The Black Swordsman
Located not far from a starport, onward toward shops and restaurants, it attracted plenty of traffic from locals of and visitors to the planet alike. It boasted some of the most exquisite art attractions of Estaria and the stars beyond, whether reproductions or genuine pieces. Its variety ranged from oil paintings to ice sculptures, holo paintings to sonic-crystal sculptures, and more.
That morning, as plenty of men and women and children, singles and families, were touring the floors of the grand building, one man was exploring for a different reason. His gait appeared aimless; just one more guest patiently pacing and gazing at the many exhibits. But his purpose was different from the rest.
Drane stood with his face lifted to the wall, taking in all the details as far as his eyes could tell him. People passed by him, one person standing next to him to take a turn gazing up before walking away. He, however, remained. Hands in his pockets, ignoring the quiet conversations in the distance or the footsteps, yet letting the steady music aid his thought process, he watched this exhibit like a hawk.
He came to this place in a two-piece suit of black pants and jacket with a white shirt. Whatever was on his person was hidden within. On either side of him, statues lined the walkway, paintings lined the walls, but the one he was looking at attracted him the most. It reminded him of a certain occasion in a forest but that was a different story of exploration.
For this one, the Thyrsian Sith had come to the museum to find an artifact that was art in fact and he had not come alone. Was this exhibit it? No, but it was, at least in his opinion, simply magnificent.
Kaelen Numetreus