Jedi Academy

It was a melancholy Eir that went searching for Master Chriala that evening, hoping for a moment to talk to the woman alone.

By the evening, Chriala would have retired to the officer's quarters she shared with Master Orgus.

Knocking on the door, Eir would hear: "Come in, child." Followed by something softer said by Master Orgus.

Eir opened the door and stepped into the room, "good evening Master Chriala, Master Orgus," she glanced between them. "I was hoping to speak with you, Master Chriala."

Master Orgus was already putting on boots. He gave Eir a smile. "Hello, Eir. I'll give the two of you the room. I'm not as good at minding my own business as she is."

After a quick goodbye to both of them, he stepped out.

Chriala was wearing evening style robes, and sitting at the large, two-person desk. "Please, have a seat, child." She gestured to the other chair.

"Would you care for some tea? I have some that will help you sleep."

"Yes, thank you," Eir climbed into the offered seat and made herself comfortable. She was pensive, tired.

For perhaps a minute, there was only the sounds of tea being made; water boiling, the rustle of Chriala's robes. It was a soothing combination of sounds.

Smiling, Chriala handed Eir a cup. "What brings you to me at this hour, Eir?" She asked as she sat back down, her own teacup in her hands.

"I," Eir took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, "I wanted to ask what is to happen to me after the trials." With a soft sigh, the half-arkanian lowered her head, "it's so difficult to understand, I have passed each test, individually, and I feel that I can pass the ones that remain, and yet," she trailed off unhappily.

"You are worried for the future?" Chriala asked, tilting her head.

Eir still hadn't picked up her tea. She wasn't the kind of person to doubt herself, when Farissa had given her a blaster, she'd been the first one to start shooting. When she walked out of the vergence, she knew that she had - for want of a better word - succeeded. So, in a round about way, she didn't doubt herself now, and she was certain in what she said next, "I cannot use the Force, and I cannot be a padawan if the only thing I can do is swing a lightsaber."

Chriala, on the other hand, took a sip of her tea. She frowned as she set it down. "You would not be able to use a lightsaber properly if you could not use the Force."

She sat back in her chair. "But I think I take your meaning. You feel that you cannot use the Force as others do, perhaps?"

"I can feel it, it's always around me, and," she paused, gathering the words, "I could acutely feel its absence when I was near the ysalamiri. But when I reach for it, when I try to use it, it slips from my grasp." On Auratera, Eir had realised how much the Force felt like water or air to her, she was immersed in it, it permeated her lungs, it was everything, and it eluded her like trying to catch water in her hands.

"I tried to use the Force to heal someone's wounds, but the Force would not answer me." She struggled over the words, every way she tried to think of a way of saying that she wanted to utilised the power of the Force, it seemed to her that she just sounded like a Sith, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I shouldn't be trying to control it. She didn't see herself as trying to bend the Force to her will, she thought of it as more of a favour.

Chriala concentrated for a moment, then shook her head. "I can feel the ability in you. It is there. As to why you cannot command it..."

She took another slow sip of her tea. "In the Jedi, of those who seek to understand the mysteries of the Force, there are few who I feel have a greater understanding than I do." Her tone was soft, but without pride; merely stating a fact. "And yet, even after a lifetime of deep study, there are times when the reasons for its ebbs and flows elude me."

Eir's hands, hidden in her sleeves, wrung together, shifting slightly under the layers of fabric, "I am disappointed in myself, and I am... afraid," she admitted. This was her only chance to prove herself. If she wasn't good enough to be a padawan now, there'd be no second chances.

Gently, Chriala shook her head. "You should not be, child. The Force is not to be feared. Respected, yes. But do not fear what you can't do with it any more than what you can."

"Or..." She tilted her head. "Is it failure that you fear? Or something else?"

"I'm afraid of what will happen to me if this continues," afraid that I will draw on the Dark energies as a crutch, "the Order is all I've known, and I do not wish to fail."

Chriala sighed with a smile. "I would advise you not to fear failure, either. But I know what a challenge that is. Much easier said than done."

"Instead..." She pursed her lips. "So much of what we do as Jedi is watching. Waiting. And then acting. Be ready to turn things around when the moment is right."

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” she said to the woman who had been the closest thing to a mother figure the girl knew.

Smiling, Chriala shook her head. "Never. Put that thought from your mind, Eir. I have seen many futures, but that is not one that I see."

Feeling marginally better, Eir got a sly sort of smile, finally reaching for her tea, “not that you’re biased or anything?” She sipping the soothing brew.