Ask A Friday Afternoon

[Alexios De'jaal]

Dromund Kaas,
The Sith Academy​

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The academy on Dromund Kaas had been his home for four long years, and over that time it hadn’t failed to disappoint. The weather never got any more pleasant, and rarely did it ever get less boring. It was a wonder that he hadn’t gone mad already, but as always, he had his music to keep him occupied. That, combined with his favorite spot to relax– a quaint little courtyard with surprisingly beautiful vegetation– was making this afternoon pleasant. Placing himself on an open bench, the man would begin the careful process of tuning the instrument.

Once finished, he’d beginning thrumming out a couple strums, testing the waters before he found a beat. A pluck, a strum across the middle, and two plucks in quick succession, with a steady thump in the background. The boy smirked just a little bit, the slightest bit pleased with himself. With a few repetitions of his beat, Alexios slipped in a quiet hum into the background, one that complimented the beat. The chorus had come together, and so naturally, he moved onto the verses.

He went through a number of options; a dozen different combinations of plucks, strums, hums and thrums followed. This was always the most frustrating part of improvising a piece (one he’d probably never bother to play again) but he went through the process regardless. Eventually he settled on a tempo shift and a key change, with a bridge that would go back to the start of a verse upon the second repetition. The whole structure of the song was a little on the antiquated side, blending the old styles of the songs his tutors taught him in his youth, and the more modern beats the young noble was used to listening to in his off time.

With the melody completed, he’d go through it over the next fifteen minutes. He wasn’t quite sure if he’d bother committing it to sheet music; it was well put together (as was all he wrote,) but he wasn’t sure if this was something he’d actually enjoy playing on the regular. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to find anyone with good enough taste to genuinely appreciate it. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder– and unfortunately, most of the time the beholder was blind.

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@llamallove

 

[Zoella Dorran]

Dromund Kaas was nothing like Korriban, where Zoella had first begun her instruction in the philosophy and tutelage of the Sith. Korriban was dry. Dusty. You could never be certain if you were kicking up actual dust or the remains of some ancient Sith Lord forgotten to time and blown away with the wind.

Dromund Kaas, on the other hand, was a planet covered in endless jungles and oceans, that made you long for the great indoors, where air-conditioning and ice cold water were abundant and readily available. The moisture in the air clung to your clothing, which wasn't ideal considering all of the teenage boys wandering the halls of the Sith Academy. Talk about body odor.

Zoella was, however, fond of the planet's gloomy weather. Dark rain clouds that never failed to shower the earth reminded her of Arkanis, her home planet.

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The Acolyte wandered out of the jungle, exhausted and soaked from the early morning rain and her own sweat. Friday and Saturday mornings used to be the days of the week that the teenager slept in late, sometimes even until noon. Now that Sah'ra Ryun was her master, she was up at the crack of dawn on both days—running through the jungle and training with her Master.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Zoella knew she was fortunate. Champions were in short supply, and many Acolytes went without a Master. Sah'ra Ryun had taken her under her wing when Zoella had needed it most, and the teenager was grateful. Thankful. And sore. So, so sore.

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"Do you mind if I sit here?" Zoella asked a boy sitting alone in the courtyard. Not waiting for an answer, she plopped herself down on the courtyard's cobblestone floor beside the bench. Aware that she still ought to be polite, she waved a hand at his instrument and added, "Is that a hallikset?"

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@Tom

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[Alexios De'jaal]

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The melody went on once more, an added repetition just so he got everything right. Catching errors in the opening stages helped quite a bit in establishing muscle memory, so the boy’s focus was almost entirely dedicated towards the music. Ofcourse, that “almost” was definitely an almost, as he caught the slightest hint of an approach from the forests as he sat there. A quick glance to his right caught the silhouette of a person, and that was as much thought he gave before he continued strumming. It was only after said person arrived and stopped right at his bench that he took his fingers off the strings.

When he managed to look at the girl, he took a few seconds to respond, giving her another glance and watching as she’d casually sit on the ground. She’d obviously been running, as evidenced by the heavy amount of sweat… and the smell. He resisted the temptation to scoot away from the girl; as much as he wanted to get away from the stench, being so outwardly rude went against all the rules of etiquette he was expected to follow. As he prepared to answer her first question though, she asked another, about his instrument. She… seemed to have it confused with a Hallikset.

“Charmed.” He thought to himself, before giving her a quick shake of the head. “No; this is a kithara. An instrument from my homeworld. Very old, quite niche, but wooden and seven stringed— so, usually confused with other instruments like the one you mentioned.” He replied, finding that he was less annoyed than he thought he was in having to explain to the girl. It wasn’t like most people knew what he was carrying.

As he set his instrument down on his lap, he took the case off the bench, before patting the now open space by his side. “…I don’t think we’ve met.” He declared, shifting to a tone that was a hint more casual. “You… no, maybe there was a class we took… no, definitely not.” He went on, before shaking his head again. “You’re a little older anyways. Probably have a master by now.”

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@llamallove

 

[Zoella Dorran]

The boy didn't seem to mind Zoella's unannounced presence—or, at least, he didn't say that he minded, which was good, because now that Zoella was down, she didn't think she could find the strength or the will to move. Until she caught her breath, she would remain fixed here beside this stranger.

"A kithara?" Zoella echoed, still panting.

The teenager was desperately in need of a cold shower, her clothing and her hairline drenched in her own sweat. As if it would help, she wiped her forearm against her brow. There were (mercifully) no mirrors nearby, but a mirror wasn't necessary for Zoella to realize her sorry state. She must have looked a sight, and not in a good way. Some first impression this was, but at that moment she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too exhausted to care about first impressions.

"I've— I've never heard of it before."

The blonde teenager tugged at her clothing, as if that would provide relief. It didn't. Slowly—painfully, she drug herself to her feet just long enough to move from the cobblestone courtyard to the bench.

Finally, she thought to introduce herself, extending a sweaty palm to shake. "I'm Zoella, by the way," she breathed, reconsidering the next moment. "Oh. Right. Sorry." The Acolyte withdrew her hand, wiping it off on her pants before presenting it once more.

"That song you were playing. Did you compose it yourself?"

@Tom

 

[Alexios De'jaal]

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"I've-- I've never heard of it before."

"Wow. What a surprise." He sarcastically thought to himself, glancing down at her with an increasingly judgmental eye. He wasn't one to openly insult or belittle those he found to be lacking taste or proper manners-- that was his mother. No, he simply sat in quiet judgement, increasingly convinced that this was a social interaction he ought to pull himself out of. Admittedly, she hadn't done anything... wrong, so to speak. It wasn't her fault that the air was musty and that it was especially warm out, and these exercises were probably something required of her.

But that didn't stop him from eyeing her with apprehension as she slowly sat up, moving more like an 80 year old than an 18 year old. As she extended a hand, he'd glance down at it, visibly coated in salty, sticky sweat. "Deus help me." He thought to himself, but she immediately pulled her hand back, apologized, and wiped it off. His eyebrows rose in a moment of surprise at the girl's demonstration of semi-decent decorum. That alone was enough to cross her off the "stinky pleb" designation he was ready to slap on her.

Slowly, the boy extended his hand, gripping hers and shaking quickly and firmly. For being... thin, his grip had a surprising weight to it. "I'm... Alex. Alex De'jaal." He introduced himself, a mixture of his formal title and the more casual name he used while talking to friends or partygoers. It was than that the girl surprised him again, asking if the song he'd been playing was one of his own making. The hints of a smile began to form on the boy's lips, and he'd answer with a quick nod.

"Compose is a... pretty heavy word, but I guess it applies." He elaborated, glancing down at the case. "I've... neglected my practice with it for awhile now, but I'm trying to get back into it." Alexios went on, before looking back up at her. "I'll admit, it's difficult juggling academics, music, force training, and physical training." He confessed, beginning to find himself in... a conversation? Well, it was more small talk if anything else. Yet the, "But you seem to have that last part down pretty well." came out more friendly than anything he'd said up to that point.

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@llamallove