Atlas Gym, Sunday Morning
Between one thing and another, Ahsoka hadn't really gotten round to putting the new lightsabers she'd built through their paces, or even taking a decent look at them...and she had enough self-awareness to realise she was bordering on actively putting it off, and she had to change that.
Besides after that fire drill, she needed the stress relief before she decided to mess with Anakin's hair goop.
So today (in the same grand tradition that be best way down from a height when you couldn't see the bottom was to jump) she'd gotten up early, retrieved her sabers, clipped them to her belt (deliberately, this time) and strode into the gym (with enough determination for one staff member to yell at another 'get out the sign') to practice.
Not that she'd actually lit them yet. Instead turning the hilts over in her hands to find the balance. The shoto was easy enough, being, you know, short, but the other, she wasn't sure she'd seen a hilt as long (longer) as her forearm before, at least not for a single blade.
...and she was still stalling. The design was unfamiliar, but they felt right, whichever hand they were in, however she was holding them. Sighing and flipping them into a regular grip, she braced herself and thumbed the switches.
With a familiar hum, another thing Ahsoka hadn't realised how much she'd missed, a pair of brilliant, pure white blades leapt into being. She stared at them, brow-markings slightly furrowed. "Huh."
[Open gym, open post.]
Besides after that fire drill, she needed the stress relief before she decided to mess with Anakin's hair goop.
So today (in the same grand tradition that be best way down from a height when you couldn't see the bottom was to jump) she'd gotten up early, retrieved her sabers, clipped them to her belt (deliberately, this time) and strode into the gym (with enough determination for one staff member to yell at another 'get out the sign') to practice.
Not that she'd actually lit them yet. Instead turning the hilts over in her hands to find the balance. The shoto was easy enough, being, you know, short, but the other, she wasn't sure she'd seen a hilt as long (longer) as her forearm before, at least not for a single blade.
...and she was still stalling. The design was unfamiliar, but they felt right, whichever hand they were in, however she was holding them. Sighing and flipping them into a regular grip, she braced herself and thumbed the switches.
With a familiar hum, another thing Ahsoka hadn't realised how much she'd missed, a pair of brilliant, pure white blades leapt into being. She stared at them, brow-markings slightly furrowed. "Huh."
[Open gym, open post.]