[Maketh smiles, humorless, and doesn't shrink back from Damen's looming bulk. He's a big man, likely a terror on the battlefield, but she's not afraid. Not of him, and truthfully not of what lingers out in Hadriel's darkness. What's done is done. Her pain was not useful and therefore it must be ignored, the memory forgotten, and the work left in her absence completed in all due haste. And what is there to mourn, when she only died for a short while?]

She is a child with too much power. I suppose it should have been anticipated.

[It's not the first time Maketh has encountered such a person. The Jedi always recruited young. Sometimes even from birth, if the rumors are to be believed. The Empire followed their example more often than not.

She tips her head back.] I was trained on a blade like this.

[She indicates a sword with a heavy grip and a straight blade, double-edged. Light enough for quick actions, but strong enough to block a larger weapon if angled correctly.]

But I have damaged my shoulder and cannot bear the weight evenly. I need something I can use with one hand.