Theron Shan

About this time last week, Theron had, with all the excellent decision making skills of a teenager pretending he wasn't in the middle of an angstfest, taken more of his savings than was perhaps wise and grabbed a semi-random portal back to his own galaxy. Which, because apparently the Force loved irony, dumped him out on Manaan. Since there wasn't a whole lot for non-Selkath to do here , especially unaccompanied adolescent ones, (especially now,) those same excellent decision making skills had led to following in his ancestor's footsteps and trying his hand at the swoop-races here (under a false name, he wasn't that stupid).

Turned out this was one area where he did live up to the family legacy. Sure, these were strictly the minor leagues, and it wasn't like he was winning every race he entered, but he was winning enough, and placing high enough to more than earn back his entry fee when he didn't. And while he didn't really care about the money, beyond not losing too much of it, he had to admit the attention didn't completely suck.

Careful not to disturb his company, he rolled over in the bed and poked, not for the first time, at a spot on his hip. It was completely useless, the implant was designed to be unobtrusive and the quality of the kolto here (forget getting dunked in a tank, you could probably just walk through the stuff have it work just as well) meant there wasn't even mark to show for it, but he still wanted to reassure himself that what mistakes he was making this week, that hadn't been one of them.

Theron wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been at enclave, or for that matter, how long it had been since he'd left Master Zho in the caverns, his sense of time being one of the first things to go once the dehydration and exhaustion kicked in, but it was the first morning he'd been able to get out of bed without immediately keeling over, and one of the enclave's Padawans had instructed him to meet Master Till'n in the meditation garden.

Any calming effect the garden might normally have had was completely ruined by the stiff, almost awkward way Master Till'in held himself, putting Theron inexplicably on edge.

"You've rested, eaten?" Till'in asked, his Basic tinny through his breath mask.

Theron realised he only really had Master Zho's example to go on, but he kind of expected Jedi Masters to be better at small talk. But since Master Zho had also taught him to be respectful, he replied with a sincere "Yes, Master Till'in. I'm grateful for your aid."

"It's been our privilege to have your company." As they walked, Till'in laid a light hand on his shoulder, the gesture lacking any of the ease the same would have from Master Zho. "However...I fear you cannot stay."

Theron stopped short. "What?" He had a very bad feeling about this.

Till'in looked him in the eyes, well, as much as a Kel Dor could look a human in the eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss, but the power of the Force is not within you," he said, each word landing in Theron's gut with a heavy, inexorable thud. "You will never be a Jedi. There is nothing for you here."

[OOC: Dialogue taken from Star Wars: The Old Republic - The Lost Suns #2. NFI, NFB.]