She bolted awake in bed, sweat pouring down her face as she looked around, her bedroom door within the Jedi Temple still closed and locked, her mask and hood laid to the side with her fresh robes. Quietly she rolled from her bed, listening to the absolute silence within the temple as she slowly donned her robe and picked up the mask staring at it for several minutes before reaching into her bag and drawing out a journal fresh from Coruscant’s marketplace as she takes a breath opening the first page and begins to write
Sentinels, we are the ones everyone looks to, to remain the neutral, emotionless guardians. We stand strong and tall at the very worst of times, we offer guidance and advice to help our fellow Jedi thrive, we are the ones that they can come to for support, be it physical or someone to lean on. Since my return I have done much of the latter of the jobs. Though I haven’t minded. Helping them is what we strive to do, what I strive to do. If I can help heal a broken heart, or guide someone back to the path of the Jedi, then I am very glad to do so.
Though who is it we lean on when things are strange. When nightmares plague our sleep or weird dreams. We are the emotionless and nameless ones. We cannot just fall onto the other Initiates or Padawans. That is against protocol. Back on Coruscant it was my mentor, a fellow Sentinel that I could discuss anything with when the mask was off. Here though? Such connection does not exist. I do not know whom my former mentor was as they remained masked at all times. Having just returned I am not close with many of the Knights, and I have no Master or Mentor to speak with.
So I guess for now, everything just goes in here. The strange dream/nightmare that makes no sense to me, and I suspect as only a dream, not some dark vision or prophecy. In the dream I walked into the training room, noting all the Padawans and Initiates present, in the center was Iskellia, her metal arm gripping a student by the throat and holding them upright. The others stood there, staring and watching. I drew up my Saberstaff and cut off the wrist of the metal arm and pushed myself between her and the padawan ready to fight and guard them, staring at her red eyes I could feel the anger and hatred, then I woke.
A hell of a nightmare for sure. Not sure if it had anything to do with the topics covered in Thelions lecture earlier. Though I know something I brought up, brought back a flood of memories and I had to quietly excuse myself. Likely has much to do with it I am sure.
Closed the book taking a breath before setting the journal back in her bag, rubbing her face with one final breath and looked to the mask she had sworn to, before slipping it on once more, donning the stance of the emotionless Sentinel once more