![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
suitably_heroicSo Sparks wasn't showing up.
It'd been several hours and several text messages, and nothing. And as far as Atton had been able to tell from his own observations and from Jessica last night, the island was fine. ... Okay, maybe not fine, but not overrun by anything nasty or losing parts of itself or zapping anyone to another dimension or possessing anyone, or anything else that would set off her senses.
But, you know, okay, fine. He wasn't Sparkle's keeper. If the guy didn't want to put in the work, or show up to class, that wasn't his problem. Especially since the kid was clearly still on the island and breathing-- at least as far as the Force could tell him.
... Except Sparks usually did want to put in the work. (His presence in the Force had felt off. Maybe he was sick? That'd explain a few things.) Plus, the deeply terrifying feeling that wouldn't leave him while he was on the island had dissipated almost as soon as he got back here. He'd almost hugged Mical when he set foot on Coruscant again. Not something he was ever going to admit to, even if they held a hot poker to his dangly parts, thanks.
Then night had come, and the nightmares. The crackling of thunder; deep, ugly green wounds pouring out nastiness. Something dead, dying, waking him up at two in the morning feeling like he had to throw up. Somehow, that was worse than the ones he usually had about Sion. It had taken the relief right out of being here.
He cleaved the air in two with dual lightsabers, snapping a strike at some unseen enemy. Then he darted away, parrying attacks that weren't actually happening, as if something was snapping at his heels. Strike, strike, parry, strike, side-step, make the sabers meet, cut, dash, strike.
This was the Temple. Since Sparkle wasn't coming, the chance was high nobody would be walking in here who hadn't seen him work before. That meant he didn't need to hold back - either to keep his secrets or to avoid scaring the crap out of bratty street kids. Which was great, because right now the thought of doing so just made him queasier.
He still wasn't sure why.
"I thought you had planned to work on your grasp of the Aggression Form."
Atton's gaze darted to the door and his motions slowed. "What, this isn't aggressive enough for you?"
"More so than necessary," Mical said, peeling himself away from the doorway.
"If this is the start of a lecture, tap me out," Atton said, sliding back into an opening stance, his blades high above his head, guarding. "Unless you've got something to teach me about how to beat an opponent who specializes in Djem So."
"Never stop moving."
Atton lowered his lightsabers. "Oh, you're just a font of knowledge, aren't you?"
"No," Mical said. He smiled faintly. "But I could function as a sparring partner, should you have need of one."
Well. It would be nice to fight someone he could probably beat, for once. Atton deactivated the training lightsabers and turned towards him, nodding. "Sure, why not?"
They weren't exactly swimming in training lightsabers-- there were only two more left for Mical to grab for. To his credit, he didn't attempt to overcompensate by taking both, though Atton recognized the one he did pick as the one that had some performance issues. Was he gonna tell? No.
"I didn't know you had turned to the dual lightsaber forms," Mical said, as he strode into the practice area.
"I haven't," Atton said. "I just get antsy when it starts looking like I'm specializing. I'm more of a 'do a little bit of everything' kind of guy." His lightsabers snapped back on with a snap-hiss. "Flexible, you know."
"Which is why I thought you wished to get more of a grip on your Ataru," Mical said. He held his lightsaber outwards, the blade angled upwards and back.
"I like Juyo," Atton said with a shrug, as he raised his lightsabers back over his head. "It suits me."
"I thought you didn't like specializing?"
He didn't. But right now he needed something to distract him from worrying, and Juyo was made to channel emotion, to help him pour all the nasty crap that still hounded his head on a regular basis into each move until he was too tired to think, which made it perfect. The Ferocity Form, they called it. More like cathartic.
Atton's mouth quirked up into a smirk. "I lie a lot."
"Now that is hardly news," Mical said dryly, as he reached into the Force and gave Atton a good yank-- only to find himself meeting two blades coming towards him... and then a foot in his gut. "--Oof."
"Don't insult me with entry-level moves," Atton grunted. "I know you're a better duelist than that." He pushed off suddenly with a graceful backflip that landed him a reasonable distance away from Mical.
Mical's eyes narrowed. "Very well."
Then the fight began in earnest, as Mical traded his diplomat's form for something somewhat more aggressive. Atton was right, at least in that respect: unlike the others, Mical had received lightsaber training in his youth, and while the man would never claim it was his area of greatest expertise, he knew how to hold his own.
To an extent. The staccato chaos of Atton's favored form, his occasional slides into rigid control, and his extraordinarily powerful mental walls made him hard to predict. And Atton knew it. That's why he liked using both Juyo and Makashi: chaos, yet harmony. Mical had to find the gaps that Atton's inexperience with dual blades left behind, which he did admirably well, actually. It wasn't a bad time sparring with the guy: Mical's style was inherently more reserved, more defensive. It made the fight feel like waves breaking against the rocks.
Except Mical was losing, which broke that whole metaphor wide open. When both of them landed on opposite sides of the training grounds, panting, the blond was clearly favoring one side over the other-- he was done. Mical took a deep breath and straightened.
"You seem to have a great deal to get out of your system," he called. "I might have a mission that will help far more than this spar."
Atton wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, briefly deactivating one lightsaber. "Yeah?" he said. "I thought I was back on the bench."
Mical blinked. "What makes you think that?"
"You were pretty clear last week."
"About you going undercover, yes," Mical said. "But not about any other mission. Please don't mistake my meaning, Atton. We have dire need of your skills, and I am well aware you are our most experienced field operative."
Eesh. "Well, when you put it like that, that's kind of terrifying," Atton said, pulling a face. "Flattering, don't get me wrong, but terrifying."
It earned him a frown from the other end of the hall. "How so?"
With a casual shrug, Atton said, "That I'm the best we've got."
"In this particular area." With a hiss, Mical's training lightsaber switched off. "I am our most experienced diplomat and organizer."
Atton snorted. "See, that's what I mean by terrifying." He deactivated his other lightsaber. "Anyway, sure. Doesn't look like I have anything to do today. Might as well do something useful."
Stop thinking about the island. It was only making him worse right now.
Mical gave him a curt nod. "You may stay on Coruscant for this one," he said. "I've need of some intelligence on a local Czerka branch."
Atton let out a quiet sigh. Yeah, a simple breaking and entering, that'd chase the sound of thunder out of his head. And with it, if he was lucky, whatever emotional poison the island had left behind.
He'd check on Sparkle again later. Worrying was stupid, anyway.
[[ nfi, nfb due to distance. also, star wars fans are awesome: Djem So vs. Juyo well, nominally, the dude with the green 'saber seems to be more Ataru than Djem So and oh god i've been looking at lightsaber videos too much ]]
It'd been several hours and several text messages, and nothing. And as far as Atton had been able to tell from his own observations and from Jessica last night, the island was fine. ... Okay, maybe not fine, but not overrun by anything nasty or losing parts of itself or zapping anyone to another dimension or possessing anyone, or anything else that would set off her senses.
But, you know, okay, fine. He wasn't Sparkle's keeper. If the guy didn't want to put in the work, or show up to class, that wasn't his problem. Especially since the kid was clearly still on the island and breathing-- at least as far as the Force could tell him.
... Except Sparks usually did want to put in the work. (His presence in the Force had felt off. Maybe he was sick? That'd explain a few things.) Plus, the deeply terrifying feeling that wouldn't leave him while he was on the island had dissipated almost as soon as he got back here. He'd almost hugged Mical when he set foot on Coruscant again. Not something he was ever going to admit to, even if they held a hot poker to his dangly parts, thanks.
Then night had come, and the nightmares. The crackling of thunder; deep, ugly green wounds pouring out nastiness. Something dead, dying, waking him up at two in the morning feeling like he had to throw up. Somehow, that was worse than the ones he usually had about Sion. It had taken the relief right out of being here.
He cleaved the air in two with dual lightsabers, snapping a strike at some unseen enemy. Then he darted away, parrying attacks that weren't actually happening, as if something was snapping at his heels. Strike, strike, parry, strike, side-step, make the sabers meet, cut, dash, strike.
This was the Temple. Since Sparkle wasn't coming, the chance was high nobody would be walking in here who hadn't seen him work before. That meant he didn't need to hold back - either to keep his secrets or to avoid scaring the crap out of bratty street kids. Which was great, because right now the thought of doing so just made him queasier.
He still wasn't sure why.
"I thought you had planned to work on your grasp of the Aggression Form."
Atton's gaze darted to the door and his motions slowed. "What, this isn't aggressive enough for you?"
"More so than necessary," Mical said, peeling himself away from the doorway.
"If this is the start of a lecture, tap me out," Atton said, sliding back into an opening stance, his blades high above his head, guarding. "Unless you've got something to teach me about how to beat an opponent who specializes in Djem So."
"Never stop moving."
Atton lowered his lightsabers. "Oh, you're just a font of knowledge, aren't you?"
"No," Mical said. He smiled faintly. "But I could function as a sparring partner, should you have need of one."
Well. It would be nice to fight someone he could probably beat, for once. Atton deactivated the training lightsabers and turned towards him, nodding. "Sure, why not?"
They weren't exactly swimming in training lightsabers-- there were only two more left for Mical to grab for. To his credit, he didn't attempt to overcompensate by taking both, though Atton recognized the one he did pick as the one that had some performance issues. Was he gonna tell? No.
"I didn't know you had turned to the dual lightsaber forms," Mical said, as he strode into the practice area.
"I haven't," Atton said. "I just get antsy when it starts looking like I'm specializing. I'm more of a 'do a little bit of everything' kind of guy." His lightsabers snapped back on with a snap-hiss. "Flexible, you know."
"Which is why I thought you wished to get more of a grip on your Ataru," Mical said. He held his lightsaber outwards, the blade angled upwards and back.
"I like Juyo," Atton said with a shrug, as he raised his lightsabers back over his head. "It suits me."
"I thought you didn't like specializing?"
He didn't. But right now he needed something to distract him from worrying, and Juyo was made to channel emotion, to help him pour all the nasty crap that still hounded his head on a regular basis into each move until he was too tired to think, which made it perfect. The Ferocity Form, they called it. More like cathartic.
Atton's mouth quirked up into a smirk. "I lie a lot."
"Now that is hardly news," Mical said dryly, as he reached into the Force and gave Atton a good yank-- only to find himself meeting two blades coming towards him... and then a foot in his gut. "--Oof."
"Don't insult me with entry-level moves," Atton grunted. "I know you're a better duelist than that." He pushed off suddenly with a graceful backflip that landed him a reasonable distance away from Mical.
Mical's eyes narrowed. "Very well."
Then the fight began in earnest, as Mical traded his diplomat's form for something somewhat more aggressive. Atton was right, at least in that respect: unlike the others, Mical had received lightsaber training in his youth, and while the man would never claim it was his area of greatest expertise, he knew how to hold his own.
To an extent. The staccato chaos of Atton's favored form, his occasional slides into rigid control, and his extraordinarily powerful mental walls made him hard to predict. And Atton knew it. That's why he liked using both Juyo and Makashi: chaos, yet harmony. Mical had to find the gaps that Atton's inexperience with dual blades left behind, which he did admirably well, actually. It wasn't a bad time sparring with the guy: Mical's style was inherently more reserved, more defensive. It made the fight feel like waves breaking against the rocks.
Except Mical was losing, which broke that whole metaphor wide open. When both of them landed on opposite sides of the training grounds, panting, the blond was clearly favoring one side over the other-- he was done. Mical took a deep breath and straightened.
"You seem to have a great deal to get out of your system," he called. "I might have a mission that will help far more than this spar."
Atton wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, briefly deactivating one lightsaber. "Yeah?" he said. "I thought I was back on the bench."
Mical blinked. "What makes you think that?"
"You were pretty clear last week."
"About you going undercover, yes," Mical said. "But not about any other mission. Please don't mistake my meaning, Atton. We have dire need of your skills, and I am well aware you are our most experienced field operative."
Eesh. "Well, when you put it like that, that's kind of terrifying," Atton said, pulling a face. "Flattering, don't get me wrong, but terrifying."
It earned him a frown from the other end of the hall. "How so?"
With a casual shrug, Atton said, "That I'm the best we've got."
"In this particular area." With a hiss, Mical's training lightsaber switched off. "I am our most experienced diplomat and organizer."
Atton snorted. "See, that's what I mean by terrifying." He deactivated his other lightsaber. "Anyway, sure. Doesn't look like I have anything to do today. Might as well do something useful."
Stop thinking about the island. It was only making him worse right now.
Mical gave him a curt nod. "You may stay on Coruscant for this one," he said. "I've need of some intelligence on a local Czerka branch."
Atton let out a quiet sigh. Yeah, a simple breaking and entering, that'd chase the sound of thunder out of his head. And with it, if he was lucky, whatever emotional poison the island had left behind.
He'd check on Sparkle again later. Worrying was stupid, anyway.
[[ nfi, nfb due to distance. also, star wars fans are awesome: Djem So vs. Juyo well, nominally, the dude with the green 'saber seems to be more Ataru than Djem So and oh god i've been looking at lightsaber videos too much ]]
