself?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

"It was what he taught me," she mumbled, taking back her weapon. Another quick motion, and it was clipped back on her belt.

"He talked about the other forms, but aside from a few explanations, he didn't really approve of me trying to learn more of them."

She looked away, her hands moving to stuff themselves into her pockets.

"So, I did what he told me to do."

[Zem Vymes]

Her explanation fit Zem's developing preconceptions regarding Master Davola's style of teaching. He seemed to train by edict and decree. There was a flow of information in the process...all one way.

"Did you spar with your master?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

"More than a few times, yes."

Off in the distance, she could see a hawk circling in the sky. It dipped low, gliding on the invisible breeze.

"It always ended the same."

Which was the nicest way she could hint at the fact that her losses and punishments were more often than not painful. In illustration, she hitched up the side of her shirt a small bit, exposing the ugly, puckered scar that ran horizontally from her navel to nearly her spine. That it came from a lightsabre was unmistakable.

[Zem Vymes]

Zem's frown of disapproval was plain on his face.

"I think there are less harmful ways to learn a lesson."

The cruelty of Master Davola unsettled Master Vymes, who had not known of such things even during the darkness of the clone wars. Master Windu was, from Loklorien's tellings, a harsh disciplinarian. But he had never done anything of this sort to his students.

"To use pain as an instrument of teaching is an invitation to use it for other things. That is a dark path to tread against."

Zem reached down to his own belt, retrieving his lightsaber. It was not as visually distinctive as Farran's own, and seemed to be almost disappointingly plain.

"But perhaps the lessons were learned nonetheless. Would you show me what you know?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

Her unspoken obedience manifested in her taking her own saber from her belt. However, her words when she spoke still addressed his reaction to her scar. One of many, it was true. But owing to the nature of his demeanor now, Farran wasn't so sure it would be a good idea to go further.

"I did not learn the lessons fully, or in a satisfactory manner. If I did not parry when I should have, then it is my fault," she tried to see beyond her own reasoning even as she spoke it. Still she pressed on, trying to make the words seem sensible.

"If I do something that I am not ready for, then the consequences of my mistake can only serve to teach me to be fully prepared for the next time, yes?"

[Zem Vymes]

"I'm no stranger to consequence, Farran Esrimoure. I'll keep my own counsel on which ones my student faces when they are learning."

Vymes brought his lightsaber up into a Form III opening stance. The blue blade sparked to life.

"Training setting. In training, we sweat. Save the bleeding for war."

[Farran Esrimoure]

This approach to a spar was one that she was unused to, and as her own pale green blade flared to life, Farran fell into the familiar motions of Djem So.

Her brow furrowed though, and she pulled an almost pained face as she tried to parse what he meant.

"... training setting?"

[Zem Vymes]

"Your lightsaber has no training setting?"

Even as he asked, Zem knew he had to expect about as much, given who her teacher had been. He muttered a laugh and shook his head.

"Well, we will see exactly how good of a teacher I can be then."

[Farran Esrimoure]

His behavior was so stunningly different than Master Davola's. Where one was a stern and unforgiving taskmaster, the other seemed more... relaxed? She wasn't sure if that was the right word, but Farran didn't dwell on it for too long as she readied herself. Her blade came up in a ready pose, muscles moving along familiar patterns and motions.

The pale green saber swept around once, coming to rest in a guard position as her body fell into a well-practiced stance.

[Zem Vymes]

Interesting. She immediately began at guard. Form Five certainly allowed for that, but it was a style that encouraged a strong offense as the best defense, with broad decisive strokes designed to break the opponent's leverage or make them lose ground. If Farran chose to begin at a state of guard, then Zem would give her something to guard against.

The Jedi Master began with a quick series of probing strikes, flicking his wrists to chop sharply at her center line. Easily countered, but likely without the leverage she wanted to hold.

[Farran Esrimoure]

Farran parried with precise motions, her motions controlled and quick. She moved with a paced speed, in time with his own strikes. As though she was gauging him solely by the sound of their sabers coming together.

It was as he drew back only slightly that she pressed in. The pale green of her blade came around in a powerful chop, followed with a sidestep as she let the blade use his block as the beginning springboard for a second slashing blow. A third. A fourth.

And each strike she gave came with more force than the last. Her expression was one of thin-lipped concentration, her eyes focused, narrow slits.

[Zem Vymes]

Master Vymes let her take the momentum and the ground, allowing Farran her full head of steam. His blade never met hers in force, shaving the trajectory by degrees as each of her strikes met with little resistance, leaving often a scant inch of freedom for Zem to slip through. But slip through he did. Every single time.

Farran's successive attempts to elicit a decisive block were denied her, in turn making it more difficult to recover her blade for a follow through. Gaps began to show in her stance as her swings grew more wide, until at last, Zem stepped a mere three inches forward, finding the space to place his saber's blade just below her armpit.

[Farran Esrimoure]

It was instinct that drove her to move in that instant. She'd seen her mistake, the opening that he'd taken advantage of, but there was a base instinct that kicked in the moment his blade slipped past. It was born in the knowledge that failure was burning, searing, cauterized pain. Farran threw her arm up, away from the edge of Master Vymes' weapon, and her body folded to the side. She collapsed in a roll, her saber had coming around in a sideways chop at his legs as she herself found her knees beneath her.

[Zem Vymes]

The only thing available for Farran's saber to chop at were Zem's feet, but even these were a split second ahead of the Knight, as the Jedi Master was already in the midst of leaping over her. Showing spry agility hidden by his age, Master Vymes found his sure footing as he landed just behind the kneeling woman. A probing flick of his wrist brought his lightsaber down to welt her between her shoulder blades - a strike that was barely deflected and without the leverage and momentum Farran would have preferred. Zem peeled away her blade with ease, using her own awkward positioning against her as her lightsaber tumbled from her grasp.

[Farran Esrimoure]

Disarmed, Farran felt her momentum vanish. She scrambled back only small bit, body angled to the side as one hand went out to support her upper half. The spar had been over practically before it began, the stinging between her shoulder blades a reminder of her failure.

She looked up at him.

In her thoughts, she could already hear that scolding laugh. Hear Master Davola's harsh words. Hear his verdict that she was still not good enough.

[Zem Vymes]

Zem was already extinguishing his blade. His posture once more seemed to settle, and the Jedi Master paused to brush back an errant strand of hair that had fallen during the duel.

"Why did I beat you?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

Her answer had long ago been memorized, and Farran let out a shaky breath before answering.

"Because I was not good enough."

A grimace as she slowly pushed up to regain her footing.

[Zem Vymes]

With a taut-lipped expression, Master Vymes was in no mood for Farran's jingoistic self-flagellation.

"If that is your answer, then clearly you are right."

It was, if anything, an invitation for her to examine that rote response more carefully. This wasn't simply a matter of grit and throwing one's self against a wall. If becoming a Jedi were merely a matter of endurance against abuse, then Farran's rise would not be a problem. That it was a problem spoke to what she was presently lacking.

[Farran Esrimoure]

She stared at him, unsure of how to take his words.

Brow furrowed, a glance was sent to her saber. Her hand went out, and the hilt sprang through the air to smack into her palm.

"I don't understand."

[Zem Vymes]

"I asked you why I beat you. Simply reaffirming that you were beaten is not going to help you."

Zem shook his head, pacing a quarter circle as he explained.

"Sparring, practice, tests of skill. These aren't things we do so that a teacher can fortify their pride in maintaining superiority over a student. These are opportunities to learn, because in a real fight those opportunities are only given to the victors."

Farran was frustrated, but she would have to overcome that as much as she would have to overcome him.

"I want you to consider every moment in our previous exchange, and tell me in detail what happened."

[Farran Esrimoure]

It was a strange thing, to be asked to examine what had led to her defeat. She had never once been asked such a thing; only ordered to return to her practices and meditations in some half-buried portion of the Venator that had been her home for as long as she could remember. She stared at Master Vymes for a few more moments before finally letting out a long, partially impatient sigh. What was she supposed to say?

"I... "

Her shoulders sagged then, and her head dipped to look away from him. She tried to replay the short spar in her mind's eye, unsure of what to look for. Was there some part of the whole thing that she had not taken advantage of? If there was she'd not seen it. But, there might've also been an opening that she hadn't seen or felt. A small invitation that she'd ignored? Everything played out once more, and yet still she could not see. Her features twisted in her inner frustrations as she finally admitted the sad truth.

"... I don't know."

[Zem Vymes]

Zem paced his student, watching her expression as she tried to parse between the binary of win/loss and discover something more substantial.

"Your swings were strong and sure. That is certainly what Djem So dictates. However, the stronger the strike demands the longer recovery. When it became obvious that I would not meet you in guard, you needed a new tactic."

It was a start, at least. Something for her to consider. Form V was a capable lightsaber form, but even the best hand with a saber could not rely merely on the art's dogma as rote instruction.

[Farran Esrimoure]

The 'but Master Davola said... ' went no further than a reactionary thought, and Farran stood, watched Master Vymes. He'd shown an amount of distaste for Master Davola's methods, at least from the small amount that she could tell, and she was determined to keep any mention of her old mentor to a solid zero.

"Then I am too rigid."

The self-examination was spoken of in a harsh tone, ground out through gritted teeth.

Another moment to soften her initial reactions and emotion, and Farran cast her eyes down as she considered the words that had spoken to her.

She blinked, then sent her eyes up in a motion that followed her head as it cast skyward.

"I am not... flexible?"

Was that a poor choice of words? She scoured her brain for something to add.

"Unable to adapt... ?"

[Zem Vymes]

She was trying, and that was the most important part. It would be too easy for Farran to wall herself up in her old master's dogma and her own stubbornness. She was searching for the constructive and the substantive. Whatever it would take to fulfill her oath as Jedi.

"Let go of the absolute." Zem offered, his expression anything but judgmental.

"Am not. Unable. Even the words you use are weighing you down. You are discovering. Learning. Your liberation begins even with these, the smallest of steps. Think of the opportunity you have to achieve flexibility, and the journey you will take to adapt."

[Farran Esrimoure]

Farran made a face, unsure of how to really progress. Looking away, she sent her gaze on a sideways downward trajectory.

"The absolutes made more sense and were easier to understand," she half-grumbled.

But still, he was imparting knowledge, and it was her duty to listen and try to learn. She could still hear Master Davola's mocking jabs, you're too dense, Farran. It would take a hundred Masters a hundred years to get you fully trained...

She blinked away the memory furiously, letting herself sink down to sit on one leg, the other stretching out in front. She dug part of her saber's cross guard through the dirt with an idle motion. She drew simple lines, which seemed to turn themselves into nothing as she dragged her saber perpendicular in a crossing motion. The dirt and sand was mostly loose, offering a malleable 'canvas'.

"Very well. Then I am learning. Discovering. Is word choice so important, though? Why not simply state the facts in as concise a way as possible?"

[Zem Vymes]

"Because life is too complicated to be learned by rote means."

Master Vymes patiently began to reshape the way Farran viewed the world around her.

"Because there comes a time when there won't be a master to impart the subtleties to you. You take the sum of your experience, - wisdom - and apply it."

They were straying from the small lesson to glimpse at the bigger picture, and Vymes considered that Farran may appreciate something more tactile.

"Stand up, make a fist."

[Farran Esrimoure]

A fleeting scowl as she inwardly groused over the fact that she'd only just sat down, and Farran let out a groan while slowly lumbering up to stand once more. Her saber was clipped to her belt, and the blonde swiped her palms over her pants to remove any lingering dirt. Biting her lower lip, she squared herself to Master Vymes, and hitching her shoulders back, held out her right hand.

Splayed fingers slowly folding inward until they closed in a fist, her knuckles whitening.

[Zem Vymes]

"Djem So is an expression of strength. It is a purity of intent, straightforward and full of determination. I can understand why your master taught you this way. There is a time that the wisest way to end a conflict is with a single stroke."

Zem inspected Farran's clenched fist, noting that even in a state of rest, she held the fist in a state of strain.

"Punch me."

[Farran Esrimoure]

It was not what she'd expected to hear, and she hesitated for only a moment as her thoughts tumbled suddenly past the gates of momentary inaction. Punch him?! Never once had Master Davola instructed her in such a way... was this some sort of trick? Some sort of trap?

And yet, the moment passed and Farran felt her muscles bunch up, her body suddenly moving to obey.

Her arm drew back in a split-second move before rocketing forward...

... and yet at the last moment she pulled back ever-so-slightly, only to allow her other hand to come up in a white-knuckled jab aimed for his sternum.

[Zem Vymes]

Farran's fist met the soft of Vymes' open palm, which pivoted in just such a way to alter the fist's trajectory and cause it to miss by inches. Zem raied an eyebrow at the subterfuge.

"Misdirection is hardly a tactic stressed by Djem So. I'm curious about your choice. I can see enough from how you deal with a lightsaber that you favor your right hand, but you decline to move with power. What is your motivation?"

The Jedi Master laced his fingers together below his midsection, at ease entirely.

[Farran Esrimoure]

He'd deflected as though knowing all along the actions she would take. As though he'd watched her hunt the tundra apelings years past, and had memorized her tactics. Standing for a moment, frozen it seemed in time, Farran gathered her jumbled inner-rationalizations enough allow herself a slow step back so that she could collect her thoughts.

"I... I used to hunt. Back home on Helska IV."

She made a face as she cast her eyes about, the silent hilt of her saber clutched loosely in one hand.

"On the tundras, I used to have to hunt for our dinner. Master Davola... " she drew up then, her eyes moving to Master Vymes in a moment of worry over his reaction to the invocation of her old Master's name, but chose to continue on.

"... he said it was a good test of prowess and ability, and the different kinds of animals provided different lessons for a Jedi's skills in the Force."

Her focus went to the saber hilt then, and she turned it over in her hands.

"Snowshoe jakrabs were good for a Jedi's reflexes and quickness. Rock snakes were good for determination and fortitude. Tundra apelings were for testing a Jedi's adaptability and the need to show one thing, yet do another. Master Davola always said to keep your saber style different than the way you do battle with your bare hands."

She let her shoulders sag at those last words; unsure of how much further her old Master's teachings could possibly be dismantled any further, yet sure that a way would be found to do just that.

[Zem Vymes]

Master Vymes grinned. Even though it all spoke of the strange way Master Davola had torn down the Jedi teachings to build them again in his image, it showed him that Farran was at least not entirely a dogmatic pupil.

"The disciplines of lightsaber combat are much the same for a Jedi. You will find an affinity towards one style, no doubt, but to be truly proficient, you must understand them all. This..."

He again held up his empty palm.

"...is part of the philosophy of Soresu. It exists as all of our teachings, bound within the force. It redirects energy, channeling your opponent's aggression and intentions away. It is as radical a departure from Djem So as possible, and yet..."

The open palm tightened into a fist, snapping into motion that only arrested a scant inch from Farran's face.

"One must know one to fully comprehend the other. As all things in the force, balance and harmony find their diametric partner."

[Farran Esrimoure]

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes wide and locked onto the fist that was a whisper away from making full contact. He'd not seemed to completely disapprove of her explanation, but rather there seemed to be some sort of want to expound upon it? It was enough to cause her to remain silent, contemplating his words as she couldn't help but wet suddenly dry lips.

"So... " she finally peeled her eyes from the curled fingers, trailing her gaze up to meet his even as she took a slow, half-step back.

"... I must learn them all, then?"

[Zem Vymes]

"In some manner of understanding."

Zem's explanation wasn't as absolute as she probably wanted.

"Answering a question usually leads to another question. Many answers produce many questions, and you do not so much arrive at a contented state than journey through your understanding. There are Jedi who commit themselves to a mastery of all seven arts of saber combat. There are also Jedi who arrive at a proficiency of a few styles only. Moving this blade..." he gestured to the saber at his belt, "is only the smallest part of what defines our commitment. When you ask yourself 'Why do I move this blade?' you will find yet another journey."

He took an appraising look at his newest student.

"Master Davola sent you here to learn, and I intend on seeing that you do. You were taught that Jedi aspire to greatness. I will teach you that greatness is found in humility. You can only achieve what is asked of you when you understand those who have the least. This is one of many balances that the force holds together. Do you understand?"

[Farran Esrimoure]

Greatness in humility. it seemed such a departure from what Master Davola had insisted she strive toward, but Farran was not about to question the words being spoken to her now. The man who was planted before her in such a resolute stance, despite the easy appearance of his posture... there was a sureness of knowledge that weighed down every one of his words. It was something that reminded her of Master Davola, but at the same time it seemed to set the two apart. Two opposing views that held roots in the same bit of earth.

Slowly, she nodded. Her eyes tracked away though, as her thoughts ran a veritable minefield of possibilities.

"I understand."

It wasn't something that was difficult to grasp, just... opposite. In direct contradiction to everything that she'd been previously taught.

Her brow knit, lips pursing.

"What am I to do then... ?"