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[ It turns out, somehow, that locked inside their houses overnight they are safe from the terrors that roam the streets. This sounds like superstition, but enough rotations have passed by now that Obi-Wan is sure it must be some kind of law of this car. He thinks he's the first one up in their household, and he takes care to be quiet before stepping outside into the foggy morning.

Everything is cradled in a muffled, pre-dawn quiet. Obi-Wan can see the edges of cobblestones coming into murky focus as the sun makes an desperate attempt to reach through the overcast, and then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Anakin is right: this world feels like the life is being leeched from it. It isn't just the plague working it's way through the town, it's a plague in the plants and the animals and the very land itself. Obi-Wan reaches out and rests himself carefully within it's aching Force signature, taking tender care not to jostle anything accidentally. He doesn't want to be an invader, he wants to find peace with it. It's difficult, and takes much more concentration than he's used to exerting while moving through katas.

Half an hour later, sweat has dampened the fine hair on the back of his neck and his tunic is clinging between his shoulderblades. Obi-Wan puffs out a breath as he draws himself out of a deep lunge, then reaches over his head and pulls his undertunic off entirely, using the fabric to wipe his face. ]

[ Cal wakes up with a jolt, his heart racing. In the dark, it takes him a moment to orient himself—this isn't the stark space of his Guild housing on Bracca, and there's no rattling hum of the Mantis in hyperspace—and steady his breathing with deep inhales and exhales in a practiced rhythm. There's faint, pre-dawn light filtering in through the window, and though it's a little earlier than he would normally get up, he already knows he's not going back to sleep.

Instead, he pulls on his clothes, sparing a brief glance to BD-1, still powered down next to his bed, before heading to the kitchen as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb his housemates.

But Obi-Wan is already up, as he can see through the window—for a second, he considers going out there too, to speak with the other man, to... just to speak with him, maybe, but he can tell that Obi-Wan is occupied and doesn't want to interrupt. In the meantime, he makes a cup of caf, rubbing sleep from his eyes and weighing old memories.

Old nightmares. Back on Bracca, he would often dream of Master Tapal, with all of his sternness but none of his warmth, stalking the halls of the Albedo Brave, scolding him for his failure, his weakness, his unworthiness. The dream has changed since then, but it still lingers with him uneasily—he wonders if it'll ever go away, or if his dreams will keep morphing and returning to remind him of that day for the rest of his life.

When he looks out the window again, Obi-Wan has straightened, limned by the soft daybreak light, and Cal makes up his mind. After dumping the dregs of his caf, he pulls on his boots and heads outside. ]

Good morning, Master Kenobi.

[ Obi-Wan is used to nightmares. He has witnessed them first hand in more ways than one while battling on the Front Lines. Most every Clone Trooper struggles through the trauma of watching their brothers die almost every day; the Jedi that are out there have them. Anakin has them.

He has them.

For the most part, he doesn't try to coddle either Cal or Anakin, and his own terrible dreams are ones that (thankfully) don't wake him up shouting in the middle of the night. Instead, he offers them tea or caf; warm water with herbs; something to eat; redirects them with something that will ground them in the moment. He knows it has nothing to do with trust, and everything to do with nursing old wounds.

Still. He can't help wondering what Cal must have gone through. It was one thing to be a grown Jedi, and quite another to know every Padawan still alive had to bear witness to the death of their Master.

He turns sidelong, tunic still in his hand at the sound of aforementioned Padawan's voice. ]

Good morning, Cal.

[ A beat, wherein he senses Cal has something he might want to talk to him about; and then he smiles warmly, using his shirt to wipe the back of his neck. ]

I hope I didn't wake you.

[ That warm smile earns a matching one from Cal, if a little more subdued, his expression softening. It's strange, being surrounded by Jedi again—finding people who understand him without him having to explain, who give him this sense of belonging. It's been a long time since he's felt like he belongs anywhere.

If going back to Ilum felt like a farewell, an ending, then coming to this house with Obi-Wan and Anakin inside feels like a homecoming, a small slice of the Jedi Temple on a train. ]

No, not at all.

[ Then he pauses, a line forming between his eyebrows as he weighs his words. Obi-Wan understands nightmares, and what it's like to live through the Purge—he was there. But it's... not easy to talk about. Even five years later, the grief, the bottomless chasm of loss is still real. Still raw, in a way. Cal doesn't think it ever won't be.

How much harder is it for Obi-Wan, who hasn't had that time and distance yet?

With some obvious trepidation, he continues: ]

Can I join you? [ Meditation, sparring—maybe something will help focus his mind, dispel the remnants of his dreams. ]

[ Obi-Wan can sense his distress, and it doesn't take much to understand that it likely came from his dreams. He knows it isn't exactly... healthy, the finger he has kept on the pulse of both Anakin and Cal. Reaching out to brush against their signatures as though incessantly checking for a fever. The fear still sits close in his heart, even though he thinks more than a month must have passed since they arrived here. Still, the little quizzical smile he gives Cal with his nervous question is endeared and indulgent. ]

Of course you can. Come, come.

[ He gestures Cal closer, tossing his tunic at the bench in front of their gothic home. It lands haphazardly on the seat, but Obi-Wan isn't looking at it — he's readjusting and clearly opening a space for the younger Jedi to join him.

There's a clear delineation between them, as they face one another. Cal is mostly dressed, booted up, ready to take off at a moment's notice. Obi-Wan, by contrast, stands barefoot in his linen slacks, seeming as though he's just stepped into the Temple Gardens for a morning warm up. Obi-Wan studies him for a moment before. ]

Have you been meditating?

[ Going through the motions was a far cry from actually succeeding, after all. ]

[ Sometimes, around Obi-Wan—and even around Anakin too—he feels like a youngling all over again, like he's still the small Padawan he was before the Purge, when all of the fully-fledged Jedi Knights and Masters were so strong and wise and powerful in his eyes. He remembers being impatient for the day when he would be one of them.

Obi-Wan's smile makes him relax a little as he takes a seat next to the older man, angled towards him, though there's still some tension in him, manifested in the line of his eyebrows and the grip of his hands on his knees. ]

Yeah. I'm getting back in the habit.

[ He closes his mouth, as if that would be the end of it, then realizes he's just stalling, avoiding the rest of the story. Opens his mouth again, his gaze falling to his knees. ]

I... after the Purge, I stopped for a while. Meditating. Whenever I did, it felt like I was back in that moment, with my Master, and my connection to the Force was just... broken.

It's better now, but it took a long time.

[ It's cool out here, but that doesn't seem to be bothering either of them at the moment. Obi-Wan's work out means he's still flushed, heat rising from his freckled shoulders like thin steam. He kneels across from Cal, the way he used to kneel across from Anakin when he was just a Padawan and needed all the help he could get centering himself. He puts his hands on his knees, palms open and soft, in opposition to the way Cal grips his own tightly.

He knows that Cal is speaking of more than one thing when he says his connection to the Force was broken, but what Obi-Wan recognizes is his own experience within it. When he lost Qui-Gon, that sudden, violent severing of their training bond had left a bleeding wound in his soul. If it hadn't been for the Order, for Anakin, he isn't sure what might have happened to him. ]

Long before the Clone Wars began, Maul killed my Master in front of me. I... was powerless to stop it, and I was much older than you at the time. The loss of your bond in such a violent way is not an easy thing to recover from. I can understand why meditation would have been difficult for you.

[ Especially when he would have had to go into hiding from the Empire. ]

[ His gaze snaps back to Obi-Wan, surprised by the revelation. ]

Your Master...?

[ It's soft, disbelieving. But then his expression changes, his shoulders lowering as if some great weight was suddenly lifted off them. Finally—finally—someone who understands. Cere had done her best, could sympathize with the manner of his loss even if she couldn't empathize, had supported him and encouraged him to move on, and that was enough.

But Obi-Wan knew exactly what it was like to watch your Master die in front of you, and not be able to do a thing about it. There's power in that shared experience. ]

Me too. I felt... powerless. [ Even now, after making peace with his Master's death, there's still regret weighing his tone. He doesn't think it'll ever go away completely.

Then he shifts, takes a breath—lets it out slowly. ] For a long time, I thought if I'd just been stronger, or braver, or a better apprentice, then I could've... saved him.

[ It will always be a bruise, but enough time has passed now that Obi-Wan no longer feels like just mentioning the man rips his heart open. He lets the ache wash over him, lets it ebb in the Force between them without taking root, empathizing with Cal's much closer injury. He hears himself in Cal's voice, and knows that there are many Jedi that experienced the same thing during the Clone Wars.

But there was something unique and awful about being trapped behind a wall, helpless. The memory lingers in him, washed in the red of the plasma shield, the red light saber, the tattoos on Maul's red skin. He does not know how Jaro died, or what the circumstances were: but he knows Cal was only a youngling when it happened. Believing he could have, should have, done more to save a fully fledged Jedi Master was ridiculous.

Obi-Wan does not voice that thought. Perhaps it is only something someone can see from the other side of having a Padawan themselves. ]

I felt the same. [ He gentles. ] But you have shown such strength and bravery to survive this long, Cal. He would be very proud of you.

[ There's something deeply comforting about hearing Obi-Wan say he felt the same way. Feeling the ache of his loss, so incredibly similar to his own, flow through the Force between them. It makes Cal feel less alone, less damaged.

And then there's something deeply affecting about Obi-Wan saying that Master Tapal would be proud of him, because he'll never actually hear the words from his Master himself. And it haunted him for so long, what his Master would think of his Padawan now, with all his mistakes and shortcomings and doubts.

But he felt it, during his last vision of Master Tapal. The warmth in him, through the Force, there in his Master's final lesson to him. Was there pride too?

Cal bows his head, emotion lodged in his throat. He's quiet for a moment, breathing in and out with intent, letting his feelings flow through him and out into the Force. ]

That's what I want to do. Make him proud. [ Even if he doesn't feel very strong or brave. Even if he doesn't really know how now that the holocron is destroyed. ]

I just wish he was still here. To teach me, to show me what to do. [ He'd felt so lost—still does, in many ways. Then he smiles ruefully, short-lived. ] That doesn't go away, does it?

[ There is such a rawness to the admission that Obi-Wan cannot help the way everything in him softens around him. He wonders at what the next generation of Jedi might have been, if such open displays of affection and loss, would have been where they were headed. Looking back on it, he can't help but feel an uncomfortable sense of pride for the way those like Barris and Ahsoka and Anakin had spoken up, even if the results were not always... ideal. How much of that was the Council refusing to listen? How much of that was them desperately cleaving to ideals that were being smashed apart by Sidious? ]

No. [ He agrees kindly, because it is true. ] It only becomes easier to live with.

[ A beat: ]

I know it is not the same, but so long as I am able, I will be glad to offer you what guidance I can.

[ He nods wordlessly. Easier to live with... he already knows the truth of that. It has become easier to live with, with time, with acceptance. Not easy, just easier. And he can live with that. He's already lived through worse. ]

Really?

[ Why the offer surprises him, he doesn't know. Maybe it shouldn't. But as it sinks in, he can't help but feel... grateful. Relieved. Moved, in a way. He's spent so long relying only on himself and learning on his own that the idea of having a fully-fledged Jedi Master to teach him is just... ]

I feel like there's so much I never got a chance to learn. Or had to figure out on my own.

[ He pauses, his expression relaxing into the first semblance of a smile. ] Thank you, Master Kenobi.

[ Not just for the offer, but for the pep talk too. ]

Edited 2021-11-06 04:45 (UTC)

[ He smiles, warm, and nods. Even though Cal has been knighted, it doesn't mean he doesn't have anything to learn. If his lessons in essence stopped when he was thirteen, then Obi-Wan believes he might be able to do something to pass some of their teachings on — even if all of them won't fit the future Cal lives in. ]

Now, would you like to try meditating with me?

[ Whatever the answer, he reorganizes himself into a cross legged position, settling in to do just that. ]

[They find a routine out here, wherever here really is. He and Obi-Wan and Cal are strangers to each other in some ways, in their sense of what and when home is. But maybe in all the ways that matter, they aren't strangers at all. Three Jedi cast out against a strange universe and they find each other, start living in the same home as if the temple on Corusant is something they're all trying to emulate. They meditate and move around each other's strangeness. Anakin finds that they're each becoming more aware of the boundaries between them. The things that are good. The things that are bad. The things they ask about and the things they don't.

They meditate and take meals together, sometimes they have tea or share meals. Sometimes they just talk and share theories.

But Anakin finds that this is the part that comes easiest. He takes himself through routines and practices his forms, and it helps in the way movement has always helped. And yet, there's really no substitution for having an opponent to face off against. A sparring partner demands all of his attention; he has to make sure he doesn't land blow badly and that he doesn't take one either. He has to learn how to move with, against another body, another style, the unknown. Outside and waiting for his partner, Anakin is able to recognize the feeling that hums in his ears. Excitement.

The hilt of his lightsaber settles in his palm and Anakin stretches idly, makes a slow figure eight as he ignites the blade and casts the trees around them in an otherworldly blue light. The front door is still open and inside, the small sounds of life travel out to meet him. All he needs to do now is be patient.]

[ Food isn't what it could be, but the peasant gruel is far from the worst thing Obi-Wan has had to weather. They have a roof and clothing and hot water, the tea he was gifted and something kind of like caf that they scrounged up and brought with them from the last car. He leaves BD-1 and Cal in the kitchen. His tea is half gone, but the heat of cooking and warm tea and the restless feeling in his skin have urged him outside head of the third member of their wayward group.

Obi-Wan cannot lie. Having Cal here, it reminds him of a gentler time. Him and Anakin and Ahsoka.

He isn't surprised to find Anakin pacing outside like some great loth-wolf. If Obi-Wan is feeling anxious, it can only be a million times worse for his former Padawan. Once upon a time, before the war ate up huge chunks of his time and life — he and Anakin would meet like this in the salles, in the garden, in their own living rooms. Obi-Wan pulls at the collar of his under tunic, letting it loose around his clavicle as he steps into the area Anakin has been circling.

Obi-Wan waits for acknowledgement before igniting his saber and twisting it into position in one movement. He points two fingers forward in a standard Soresu stance — then turns his wrist over and gestures those fingers at Anakin with a cheeky little smile. Come on. ]

[He doesn't like Soresu. He can appreciate it, some parts of that form have saved his neck, and Obi-Wan's mastery of it is like nothing else. But it always relies on too much waiting, all of the ebb and none of the flow. It asks the practitioner to guard and parry instead of lunge, to have to sit through an entire heartbeat- and Anakin can't separate that much of himself from a fight. It's a solid form and one he insisted that Ahsoka drill until she could do it in her sleep.

But he doesn't like it.
Because Obi-Wan can be so smug.

Anakin turns his saber over his hand for a second time, the blue glow catching along the ungloved plates of his arm. His stance opens, becomes a slow pacing around his target.] Don't you think it's a little early to be so cocky?

If you can't keep up, I can go easy on you.

[ The reply is on his tongue before he even has time to think about it, as easy as breathing. It would almost surprise him, if not just for how strange the last few months have been both here and in his own universe. But here they are, falling into grooves well worn over thirteen years. It feels more like home than the literal house next to him.

Obi-Wan shifts his stance but remains as he is, following Anakin with his outstretched hand and his eyes. As the other Jedi starts to move around behind him, the gold inlay of his durasteel arm reflecting that plasma blue glow, Obi-Wan adjusts to keep them facing one another without altering his defensive stance.

He won't make the first strike. He knows if he waits long enough, Anakin will come to him. He just needs to remain steady. ]

[He's developed many new skills in these last few years, and taking himself through the motions is one of them. Anakin doesn't feel like the person he's supposed to be- the shift in the war, the vision, arriving here and all of the revelations that came after-

How far is he from the man he'd been when he was knighted? How far from the one that used to laugh through training matches or the one who quipped back and forth while fighting Sith lords? Anakin treats the question like a blind spot; a perpetual haze that his attention slides away from, that fades into the background. Like so many times before, Anakin's body takes the lead. His feet guide him from one moment to the next on both instinct and honed muscle memory.

But that's all he does.
Anakin doesn't strike, doesn't lunge forward- because he knows Obi-Wan's expecting it, and this fight already has him at a disadvantage. He doesn't want to be the only one of them feeling wrong-footed and frustrated.]

How can I keep up- [Anakin's grip loosens, his fingers slowly come away from the hilt until he isn't holding it at all. Until his hands are loose and empty at his sides- and the lightsaber remains where he'd left it. Fixed to the air as his guard.] -When you aren't going anywhere?

[ Obi-Wan doesn't hide the way his eyes widen. Not because what Anakin is doing is new, but because it's new in this context. But as soon as the moment begins, it shifts. Anakin has always had the distinct talent of goading Obi-Wan, even when Obi-Wan is trying his hardest to remain impartial and even and calm. The surprise filters from his expression and morphs into something focused and curious. What are you planning? his eyes ask as his mouth ticks up in the corners. ]

Perhaps you need another lesson in keeping still.

[ He teases as he makes the first move. It's a test, more than anything else. To see if Anakin will call the saber back to his hand, or if he's feeling particularly cheeky and intends to let the Force do the work for him. ]

[He stays aware of it, his lightsaber, but Anakin's eyes don't remain there and he isn't keeping one hand frozen in place either. It looks as if his blade is held by some invisible hand, an invisible hand that doesn't move into a block. Instead the blade moves with Anakin himself, stepping neatly, tightly out of the way as if he were dodging blaster bolts.]

Well I know how much you like waiting.

[The words are sing-songy for their tease, familiar banter in an unfamiliar situation. His hands fold into a tidy parade rest, and when he feels the next swing coming both he and the lightsaber dodge for a second time.

In Anakin's experience- Soresu is all about defence, down to the bones. This isn't to say it can't be used by a duelist, Obi-Wan has faced darksiders more times than he can count. But Anakin is demanding something different from him. He wants to push Obi-Wan into going on the offensive.]

I've always told you that patience could be your greatest ally.

[ Anakin has become proficient over the years. His instincts in the Force have been honed to needle point, a kind of alert precision that rivals — if not surpasses entirely &mdahs; Obi-Wan's own. He isn't swinging his saber so much as teasing; swatting at his former Padawan like his whole heart isn't in it.

And it isn't. Soresu is his preferred form, and he has learned over the years (in part with Anakin himself) how to create an impenetrable barrier. But that sort of thing doesn't always work in a duel, and Anakin knows his style like he knows his very own. It's why when they spar these days, they are evenly matched — especially if Anakin is feeling sure and calm.

It seems like this might be one of those times.

Obi-Wan feints, comes in with a classic Form Three move, but shifts in the middle of it and alters directly into Four. Suddenly on the offensive after testing Anakin's reflexes, he comes in low. ]

[He has always said that. And Anakin has always chafed against it. It isn't a matter he takes personally, how can he? In the entire time Anakin's been among the Jedi they've insisted on talking, listening, waiting, watching, meditating. And it's not as if he doesn't understand where they're coming from, but too often do they let these ideals matter more than justice. Too often they refuse to go as far as they need to, they let status quo reign even when the status quo is terrible.

It's the reason Anakin has never been able to make the leap. To be the Jedi Obi-Wan wishes he could be, that he'd trained him to be. His former Master makes another requisite swing, half-heartedly providing Anakin with something to do. The strikes lack both effort and power, cutting too slowly through the air to present any true threat. Some part of it rankles, to not be taken seriously, and Anakin's jaw closes. His teeth click.

And finally, Obi-Wan shifts. It's more like a swipe than anything else, and Anakin recognizes it as a move meant not to take an opponent out at the ankles, but to force a shifting of weight. To shake up a stance. Instead of reaching for his own lightsaber and trying to block or counter- he backflips neatly, swinging his body up and out to land a short distance away.]

So what, I should patiently wait for you to wear yourself out first?

[ Anakin dodges back with a nimble flip, and Obi-Wan finds himself smiling before his former Padawan even lands. He straightens up and gestures wide with both hands, swinging the humming blue plasma out to the side, completely opening up his chest to attack. ]

Ah, so you have retained some of my lessons.

[ There's a cheekiness in the bante and in the glimmer of his eyes. That's precisely what Soresu is designed to do, and is the kind of thing that works exceptionally well against volatile opponents. It's also the sort of thing Obi-Wan has used in the past when Anakin is riding high, and needs an outlet to batter against. Come to think of it, he hasn't seen Anakin like that in a little while. Had that been an early warning sign too?

But he isn't thinking about that right now. Right now, he's looking at that cocky smirk on Anakin's face and realizing how much he'd missed it. Alright, so it's time to get serious.

With a sudden hop forward, he spins for momentum and brings his saber around horizontally with both hands on the hilt. ]

[It's much flashier than their fights ever are. Sparring with Obi-Wan had often been a matter of exhausting himself working his way into the man's defences. Of finally being able to push through only to end up disarmed or spent. It's been a long time since then. But already there are beats of this fight that default to those days. That snapshot of who they were.

He's aware of Obi-Wan as an extension of himself, a movement in two parts, and that must be why he knows where to be. What to do. His friend hops forward, always surprisingly light on his feet, and slashes. Anakin dips, spine bowing as he ducks beneath the blow; the lightsaber cuts through empty air.

But now that he's dropped his center of gravity, there's no reason Obi-Wan shouldn't have to follow suit. Anakin rises just long enough to drop a second time, now kicking out with one foot in an attempt to pull Obi-Wan's weight out from under him.]

[ They've had years of practice together, and Obi-Wan has had the single, fulfilling sensation of watching Anakin improve over time. Gone are the days when Obi-Wan could end the fight in three quick moves — now they are matched perfectly. It isn't a spar so much as it is a dance.

Anakin sinks underneath his saber, drops to kick his leg out. Obi-Wan flips over his lowered center of gravity and lands on one foot, flips his saber over to swing overhead and down onto his friend. They are still in the testing phase, checking one another's guards and nimbleness.

But more than that is the movement of them in the Force. Each time they come together Obi-Wan brushes up against his signature. That alone isn't unusual, they have done plenty of moving meditation together — but they have had so little time to spend in one another's company without something universe ending going on around them. Obi-Wan is keenly aware of the way it is just the two of them in this sparring circle. ]

[He feels his breath, warm and alive inside his lungs, moving though body like water- like a tide that goes all the way to his feet and then goes out. Back into Obi-Wan.

Anakin kicks out at nothing because Obi-Wan has started ignoring gravity again. His friend leaps, nimble and infuriatingly light, and his balance seems to change in the air. Obi-Wan swings down onto him and instead of making any effort to get out of the way, Anakin brings his lightsaber up and meets it. Pushes to his feet and in doing so, forces Obi-Wan's momentum to reverse.

Their signatures connect and just like that, Anakin is a brushfire, alight everywhere.]

[ After fighting those boar creatures alongside Obi-Wan, Cal is more than aware of his shortcomings when it comes to lightsaber combat, especially in comparison to experienced Jedi Generals. The basics he learned as a Padawan are rusty after five years of disuse, so his forms must be a mess, and everything else he's picked up wasn't so much "picked up" as made up as he went out of pure desperation.

So he already knows that he's probably very little match for Anakin. He's just here to learn and get some of this... this restless energy out of his system. After five years in hiding, it had felt good to wield a lightsaber again, to take action—it's a feeling that still thrums under his skin even now. Even though there is no immediate threat here, no reason to fight.

Standing across from Anakin, he releases a deep breath and ignites his lightsaber, glowing orange against the other saber's blue. Then, adjusting his grip, he brings his lightsaber up in a guard position in front of him, waiting. ]

I'm a little out of practice, alright? [ Don't go too hard on him. ]

[Anakin had drifted towards combat training even as a youngling. Of course there was the part of him that had lofty dreams of being a heroic Jedi Knight. But what kept him coming back to the practice was the way it made him feel. Much like building a droid or repairing a speeder- combat is straightforward. Things become simpler, there's a right and wrong, what works and what doesn't. It gave him a place to finally push the thoughts out of his head. But there were times... when he believed that it was the only part of being a Jedi that he was any good at.

Training with Obi-Wan had been lessons on patience, constant reminders to be aware of the limits. Training with Ahsoka had been a lesson on letting go, arming her as best as he could and being forced to trust. But this isn't training. Anakin holds onto the thought as if it's keeping him tethered to the ground- and then Cal ignites his blade and he's finally able to think about something else. Orange. That's a strange color. It's different like Master Windu's.

The blade crosses over his chest as Cal settles into a guard. Anakin finds that his mouth has curved up at the edges as his weight shifts,] Don't worry about it. [As he adjusts his grip on his lightsaber and uses the movement as a diversion. Because two small stones lift from the earth at Cal's back, hovering in the air for just a moment before Anakin jerks two fingers and the stones are launched towards him.]

We're just stretching.

[ Somehow, don't worry about it makes the opposite happen, and Cal shoots Anakin an incredulous look, his brow furrowing. He might not know Anakin as well as Master Kenobi does, but he gets the funny feeling that...

At the last possible moment, he ducks out of the way of the stones, so that they fly past harmlessly. If he had BD-1 riding shotgun on his back, as usual, he probably would've had more of a warning—but this time, he gets to rely on good old-fashioned Jedi spidey sense. ]

So it's going to be like that, huh?

[ He shakes his head a little, in a put-upon way, a lopsided sort of grin on his face. Still, he doesn't make any sort of first move—he'll let Anakin do that, if possible. Well... other than throwing stones. ]

[Cal's brows come together and in the moment before awareness catches up with him, before he ducks out of the way- Anakin offers a crooked, playful smile instead of a word of warning. They haven't been shoulder to shoulder in combat, his only real knowledge of Cal's abilities is what he's glimpsed in moments like this.

The pebbles go sailing by him as Cal's weight shifts; his guard opens up, but he keeps a good center of gravity. Anakin's eyes travel to his grip, centralized- on a hilt that's longer than his own- and then to Cal's lopsided grin. He remains on the defensive and Anakin knows that any other Master in this position would use patience. Obi-Wan and Plo Koon and Master Yoda would default to a neutral stance to welcome a challenge, to allow their opponent to test their strength.]

Why Cal-
[But Anakin is not patient.
He stalks forward, closing the distance between them as he swings. It's an overhead strike- meant to draw an opponent's block up, to force a choice from Cal to either expose his torso or give ground.]

I have no idea what you mean.

[ It's a good thing Anakin makes the first move, or they might've been here all day. As he brings his lightsaber down, Cal brings his up to block it—but rather than meet Anakin's saber head on, he uses the swing's momentum—and his own strength—to deflect the strike instead and sidestep out of the way.

A trick he learned while fighting Malicos—and his punishing overhead strikes. ]

Did Master Kenobi teach you that?

[ The rock thing, not the... other thing. He's smiling outright now, teasing in a good-natured way. He might have had his training cut off when he was a Padawan, but he's pretty sure they don't teach those kinds of underhanded tactics at the Temple. He tries to imagine Master Tapal pulling off such a move, but—nope. Not possible. ]

[He's used to breaking guards this way. It's natural for less experienced duellists to stand their ground when they shouldn't, to plant their feet and put all of their strength into their crossed blades. But he's found that the maneuver also holds true in those who over-estimate their power.

Instead of meeting him in a battle of wills and instead of throwing distance between them, Cal's blade carries his own. A smooth deflection.

Anakin, who has never been a very conventional Jedi anyway, doesn't bother to disguise the genuine pleasure in his expression. Good, he thinks.] No, that was the constant blaster fire. [He says it the way someone else might shrug. Though to be fair, dodging never-ending rounds became a necessity for everyone.]

Obi-Wan taught me the important things. Like sassy commentary during a fight.[His weight shifts, and Anakin brings his lightsaber around for a side strike as he continues pressing forward. Invading Cal's space.]

[ That gets a laugh out of Cal, even as he struggles a little to bring his lightsaber around to block Anakin's next strike, giving up some of his ground. ]

I noticed that before. [ Obi-Wan's penchant for sassy commentary, that is, during their fight against the weird creatures. Good to know it was passed down from Master to Padawan. ] Maybe you both can teach me a thing or two about that.

[ He sticks mostly to parrying and deflecting as Anakin presses forward, trying to stay agile and swift so he isn't forced too far back on his heels. He knew from the beginning that he would be outclassed, but it's now clear to him now just how outclassed he is—Anakin is fast, strong, relentless, much more experienced. And he's probably even holding back, which is a humbling thought.

He needs more space, to catch his breath. When the opportunity arises, he dives to the side and rolls out of the range of Anakin's lightsaber, quickly coming back up on his feet, guard up. ]

Something tells me you're a fast learner.

[Cal is slowing down- no. He's just struggling against the power of his strikes. Its good, that means it isn't a matter of reflexes or instincts, and his head is still in it. Those qualities are much harder to teach, sometimes even impossible. There are few capable of matching him blow for blow, and even fewer with a defence he can't break through; Cal's making good calls to redirect his strikes.The orange blade comes up, comes across, deflecting as he gives ground again and again. And then-

He dives out of range and Anakin's strike goes wide. As he cuts harmlessly through the air, Cal rolls neatly along his periphery, getting back to his feet. Anakin grins in his direction, pausing in his assault and bringing his blade back to center.] You're light on your feet, that's good.

[His stance squares up for this new distance between them.] If I want to get to you make me work for it. Using up some energy'll slow down my strikes.

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