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Front foot pointing forward, directing the motion. Rear foot perpendicular, braced to provide balance. Legs shoulder width apart, the base of stability. Knees bent deeply, lowering the center of gravity. Arms raised and shoulders back, freed from the restrictions of her outer cloak. Lead hand free, ready to reach for the Force. Back hand wielding her lightsaber, the glow of her kyber crystal just visible from the corner of her eye.
"The opening sstancce of Form Three showss the heart of itss philossophy." Falling into the stance in the mostly empty storage room felt as natural as exhaling. Lissarkh had come to favor the form as a Padawan studying under her Master; still forming the foundation of who she would become today. Now she was Knighted, with a young Padawan of her own; to guide and learn from in kind. A Padawan watching her from zir seat on a cargo crate with the same fascination that Lissarkh could now only half remember.
She bowed to the memory of sparing partners past, before taking her ready stance. Arms were brought down, forming a two handed grip close to her body at hip level. Her blade now held upright before her in a protective position. A guard protecting her head, shoulder, and core. A golden glow lighting her way, the way of the Jedi Sentinel.
"Ssoressu is known as the Ressiliencce form." The traditionally passive form might seem an odd choice a Trandoshan, a race known for their penchant for violence and domination, but Lissarkh had learned that she was more than just her biology. "The contained movementss, the focuss on defensse and efficienccy, all workss to consserve energy and allowss the Jedi minimize vulnerability." Lissarkh breathed out regret for the harm her people had caused. Harm that she decided help rectify. She had chosen to be more than her blood. "It is Endurancce over Dominancce."
Her shadow opponent, a conglomeration of past spars, made the opening move. She paced back, letting the Force guide her steps. Keeping distance from her nonexistence dueling partner and leading their dance to circle the improvised dojo. Light steps flowing into sturdy stance. Guarding high, then low, then back to her core. Batting away strikes of 'saber past; flashing green, blue, gold, and purple in her minds eye.
"It iss the Way of the Mynock." They were considered nuisance creature by most, but she had high hopes to become a nuisance herself to many a slave ring in the future. "Like how the Mynock perssisstss even in the cold vacuum of spacce, sso to shall we endure—" Lissarkh twisted, stepping in a tight circle, blocking imaginary blaster fire from every direction. She had known it would be a useful skill when she had practiced it, repeating the motion over and over agian, but she had no idea how critical the movement would become in her future. "—asss the eye of the sstorm. No matter how many the foe or hard the fight."
The Force flowed through her as she flowed through the demonstration, easing into a light battle meditation. She could, distantly, feel the little lights of her men draw closer. Force-null sparks all bright with emotion; today it was mostly curiosity and maybe just a touch of mischief. Stars surrounding the glowing sunrise of her Padawan's presence in the Force. Lissarkh hoped she could keep all her lights safe and bright, to bring her nest though the war and into peace. She let these thoughts and concerns drift through her mind without trying to stop or follow them, and let her body move where the Force guided.
"It iss Patiencce over Impulsse. Ssoressu remindss uss to wait, to trusst in the Forcce, until—" In her minds eye, Lissarkh saw her dueling partner begin to tire, the protracted fight wearing on them both physically and mentally. All she needed to do was wait for them to falter. There, a mistake! "— it is time to sstrike."
Lissarkh stepped close to her shadow opponent, advancing instead of retreating for the first time in the spar, and took advantage of a slightly too wide strike. She used a spiral motion to shove their 'saber down and away; disarming them. If it were a battle, and not a spar, she would have followed through to neutralize her adversary; fortunately, for temple rules, disarming counted as a win. Causing harm was never to be taken lightly and taking a life was a choice of last resort.
"It iss Control over Emotion." Lissarkh extinguished her blade and bowed, honoring both the battle and her opponent, and turned to face her audience. An audience that had certainly grown. The mostly empty storage room had become almost crowded, with her men sitting, standing and lounging in a mix of soft off-duty clothes and study armor. Lissarkh wasn't terribly surprised by the additions, there wasn't much entertainment during Prowl Company's downtime and she'd found her men to be endlessly curious about life outside of the war.
"To masster Ssoressu is to masster onesself." She took in the tan mammalian faces and hard-shelled helmets watching her with the same interest in her Padawan's little golden face, and sent a thrum of amusement down their newly formed bond. The cheeky little monkey just grinned at her from zir new perch on Zydeco's person. Well, a Jedi never turns down a chance to teach and her nestlings had come to learn. Lissarkh knelt down, settling into a comfortable seiza to continue her lecture, or as comfortable a seiza as one could have on the hard metal decking.
"Ssoressu is the philossophy of Victory through Protection." The moving mediation had left her with a feeling of serenity and Lissarkh turned her mind to force sense of those around her. Ever reliable Biter, her stalwart Captain; she could feel his disproval over her lack of armor, even in a spar. Calm and steady Zap, the fastest splicer in their company. Cheerful Jinx, never to be found without a joke or his batchmate Luck. Irascible yet caring Pace; here, no doubt, to keep an eye on his patients. Her warm and bright Padawan, Solan-ishko; assigned to her by the draft and not chosen as tradition dictated, but no less cherished. These were who she strove to protect.
"It is Ssuccessss through Control," Lissarkh watched to see the reaction to her lecture, "through Ressiliencce," She had such a hard time deciphering human and near human expressions, "though Patiencce." Her Padawan, at least, thrummed excitement along their bond; eager leap down and try zir hand at something other than the Form I taught to all Initiates. Fortunately, Lissarkh could rely on Zydeco to restrain the young Firrerreo from doing anything so foolish as to re-injure zirself. Biter as well moved to position himself so he could catch their Padawan, should ze make it past Zydeco. An instinct and technique no doubt developed by over-exuberant younger siblings.
As if he'd heard her thought about over-exuberant younger siblings, spot of amusement tinged with mischief burbled in the force, seconds before Smack chirped, "Is that how you can answer all of Quibbles questions, sir?" It was, actually, how she could keep up with Quibbles unending curiosity, but Lissarkh would never admit it. What she would or wouldn't say didn't really matter. The lecture was abruptly derailed when the aforementioned clone threw himself at his brother with an indignant cry.
Cheers and jeers covered Lissarkh's hissing laugh as the two rolled around the make-shift dojo. It reminded her vividly of the impromptu wrestling matches and scuffles that always seemed to spontaneously generate in the Temple's informal dojos. From initiates just learning Shen-cho, to senior Padawans showing of their skill, to Knights still scuffling with friends, even once, a pair of Masters who claimed they were settling a philosophical disagreement. Clone Troopers and Jedi really were more similar than the outside world would like to believe.