Dashara stood still. Her right side pointed at the door with a weapon in hand. She pointed the blade toward the floor in a non-aggressive, but ready stance. Her left hand rested on her hips while she studied the lighter weight weapon. With a flick to the right, it swung faster than she expected through the air. No effort needed to adjust the motion back to the left.

After a few more test swings before she lowered it down again. The faint hum rang in her ears. It reminded her of how much it could sting. The Inquisitor's words began to rumble in her head.

'Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, you gain strength.
Through strength, you gain power.
Through power, you gain victory.
Through victory, your chains are broken.
The Force shall free you.'

A perfect lie.

Dashara recalled the last time she used her anger or passion to free herself. Nothing happened when she applied to the force. These emotions failed to save her. Now they battered at her control. A fire under her surface began to rise from her core. The passion and fury began to swell in her. It sparked her into action when she decided to stop holding it back.

Her arm jerked out, then slashed to the right. She took a step forward then back, jostling for an advantage against an invisible enemy. She twisted to the left as she continued to circle about. Each movement held purpose and graceful intention. A dancer with a passion to maneuver her foe while defending her ground. Her father's description brought a smile to Dashara's lips.