[h2][center]Ben Solo[/center][/h2]

Ben felt distant from the Master, Odette, and the padawans. Outside the Temple, they had converged on the monumental steps. With Luke at the top gazing intently back, thoughtfully so, at the former Jedi temple. Ben had grown tired, exhausted. All of his worrying, his visages, frustration, his anger... all of it had physically drained him. It made him ill-tempered. Not even the quirkiest of padawans had dared near him, feeling his anger through the patchwork of the Force. 

They would be hairline fractures in the grand scheme of things he imagined. 

His fear of the dark-armored warrior stayed close to his heart. It was a cold, ghostly feeling. A spectral hand that beckoned and caged him all at once. His thin dark brows lowered over his cold eyes, his lean face was pale even in the brisk, warm, sunlight. Ben looked down at his hand. His fingers were calloused and dirty, long and strong. 

He could still feel Odette on his palm. When she embraced him in that dark hall, he instantly embraced her back but refused to speak. After a meaningful minute, he had grabbed her shoulders, slipped his hand in her's, and retraced their steps back; his lightsaber's crackling blue light led them back. He had nearly hurt her in his desperation. It was scary for him.

Now, they waited for Master Luke to give his orders. 

[center][I][b]There's too much Vader in him...[/b][/I][/center]

[color=red][I]I won't allow myself to be lied too! Not anymore, not after this. I will find the truth![/I][/color] His fist balled until his veins knotted against his skin.

While the master spoke, Ben motioned down the stairs and strode away. At the moment he cared little for whatever they were talking about. It all seemed meaningless now, the training, the mentoring, the lies... the secrets. Ben's jaw tightened as he called on the Force and pulled his lightsaber into his hand, with a swift motion the blade crackled to life. 

The padawans were startled into looking his way. 

He felt their curiosity in the Force. But he didn't have anything for them look into, to peer at. It was simple hostility, anger that felt uncontrollable. With a brutal slash he scarred the stairs black. A piece of the squarded brick split in two and broke apart. Ben heaved vehemently from the onslaught he delivered afterwards.  

[color=red][b]"I'am broken and split in two, Master. Yet you've done nothing to piece me together. These talks are only making it worse, pushing it back so that it can explode later. You will tell me the truth about what you're hiding from me,"[/b][/color] he tried to control his madness but felt it slip towards the end.