Rakai stood in his room, the room his previous Master and lover had owned, given to him upon Knighthood. That seemed like ages ago, and now barely anything of Fari-fax remained in the room, aside from some trophies. The vibroblade stolen from a Jedi, which he had collected himself, her old lightsabers awaiting their new master.
Some new trophies of his own filled the room now, one of which he was staring at as he waited for his student to arrive for their final lesson. The painting he himself had painted, with the blood an sinew of nearly the entire family of the noble Thymes, the last effort he had made to turn a Jedi. This painting held deep meanig to him, proud of the shading he was able to perform with only one colour at his disposal.
What would his Apprentice think, though her demeanour was that of a child, it was still twistwd to his liking, and he did not want her to think less of him for using the pallet offered to him. it was, though, the perfect example needed for his lesson today.
Some new trophies of his own filled the room now, one of which he was staring at as he waited for his student to arrive for their final lesson. The painting he himself had painted, with the blood an sinew of nearly the entire family of the noble Thymes, the last effort he had made to turn a Jedi. This painting held deep meanig to him, proud of the shading he was able to perform with only one colour at his disposal.
What would his Apprentice think, though her demeanour was that of a child, it was still twistwd to his liking, and he did not want her to think less of him for using the pallet offered to him. it was, though, the perfect example needed for his lesson today.
Comment