#Almost a Jedi|Pe-Tyr Kamen

[brooklynislandgirl]

@tangleweave Finding Pe-Tyr || Part 1

His brows knit when she mutters her thanks and turns to leave. He calls his lightsaber from its charging station and to his open hand as he follows her to the door, releasing a soft sigh through his nose. She could be truly exasperating when she wanted to be. Were it not for Fane's discreet moment to analyse her in thought or form rather than speech her abrupt stop at the door would have led to an uncustomary and perhaps entirely too awkward a closeness. Spine uncomfortably stiff and an acute posture tries to give height and breadth to her where there is none. She does not exactly fear him. There is little he would do to compromise his sense of serenity which he holds to perhaps more closely than anything else. Throttling her where she stands would leave far too many questions that would have nothing to do with his inclination for murder. Nor is he likely to soil his long, graceful fingers. Not even if she pushed the exact right buttons. She has a good idea what those might be and she keeps them as close as her own secrets. What she doesn't understand is why he's bothering to follow her. She doesn't recall making the invitation. What Melakeni had needed was a clearer, more rational head. He had offered her the wisdom granted by the Force in the form of advice her own mind was too cloudy to seize upon. The exact reason she had come to him. As far as she is concerned, Fane is absolved from any further responsibility in the matter. Pe-Tyr is in danger of drawing punishment from the Masters though if she returns him quickly perhaps they will be lenient. She is willing to put herself at risk. She knows without really understanding why that she was part of the reason for his absence. But thus far, Fane shoulders no blame. Her hand appears from within its sleeve and she braces it against the wall. Effectively blocking the path unless he were to pick her up and move her. "I do not see why you need to give up on your meditations unless you really want to breath on the back of my neck," she murmurs coolly. She turns her head over her shoulder to meet his gaze. "Do you not fear getting caught in the halls with me? Or do you fear for him enough that it does not matter?" Fane barely has his cloak shrugged back onto his shoulders when Melakeni plants her arm in front of him without even so much as looking at him. He stops short and directs a vaguely irritated look at the back of her head for a moment while she murmurs her gentle challenge. When she meets his eyes, though, he sees in hers the myriad of emotions she cannot help but to experience: concern, curiosity, self-flagellation. The last, he finds intriguing. And it may be worth reporting to her; after all, as close as she was to whatever impetus was involved, it is entirely likely she is simply looking in the wrong places for answers… as those who are worried to the point of frantic are wont to do. He does not blame her. "Fear is not my primary motivation, but to claim it has no part to play would be untrue," he replies. "You came to me, I have to assume because you trusted I could help you and remain discreet. Clearly you care for the boy and it concerns you what becomes of him, particularly since you observe he is mistreated and rarely noticed. But he is one of us. If we are truly so rare and precious as we are taught, should it not be our obligation to find our lost and bear them safely home? If so, then I should be concerned, as well. As you yourself have already said, he could be in a place that is unwelcoming or even abusive. If I come with you, your efforts are doubled. I could not meditate knowing that there was action I chose not to take for the sake of my own convenience, and at the risk of someone else's safety." The knob at the base of his lightsaber clicks into place in its sconce on his belt, and he tugs his robe more closely about his form, then draws his hood up over his head. He crosses his arms into their opposing sleeves, hiding as much of his features as he can.

[tangleweave]

Excessive Force (Closed RP)

[ Jedi Temple // Coruscant ]

Pe-Tyr Kamen’s thick brows are knit tightly above his narrowed eyes, but perhaps more taut than his facial expression is the rest of his body. His posture is nearly rigid, back straight as an arrow and knees locked in place, with his right hand held out, fingers flared as open as he can make them.

The gleaming orb remains as still as a stone upon its sconce, barely even a meter’s distance from his hand.

He can feel it. He’s certain of it. He can feel the utter smoothness of the crystal storage unit, the perfection of its curve, even the thrum of old data within a lattice that has yet to be fully reformatted – data which could still be plucked from it, if routing pathways were restored, and he’s certain he could do that with naught but the few spare articles of technology he’s scavenged from around the Academy – but the one thing he cannot seem to do is…

Make. It. Move.

He hardly dares to glance to either side, knowing already what he will see. He can feel the other students awash in the Force, feel their elation through it just as surely as hear them brag to one another. Some have taken up two, even three of the orbs, and are juggling them through the air.

But he? He can’t even shift a single one out of place.

“What is the problem, Pe-Ty?”

The crystalline marble abruptly lifts from its sconce – but not because of anything Pe-Tyr is doing. And the orb floats through the air to hover over the tri-digital hand of a pink-fleshed Quarren two meters away. The Quarren isn’t even looking at the device; his neon blue eyes are directed fully upon Pe-Tyr, and his head is tilted. That, paired with the condescension dripping from his voice, offers Pe-Tyr both insult and shame, such that the young human drops his arm, then his shoulders, and finally his head.

Aelphul has always had a particular knack for finding the right buttons to push, to make Pe-Tyr lose his concentration. To make him feel frustrated. To throw him off his focus and make it impossible for him to test his own boundaries properly. Worse yet, it is nothing that is ever consistent. It happens in drips, too infrequent and most of the time too subtle for instructors to truly notice.

“Have you not been practicing?”

Pe-Tyr’s eyes flick to Aelphul’s other hand, which has two more orbs floating above it, perfectly orbiting one another. How he would thoroughly enjoy having that power, for just an instant, and make those spheres knock soundly against those glassy blue eyes…

Both of Aelphul’s hands lift up, and the three spheres together weave amongst one another in an infinity loop. And for a long moment, all Pe-Tyr can really do is stand and watch as his fellow student demonstrates with effortless grace – and clearly no small amount of pride – what the young human has imagined, time and again… and never once achieved. It is a power that seems all but universal, from the greatest of the Masters to the most lowly of initiates… but it is one that the Force has never granted him.

They refer to it as ‘calling’ items to themselves. But he does not know the sound, nor how to produce it. He has tried every frequency he can think of. Through the Force, his has been a call, a cry, a shout, a threat, a plea… but every summons has been ignored, by every item, great and small.

And again and again, they see it.

The Bear Clan sees all of it.

He lets his head hang. It is such a foolish exercise for him to participate in, he knows, and yet he cannot help but hope that someday the ability will manifest… that he will be struck by some inspiration that will reveal to him the secret to making the call work—

!~DANGER~!

His eyes widen and snap up, just in time to see a crystal sphere hurtling towards his forehead.

!~HAND~!

His right hand flies up almost faster than his eye can follow, and the orb smacks dead center of it. The weight of the artifact is such that his hand almost immediately goes numb from the impact, and as the object clatters to the ground, pins and needles shoot through his fingertips. Pe-Tyr winces, exclaims, and withdraws his hand from the air, trying to shake out the sensation and get feeling back into it.

@brooklynislandgirl