23 BBY, JEDHA CITY
THE BUZZING OF LIGHTSABERS has become an ever-present sound in the Temple of the Kyber. While on sabbatical, Lyssa had decided to branch out from her usual Makashi lightsaber form, instead finding herself flourishing at Form VII, Master Windu's favoured form. Although she still holds onto Form II, the final remaining part of her that she feels is derived directly from Master Dooku all those years ago, the change is refreshing. She feels herself getting stronger every time she faces the newly reprogrammed sparring droids, the Force flowing faster and more fluidly each time she opens herself up to it.
As she faces four of them, each with their own salvaged Electrostaff, she relishes in the feeling. She is one with her lightsaber, it is an extension of herself and their energies flow together as one. Sometimes she gathers a crowd of excited children and curious Guardians. Today, however, it is just her. She relishes in the alone time, especially when she can direct her Force energy elsewhere. As much of a phenomena as the Kyber Temple is, sometimes the constant swings and pulls in the Force can become overwhelming. It took Lyssa weeks to learn how to sleep through the constant changes in the energy, weeks longer to sleep through the night. She wonders if there are any Force sensitive children around and if they feel the sensory overload she so often does.
Her days follow a similar path to the ones they did back at the Jedi Temple. She wakes up before the sun rises, stretching and meditating until breakfast is called. She's normally the first one there and she eats alone before heading to the library. She has yet to descend into the Kyber mines, she feels that Baze is still not sure if she's here on behalf of herself or the Jedi, so she doesn't push for access. She checks the news, keeping tabs on Coruscant and the Republic purely for her concern for those she cares about back home. After some time studying, refining her knowledge on the galaxy outside of the Republic, she heads for the training rooms. Method, repetition, routine. It's what the Jedi thrives on, what she has thrived on for so many years, but here it is not enforced. She's encouraged to branch out, to mix up her days and even to go forth and just exist. No code, no Council, no restrictions. It's tempting, but she still feels her loyalty strongly in her heart.
With a final flourish, each sparring droid has been dismantled in the way she has practiced. She presses the button that deactivates her lightsaber, noting the new record evenly in her mind. She clips it back onto the space on her belt, replacing the droids in their proper place. She grabs her water, taking a sip as she glances out the window at the stretching desert. It's become familiar to her in a fond way over the year she's been there, the mountainous regions uninhabitable for normal people, but a lovely place for a hike or some camping for a Jedi.
Sometimes she wishes other people were there to experience Jedha, too, but she keeps reminding herself that there will be time after her time off, she will return to Coruscant eventually and when she does, she can tell them all about the pure Force of this planet, of the welcoming civilians, of the life she's managed to carve out for herself here. The life she'll have to leave behind.
"You're improving every day."
Lyssa turns her head to see Chirrut in the doorway. She offers a small smile. "Thanks."
"But you also seem to be mourning something you haven't yet lost."
Used to Master Yoda's level of cryptic, Lyssa laughs softly. "I just know that I'm going to miss it here, that's all."
"Are you leaving soon?" he asks.
Lyssa inhales slightly, closing her eyes and reaching out. "My leave is approaching. Whether it's near or far is still unclear."
"Then enjoy being here. Revel in the relative freedom you have given yourself, enrich your mind and spirit without the concern of what comes after this sabbatical."
Lyssa smiles again, brighter this time. "You're wise beyond your years, Chirrut."
"I am an entire standard decade older than you, my dear Elysia," he chuckles.
"Still," she shrugs, "I know fifty-year-olds who give much worse advice." Her mind is specifically on some members of the Council, people who truly know very little about things that they claim to be experts on. Chirrut just smiles and joins her in the middle of the sparring room. She clips her lightsaber back onto her belt and grabs herself one of the staffs from the wall. She doesn't have her own (yet), but she's working on perfecting her crafting technique. If she's going to do it right, she's got to do it like the ancients did.
Chirrut has become not only her staff-fighting mentor, but her sparring partner and her closest friend within the Guardians and with Chirrut's friendship, she has also earned Baze's. And by gaining Baze's approval, she has settled that much quicker.
Chirrut swings his staff around, taking a prepared sparring stance. Lyssa smiles, knowing that, compared to Chirrut's skill and ability to adapt, those droids were simply a warm up. She mimics his stance, focusing her energy more on a mutated version of Form III rather than Form VII. Firstly because she doesn't want to hurt Chirrut any more than a few bruises, but secondly because Form III is steady and focused, easier to transfer onto a different weapon.
Both parties stand in silence, waiting for the other to start and Lyssa begins to wish that she'd taken a moment to re-do her hair before wordlessly agreeing to the spar. She pushes that thought away, instead correcting her hold on the staff slightly. Chirrut lunges forward, his staff colliding with hers for the first time. The vibrations travel down her arms from the collision point but she holds her ground. She used to come away from these sparring sessions with bruises littering her skin and slightly crushed ego, but she's come a long way since arriving on Jedha. Now she takes loss as a learning opportunity and her bruises are marks of courage and growth rather than shame. The Jedi didn't teach her that. There are lots of things that they didn't teach her.
Chirrut retreats from his blocked strike, returning to silently waiting for the next move. They're both trying to psych one another out, to get under the other's skin and make the other strike purely out of anxiety. When she first started sparring with Chirrut, her patience was unrivalled, but in the same way that Lyssa has grown, so has he. His patience and trust in the Force has increased and now the two of them can out-wait each other easily.
But today, Chirrut's patience is wearing thin and Lyssa intends to take full advantage of that. She adjusts her hold on the staff, bringing her hands closer to the centre until they're almost touching. It's easier to disarm someone holding the weapon like that― they lack adequate control and are less likely to be able to keep hold of the staff. On a good day, Chirrut would've been able to sense the movement of her hands, felt the change in the air (and in the Force; Lyssa is convinced that he's at least slightly Force-sensitive). But this is not a good day. It's hotter than normal and many of the students at the single Jedha City school have been sent home early. The sound of them running and yelling outside echoes into the training room, confusing Chirrut's senses and masking Lyssa's moves slightly.
Still, she waits patiently. After neither one of them strikes for a while, she feels a shift in the air as another group of children run by. Chirrut's concentration has broken ever so slightly at the thundering footfalls. She seizes her opportunity and strikes.
Just in time, Chirrut blocks her strike. She changes her tactic drastically, taking the moment that Chirrut was disoriented to rain a flurry of strikes down on him. She pushes him back, gaining the upper hand—
A sweep hits her feet and her back hits the ground with a dull thud.
"Footwork," Chirrut chides from above, a small smirk evident in his tone. Lyssa closes her eyes, throwing an arm over them with a groan.
"It's always my kriffing footwork," she grumbles. "You know, I've never had that problem with my feet in lightsaber combat."
"But this is not lightsaber combat. If it was, I'm afraid I would lose rather spectacularly... perhaps a bit like you just did," he retorts. Lyssa laughs gently, pushing herself up into a sitting position and stretching her legs out in front of her. Chirrut joins her on the floor. "How are you feeling, little flower?"
Lyssa inhales deeply and thinks about her answer. "I'm feeling unsettled today," she replies. "As though something is just breaching the horizon. I'm hoping that it will pass quickly, but it feels unlikely."
"Hmm," Chirrut nods. "A change is coming, the winds can feel it too."
"I'm worried that it has something to do with the Jedi, with my friends," she suggests. "The Separatist Crisis is growing more and more pressing within Core Worlds and I fear that the Jedi's ties to the Republic will result in their involvement."
"Militaristically?" Chirrut prompts. Lyssa thinks briefly back to her vision of Jedi in armour and the large, repetitive army of the Republic.
"Almost certainly," she confirms in a small voice.
"Why does that unsettle you?" he inquires.
Crossing her legs, she prepares to reach deeper for her answer to Chirrut's questions. "Because it's not the Jedi way. Because we're not soldiers. Because I'm not ready to go back yet, but if conflict was to break out and the Jedi were to be recruited to fight, I would feel inclined to do my bit. I would force myself to return."
Chirrut sits quietly for a moment. "I think you need to trust in the convergence of the Force," he replies eventually. "Trust that the conflict will not erupt in a moment where you aren't ready to return to the Jedi. And if it does, trust in the process. Whatever happens, the Force is with you and you are with the Force. That will always be true."
Lyssa breathes out a laugh. "You've given me great advice while I've been here, but this trust in the Force crap truly is your best. Thanks, Chirrut."
"Any time. Now, don't you have books to read?"
"Oh, millions of them," she replies airily, climbing to her feet with a sigh. "A lot of old theory books in ancient languages that take me days to translate." She hangs up the spare staff, reclaiming her lightsaber and clipping it onto her belt. She waves once more to Chirrut as he takes another fighting stance and makes her way towards the library.
When Lyssa was younger, back when Master Dooku still taught her, she used to think that all knowledge was contained within the Archives under the watchful gaze of Master Jocasta Nu. She used to beg her Master for just ten more minutes when they went there, used to check out four or five books at a time — a hefty weight for her tiny arms but Master Dooku always used to say that if she could carry them, she could book them out. She realises now that the Archives contain all the knowledge that the Jedi believe is crucial to the teaching and learning of the Force. There is so much information, more than Lyssa thinks she could truly take in within her lifespan.
The library in the Temple of the Kyber contains so much more. Some of the texts that she's read must be banned by the Jedi despite their belief in open information (within reason), their tones somewhat derisive and condescending, but there are others that she's surprised she's never come across before. Books on ancient practices of Force healing, something she didn't even know existed before Jedha; deeper connections to the Force; methods of dynamic meditation that have helped Lyssa clear her mind more than once. There seems to be a single common denominator - all of them contain things that are unorthodox. The Jedi's insistences on tradition and the old ways become clearer to Lyssa. And through the pages, she learns that not all criticism is bad, sometimes it can be constructive.
Reaching the library brings with it a thrill that she hasn't felt since those days with Master Dooku, a thrill that disappeared as the Archives became tainted with melancholy and confusion, one that prompted Master Windu to check books out for her whenever he got a chance instead of her going in person. She didn't see Master Nu for at least seven months after Dooku's departure. She wanders in and the silence comforts her, soothing her concerns for the future with anchorage in the present.
She's carved out her own corner of the library, a little chair and table near a window that has stacks of books on the Jedi surrounding it. Little sticky tabs stick out of many of them, important parts that Lyssa has been painstakingly taking notes on. These books hold everything she's been working on in the past year, they're the basis of her deeper connection to the Force and she knows that there is more information here than she can imagine.
As she delves back in to the theory, her mind starts to dwell. She remembers the academic fervour that Master Dooku showed in the months leading up to his abrupt departure, the hushed discussions with Master Qui-Gon Jinn that she was strictly prohibited to listen to, the borderline concerned looks tossed their way by the Jedi after particularly disagreeable discussions. She wonders briefly if this was the kind of theory they discussed together, if the search for power over just a thirst for knowledge and understanding contributed to her Master's continued discontent.
Away from the Jedi, Lyssa finds her ruminating much less guilt-inducing. She no longer feels the weight of sin when she thinks fondly about the five years she spent knowing, trusting, and caring about Master Dooku. Ultimately, he taught her the basis of the practices she still holds close to her heart, and even though Master Windu is firmly her Master, firmly her present, the past remains a key part of who she is.
The hammering of feet down the hallway draws her from her thoughts, only a single page turned. The doors burst open and a familiar face comes racing around the corner.
"Miss Vale! Guess what!" She looks up to see Greyson Blanchard, a nine year old who has become remarkably attached since Lyssa's arrival.
"What?" she asks, a smile gracing her face.
"Guess!" he implores. Lyssa marks her page, closing the book and pursing her lips in faux thoughtfulness.
"Hmm... I don't know!" she replies. "There are so many things it could be. Come on, I wanna know!"
Greyson's grin widens and he produces a bit of paper from behind his back. Lyssa narrows in on the red letter on the top of the page and gasps. "An A? Greyson, that's wonderful! I knew you could do it."
Sheepish, Greyson shuffles. "Well it's all thanks to you, you helped me understand it all."
"But you listened," she beams. "I'm so proud of you. You worked so hard."
"What are you working on?" Greyson asks, peering at the book curiously.
Lyssa laughs. "Admittedly, I'm not working. I'm supposed to be translating parts of this text, but I was rather lost in thought."
"What language is it in?" Greyson has always been one of the most curious children in Jedha City, but it seems only Lyssa and Chirrut encourage his questioning of the world around him.
"It's in an old language that the Jedi used to use, many, many years ago. It's almost completely forgotten, so I have to work very hard to translate even a small part of the text," she explains. "Some of it is even written in cipher, which makes it even harder."
"Why did they make it so hard to read? Isn't the Jedi Order supposed to encourage knowledge?" he asks, his face contorting into confusion.
"A number of reasons," she replies evenly. "There are people that shouldn't be allowed to gain access to the type of knowledge the Jedi harbour. The Sith, for one."
"Ooh, the Sith. They're... the bad ones?" he checks.
"They're the ones that channel the Dark Side of the Force," she corrects gently.
"So it would be bad if they knew Jedi stuff," he concludes.
She smiles patiently. "Essentially. It helps us protect our practices, to preserve the sanctity of the Jedi way."
"What does sanc-ti-ty mean?" he asks, sounding the word out uncertainly.
"Ah, when something is sanctimonious, it's holy or sacred. So sanctity is the state of being holy," she answers. After a thousand more eager questions and as many ever-patient answers, the light is beginning to retreat from Jedha's skies.
"I should get you home," Lyssa hums, standing from where her books were discarded much earlier and holding her hand out to Greyson. He takes it, yawning slightly, and they begin to stroll out of the Temple, making their way down to the town.
The thing about Jedha City is that people know her, either personally or through stories. They know that she's a real life Jedi that works closely with the Force. They know she's here on pilgrimage (although is it still a pilgrimage if she's been here over a year?) and that she's full of helpful advice and guidance when people need it most. She's helped keep Jedha City safe from pirates and smugglers and she's a major deterrent for crime, but more importantly she's kind and completely non-judgemental, patient with the excited children and even more patient with the disbelieving adults.
She knocks on the Blanchard door to deliver Greyson to his mum, bidding the both of them goodnight as Mrs Blanchard thanks her for walking home with it. Brushing it off, Lyssa smiles and congratulates Greyson once more on his grade before walking back to the Temple slowly.
In just a single year, she's found more peace in the Force within the walls of Jedha City than she ever truly did with the Jedi, and she's not entirely sure what that means for her undetermined return.