The Force is Your Tool

[Palara Iscandar]

It was six in the morning, and she sat, sipping caf and frowning at her datapad at a small table in one of the few remaining garden rooms in the Citadel. The table was nondescript, a small grated metal affair that had a small pot on a warmer along with a small plate that had held a few rolls and some butter along with small dishes of honey, milk, and sugar. Her chair was no comfort, being the same grated metal design as the table, but at least she was sitting.

The lights were slowly brightening in time with the sunlight outside, and an artificial breeze stirred the leaves in the trees. It was still a facsimile of true life, but the plants and the flowing water fountains and pools at least allowed some semblance of the breath of the Force to be felt.

She was teaching a class in basic Force usage.

Ridiculous.

But the will of the Knight-General was not to be denied, especially in such unimportant circumstances as this. So instead of leaving the garden, she tapped the small holoprojector that sat next to her pot of caf and glanced at the time; she idly adjusted the cuff of her uniform jacket (the long coat was draped over the back of her chair), and swept a lekku off her shoulder.

Despite the fact that her students would be arriving in moments, the Twi'lek didn't seem at all tense. Instead, she sipped from her cup and went back to reading from her datapad with nonchalance.

[Maalik]

When Maalik had learned that he was going to be taking part in a Force training class with Knight Iscandar, he found himself excited. After all, despite the fact that it was her who had invited him to it in the first place, out of all the people who inhabited the Citadel, she was the only one so far that had gained at least a semblance of respect from him. Aside from this, the fact that the class was to be taking place in a garden... well, that took him from excited to elated. He rose early, dressing in the black uniform he had been given. Although it wasn't as comfortable as the clothes he had worn on Wayland, feeling far too restricting, he was slowly getting used to it.

His footsteps echoed along the hallways in the early morning silence as Maalik made his eager way toward the garden, entering to find Knight Iscandar sat reading one of those infernal little machines that infuriated him so.

"Hello again, Knight Iscandar," He said with a giggle, bowing before letting his gaze dart around.

He could smell the earth, taste the plants upon the air and hear the rustling of leaves. This would be his home away from home, that much was certain. It was clear the plants had been fairly neglected; while being kept alive, they were not truly flourishing. He would change that soon enough. He felt the Force beginning to flow through him, a smile appeared on his face and he brought a hand to rest on the bark of a tall, thin tree with browning leaves.

"Let's see what we can do for you, my friend..." He whispered, glee in his quiet voice.

If Knight Iscandar were to look closely, she would see the wildman's eyes beginning to change in colour, from their natural, warm blue to a vibrant, unnatural shade of green. As his eyes changed, so did the tree in front of him. New shoots and buds began to sprout on the tips of branches and the browning leaves found life once more, restored to full health.

"There... that's better isn't it?" Maalik whispered through a gleeful grin, cocking his head as if listening for a response.

If one came, it was only him that heard it...

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Six months since Halajiin Rabeak, disguised as Kyle Rayner, had arrived at the Citadel, and two quarters of Imperial Knight Cadet training were under his belt, with a fresh quarter set to begin. That meant a new class schedule, a few new classmates, and jarring changes in subject. For most cadets, it wasn't so much a matter of what courses you would take, as opposed to when you would take them. It was with a smirk of irony that Hal glanced at the next course on his schedule. Basic Force Application. If there was a cadet among the entire program who didn't need a course in basic Force usage, it was Hal - the only cadet to have gone through all this rigamarole before back in the days that the Jedi called the Citadel their Temple.

Still, a course was a course, and an easy class would mean an even better grade point average. The better he could look, the more he'd be trusted, and the more he was trusted, the sooner he'd get to knighthood. In all his plans for escape, knighthood seemed to offer the Nehantite the most options, and thus was his end goal.

Also it'd be funny as hell to have the Empire unwittingly knight someone they didn't know was already a Jedi Knight! Oh, but it is to laugh!

Well, at least laugh on the inside. It was with a calm, almost bored face that Hal entered the garden room and nodded hello to one of the first faces he'd seen at the Citadel. "Good morning, Knight Iscandar," he said, before turning to see the freaky tree-hugger dude. "Good morning."

Garfife, that dude was freaky. Hal was willing to bet he did more with trees than just hug them, too.

[Onika Zepparah]

Onika held her breath as she crossed the threshold into one of the Citadel's courtyard gardens. This was the most greenery she'd seen in one place since the class trip to the Skydome Botanical Gardens two years ago. It hadn't been anything like the few square meters of sawgrass and a bush that passed for a park in the Chiba District, or even the carefully manicured lawns of her father's estate. The ground rolled seemingly at random, with no respect to speeders or trains or foot traffic, and unless you were near the edge of the dome you could look all around you and see nothing but trees, grassy hills, running water, and blue sky, not a sign of duracrete, durasteel, or transparisteel anywhere to be found, and it was so... quiet. Oppressively quiet, watchfully quiet, quiet enough to hear the air pressing in on you, the whispers of every blade of grass and every shuddering leaf - why did there have to be so many?! She'd felt like an interloper, like a fish out of water, like a bird flapping in vacuum. She wasn't in any hurry to experience a whole planet that was like that.

At least the Citadel gardens were small enough to wrap her mind around, and there were reminders of civilization everywhere she looked. Such as the table and chairs where Lady Iscandar had parked herself, and the benches nearby, and the stone fences and planters and columns that lined the colorful arrangements of exotic flora. Onika quietly made her way to a bench near the edge of the clearing and laid out her datapad, briefly making eye contact with the Twi'lek knight. She felt as out of place here at the Citadel as she'd felt in any arboretum, but if there was one class where she wanted to make an impression, it was this one.

[Jeryd Redsun]

Nebbil had gone on ahead, this time, at Jeryd's request. Covert excuses were made, heavy implications about 'fresher needs, all backed up by a sudden onslaught of gas that sent Nebbil into swift retreat. In the haunting silence of the empty dorm, his stomach roiled. Maybe he was going to be sick. He paced the width of the room. His arms felt insubstantial at his sides, like they were nothing but air and light. Each breath was small in his chest.

After his sixth or seventh pass, he stopped, rounded on his bunk, and crouched. From his pocket, he produced a single credit chit, and laid it on the smooth sheets. As he regarded it, what little air he had left in his lungs was expelled in a low huff. He closed his eyes, and could hear his heart thumping against his chest.

"Okay..." he uttered, but, before he could begin, his eyes snapped open, and performed one more precautionary sweep of the dorm. He was definitely alone. Another deep breath.

"Anger, and fear... anger, and fear..."

Even with his eyes closed, he could almost see the world around him starting to warp, bending to his will. That was the fear, honing his senses to a knife's edge, like a survival instinct. Right now, fear, he had in abundance. And with it, he could feel the credit chit on his bed. Now, he needed anger. His face changed over the course of a minute, from one of firm ironclad focus, to a red, scrunched, quivering, grinding mess.

"Gah!" he heaved, releasing before he ruptured a blood vessel. The chit hadn't moved an inch.

"Idiot!" he hissed. There was a crack as he slapped himself on the face. And again, "Loser! Come on!"

In his mind's eye, he saw himself surrounded by a class of cadets, pointing, laughing, and mocking his paltry attempts to use the Force. What kind of Imperial Knight couldn't move a blasted credit chit? He was going to fail. He was going to lose the faith of Lúka, and all the other instructors, and he was going to be rejected from the Knight program. Maybe he'd end up in some admin or clerical job in the Citadel archives. He could see his father's face, his brother's face. His hands balled into fists until the fingernails bit into his palms.

Or, maybe his failure would be so catastrophic that the Empire would have no use for him at all. Your value to the Empire is now singular. Lúka's words rose like a phantom from his memory, and struck him down. He was still dispensable. Just another name to be struck off the list.

The credit chit fired across the room like a bullet, it pinged off the ceiling and wall, before vanishing from sight. In the renewed silence, he released the breath he'd been holding in.

"Frak..."



####



When Jeryd entered the garden room, he felt completely at odds with the relative tranquillity of his surroundings. His insides were turning, and his throat was arid and tight. For once, he kept away from the crowds, and lingered at the back.

[Jensen Par'Vizal]

Being used to mornings and being good at mornings were two very different things as cadet Par'Vizal was finding out. Not that he considered himself a particularly lazy individual, or that he took a particularly long time to get up and moving, but there was always more effort put into it than he would have liked. Maybe it would eventually pass as he adjusted to the early hour that some of his classes required him to be conscious for. He'd looked at the slight details of this particular one in the pre-dawn hours with a particular... Well, it wasn't loathing, entirely. But he felt insulted on some level. Basic Force Application. Hadn't his per-acceptance interview already covered that he knew enough of the basics to get by in the other classes? That feeling simmered as Jensen had gone to the mess to ensure that his stomach wasn't entirely empty before class and mostly evaporated when he was done and heading towards the gardens. It really wasn't his place to judge how ready he was, after all, and considering he was essentially self taught and had a whole host of problems associated with that, maybe a beginners course wouldn't be entirely beneath him.

Ugh, how droll, to suddenly realize he was turning responsible. Maybe the Citadel would make a Knight of him yet.

A few stray crumbs were dusted off his uniform before he entered and glanced around, noting those who had already arrived as well as the Knight herself who would be teaching them. Jensen had seen Twi'lek's before, but they weren't ever this... His mind searched for a word in the morning haze and came up empty, modestly clothed would have to do. Not that it was particularly shocking, not here anyway, not with the handful of times he'd been around Zepparah - half breed that she was - but it still struck him. Then again, maybe it was more in the relaxed way Knight Iscandar - as his datapad had informed him - sat at the table without a seeming care in the world. Her caf was eyed enviously but also suspiciously. Who knew where it was from and what it actually was like, for all he knew it could be - Jensen almost shuddered - decaf.

The other cadets were milling about and so Jensen more or less joined them with mildly curious glances cast towards those he thought were more advanced. Maybe everyone needed a return to basics now and then.

[Khoovi Wan]

"He's smart, to be sure. But he's just a kid. He should be in classes with children his own age, y'know?"

Khoovi entered the garden near last among the students scheduled. He kept to himself and nodded to acknowledge Rayner, and a few of the other students who acknowledged him, but otherwise he stayed quiet. His empathy was awash in different emotions, all of them familiar, all of them not his.

And the Twi'lek sitting at the front of the group of assembled students, reading a datapad and sipping her caf glanced up at him, and he felt a disgusted revulsion overwhelming him for a moment, before the emotion was gone, and the class was quiet; he was on his back and staring up at the artificial blue of the domed ceiling. He sat up, and the Twi'lek was kneeling before him.

"I apologize," she said quietly, and stood.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Not every person signed up for zis class eez 'ere, but unfortunately for zem ze appointed time eez upon us. I am Knight Iscandar. Zis class is called Basic Force Usage. Zat is too seemple a name for what you will learn. I will teach you basic techniques to control ze abilities you possess. Zey will be ze building blocks upon wheech all of your future lessons and knowledge will rest."

She folded her hands behind her back and paced in front of the gathered cadets.

"Some of you 'ave more control or more knowledge zan ozzers. Zat will not make zis class easy for you. Zis class is not about comparable or relative ability. Eet eez about your ability, and your capability of control. Many classes you will take 'ere will 'ave similar objectives."

She stopped pacing and turned to face her pupils.

"Ze Force is a field of energy. It is present everywhere. It molds, and is malleable. It moves, and is moved. Zat is, it can be; weeth a sufficient force of will."

As opposed to other teachers, Palara did not offer an example. She merely stood before the children and spoke.

"Before any parlour treecks can be attempted, you must first be able to sense ze Force wizzin yourself. So, with zat in mind, I will not teach you to sit and close your eyes. Everyone, stand in file, four rows, five columns, and more zan your arms' breadth between you and your neighours. Breaze like so."

She took a deep breath in through her nose, such that her chest and core expanded visibly, before letting it out through her pursed lips as slowly as she took it in. She observed her students with a blank expression for a few moments.

"Well? Get to eet."

As the group assembled before her and began to breathe, she walked between them and commented.

"No, Redsun. You are breazing too quickly. Slowly in zrough ze nose, and just as slowly out, as when you 'ave completed physical training and want your 'eart rate to slow."

"Good, Zepparah. But your breaths are too shallow. Breaze deeply until you can 'old no more inside, and control your exhalation."

"Focus on your breath, Rayner. Not Cadet Undriya's bottom."

After about a minute, she stopped in front of the class.

"Why am I asking you to breaze?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Because if we don't breathe, we'll lose oxygen to our brains, pass out, and then we'll be no good for learning anything at all," Hal replied, attempting to take his eyes off dat ass. It must have been a test, why else would it have been there?

Before he could be chided for being silly, however, he came up with what he presumed to be the correct answer. "But seriously, steady, measured breathing is known to regulate the heartbeat and allow the mind to focus. It's part of meditative or concentration practice in thousands of cultures. Proper oxygen levels in your blood calm the nerves and give you better focus."

[Palara Iscandar]

Knight Iscandar continued her circuit of the class, ignoring Rayner's jocularity as if it hadn't even existed.

"A partial answer. It is not incorrect, but I am looking for somezing more."

[Onika Zepparah]

Onika found herself stuck in the front row, much to her chagrin. Between Lady Iscandar's melodic accent and her classmates' formation, she felt as if she were six years old again and practicing her balance in her first dance class with Madame Bijou and the other Twi'lek girls in the district. It had been fun, until it became apparent even to her how fast her classmates were outstripping her, and she came to realize why the other girls grew suddenly quiet and watchful when she walked past.

She dashed the memories from her mind and focused, as the Knight had indicated, on her breathing. As deep as she could manage, swelling her narrow chest, without disrupting her rhythm or pace. The scents of the garden filled her nose, herbal and floral and spicy and sweet... just like her mother's flower shop. Damn it.

Her eyes opened again at Palara's question, and Hal's characteristically flippant answer. Smartass. Part of her hoped he'd be the next Cadet to be dumped on his tail. And then before she knew it she was opening her mouth.

"It's a centering exercise. It clears the mind and body and opens them to the flow of energy. Both kinetic and... spiritual. Ma'am."

Madame Bijou's words, almost verbatim. She was stunned that she had remembered them. Even more stunned that she had brought them here. Her cheeks tinged a few more shades toward fuchsia.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Zat eez closer," the Knight responded. "Cadet Amman, stand straight, do not slouch. 'Ow are your lungs to fill eef zey do not 'ave ze room?"

The Cadet, a short red-headed boy, sprang to attention. Iscandar moved on.

"Most of ze time, we do not zink of our breazing. Ze air, it is taken for granted, like it is not even zere. Being mindful of ze air you breaze, it is not so different from being aware of ze Force. For it, like ze air, is always zere, and when you are untrained you use it like someone 'oo is not physically trained when zey exert zemselves. You tire easily, are inefficient in its use and it is not so effective as would be ozzerwise."

Iscandar stopped in front of the cadets.

"Now, when you breaze in, focus on your lungs filling to capacity. Hold it in. Zen, I want you to exhale. Picture nozzing but your breath emptying your lungs. Become aware of ze air you breaze, and ze energy it gives you as it flows zroughout your body. When you 'ave done zis, sit down, and we will continue."

[Jeryd Redsun]

"Why am I asking you to breaze?"

Jeryd could have asked the same question. Instead of finding himself approaching some heightened sense of inner peace and self-awareness, he could feel himself becoming increasingly agitated, filling closer to the brim with every new breath. The turbulence within, of unreleased tension, of stoppered anxiety, it roiled against the walls of his resolve, and against the tranquility imposed all around him. He took another breath, slowly, through the nose, as instructed by Knight Iscandar. She said something to Rayner about his wandering eyes, with almost oblivious disregard for the magnetism of her own pert posterior. Palara Iscandar was unquestionably one of the most attractive women in the Citadel, and that, in itself, was less than ideal for cultivating an atmosphere of unwavering concentration.

And another breath. He couldn't picture the air leaving his body, or the energy flowing through it, for that matter. He had felt the Force before; the road was treacherous and hard, but he knew how to find it. Fear and anger, he reminded himself. How in the galaxy was he was supposed to be fearful or angry in a place such as this? Knight Iscandar was leading them down another path, one that was gentle, and meandering; a stroll through the countryside, rather than an expedition up a mountain. Still, he felt nothing. His shoulders dropped, and the placid silence was broken again.

"Ma'am, if the Force is all around us at all times, is it possible for a trained Knight to feel it all times, too? Or is it changeable, like the wind, ma'am?"

Inwardly, he cringed at his flowery choice of words. First, the breathing exercises, now, this? He'd be braiding his hair with Felucian daisies, next.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Zat eez not a foolish question. Congratulations, Cadet Redsun."

Iscandar looked over the assembled students with a studied air of nonchalance.

"A Knight, or anyone capable of using ze Force, may or may not be able to use it or feel it at a given point. Let us use you as an example. You are attempteeng to touch ze Dark of the ze Force, or more accurately, you are attempting to focus your own dark emotions to elicit a response. Ze problem is, you are not focusing on ze Force, but yourself. Pain, fear, and anger are conduits to ze Dark, it is true."

Iscandar walked through the assembled students to Redsun, who matched her eyes with studied discipline. She nodded in satisfaction, and then as quick as lightning, struck him in his diaphragm with one closed fist. The Cadet dropped, suddenly lost for breath.

"But you are too scattered and unfocused to truly harness ze Dark as Knight-General Atrapes or Knight Vissica. After all, what 'ave you to be angry about? What do you 'ave to fear? What do you 'ate? Using ze Dark requires strength of passion and emotion; strength you do not 'ave, if zis garden and a lack of external impetus are enough to make you incapable of reaching it."

She looked down at the human boy for a moment, her face inscrutable and blank once more. Khoovi shivered nearby. She extended a hand and slowly lifted Jeryd to his feet, giving him only enough help that he still needed to exert the effort to stand, but had a strong and steady hand to keep him from falling once more.

"We are not ze Sith, Cadet. We will not inculcate 'ate and anger wizzin you zat you do not already 'ave. Are you now aware of ze air you are breazing in? Do you understand now what it eez to be wizzout it?"

She turned to face the other students.

"Does anyone else need 'elp in focusing on ze air zey are breazing?"

[Jeryd Redsun]

For a painful moment, Jeryd remained doubled over, resting his hands on his knees while he sucked air through his teeth. The coughing had subsided, and, his lungs, that had felt like a couple of crumpled paper bags in his chest, slowly started to expand again. Oh, he could feel the air, alright. Once he stopped wheezing like an old woman, he stood upright, exactly as he'd been prior to Knight Iscandar's intervention. Had she known what he thought of her little breathing exercise? His gaze crept sideways, inspecting those bulbous brain tails of hers, as if he could someone spot the thoughts within.

Silence greeted Palara's open invitation, which came as no surprise. And Jeryd used the opportunity to make himself as uninteresting as possible. One punch per lesson was enough for him. He abandoned his quest to harness the fear and anger that had previously allowed him to use the Force, and turned to Knight Iscandar's advice instead. If he lacked the strength to summon that power at will, then perhaps there was another way. He took a long full breath, glad to be rid of the pain at last. And again.

Relax, you idiot. Just relax.

[Palara Iscandar]

Palara turned back, sensing the Cadet's emotions subsiding into a controlled tension, which at least was better than the roiling and tumultuous squall they'd been before. She moved closer to the Cadet and placed her hand on his diaphragm once more. This time it was an open palm resting gently just over the fabric of his uniform.

With gentle, subtle movements of the Force, she aided Redsun in his breathing, pulling air in and pushing it out with slightest brushes against his spiritual being.

"Focus, Cadet," she said, her voice soft. The Force was in that also, gently smoothing the rough current of his thoughts until the clean flow of the Light could be felt. "You feel it now, yes? Coming in with ze air, and flowing zrough you? Good. Continue."

She removed her hand and gently halted her assistance, and turned around once more.

"Again, I will ask: is anyone else 'aving trouble?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

To put one brick upon another,
add a third, and then a fourth;
leaves no time to wonder whether
what you do has any worth.

But to sit with bricks around you,
while the winds of heaven brawl;
weighing what you should, or can, do,
leaves no doubt of it at all.

The old poem ran through Hal's mind as he sat, cross-legged, paws resting on his knees, eyes closed. Like the Force itself, he hadn't understood it when he first heard it, and so he continued to seek his own meaning rather than the one truth it held. Only with time did he grasp what it meant: put in the work, do the menial, as it's the way to learn and advance a skill. Had he not put bricks of concentration on each other when he was young, he would never have realized what it was he was seeing in the Force. More bricks added understanding, and a platform from which to work. Brick by brick, Hal improved himself, and his relationship with the living Force, taking to heart the meanings of such a simple poem.

Here he was again, surrounded by the gnashing, tearing winds of heaven, a storm of chaos raging against all the injustices which had been dealt to the Jedi Order, yet Hal remained calm. His bricks were solid, his mortar hard-set, and through his walls he could see the storm, yet it could not touch him. Breathing had been one of his first bricks, as well it should be one of the first of his classmates. The time for jokes had passed, now it was time to be serious, and learn what more could be taught him, while simultaneously observing the ways in which his fellow cadets developed their own understanding of the gift Garfife had given them all.

[Jeryd Redsun]

Knight Iscandar's return made Jeryd rigid with alarm. His muscles tensed, bracing for the punch that never came. And then, the tension evaporated under her touch, and turned into something quite different. In the sudden unexpected intimacy of the moment, Jeryd's steady breathing faltered. Fortunately, Palara was on hand to provide assistance.

When it was finally over, his eyes opened, heavy under the weight of Palara's blissful influence. He could hear her, but the feeling she had left him with was so intoxicating, all he could bring himself to do was smile. Warmth, stillness, and light, in perfect harmony with each other, stirred within. The turbulence of thoughts, of worries and fears, it had been banished to somewhere far away, beyond the scope of his comprehension. And he had no desire for it to return. So he held on to that feeling, incandescent, like Palara, herself. It felt so bright, he could glow. Maybe he did.

[Jensen Par'Vizal]

He was breathing. Of course he was. Jensen was even paying attention to it, trying to follow the Twi'lek Knight's instructions. Granted, he may have stopped for a few moments when the sudden sound of an impacting fist collided with Redsun's chest and the few seconds thereafter; but overall Cadet Par'Vizal focused as best as he could.

Each inhale was taken deeply until it felt like he couldn't draw in anymore, and with each exhale the air was forced from his lungs as much as could be done and still be comfortable.. He felt it as far as the air was concerned, the way it expanded and contracted his chest, even the way it made his nose feel ever so slightly numb; but the energy that Lady Iscandar spoke of was absent. It felt like something just out of his reach as if with each intake of air his senses reached out from him but whatever it was that he was intending to be feeling always moved just that tiny but further away.

Despite closing his eyes, Jensen thought he could feel the others near him achieving what they thought to be the goal and taking a seat. It wasn't his place to worry about what the others were doing or not doing, though, and he knew he was being too distracted thanks to frustration.

Redoubling his efforts only got him so far, even with slow measured breaths that he believed could become his entire focus. Apparently Par'Vizal had the same problem that Redsun did; his usage of The Force was more focused on moments of heightened anxiety or need. Here, now, there was no threat, no danger to cause him to conjure up the connection. He'd heard what Iscandar had said, though. They weren't Sith, this wasn't all about anger and all that, he should have been able to feel that connection even in this peaceful place.

So why was it so damned hard? His mother had made it look easy when he was a child, levitating those soap bubbles when she washed the dishes, when she had transformed them into little loth-cats and canoids and had hovered them over his head and he would pop them with his finger and...

Oh. There it was. And just as soon as he had felt that familiar energy it dissipated, snatched away no sooner than he had inwardly looked towards it.

Oh, come on! He silently cursed and cracked open an eye as he heard the Knight reiterate her question regarding anyone needing aid. Reluctantly Jensen raised his hand to about shoulder level.

[Onika Zepparah]

Onika had to bite down on a nervous giggle when Jeryd went gasping to his knees. Not... not that it was funny. Okay, maybe it was, just a tiny bit, seeing a big, cocky wegman dropped like a sack of nunas by a Twi'lek woman who'd probably be strutting through his fantasies tonight. But she'd already known Palara wasn't just another Imperial trophy. Otherwise she'd have made it back to Chiba that day several weeks ago, and she and Kona would already be disappearing into the Southern Underground, or some other insanity. Palara was the person who brought her here, and in a lot of ways, was the person keeping her here.

Well, until she figured out the locks, anyway.

But Rayner was already sitting on the ground, which meant he'd already found his inner peace, or whatever it was they were searching for. Onika wanted to show she could do this. She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythm of her own breath, shutting out everything else around her. No... the sound was doing nothing for her. She had to visualize it. But how did you see air?

Easy. You give it a color. She imagined herself standing in a sea of pale blue mist, spreading languorously like the huge white clouds that floated across the sky when the weather controllers decreed it. And then she inhaled. The mist brightened as it stirred, streaming into her nose in jets of cerulean, swirling and streaming their way down to her lungs, which swelled like bellows, folds straightening, their membranous linings growing thin and translucent so the sapphire glow shone through. But it didn't stop there. Red blood surged through her lungs, drinking up as much of the blue color as it could carry, and the air in her lungs grew dull and muted while millions of tiny blood cells flared bright purple, like the embers of a chemical fire. The motes of purple light then sped their way through her heart and through arteries and branches and capillaries, like a drop of dye spreading through a basin, until the color of life filled her entirely. And then she exhaled the green-gray air from her lungs, which spun off into the air around her, where it faded back into the limitless blue.

She felt more grounded and at peace than than she'd been since she first set foot in the Citadel. She took in another grateful breath, then carefully lowered herself to sit on the ground, curling her fingers into the grass.

[Palara Iscandar]

Palara weaved through the Cadets, pausing only a slight moment or two to look at one or two who'd sat down.

"Cadet Par'Vizal," she hummed. "You are close. Continue."

She stood and watched for a moment as the human boy breathed and attempted to touch the Force, humming to herself as the boy's frustration hampered him again. He opened his eyes and looked at her calmly, though she could feel the rising annoyance within.

"Stop," she said. "You are attempting to skip forward, Cadet, zough ze attempt itself is very good. I am not asking you to touch ze Force, or hold eet in your focus. I am only asking you to feel ze Force as it flows zrough you. 'Ow can you grasp somezing you can barely perceive? As you become more aware of ze Force as it moves wizzin you, you will find zat grasping and moving it yourself, eet is no longer such a frustrating task."

She could see the realisation in his eyes, as well as feel a slight sense of... shame? No, not shame. He felt that he should have grasped that aspect of her instructions sooner.

"So, breaze. Slower. Good. Allow yourself to calm. Do not zink about 'ow zis should be, allow ze Force to manifest itself to you. You do not need to pull it out from be'ind a veil. It is always zere, so when you cannot feel it or touch it, remember zat it is not 'idden, but zat you seemply must attune yourself to eet. Zat is ze point of breazing and picturing it coming in with ze air. So when you feel zat energy, zat sense of ze Force, do not try to move it. Simply feel it as it moves itself zrough you. Try again."

[Jensen Par'Vizal]

He should have realized he was overthinking it all, making the task more complicated than necessary. Where others could be faulted for rushing headlong into a task, Jensen was near opposite in that it was his thoughts that always tried to kick themselves into hyperdrive. The cadet found that typically that could be quite useful, but in an instant like this? Do not think of how this should be. Jensen would have to just accept things for what they were, let the galaxy and The Force just be. It would have sounded near impossible except for the fact that Knight Iscandar had already told him that he'd been close. Not exactly praise for not exactly being on target but encouraging nonetheless.

Another attempt was made as he was instructed, the looming presence of the Knight still perceived even after he closed his eyes once more. He breathed in slowly, though at the same time tried to keep it from feeling forced, allowing the air to naturally fill him to a comfortable place rather than just near bursting. The exhale was done similarly, no longer trying to make his body get the most out of each breath, but rather - as he tried to keep in mind - just let it be. It took a few more breaths before he felt himself begin to calm, no longer straining to focus on the task. His mind as well quieted, thoughts drifting away and silencing themselves as Jensen continued to let them linger purely on the feeling of breathing, not on the task itself.

There was something there, it felt similar to how he knew that the Twi'lek Knight was still standing near him, how there were other cadets in the garden with him, but it felt more real than just a visualization of what he already knew to exist. Jensen wouldn't call it energy, at least, not in the way he understood such things. It was something more, deeper, more meaningful than just energy. It was beyond description and in interest of trying to keep to the spirit of Knight Iscandar's comments, he didn't attempt to give it any. If this was The Force he was feeling in it's natural state, then that was enough. It had to be enough for now despite the urges to tug at it, to see if it would respond in an expected way. As he dwelled on it, Jensen felt that it did move through him as well, with each breath and subtle shift of his posture that came with it. Was it truly always there like this? Just waiting for him? That thought was both terrifying and comforting... Fleeting as well as the cadet let it drift away, carried off by an exhale of air.

Slowly he opened his eyes and nodded his head in thanks, understanding, and confirmation to the Knight before he allowed himself to finally take a seat on the grass.

[Maalik]

Now here was something Maalik could do. Having spent his time in the jungles very much in tune with the life around him, being able to feel the Force permeating his surroundings came somewhat naturally to him by this point. His current surroundings only helped matters. He could feel the energy in each blade of grass beneath his bare feet, each plant and tree that surrounded them, even in the tiny spores that found their way into the very air they breathed. As he closed his eyes, his world stayed very much illuminated, his mind able to see the slowly pulsating lights that signified living things.

His breathing was calm, he felt the presence of Palara and the other Cadets around him, each subtly different. The furry one, Hal, who shined brighter than all but Palara. Jeryd, whose changes in mood and demeanor were palpable. Jensen, who had a mysterious, borderline dark feeling about him that Maalik could not explain. The last of note, Onika, seemed to purvey a steadiness that her fellows did not.

Unintentionally, as he sat upon it, the grass around him began to grow longer and fuller, ever so slowly. Without thinking, he had become attuned to the plant-life in this place as he connected to the Force that saturated it. He found himself imagining he was back on Wayland as his breathing and heartbeat began to slow.

[Palara Iscandar]

Iscandar nodded, and then, without even a backwards glance, threw out her hand to Maalik; the Force became an unfathomable weight upon him, pushing him back from his sitting position and sending the 'wild man' sprawling onto his back.

She turned and strode over to the man.

"Cadet Maalik," she frowned. "Why are you focusing and touching ze Force? And more zan zat, I did not ask you to commune wiz it to sense ozzers or your surroundings."

Before he could speak, or giggle, or whatever curiously annoying tic he'd sprout out next, she shook her head once, to convey her absolute seriousness.

"No. I deed not ask you to use ze Force as you 'ave taught yourself, or to even do anyzing wiz it. I asked you to feel ze Force as eet moves zrough you. Repeat it for me, so I know at least you 'ave 'eard me, even if you do not understand. As a Knight, you will 'ave to remain mindful of your surroundings, and you will learn zis now, as opposed to a live fire exercise, or in the midst of a mission. Stand up. Try eet again. Feel ze Force. Do not act, do not commune, do nozzing else. Understood?"

[Maalik]

"Focusing? You told me to feel the Force, so I did. The Force is everywhere. You tell me not to focus but then tell me to only feel the Force in one place."

Maalik's answer was clearly laden with displeasure, as his green-tinged eyes snapped open. He blatantly ignored her command to stand up again, merely sitting up into his original position instead.

"You may as well ask me to breathe without breathing," he scoffed.

He closed his eyes again, allowing the Force back into him after his connection to it had been so rudely interrupted. The distaste he felt for how he had been treated was evident in his aura now, but he endeavored to focus on only himself, not the wider Force around them.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"There's a difference," Hal spoke up from where he sat, eyes closed. "Feeling the Force is just that, observing, letting it do as it will. The moment you cross over into how you think it should be, you're inflicting your will upon it, changing it, interacting with it. It's the difference between looking at a painting, and adding to it yourself."

He could feel the disturbances around him from his words; from his fellow cadets and from Palara herself. Remaining still, Hal continued, his voice calm. "Knight Iscandar is right; this is the first thing you must master if you hope to improve your skills. It's the first thing the Knights had to master, too, so bear that in mind, all of you."

[Palara Iscandar]

For the moment, Iscandar simply stayed quiet, allowing Rayner to say his piece. The usually annoying, shallow, and crass individual was gone; he was replaced by a seeming doppelganger, one with maturity and some small bit of wisdom and experience. While externally she remained impassive, internally her attention centred around the Cadet. There were depths and facets of this Nehantite she'd not seen before, and if she could have allowed such an egregious tell, her eyes would have narrowed.

It was but a moment before she banished such thoughts from her mind. She had a class to teach, after all.

"...Cadet Rayner is correct," she said. "Zis exercise is about feeling ze Force. Eef it is difficult, zen it all ze more important zat you learn it now, no? So, stand up, and try again."

Turning around, she surveyed the students. Save for Maalik, who seemed to be grasping the subject now, and a few others, most had accomplished their objective and were sitting on the grass in quiet contemplation.

It was about time to continue to the next part of the lesson.

"We will continue zis part of ze exercise again when we next meet," she called. "As we 'ave only so much time allotted to ze lesson, we shall continue to ze next objecteeve. Everyone, stand up."

She strode to the front of the assembly and turned to face them.

"Now you shall learn 'ow to move while feeling ze Force. Again, zis does not require you to make use of your abilities beyond keeping grasp of zis attunement while in movement. You will need to focus on your movements as well as feeling ze Force as it flows zrough you. Take zis stance."

She settled her feet her shoulders' width apart, and held her hands in front of her, as if she were grasping a ball.

"Zen, we will begin ze first form."

She began to move, each action slow and measured and strictly controlled. She breathed in through her nose, and held it, her movement slowed; she released her breath, and her movement continued in time with it. She stepped forward in a kick, as slow and practised as the rest of her movements, and pivoted, placing her upraised leg on the ground and moving her hands in a circular blocking movement. It seemed like a fighting style, only it was so slow and studied that it couldn't have possibly kept up in an actual fight. She turned and punched, sliding her feet along the grass with grace and poise. The form ended with her standing in the same position as she'd begun, her hands before her as if grasping a ball, and her feet her shoulders' width apart.

"Do not attempt ze 'ole form at once. We will go zrough zis one step at a time. If at any point you lose grasp of your awareness of ze Force, you will stop, regain it, and zen continue again from ze beginning."

She gave each Cadet a glance.

"Zis eez not a race. Do not concern yourself with ze progress of your fellows 'ere. Only mind your own movements and pace. So, ze first movement. Enter your beginning stance. Feet directly below your shoulders. Knees slightly bent. 'Ands before you. Imagine you are compressing somezing between zem until it is compacted and straining to release its kinetic potential. Zen, breaze in. As you do so, step back with your right foot, tweest your shoulders to ze right and rotate your 'ands until ze right eez directly below ze left. Breaze out, zis time moving your right foot forward in a step forward. As you do zis, twist your shoulders to ze left, and rotate your 'ands so zat your left 'and is directly above ze right. Practise zis, and once you 'ave it well enough, we will try it again, only as you move you will feel 'ow ze Force moves zrough you."

She left her stance, standing once more in a relaxed attention.

"Begin."

[Khoovi Wan]

"'Old your energy," Knight Iscandar said loudly, projecting her voice that all her students could hear.

Khoovi frowned, his eyes glancing from her to the others around him. In all honesty, he still had questions and didn't feel he'd completed the first task sufficiently to move on, but before the words could come, he remembered the sheer revulsion and disgust he'd felt from the Knight. There was no way he'd risk having that happen again, so he remained silent.

He placed his hands before himself and briefly pondered what she meant by 'holding his energy'. Given the emphasis on passive recognition in the last task, he assumed that it carried over into this one, especially given the way Iscandar had reacted to those who'd tried to actively manipulate their powers; obviously, 'holding' was a metaphorical command. So, instead he just imagined he was carrying a ball and positioned his hands accordingly.

"Cadet Khoovi, continue," Iscandar's voice penetrated his focus, and he opened his eyes to see her nodding to him briefly. He breathed in, and turned his body, and moved his hands.

[Jeryd Redsun]

Despite having achieved, albeit with Knight Iscandar's assistance, a small measure of harmony with the Force around him, it was not until instructions were given for the next exercise that Jeryd finally released his focus. Even Rayner's inherently-irritating voice failed to distract, instead, his words were muffled and incoherent, beyond the cocoon of tranquillity. In the end, it was with some reluctance that he returned to the garden room. Knight Iscandar was performing slow, graceful, sweeping movements with her arms and legs; back home, his mother did something similar, the ALEC program (Advanced Limbering Enhanced Calm), which was a sequence of tedious and unadventurous exercises officially sanctioned by the Imperial Wellfulness Committee. Not once had he seen so much as a single bead of sweat on his mother's brow; calling it exercise was a crime.

With a private litany of reservations, he assumed the position. First, he relaxed, and closed his eyes as he started to search for that modicum of peace. Without Palara's help, it was difficult, but in remembering the experience - in all of its vivid wonder - he slowly started to find his way back to that same feeling that was at once empty and full of warmth and light. That was the natural ebb and flow of the Force itself, brushing against his senses like a gently-lapping tide. Next, the movements. Eyes open, he watched the Twi'lek Knight weave her way through the motions with effortless grace. Holding his senses open, he took a step, rotated his shoulders, and moved his hands. Then, he remembered to breathe, which was wrong, so he started again.

Breathe in, step back, twist, rotate.

Dividing his attention between the movements and his connection to the Force was challenging. In a way, it felt like not thinking at all, but instead being poised on a tightrope, with a drop on either side. And, instead of worrying about the fall, all of his attention was poured into remaining on that tentative spot in between. Maybe this was the Enhanced Calm his mother claimed to experience when performing the Mounted Dewback on the living room floor. It was then, just as he thought he was beginning to get used to the exercise, that Jeryd found himself somehow stumbling over his own feet. Luckily, he didn't eat dirt, and a few clumsy steps saw him right again. But Nebbil's snort of amusement told him his misstep had not gone unnoticed. A no-nonsense glare, and a slight shake of the head silenced his friend, but Jeryd could already feel his face starting to burn.

When he resumed, it was with the intention of getting the movements right first, rather than attempting to do both at once. He wasn't small like Khoovi, or supple like their instructor; another wrong step like that and he could end up making a fool of himself, or a pancake of someone else.

Breath in, step back, twist, rotate. Breath out, step forward, twist, rotate.

[Jensen Par'Vizal]

Thinking the process would be easy was faulty, he recognized that from the very start. Just because he had managed to feel The Force flowing around him in stillness did not necessarily mean it would carry over. Assuming it would was naive, but worrying over whether it wouldn't was just as disastrous. Jensen tried to keep these things in mind as he got to his feet and assumed the basic beginning stance as instructed.

It wasn't difficult to focus entirely on himself, but it was challenging. He supposed that was a weakness of being human, in a way; competition, the need to be better, was practically built into his race's DNA. There was only one way of dealing with it here, though, and that was to overcome the shortcoming.

Breathe. That part was recalled, just as it had been before, though now with his hands before him with fingers gently curved inward. He remained that way for several breaths, allowing that connection that he had gained before to return, to simply feel what was always a part of him. Once it was realized he moved on to the next part of the instructions, the empty space between his hands gaining his attention and for a time it felt as if there was simply nothingness there, just as his rational mind would predict in such a situation.

But there was something there, though strangely it felt as though it expanded past his hands, through them. It was there though, and that was what mattered. Energy, if Knight Iscandar wanted to call it, though to Jensen it felt more like the potential for energy. A soft vibrating hum that wasn't quite on the same plane of existence as himself was the best way for his mind to try and discern it. The cadet brushed the thought aside, a minute shake of his head following.

Don't try and describe it, don't try and manipulate it, just feel it, and Let. It. Be. The mental scolding only lasted as long as an exhale of breath.

The next inhale he decided was the right time to move, stepping back with his right and rotating his hands as their instructor had told him. Good, the feeling was still there, still between his hands, still all around him. The following inhale he moved again, right foot coming forward, hands rotating and...

It was gone. Just for a moment his concentration had focused more on the movements than the energy he had been holding and just like that, the feeling of awareness of The Force left him.

Jensen felt strangely numb in it's absence, as if something had been removed from himself though he couldn't quite place what. Briefly he considered if it was a feeling shared by amputees.

Nonsense. What he had felt wasn't truly gone, only his focus.

And so the Cadet began again, slowly returning to the motions. It took a handful more tries, and his frustration at the exercise had to be swallowed down and shoved aside more than once, but in the end he finally completed the last of the beginning steps of the form, his left hand hovering over his right, his right foot before the left. It felt peaceful yet energizing. Jensen tried very hard not to listen to the voice in the back of his mind that whispered to release the energy he felt, that nagging instinct to unleash it somehow. Faint visualizations of trees being knocked down or his fellow cadets sent hurtling drifted behind his consciousness, trilling from his mind's eye.

The visuals were shaken off and for good measure, Jensen went through the steps one more time to make sure they wouldn't intrude.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Ah, yes, the fishbowl ballet; we remember this one, don't we? Hal's higher functions chuckled inwardly.

I remember lots of you distracting me until I got it right. Grumped his base natures.

Was merely enhancing our training.

Yeah? Well, enhance this.

The form was old, ancient long before his own time at the Jedi Order, and yet its purpose was clear. For a Jedi, both mind and body had to work in unison, both coexisting with each other on the same plane as the Jedi coexisted with the force. Movement brought focus, focus brought understanding, and understanding converted training into effectiveness. Rising to his feet, Hal took a breath, pink eyes still closed, and he started into the focusing kata. His bare footpaw extended in that slow kick, muscles working from memory as he allowed his body and mind to revert to an older, simpler time. Paws rotated, holding and shaping his imaginary fishbowl until the punch slipped seamlessly into his movement. Each motion Palara had made, Hal mirrored, his tail sweeping and turning behind himself to grant enhanced balance, until at last he returned to his starting point, feeling the grass deformed perfectly beneath the pads of his footpaws, and there he stood, waiting, as they had not been instructed to repeat.

Instead he looked through the Force to those around him, sensing struggle, anger, worry, and doubt. Jensen approached it all analytically, while Jeryd felt ready to punch the kata in the face for being difficult. Khoovi focused too hard, expecting perfection from himself - a trait Hal would have to work with him on, while Onika... well, she was a difficult one to read. Not as difficult as the crazy tree dude, though; that guy was just bonkers.

[Palara Iscandar]

"So, our time, eet runs short. I will, as I 'ave been eenstructed, show you some of what zese exercises build to become."

She extended her hand, and the datapad floated into the air, holding steady for a moment before zooming quickly into her open hand.

"Zis is among ze most basic of techniques. After you learn to move ze Force wizzin you — and you are welcome to attempt it outside of class — you will learn to 'arness ze Force to manipulate your surroundings. Zis foundation you learned today is essential to learning 'ow to use the Force in zis way. Zat eez because 'using ze Force' is misleading as a description of what we do. We communicate with ze Force."

She smiled slightly, remembering a man with kind eyes and a gentle presence.

"It is like dancing. When you move, your partner moves; and when your partner moves, you move. Eventually, you will move wizzout zought, with no delay or miscommunication. With focus, and awareness, you will stand firm wizzin ze Force, a good lead. If zis analogy is not martial enough for you, zen per'aps you are not fit for zis class. Zis class is not about becoming a warrior, or a leader, or 'ow to make yourself more deadly. Zose are corollaries, side-effects of what you will learn, like 'ow doing a pull-up does not teach you 'ow to strangle someone, but ze strength such practice grants you makes such an endeavour much easier."

Her eyes swept the assembled students, lingering on those she could feel were eager to apply anything they learned to the fanciful ideal of a warrior or a soldier, and disregarding anything they felt was not conducive to that end.

Some had yet to learn that they knew nothing.