Parents: The Outer Jedi

In a moment of distraction, a stray gust of wind, as casual as inbound crafts on Courascant, as chaotic as a sand storm on Tatooine, as violent as a starving Kell Dragon, thrust itself underneath his body and flung him over to one side. For a minute, only one hand was holding onto an extrusion in the almost uniform rock face. His legs dangled over an infinite abyss, layers of clouds and mist obscuring the ground far below. He turned and looked up, before his fingers could no longer hold him, and found another bulge just a few centimeters above him. He tried to swing back but the ferocious wind tugged at his grey robes and wouldn’t allow him to physically move himself. There was no other choice. He had to do it. It was either this or falling to his death. He focused on the clear bulge and wrapped his mind around it like a lasso. When he could feel the grip, the strong link between him and that impassioned piece of stone, he pulled. This was not the way he was taught this skill. He had to reverse engineer the trick, visualize pulling the immovable object but instead pull himself. He yanked harder, overcoming the pull of the winds and regaining his position on the side of the cliff. There, no trouble. Keep climbing.
At the end of the larger portion of an hour, he reached the point where you send your hand up but find no extension of the wall, nothing except a corner, an edge, and you find a different hold, and you pull yourself up, slowly, with all your might, until you can finally get into a position which is not straight up vertical and rest for a while. He slumped down on the ground, his chest heaving, forcing his breath to return to normal.
“You’re insane,” A voice said and a head obscured the lovely scene above him of the three conjunctive moons overtaken by a cloud.
“Thank you… for pointing that out… Razi. Like you… so often… do.” He exhaled everything and stood up before drawing breath again. Then he started walking as he talked. “It has to be done that way. It’s the challenge, gaining the privilege.”
“To visit your parents?”
Soon, passed several rock formations, lay the tiny space where Razi has landed their ship and beyond it, a solitary graveyard, full of worn out tombstones and monoliths, almost at the edge of the summit.
“Yes, indeed,” He said and reached for the back of his belt, unhooking the intricately designed silver and black tube. Two, meter long, humming lances of light emerged from either end of it. One was a shade of purple so deep, it was nearly black. The other, an orange of the kind usually found in the bowls of ship power cores or in the midst of an active star. He laid it on a small pedestal between two identical graves near the entrance of the graveyard. He leaned over one edge and turned his head. The shimmering blade hissed as one drop of sweat evaporated upon contact. The ritual was repeated for the other side and the other grave. He slowly dropped to his knees and bowed before the graves.
“Mother, father, I tribute my effort, my energy. I fight for what you taught me to believe. I fight for what you fought for. And as long as I still have breaths to go, I will keep on fighting.” He bowed again, a long, deep bow, and then he snatched up the lightsabre, switched it off and hooked it back on his belt. “Let’s go,” He said as he passed Razi with a swift walk, almost jogging to the ship.
“They taught you to go against the council’s orders?” Razi asked as he literally jogged up the boarding ramp behind him.
“No,” The Jedi said as he pushed the button to raise the ramp. “In their day, the council had a little bit of sense.”


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