World Tree MUSH

  Polyuchyn is a charming little town situated towards the northern end of Sokovia. The terrain is harsh but beautiful, with plains, foothills, and mountains; spring has brought green to all three regions.

  Feathergrass Air Base is a second-string base with a third-string budget. It might be the place where careers go to die, and weeds may choke the edges of its runway, but this ragtag band of misfits would die to defend this forgotten backwater airstrip.

  There are only a few hangars. Inside one of them is the talking quinjet that's attracted so much attention among the in-the-know locals. It's dark and its lights are powered down -- Val's asleep, or as close to it as she gets.

  A laptop is set up on a folding card table, cables running over the cracked concrete slab up through the cargo ramp and into the cockpit.

  Beside it, Anneka Stojespal has her boots kicked up on the table, leaning back in her cheap folding metal chair. Her arms are crossed behind her head, and she eyes the laptop's creeping progress bar, balefully. The technology might be unfamiliar, but the sentiment is definitely universal: It's a perfect day out there and I'm stuck in here.

  Leaning just a little further over, she checks the blank screen of her phone, sitting face-up beside the laptop. She'd left invitations with both Lian Kamoya, Wandering Seer; and Rusalka Stojespal, her wayward niece. Meal optional. Definitely to be delivered from Somewhere Not Feathergrass.

    A perfect day indeed. Mostly clear skies with the occasional impressive pillar of cloud on the distant horizon. It's actually warm, as well, enough that Rusalka's outfit takes advantage of the pleasant weather. BMW-tricolor polo shirt, denim shorts, and t-strap shoes make up her outfit, and the Sokovian girl peers around the edge of the hangar.

    It was a bit of a walk from the parking area, but she didn't mind - the exercise on a day like today is good, and it gives her a chance to peek at the jets on the tarmac as well. Her interests don't run to the screamingly fast aircraft, but they're still fascinating machines, and the young engineer feels a twinge of happiness just being near them.

    Said wayward niece finally peers her head around the corner of the hangar door, spotting the predatory lines of the powered-down Quinjet first before seeing its pilot. Her priorities are, of course, completely straight.

    "Aunt Anneka." Her voice calls across the bay as she strides in. "Stuck at work?" Cobalt-blue eyes glance at the computer, taking in the Work In Progress windows and the half-finished bar declaring that, in computer speak, "It's going to take forever and the weekend."

    The time has arrived, the place is right, and unsurprisingly, Lian Kamoya has arrived. She's stayed in Polyuchyn's vicinity, true to her word, so the invitation didn't have to go far, and neither does she; though in truth, the woman looks as if she wouldn't mind a long hike. As the tap-tap of her walking staff announces her presence, Lian reaches up and draws back her hood, taking a proper look around the hangar with obvious curiosity. It doesn't take her long to spot Anneka and Rusalka, though, and when she does, the elder Jedi lifts her hand in greeting and offers a warm, "Hello, there."

    She saves more small talk until she's at a more conversational distance from the duo, and then opens up with a conversational, "Waiting for a progress bar to fill... there's a memory of younger days I was glad to escape. I'd recommend meditating to pass the time, but you don't seem the sort." The cloak is unclasped and set aside, her sleeveless tunic leaving her arms bare - a faint scar or two can be seen here and there. She sets down the cloak, her bag atop it, and leans her staff across all that; and then slides into a seat, with a soft huff of relaxation.

  "Sally Petrovna." Slowly, that lone eye slides sidelong to regard the summery outfit and the beautiful day just outside the hangar; just out of reach. The woman heaves a sigh and leans further back in her chair, teetering somewhat. Stuck at work? "Tak." She gestures aggravatedly at the screen. "This stupid diagnostic is going to take a year and a day. I am going to die before this finishes. My bones will lord over its last ten percent."

  Melodramatic? Maybe somewhat. Weather this great doesn't come along every day.

  As Lian comes tap-tapping in, it's clear that Anneka must have pulled strings of some sort. While some bystanders do look her way in askance, nobody actually tries to stop her. The guards don't even so much as look at her past a cursory study, and it's mostly the engineers and mechanics that do a little bit of gawking.

  "Good... afternoon." Anneka hesitates only because she isn't actually sure what time it is any more. "I think. Have a seat." A few metal folding chairs are folded against the wall nearby. They're uncomfortable and kind of dented but they can at least be sat upon.

  The conversational opener is eyed sidelong, and the blandness of the pilot's expression can't be coincidental. She raises her red brow. It's always interesting to learn more tidbits of these weird and wonderful people from beyond the Vines. I'd recommend meditating, but you don't seem the sort. "No." There's a shocker. Laugh it up, Sally.

  "I figured I would offer lunch. If I ever get out of this." She gestures at the laptop. "And maybe any information, if there is anything more you think would help. Oh, and these are ready for you, too." Anneka straightens herself with a lurch, chair and boots slapping the ground at the same time, and she reaches across the table for a manila folder.

  It's a dossier on Valentina Maximova Stojespal. Rather thin, for all that, since the cadet was killed before she could accrue much information on it. It might still have some use.

  Valentina lived a pretty boring life. She was a cadet, she involved herself heavily in her studies, she worked a part-time job and sent money back home to her elderly family members -- evidently this was not a particularly affluent offshoot of House Stojespal, but they managed.

  The photo is a little poignant. It looks like it must have been taken when she started at the academy, in her fresh cadet's uniform, grinning in undisguised glee.

  "Agent Philip Coulson has not yet found anything else out. I thought I would give you this, though... I managed to secure a copy." Pushing off from her chair, Anneka leaves the loathsome laptop to finish cooking its diagnostic. It can do that without her input. "Younger days. What sort of days had you doing this?" Hands gesture exasperatedly at the laptop. "You do not seem the type, either. Maybe you are more patient than I am--" She's self-aware, at least, "--but you do not seem the type to be... tied down, I think?"

    Lian's appearance gets a wave from Rusalka, as the Jedi appears at the entrance to the hangar. "Hello," she replies, making her way over to where Anneka sits. The mention of younger days gets a bit of a smirk, as the Sokovian girl finds something amusing. "Your time as an apprentice?"

    Polyuchyn is still a traditional town, apprenticeships are commonplace things. She'd be one herself, if she weren't being trained in how to run the family organization and figure out how to deal with the people from across the Tree.

    A chair is pulled out, before Rusalka plops down into it with little fanfare. There's a cheerful laugh at Anneka's declaration of her skeletal overwatch, the joke cracking the ice among the three women. "I will pray over your bones then...though truly I sympathize with you. Waiting for a computer to compute is..." She pauses a moment to think. "Perhaps meditation is not such a bad idea after all. Especially when the computer is clearly lying."

    Especially when the diagnostic comes back without showing any problems, when the young engineer knows something is amiss despite the claim.

    The dossier gets a closer look, Sally flipping through the pages before handing it over to Lian. "This confirms what little I was able to find out asking among the family. She liked to fly, and was even in the Junior Air Cadets. Sailplanes; it's a youth organization prior to joining the academy." Polyuchyn is a place where military duty is prized, and has many such outlets for the youth to participate.

    When the dossier is ordered, Lian reaches over to take it, perusing the information thoughtfully. Given how little there is, it doesn't take her long. "Mm. Young, up and coming... sounds as if she had little to make her a particular target, aside her family connections. From what the spirit said, she may simply have been misfortunate enough to be 'the avid pilot they picked'. But it's far too early to say for certain. We still know too little."

    She sets the dossier down, and then regards Rusalka with obvious amusement. "Not just as an apprentice, although my Master certainly put me through quite a bit of it." She shakes her head faintly, and then sits back a bit in her chair. "My order - the Jedi Order - were the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy. Warrior-monks, sent to handle everything from trade negotiations to terrorist attacks to diplomacy to investigations where ordinary law enforcement hit a wall. I can't count the number of hours spent waiting for an exhaustive Holonet search to complete, or a chemical analysis, or..." The Jedi trails off, and gives her hand a little 'so on and so forth' spin.

    The woman does, however, give Anneka a small nod. "I did quite enjoy the travel, I'll admit. I love seeing a thriving new city, or an untamed wilderness. But part of the appeal there is the meditation, for me. For most Jedi, I should imagine, but myself in particular. I love to feel a place alive with the Force." It's a transparent bit of bait - a tantalizing mention of a word left undefined. An open invitation to ask more.

  Fortunately for Rusalka, how to deal with the people from across the Tree is a common problem. It's one even the agency hasn't figured out, yet, which is probably why Anneka has so much leeway in her adventures beyond the Vines.

  "I can't even take a smoke break," the agent growls. Oh, the humanity. "That thing, definitely it is lying."

  She nods in agreement to the information Rusalka has to offer. "Unfortunately, we do not have much to go on. It has been too long since this case was open to find physical evidence, or anything that could have been time-sensitive." The pilot sighs and shakes her head. "Why now, I wonder?" Her expression sours. "I wish I could talk to her myself."

  Then again, be careful what you wish for.

  She looks thoughtful at Lian's pronouncements, but there's something stormy about her silence. Reading her through the Force is about as tough as reading a child's picture-book. She doesn't like this, she doesn't like what happened to Valentina Maximova, and with the target being a Stojespal, she's worried about Rusalka. Still. Worrying will not change anything. Warrior-monks, multi-talented and thrown at every galactic problem big or small. Interesting. In a way, they're not unlike SHIELD, or at least a naively idealistic possible vision of SHIELD's purpose. Hm. That does make it more relatable, though, and she calms, thoughtful.

  A metal chair is scooted a little closer, its back turned as Anneka plunks down in it in the same motion, folding her arms across the back and staring intently at the Jedi.

  After a few seconds her head tilts, single eye hooding and falling into a 'well?' expression. She brings up hands both scarred and unscarred in tried-and-true c'mon, spill the beans gesture. "Just imagine we are tourists in your world, because probably that is not too far from the truth, and start at the beginning."

  "...I understood maybe half of those words, and not because I am speaking a second or third language." Hm. That might be an invitation, or she might just be tired and not fully aware of what she's saying before the words are out. "What is' this 'Force' you keep talking about?"

    There's a slow nod as Lian gives her thoughts on the dossier's contents. Rusalka stretches her legs and arms out, thinking a moment, then nods as she relaxes. "The spirit...her ghost traveling places, alleyways and Khoro's Howl. To be in such a state..." She shudders a little, thinking of what kind of afterlife must await.

    With her luck, she'd be left haunting a car parts store.

    But then she catches on something Lian says. "They picked...who are they?" 'We know too little' says the Jedi, and Rusalka gives a glum nod.

    And then it turns into an explanation of the Jedi order, and she sits up with interest. "So...something like a police investigator, but..." She waves a hand as if to say only partially. "But also a soldier, since you were with us when we hit General Garo. To fight as well, is part of your mandate?"

    Granted they'd been liberating the oppressed at that time; a few of whom have come to stay in Polyuchyn and work the wheat fields. The blood of a farmer runs thick, and their treatment is a sight better than they'd received before.

    Anneka's complaint about a smoke break gets a nose wrinkle in disgust from Rusalka. "Those things smell terrible." Like burning wiring, if she'd have to describe it. "Perhaps it knows your desires and actively seeks to counter them. Maybe it is paying more attention to your health, dear Aunt." The last is said with amusement, the jibe robbed of any malice as the girl's soft accent comes through.

    Sally's own presence is simple - youthful, vigorous, determined, focused. The complexity and precision of an engineer's mind, every thought in its place, but there's something more to the Sokovian's sensations that Lian would pick up. There's a faint shadow of a presence, as if something is watching the girl, something powerful and not human. Favored by a local god, perhaps, if such things existed.

    "The Force?" It's bait, but Rusalka's curious, and she can't help but latch on. Anneka can't either, and all Sally does is sit forward in her chair with her feet tucked in, at attention as if in class. "Absolutely, yes, what is that?"

    Lian giggles outright at Anneka's reaction. 'Just imagine them as tourists.' "Goodness... very well, then. The beginning it is." She sits up a bit straighter, and something of the teacher in her comes to the fore, a demeanor and tone that makes it clear she's used to teaching. "The Force... in a way, it's 'everything.' It is the energy of existence, of reality, of life. An energy that permeates the galaxy, generated by all living things, from the tiniest blade of grass to the most immense and ponderous creatures. In its own way, it also 'lives', flowing and thrumming and nudging the threads of fate. Everyone has some connection to it, but a rare few have a talent for actually tapping into it. The Jedi Order has spent thousands of years meditating, studying, attuning, such that we might bring those with such a gift into the fold and teach them to use it."

    She nods to Rusalka as well, once again smiling. "Very astute. The galaxy is not a kind, gentle place. People are people, no matter when or where. And wildlife, beautiful though it may be, is also often dangerous. Every Jedi constructs a lightsaber as part of their training, and it is our signature weapon. Simple, elegant, versatile; fiendishly difficult to wield without the aid of the Force. But with it... well. You saw what Talia and I are capable of. We avoid drawing our weapon unless there is no other option, but if we must..."

  "That also is worth answering, too, I think." Anneka tilts her head slightly, regarding the others thoughtfully, blue eye hooded. "Who are they? Why have they killed Valentina Maximova, and who will be in their crosshairs next?"

  "'Those things' keep me sane," she growls to Rusalka, glaring briefly. "And I have made personal arrangements with Grandmother Dragana for their timely export, so don't try anything. And Val had better not try anything, either." The quinjet is also glared at. Just in case she's listening. It's not always clear.

  Leaning forward, the one-eyed pilot cups her chin in a hand, regarding Lian as she listens. Energy. Sounds like something in the court of the superhero-types; something they might be more familiar with. "Interesting."

  She raises her chin slightly, hooded eye still fixed on Lian. It's a look of knowing; of understanding.

  "You damn well make it count," Anneka states, voice both soft and steely.

    Lian is used to teaching, and Rusalka is used to being a student. By rights she still is, even if it is a more hands-on curriculum. An energy that permeates the galaxy, between everything. She looks around as the Jedi explains further, and can't help but laugh a little.

    "I suppose it is even here," she adds, gesturing to grass growing in cracks of the concrete floor near the wall. "So it is like...the energy of life, in a way?" Trying to find a good analogy, she lifts a hand and studies it, finger to finger. "Like...between us, even right now?" Cobalt-blue eyes meet violet as she glances to Lian.

    A lightsaber. "Absolutely I remember seeing those. The...lightsaber, you called it. That day at the General's vineyard." She wasn't completely innatentive to the rest of the team's efforts. "It was amazing seeing what you could do."

    Anneka growls at her, and Sally just folds her arms and looks away, hmpf-ing in protest. Well...it's not like Anneka's the only smoker she knows, and it isn't as if a cigarette has its up-sides. Just a few downs. "Fine, I will not complain." Just as long as Anneka's good enough not to smoke in her precious Ferrari...or get dirty hands on it...or do anything to spoil its immaculate condition, really.

    There's a nod of agreement when Anneka says they make it count. "Yes indeed. That is why you went with us, then, to rescue the workers?" It sounds like the thing a kind of wandering warrior-monk might do. "And Talia..." There's no patronymic she knows for the other Jedi. "Is like you, the Force and lightsabers."

    And then the thing that's biting at her comes to mind. "Could I see yours? Your lightsaber, I mean." It sounds like an interesting bit of technology, and it's something that Lian herself built? She's fascinated by the idea already.

    The exchange between Rusalka and Anneka draws no remarks from Lian; she remains neutral, though she does seem to be enjoying watching the two of them. "Quite," is her reply to Anneka's statement towards her, a solemn nod. And Rusalka? Rusalka gets a bright, pleased smile. "Very good, you're exactly right. The energy of life, and it is everywhere. You, me, all the tiny lifeforms in and around this airbase... I can feel all of it." The topic comes around to the base, and Talia, and what the Jedi are capable of - and, most particularly, lightsabers.

    "Talia is a Jedi Knight, yes," the elder Jedi replies, inclining her head. "Talented, too. She has a particular knack for 'reading' a place with the Force, that I can't match even with decades of experience. As for her galaxy, the universe she comes from... they are my past. That was a conflict from several centuries before my time. I... have be cautious about operating there. It would lead to no small amount of awkwardness. But I certainly won't hold myself back from doing the right thing."

    Reaching down to her waist, Lian unclips and brings up the weapon at her left hip; simple, not particularly ornate, with leather-wrapped grip on either side of the activation switch. "I believe you have a concept of plasma and electromagnetics here, so I can explain that it generates a magnetic bottle and fills it with plasma. A massless blade, and the energy flow causes a gyroscopic effect so it doesn't quite go where you expect it to."

  The nature of the Force goes by without comment, for the most part. Anneka seems content just to listen. Details are filed away, but without a greater context, they're nothing more than loosely associated pieces. She'll have to sharpen her focus if she wants to make any inquiries later -- but for now, it's enough to absorb the basics. This old dog can still learn a new trick or two, no matter how battered or bruised she is.

  That single blue eye flicks between Jedi and niece for a second or two as Rusalka asks about the lightsaber. There's a flicker of amusement from the older Stojespal woman. Ah, the impatience of youth.

  "Then probably you are feeling a lot of weeds pushing through cracks," Anneka comments, blandly, glancing sideways out at the tarmac. "This place is no city."

  Her head shakes at the explanation regarding Talia's world. "That must be difficult to keep straight." The flicker of understanding is... probably stronger than it ought to be for such a surface issue. This one knows what it is to Keep Stories Straight, it seems.

  The lightsaber is shown and duly admired, but Anneka's true focus lies elsewhere. It's an interesting tool, but the sky is the only thing that really interests her. Still, she leans over, eyeing the weapon curiously. Glancing over her shoulder, perhaps to make sure the hangar is still more or less empty, Anneka looks back. "Gyroscopic effect?" There's a brief pause. "Hunh. Can see how that would be useful. Small. Light. Hardly any mass..."

    Life energy is one of those sillier theories that she's heard growing up, but to hear it confirmed by the Jedi gives Rusalka a blink of surprise. She'd normally call such a thing downright hokey...except she's seen Jedi do their thing in person. Plus it would be quite rude to their guest, and Sally's all about keeping relations good.

    The Jedi goes on to explain further about Talia, and Sally can't help but raise her eyebrows in surprise when it's mentioned that the two are from different times. "Then, her world is your past? Ah..." Lian had said galaxy, after all. "Her time, then, when she is from."

    Doing the right thing...that sounds like something that Lian is all about. Rusalka can't help but notice the calmness that the woman radiates, and simply nods. Then conversation turns to lightsabers, and she perks up with interest. "/Tak/, yes, such things are known here. At least experimentally," she adds, with most of such things involved in labratory research. Lian's own lightsaber finds its way to the table, and Sally reaches out a hand to it but stops.

    A massless blade of scorching plasma is not the kind of tool to handle improperly. An experienced sabre fencer, the basics would be something she's familiar with. But already considered something of a safety-nik by her family, she knows better than to try to operate it. She'd probably end up cutting her own fool head off by accident.

    "So that is a lightsaber?" She still leans close to peer at the tool, thinking. "This end must be the blade...the opening and the crystals inside." She looks up to meet Lian's gaze, eyes intent with curiosity. "The crystals are used to tune the plasma and form the blade?"

    Useful? "Quite the opposite, really. Makes the thing devilishly hard to control until you learn how," Lian replies to Anneka. "You try to swing it one way, it wants to go another. And you can't keep track of the blade by weight. But you eventually learn. The Force helps guide your strikes, gives you a 'feel' for the lightsaber - especially if it's your own." And once again, Rusalka spots something that pleases the old Master. "Quite right! Generally only one crystal, which is the design I favor. But there are some that use multiple crystals, for a variable blade."

    She reaches over, taking up her own lightsaber, and continues. "We meditate over the crystal at the heart of the device, imbue it with the Force. Part of what makes them easier for us to use. Any Jedi can wield any lightsaber, but you'll always be best with one you've made yourself." The woman smiles a little, then reaches down to the base of her lightsaber; she pulls out on it, lengthening the bottom a bit, and then bends it downward slightly; there is now a slight 'curve' near the bottom of the grip, where her lower hand would rest. "I also dare say mine have a few extra features most Jedi would have little use for."

  Shifting in her chair a little, Anneka folds her arms over the back of it, resting her chin in the crook of an elbow. That single eye remains on Lian and Rusalka, though. The agent is paying close attention, even if her mannerisms are often just this side of exhaustion. She's listening with interest.

  "Modular, too? Interesting." A blade light as air, with characteristics its owner can change on the fly? Useful. "Functionality and artistry." It seems the agent knows quality craftsmanship when she sees it.

  The meditation, though, nah. Not so much. Lian's observation is true enough; Anneka Stojespal is not the kind of person to go for meditation. She is not a peaceful woman inside; focused, like a blade.

  On the table, the phone buzzes.

  "Damn." Anneka sighs, drooping as she springs to her feet and scoops up the phone in one movement. "Have to take this. Don't wait for me," she adds, grinning. "I will get the rest from Sally Petrovna later." With that, the agent will sidle out the door, provided nobody moves to stop her.

    The engineer nods. The gyroscopic effect would throw off the blade, and if it's the type of plasma Rusalka thinks it is - based on what she'd seen Lian and Talia do with theirs - she can imagine the damage that could result. "There are plasma cutters a little bit like that in this world. But they are large machines, with tiny blades. Manufactories use them for cutting steel in precise patterns," she goes on.

    There's something similar in this world, at least some kind of technology that might lead to lightsabers. Someday.

    "But nothing like this, a portable blade...it powers itself, too?" Whatever energy supply there is in the handle must be immense, and would literally be so in this world.

    Then Lian says something that catches her attention. "Wait a moment...you said meditate over the crystal, in the hilt." She points a finger at the end of the saber. "But you also said that the Force was like...a life-field. Are the crystals alive?" Not the weirdest thing she's heard in the World Tree's domain.

    Anneka notes its modularity, and Sally nods. 'Functionality and artistry,' says the pilot, and hand-built by the owner. It's a sign of workmanship that the race-car enthusiast approves of. "Absolutely very interesting," she adds with a smile.

    d then the phone rings. With a wave, Sally lets the older woman go; the reaction means it's probably SHIELD business. Such things are commonplace enough, it seems.

    And then Lian pops the hilt out for a change of grip, and Rusalka grins. Now that's something she does know, and know well. "A curved grip like that lets your fingers have precise control. Like an epee, but...you said a massless blade." So the only weight is in the hilt, she thinks, making it wickedly quick. "That is how you and Talia can do such things with them," she adds with a grin.

    "Fascinating. Simply fascinating. Something that powerful, in a package so small." She's mildly enthralled with the idea of a lightsaber already. Now that would be a neat thing to try to build someday...

    "I suppose it counts as artistry after a fashion," Lian replies to Anneka. "But I've always been a more utilitarian sort. Lightsabers are one of the few ways in which Jedi truly express themselves. Most of them are a bit more ornamented than mine. I favor simple, practical design features; I just have high demands of my weapons. They have a charm all their own, though."

    Collapsing the little pommel extension back into the bottom of her lightsaber, Lian turns the lightsaber over in her hands contemplatively, nodding to Anneka when the woman takes a step back to deal with phone work. To Anneka's question, she tilts her head slightly, seeming to think on it. "Not... as such, no. But the crystal resonates with the Force. Our connection with the blade and the Force alike is just a bit deeper. And yes, the blade powers itself; the power cell is in the hilt, below the crystal. They're remarkably efficient devices, so it seldom needs recharging or replacing."

    At mention of the change of grip, the Battlemaster smiles broadly. "Precisely right. One of the classical forms of lightsaber combat requires exactly that sort of dexterity. You're a very observant woman, Rusalka." Setting the weapon back on the table again, Lian steeples her fingers. "There's always the occasional Jedi who leans towards a more unorthodox style, and they modify their weapon to match. I chose instead to reach for mastery of the classical styles, and so my twin blades reflect that in being usable for any of them."

    "Function has a form of beauty of its own," Rusalka says in reply to Lian's comment about artistry. "It's like a race car, everything just right - aerodynamics, performance, engineering, all come together. The end result is beautiful in its..." What's the right word? "Elegance," she decides.

    She's as blind as the proverbial bat, however, when it comes to the Force. Just another person, to Lian's senses, except for that distant feeling of another watching her. She'd have no more sense of the blade and its Force nature than would a droid, unfortunately.

    "And the power cell lasts at least that long, as well. Marvelous, absolutely marvelous." She wonders at the intricacy of such a device, gleefully reveling in the technology shown before her. "That is amazing."

    The compliment actually gets a blush of surprise; she hadn't expected such a reaction at all. "Thank you...and, please, my American name. Sally. Sally Petrovna, daughter of Petro." She crosses her arms again and wrinkles her nose, the same sign of displeasure at Anneka's smoking. "I can't stand my given name...tradition required it, and it is a very odious tradition."

    Being subjected to an annual dunking in the river is a part of that tradition that goes unstated, and one she's not looking forward to this coming harvest festival.

    But Rusalka stands, shifting her weight to balance on her toes and extends one arm as if to hold a sword. It's a fairly good position, actually. "I've been fencing for five years now, since I was fourteen." Parry, parry, riposte. Good for the tournament floor, not so much for a battle. She relaxes, and grins.

    "I take it then that a lightsaber...or, ah, sabers," she adds with one hand to Lian, "is a part of the Jedi warrior. Like...a masterpiece, something that remains with you for all time."

    "Sally, then," Lian says, bowing her head slightly in apology. She does observe that faint, other presence, and makes mental note of it; but no hint of her notice reaches her face, nor does it disturb her emotions. When Rusalka stands up, though, Lian watches her with undisguised interest - and, after she realizes what she's seeing, a sharp appraisal that can only come from an expert. "Hm. Interesting. By your posture, it's a relatively lightweight weapon, middling length... Quick, darting strikes, I'm assuming? Light cuts and piercing stabs? Your form isn't half bad." Scratch that; she's not just an expert, she's an instructor. This is someone who knows melee combat intimately.

    As for the relationship between lightsabers and Jedi? That actually prompts Lian to look thoughtful. "It is, and yet it isn't. 'Having a lightsaber' is considered core to being a Jedi, but to the individual blade itself, we hold no particular attachment. They can be damaged or lost, or our needs may change; it isn't uncommon for a Jedi to construct a new saber or rebuild their old one, once or twice in their life. And forming attachments goes against our code. We must be able to let people, places and things go, when they pass out of our life."

    Rusalka grins and waves a hand as Lian nods. "Do not apologize, nothing was wrong." The smile on her face stays, as she settles back down in her chair. Crossing her feet and stretching her legs out, the Sokovian girl nods to the Jedi's analysis of her fighting style.

    "Yes, that's right. About this long," she adds, keeping her hands apart. "And very light. It's fencing, with a light blade for speed and scoring points. I don't think it's for fighting as much," she adds to the warrior. "Absolutely you're right about the rest of it, as well. Are there things like that to practice with, while you're still being trained?"

    One obviously doesn't start their Jedi career building a lightsaber; everyone has to start somewhere that won't involve getting their face burned off on a slipped grip.

    "Like a race driver and a car," she postulates. "Like...not being attached to each individual car, but having one makes you a racer no matter what. And they each have their own uniqueness...but that is sad."

    This last comment is on the topic of attachments. "I suppose I can see why, but I don't think..." She lifts her hand to her heart, making a fist. "Even if I hate some of the traditions, I could never give up my family. To let things go like that..." She shakes her head, bangs dangling from the sides of her headband. "And to not cherish something you've made yourself is equally so."

    Then she waves a hand, as if in apology. "Ah, not that I'm criticizing you! I just..." She just put her mouth in gear and hit the gas. "It seems like it would be a difficult thing to do, to live like that."

    "We have training sabers, that operate at a much lower power," Lian confirms, finally bringing her lightsaber back to her waist. Curiously, only the one is at her belt; the other is nowhere to be seen. "Stings a fair bit, but nonlethal. And we can build the training setting into a full lightsaber as well. Common for Masters building their apprentice a first saber, or for those who teach lightsaber combat."

    She listens to Rusalka talk on the subject of attachments, and inclines her head slightly. "Understandable. But in our case, it's more than just the tradition for an order of warrior-monks. It's something of a necessity. I mentioned the Dark Side of the Force on Belsavis... the honest truth is that it's a temptation for every Jedi who ever lived. It is born of negative emotion; greed, fear, anger, malice, jealousy, all of it. It is all too easy for love to turn to hatred, towards the beloved that spurned you, towards an uncaring galaxy that took them from you. Hunger for comfort, for power, for possessions. There are many, many paths to the Dark Side, and most of them start at attachment."

    She moves to stand up, bending down to start gathering her things, then adds, "That said... I am far from my galaxy and my Order. I've no younglings to set a good example for. And I'm... well, a tad older than I look. I have enough practice at letting go of what I have lost, that a little attachment is fine, now and then." There's a hint of mischief in her voice, and she straightens up briefly to bring a finger up to her lips. Shh.