Another lesson, another episode of futility. Sezela was getting used to it by now, but it was worse, she was now starting to think that it was best just to be mediocre. Why try to be better when it is never noticed at best, at worst frowned on and criticised.
She took a deep breath and sat down. The lesson yesterday was on Telekinesis, a force power that she thought she would finally be able to prove that she was worth noting… She had been practicing before the lesson in private, lifting multiple things, nothing too heavy of course, she wasn’t that competent… yet. But, still she managed to lift more than one item without gritting her teeth or using obvious hand signals to indicate what she was doing. She was ready! But alas, what a waste of time. She had taught herself not to think of an item as large or small but to focus on it through the force, to think of it as pulling at the strings that connect it, like a puppet master. The technique had served her well and she wanted to show how it worked, happy that she had made progress. One of the Warriors was present, warrior Ervato, she wasn’t familiar with ranking sith and so wanted to make a good impression. She had successfully levitated two items and had them interact with each other in a rudamentary fashion. It was difficult and she was pleased, the feedback… ‘I believe that the Jedi use that technique’… A back handed insult, she had never studied at the Jedi Academy, hells, she didn’t even know any Jedi personally. She had taught herself that… Not second hand from an order she despised.
Her anger was now building in her, her indignation seething like a slow building furnace. She was now on her feet pacing, then there was this constant idea that to show your passion you had to scream like bloody lunatic. That the only true expression of rage, of passion was to make a scene, lose control and use the momentum. Just… because… I do not throw myself on the floor clawing at myself does not mean that I… do… not … feel… passion. The furnace inside was starting build as she threw more metaphysical wood on it. Maybe they think I am weak because I do not wail in front of them…?
They do not know me, my pains, my journey… they… do… not… KNOW!!
The internal furnace erupted, Sevela could almost see sparks or falling, glowing cinders from it behind her eyes, she looked at her bed and instead of strings wrapping themselves around it she formed mental chains, hardy, spiked and coiled them around it.
They want strength… I… WILL… SHOW THEM!!
She pulled on the chains with all her will, drawing on them, reeling them in. The bed started to shake and buckle… her sight seemed to waver from the exertion. Then the bed rose, shakily, the pressure in her mind was immense… but she was doing it… It rose a meter before the pressure was too much and she had to release it.
She collapsed to the floor, her breathing quick, beads of sweat lining her brow. But her look was one of triumph… Her sight was returning to normal and she looked across the room. '‘Dammit!’ she said as she caught a glimpse of the bed. ‘‘How will I explain that I need a new one’’ As she noticed that one of the beds legs had broken when she had released it abruptly. But, she would worry about that another day as she flipped on to her back, still panting. A wide grin on her face…
Telekinesis: Novice - 3/8