OPEN RP POST — jurassic world, but with lightsabers??

[forceshadowed]

whatever it is you've been doing
you are now in Myrkr!


That's right. It's just like those jamjar games.
One moment you're minding your own business, and then... poof!
You're in Myrkr for no apparent reason.
(Or you've always wanted to be here, and you finally did it. Whatever, we're not the cops.)

That's not the weirdest part, though. Because you might be seeing double.
It's like the time-space continuum (or the Force, whatever) collapsed over the forest
and now doubles and multiples of you or people you like hate want to kill know are appearing.

Not only that, the forest is also teeming with
canines who can sense the Force and hunt Force-sensitives (vornskr),
genetically-enhanced vornskr because reptilian hounds are cooler (voxyn),
and lizards that can create Force-neutralizing bubbles (ysalamiri).

So go have fun with that!

Comments

[nexubait]

There it is – any suggestion of competition, and she knows her apprentice will take the bait. She’s never been able not to. And that’s okay; if it’s the motivation she needs, then why not use it? A playful smile lingers on her lips as she watches Jane’s expression harden, wavering liquid turning to polished steel, and she steps back with a swell of pride. Never accepting defeat. That’s the fiber of a true Jedi. Everyone stumbles over moments of distraction, anyway. Her granddaughter, thankfully, makes a graceful recovery.

The remote is reset, and as soon as Jane has taken her stance, there is no question. She won’t be bested this time. She’s not letting loose in a vengeful fury, as less-composed students might have been tempted to do. She’s not sacrificing form for strength, or elegance for aggression. She’s mindful, and parries with poise. She knows how to be present, and light, glancing bolts away like light moving on water. She knows what to do and how to do it, with an attentive, scholarly focus. She knows where to trim her energy and where to confidently direct it. She’s respectful of the art of becoming a Jedi.

Her success is only to be expected then, and Padmé nods softly while she watches. The hopeful smile that she’s given lights a fond smile across her own face, and she doesn’t keep her pride from glowing through. Any Master would be honored by that display of aptitude.

“Wonderful. The only one who can stand in your way is you,” and Jane’s own mind, and her own distractions, and she unclips her own saber while arching a brow. “But a remote is a remote. Sometimes you’ll have to keep your focus in the face of more complicated distractions.” Bringing her own bright, emerald blade to life – a color specifically chosen to match, of course – she offers her apprentice a mischievous flick of a smile. “One more exercise.”

[forceshadowed]

All her life, Jane had known that she would be a Jedi. And why wouldn't she be? She was a Skywalker, strong in the Force. At two she could retrieve items from high shelves with her telekinesis, and she could speak with animals. At five her telekinesis was refined enough that she could heat air and freeze water, and she could befriend creatures, convincing them to do her bidding. She could easily put up a Force barrier to defend herself, jump great heights, slow her fall, sense danger before it happened. She was a natural at fencing. Everything she needed to be a Jedi, she already had in her arsenal, and she embraced her destiny with all the vigor of her youth.

With her mischievous streak and cocky overeagerness, she would've been a spoiled little Jedi — if not for the accident. She'd blamed herself for it, and had practically begged to leave the Jedi life behind forever; not that anyone could blame her with how the other students whispered about her. Some accused her of being jealous and spiteful of Tenel Ka's beauty, while others went as far to call her a darksider, just like her grandfather. But it was her destiny, clearly, to be a Jedi, because the galaxy had given her two reasons to continue: her apprenticeship to Padmé, who'd come out of retirement just to be her Master, and Robb joining the Praxeum.

Since then she's been careful. Serious, respectful. Lightsabers are not toys, and the Force should not be used as a tool. Despite her intent to be a good Jedi, however, she's also but a teenage girl with adventure and mischief in her blood and a massive crush on the blue-eyed boy she'd played with as a child, a harmless admiration that very quickly turned into something more. Is it any wonder that she gets distracted, that she has trouble clearing her mind? Or calming her heart, for that matter?

She watches her Master's saber come alive, a beautiful emerald blade that matches her own. She laughs, reigniting her weapon and sliding back into a combat-ready stance. She never backs down from a challenge, of course. "I was hoping you brought the pink one," she teases. At least it's not silver. Silver would've been distracting. Or blue, just like his eyes.

[nexubait]

The training was only a refinement. Jane had a natural aptitude that many apprentices could only dream of. It was in her blood, of course – the furor and spirit of a Skywalker. She could handle a saber with the same finesse with which she directed her thought, and utilized her nimble mind. Telekinesis, empathy, Force agility maneuvers. She was already a nexus of energy to be reckoned with, and a lovely one to behold at that. Her most dangerous downfalls were the ones she created herself: distractions in her head and heart. Both of which Padmé understood – how often had she found herself driven to despair over a boy, one she loved and detested and longed, above all else, to save? The heart wore no reins.

But Jane was aware of those distractions, no matter how much she might deny feeling them in the first place. She knew what needed to be done, and where to tune her focus. She would be able to face difficult decisions and make her intrepid way, even when the path was rough and dappled with darkness. She’d already been humbled – the memory of that accident was surely influencing every decision her apprentice made, even now. But it could not be allowed to discourage her, or leave her in doubt of the course she was on. Switching forms, wavering; these were symptoms of the same distraction. It was alright - she would find her way, and she would be a Jedi to be remembered. Padmé woke every morning with that pride in her heart.

Centering herself once more in the present moment, she didn’t keep back a scoff at her apprentice’s observation. “The raspberry blade would not have matched this outfit, as I’m sure you realize,” she quipped – because her current ensemble was forest green and leather - before adopting the Makashi ready stance. A form grounded in precision, elegance and poise. The form whose practitioners were said to possess such composure that they appeared to be dancing rather than fighting. The opening stance was followed with the Makashi formal salute, and she gave her apprentice another cheeky smile before stepping forward with a smooth, graceful stroke.

[forceshadowed]

"Why couldn't I have learned Makashi," Jane laments with a childish whine, distracted for a moment by her Master's graceful salute. They've sparred together many times by now, that's true, but she never fails to be entranced by the fluidity of her grandmother's movements, coupled with her matching outfits and fashionable ensemble — and it's even doubly impressive when one stops to consider her age. Not that Padmé looks it; over the years there have been whispers that she's using the dark side to keep her youth and vigor, that it's the Naberrie line that actually yields prodigies in the Force, that she's the true prophesied Chosen One despite all the stories declaring it to be Anakin Skywalker.

Well, it's too late for the younger girl to do any improvised salute in response, because the Master steps forward with a smooth, graceful stroke, and, typical of Ataru, the Apprentice parries the strike with both hands before shifting to the offensive and following up with a counterattack. For all that she's criticized Robb's preference for offense and his use of Djem So, her form really isn't less aggressive — Ataru is called the Aggression Form, after all — perhaps only that it capitalizes more on speed and Force-assisted acrobatics than brute strength. The other apprentices, she knows, can hardly tell the difference, and then it's only really obvious when she or Jaina spar with one of the Westerosi boys.

One thing Jane's not been entirely conscious of, however, is how she's easily able to adapt certain moves from certain forms whenever the need arises, using the Force to compensate for her vulnerabilities in terms of strength and mass; in fact, her insistence of switching to Soresu is a little amusing because lately she's actually been alternating between it, Ataru and Djem So. So her Master had been right to think that form is never the issue, only her focus.

True enough, she initially counters with a one-handed Ataru swing, but instead of pulling back to attack from a different direction and catch her opponent off-guard, she only steps further in, lifting her saber up and over her head before bringing it back down against her Master's blade with both hands. Djem So. Clearly, she's been learning from someone else, and she can even almost feel Robb's arms around her, guiding her through the strike. Focus, Janey.

[nexubait]

It wouldn’t have mattered what her apprentice learned, really – as long as she was distracted by something, or someone, she would find her mind flitting away while her body remained tense elsewhere, fighting a losing battle against a remote. Lessons that she would undoubtedly come to learn, and there was, of course, no one who could teach her how to center her thoughts. Meditation might help and careful study might assist her in learning the careful work of domesticating a wild mind, but it would never be permanent. There would always be temptations, curiosities, distractions, worries and doubts. The condition of being human worked, in great irony, against the condition of being a Jedi. There was a balance to be struck, a constant adjustment and calibration and adaptation. It would never be as simple as switching from one form to another. There would never be a moment when the mind was without distraction, either. Becoming a Jedi meant learning how to balance and endure those conflicts. Denying their existence altogether would never be productive. Control, yes, but always with the knowledge that you were never in complete control.

Lessons that were easier sparred than taught, and she watched with an appraising gaze as her apprentice parried the strike. Ataru. Aggressive and forward. She can’t help but smirk, having had to listen to all of Jane’s criticisms of the wolfish Djem So. And here she was, sparring in a curious combination of Ataru, Soresu and Djem So. Becoming fluent in all forms, or choosing to busy herself with all of those contradictory principles so that she doesn’t have to think about something else? It’s not the forms she needs to become so stubbornly fluent in, but in teaching herself how to use them. When and where, and how to carefully weave them together, if that is her intent.

“Makashi relies on composure, and deciding what to conceal and what to reveal.” Which was not to say that her apprentice couldn’t have learned it, but Jane did tend to wear her heart on her sleeve, whether she meant to or not. She projected bright and clear in the Force. She was brisk and sure, and advanced and sparred in a way that reflected that. Strong and fearless, like a Djem So practitioner. Not blindly, though; her aggression can also be graceful, acrobatic, and not the animal ferocity that the Westerosi tend to prefer. “Retreat as much as advance. Makashi is intimate.” One of the reasons she favored it herself, meeting with precision each swing of her apprentice’s blade. Then comes that tell-tale Djem So maneuver, with the lightsaber brought above the head, and she catches it against her own blade with a soft laugh. Jane had many skills, but being discreet was not one of them. “Although, by the looks of it, I suppose even Djem So can be intimate.” A teasing observation, and as she stepped back to mirror her apprentice stepping in, she feinted a strike, and then followed it with a clean, steady swing meant to disarm her opponent.

[forceshadowed]

Makashi is intimate? She supposes that a duel is intimate, to a degree, but that's not something she would've used to describe that particular combat form, at least from what she knows of it. It's precise, for sure. Defensive because it mostly aims to prevent one from being disarmed. But not great for blaster bolt deflection, and definitely not great against power-oriented forms like Djem So. Still, there's much that can be learned from it, and Jane's trying to find that appreciation as she and her Master trade blows, when Padmé all but catches her off-guard with her comment about Djem So being intimate. And it takes just that to distract her, and a moment later disarm her. It happens so fast — or perhaps her mind's simply flown off elsewhere in those precious few seconds, out to the far edge of the galaxy where a certain planet called Westeros exists — that she's left standing there, weaponless, blinking back her surprise.

"I yield," she declares, as though she hasn't already lost, as though it would help her save face. Or save her from her Master's teasing, because there's a bright blush on her cheeks that's not, in any way, from having been defeated. Please don't bring up Djem So, please don't bring up Djem So—

And then she stills, sensing a sudden shift in the air. Like the jungle's noise has been smothered, muted, or the animals have left in a rush or gone into hiding. And she's spent enough time in the jungles of Yavin, right outside the Jedi academy itself, to have an inkling of what's going on. She casts a worried glance up at the sky, but it's still bright and blue and not heralding any storm, so no, it can't be a weather disturbance. Which means the other possibility: a large, scary jungle predator, lurking close by.

Unfortunately, reaching out with the Force beyond their little clearing proves moot because of the ysalamiri scattered about, and there's plenty enough of them — Myrkr is their homeworld, after all — that their Force-negating bubbles seem to have linked together to form one massive dome over a section of the jungle. She sucks in a breath, suddenly more anxious than she should be. "Grandma? Do you feel it?"