Another Day, Another Brother

[Aver Brand]

Aver grinned. “Do I ever?”

The phrik knife had moved down to her boot, ousted by the superior cutting edge of Sa Sevai. It was the handle of the Queen, then, that her fingers wrapped around. The merc drew it from its terentatek sheath, a single soundless motion, and set the marbled kukri against her wrist.

Silly action holovids, always showin’ people slitting her palm. You didn’t want no blade going through all those tendons and tender muscles – far too easy to slip too deep, end up with a hand you couldn’t use.

Squeezing a fist above the basin, Aver drew a sharp, quick line across her veins.

Rich redness spilled down the silver skin and black tattoo, pattering against the carved stone— and then it stopped. As she lay her forearm back on the counter, there was nothing left but a faint white line.

“That enough for ya?”

 

[Dissero]

He liked his blades and cutting implements. In his hayday as an emerging Alchemist and Blacksmith he'd grown fond of forging weapons for others. Coldharbor had been one of his first digs, one of his first stores - a predecessor to his beloved Marrow & Illskins shoppes. Dissero had even made a small reputation for himself where his blades were concerned, though nothing on level with the great smiths such as Rave or Seydon or Ijaat. He might have were it not for the nature of the beast that was a maturing and evolving lifestyle, he might've kept at the forge on a far more regular basis.

But now it seemed he only took to the hammer and anvil and heat of the forge for personal projects, or for those of clientele. So it came as a shock to watch the woman unsheathe a piece he'd crafted not so very long ago. Blue eyes followed the weapon as it slid across his view, the man's expression having gone flat like a stone while he watched. Could have been mistaken for being potentially squeamish with blood, but that seemed unlikely for someone in his line of work. No, he wanted to deny what was staring him in the face. That out of this entire galaxy there had to be others out there that did similar work.

Yet there was no mistaking his work and, frankly, there was no missing his own touch of power within it.

I can always sniff out me own wares ... Kep had explained to Gabriel Sionoma years ago.

The blood patted into the bowl, causing a reaction of the stone where the carved symbols began to emit a faint crimson glow.

“That enough for ya?”

Dissero tore his gaze from the dagger to look up at the helmet staring at him, suppressing a strong desire to see the face beneath the plating, "Aye," he said finally, "that'll do."

Shouldn't say anything but he couldn't help it.

"That's a nice blade," how the feth did you get it? he wanted to say, "make that yourself?"

 

[Aver Brand]

Played one too many games of Sabacc to miss his expression.

Aver paused with the blade halfway back in its sheath, turning sharp blue eyes to the man. Her grin faded as she worried the sharp point of a tooth with her tongue. With a slow breath, she filled her lungs with stale air.

Her skin prickled.

“Nah,” the merc said after a beat. “If I could do alchemy, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” With a soft shk, she slid Queen the rest of the way home. Her hand lingered on the pommel before she reached out to retrieve her gauntlet.

“She was a gift. This won’t be, though – so let’s talk payment.”

 

[Dissero]

Well, he hadn't said anything about it being alchemized, but her comment was enough to answer his suspicions. That blade and it's sheath had been forged, alchemized, and crafted by him. His cousin had put on the finishing touches - a gift indeed, for a friend.

How in Seven Hells had this woman become friends with the Beastia?

"Quite the gift," he replied, brow furrowing as he unstoppered the glass vial and placed within it a roll of waxed and treated parchment, pulled open at the top to use as a funnel. Lifting the stone basin, symbols still glowing and the smell of the arcane lingering in the air, he carefully poured out the contents of blood into the vial. Not a single drop remained in the bowl when he set it back down. The glow dissipated with a lingering aroma of burnt flesh.

"A downpayment is required at the onset of the project," deft fingers returned the crystal stopper to the bottle, the latter disappearing into a pocket, "but I can't give you a final price until I have a better idea of the materials and time required."

 

[Aver Brand]

“Quite the friend.”

Lips pinched as Aver regarded his shifting expression. From stone to determination to business. All in the span of a minute. Blue eyes narrowed.

What did you see?

But like with the rest of her questions, this, too, would have to wait. “Credits? Or will you be wantin’ something more… palpable?”

Whatever it turned out to be, the merc wasn’t concerned. There were certain perks to running one of the biggest trading hubs on the Outer rim.

 

[Dissero]

Quite the friend indeed. It took some kind of revolutionary something to gain that sort of favor with Quietus. The Beastia didn't make requests for such gifts for just anyone. Dissero pushed the furrow from his brow with a hand through his hair, using the distraction of putting away the stone basin to reset his mindframe.

"Credits will do," back to business, he turned to face the woman again with an amiably neutral expression, "but barter payments in rare materials or high quality crystals in the raw are always on the table."

 

[Aver Brand]

Just once, she’d like to visit an alchemist, and leave just as unperturbed as she arrived. Just once. Was that so much to ask?

But nooo. A hundred questions running through her head, and no way to answer them. Aver scowled at her HUD as she reached down to retrieve a credit chit.

“Should be enough there to cover any expenses.” It was one of the chits she used for high-stakes sabacc buy-ins. The small plastic rectangle contained enough credits to purchase a sprawling villa in Theed and still have enough left to renovate the whole damn thing.

Along with the chit, Aver slid her datalogger contact over the counter.

Well, one of them, anyway.

She canted her head with a wry grin. “Good day, Mr. Alchemist.”

And with the soft chime of a bell, the merc was gone.

 

[Dissero]

Several weeks later...

A message pinged in through the contact information provided on the datalogger.

To: A Woman of Armor Inside and Out

Your order is complete and ready to serve. Please return at your earliest convenience for pick-up.

Signed: A Man With an Enchanted Piano

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver didn’t dignify the message with a reply. She just showed up.

The soft chime of the bell announced her arrival to nobody at all. Unlike the last time, there was no confused pause – the merc headed straight past the counter and down the long, musty corridor.

“I do take it off sometimes, you know,” Aver said by way of greeting, striding right up to the stage.

“Just like you do other stuff besides alchemy, I imagine.”

 

[Dissero]

No music playing this time but the man could be found in the Opera Hall, back on the stage, back at the piano again. This time, however, he wore a shirt of fraying cloth marked by various stains. Work shirt, no doubt, and a favorite at that. The piano was open, it's beautifully crafted innards exposed, and the Alchemist stood hunched over, installing new tuning pins.

A chuckle echoed from beneath the lid, that pair of sapphire blues turning to glance out at the woman in armor as she strode down the aisle between the stacks. He gently shook his head and continued about his business.

"Peace. It is a providence, and no great change; we are only what we always were," he replied, "but naked now. Aye, naked!"

Piece in place, he leaned to stand erect beside the instrument, arms lifting as he walked towards the bench, "And the winds! God's icy wind, will blow-" reaching the keys he leaned to plunk a finger directly on an ivory note -

blonk. echoed in response flatly through the auditorium.

"Well damn, that's not right." That same hand moved to itch at his beard, brow furrowed.

A brow lofted, secondary glance shot at the walking, talking suit of armor, an amiable smile growing in the ruff on his face, "Sometimes I do, but Alchemy is where I find my comfort," he did not comment on her armor or where she found her own comfort.

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver lofted a brow of her own at the impromptu recital, but said nothing. She remained impassive right up until the flat note interrupted the speech.

As she propped her elbows on the stage, her face split into a gleeful smirk. Uncultured Nadir swine. “You got something for me besides a free show?”

Not just the thespian sort, either.

Was it wrong, staring at his bent-over ass when she suspected the things she did? Not until she was sure, Aver reckoned, and swept her gaze down as he leaned under the lid again.

 

[Dissero]

"It's only a show if you are entertained," replied the man, oblivious to the fact that the woman might've been referring to anything other than his reprisal of The Crucible.

A tweak here, a quarter turn there, he abandoned the piano body to test the key one last time. At the resulting resonance of a perfectly tuned note he smiled and nodded, "I do, in fact, have something for you. Just here, actually." The man leaned to pick a small box off the piano bench and strode across the stage to the stairs, recounting steps he'd taken from her last visit to meet the armored woman on the same level.

"Had a feeling you'd show up today," an easy expression greeted the woman as he stopped a few feet away and held the box out for her to take, "pink, gold, and extra shiny just like you wanted."

 

[Aver Brand]

Slowly turning to face him by the time he descended the stage, Aver let her gaze fall to his open palm. Her expression was that of someone being proferred a primed grenade – and in many ways, the ring was exactly that.

Time to go out on a limb.

Aver exhaled and pinched the box from his hand.

It opened with a click, revealing a metal band that was neither pink, nor gold, nor particularly shiny. It was beautiful, though. The mercenary stiffened as its effect began to leak past the layers of armor.

Suppose it was fitting, that her undoing would be just as efficient as she was herself.

Her left gauntlet came off, then the glove of the underlay. With a breath of hesitation, Aver slid the ring on her finger. Blue eyes screwed shut.

Mental walls corroded into dust at her feet. The land beyond… as of yet unfathomable. This was not the place or the company to explore them with. She blinked at the ring with the curious gaze of a cat that had pushed a vase off the table, and was now surprised to see it shatter into a million pieces on the ground.

Time to go out on another limb.

“So deadpan humor is a family trait, is it?”

 

[Dissero]

Arms folded at his front, one hand calmly stroking his beard, he watched the woman take on the burden of emotion. It was a graceless act, to be sure, but not one he'd openly comment on. Despite her hidden face and body, it was clear that this was a thing not taken lightly nor with any shred of comfort. His lips thinned, a thoughtful sound the response to her remark.

"Noh," said the man with a small smirk, "it's more of a me trait."

But family wasn't something he was willing to discuss with a shoppe client regardless of the likelihood that she knew at least one of them. It was still entirely possible she'd stolen that dagger and made up the story of it being a gift. Lied. He was still a suspicious man at his core and he'd not rule such things out for someone who refused to show their face during a peaceful transaction.

"That ring," cutting her to the chase before she had a chance to re-track her question, "is not something you should wear for very long. Not at first. It will do exactly what you intended and your mind will need to become acquainted with its nature in controlled and measured doses. I recommend wearing it only in the company of those you trust, and never wear it while you are experiencing strong negative emotions such as rage, terror or depression. There are limits to the threshold of its safe and useful functionality. If you push them," the smirk had vanished from his expression, the hand left his beard to point at the artifact, "there will be consequences."

 

[Aver Brand]

Her reply was the tilt of a head, the quirk of a red mouth. Aver held his wary gaze for a long beat.

“I don’t intend to.”

True to her words, the ring came off in a blink, spinning on its side on the back of her gauntlet. A metallic blur – blue, red, silver – that she pinched off the black phrik and tucked away in a pouch on her belt.

Her eyes flickered down to his chest for a moment, to the spot where she’d seen that damned tattoo. Much as his smirk drained away, her voice went flat again.

“I—” but Aver bit her tongue, and looked away. “If that’s all you wanna say, guess it’s right on to payment then.”

 

[Dissero]

"Consider it paid in full," an easy reply. He'd already begun scoping out lake-country houses on Naboo with the earnings of this project. Verie would love it there, he was sure of it.

"Just recently got in a new bass cello violin," his smile returned, quietly playful, "interested?"

 

[Aver Brand]

A brow twitched upwards. A corner of a red mouth curled.

Aver rubbed her faceplate with a chuckle. “Thought I told you I can’t play. But sure, kark it – lead the way, Mr. Alchemist.”

 

[Dissero]

Mr. Alchemist. He would have to use that one.

"Not everyone can become a brilliant musician, it's true," the man turned and made way back up the stairs of the stage, a hand raised to clarify his point, "but a brilliant musician can become from anyone. Un moment, s'il vous plait, Madame." That high Coruscanti was perhaps not perfect in execution of accent but spoken with enough conviction from the many years of practice. He swept behind the heavy curtains and disappeared back stage, leaving a cloud of falling dust from the swaying material.

"Music oft hath such a charm."

He reappeared carrying a large black case in one hand and a stool in the other. The stool he set in a broad swath of open space just aside the piano; the case he laid to ground, unhitching the latches and pulling it open. Velveteen blue lining surrounded the gleam of polished wood and the cutting lines of strings pulled taught along the length of the instrument. Careful hands lifted it free just enough to attach the endpin while it rested against his knee, half-out of the case.

"To make good bad,"

The Alchemist stood, plucking the bow from its seat and moved to take up the open stool. Adjusting himself and the bass cello, bow moved to cross the strings to test the sound. The resonance of the deep song filled the hall, smooth and rich.

"and good provoke to harm."

Fingers positioned along the mid of the fingerboard, "A small demonstration for you."

Then he began to play.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yjVwRI5aiU

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

With a sniffle and a grin, the merc followed him onto the stage. “Thing is, you need lots of practice to get good at playing,” she gestured to the instrument he’d pulled out of the case, “and I’m a busy woman.”

Aver crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the piano as the alchemist set up. As the notes of the song began to soar through the hall, so did she close her eyes. A thin smile curled one corner of her lips.

“Show-off,” she muttered as the melody petered out, canting her head down at the man.

“You got anything that ain’t so demanding in the fine motor skills department?” Aver waggled her armored fingers at Dissero. “Broken one too many times for that sorta thing, ‘m afraid.”

 

[Dissero]

"Nonsense," the man leaned into an extended note, eyes closed as it resonated within him, "everyone needs a hobby." He smiled, finding the statement to be a bit ironic for him; a man of numerous hobbies.

Final notes of the tune bleeding off into the darkness, Dissero looked up to the woman and her dancing fingers with a chortle.

"Mmmm," bass resting against his shoulder he lifted a hand to stroke at his beard, eyes casting aside in thought, "ever considered a gong?" The grin he cracked was broad, enough so that elongated and pointed teeth finally peeked through the ruff of his facial hair for the briefest of moments. He stood and moved to replace the oversized cello back in its case - bow and tailpin tucked away neatly before the latches snapped shut.

"I may have something."

Behind the stage curtain once more.

Some sounds of shuffling, the clank of metal, the whisk and clatter of a wooden something on the floor. A short bought of quiet before the staccato of a snare drum preceded his return on stage.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vnnw7lK63rg

"Not much of a drummer myself," he spoke over the sound as he slowly made his way across the stage, "but I remember a few things. Of all the instruments I learned to play, drums was probably the easiest to pick up."