The music being projected into Atlas' ears was quite soothing. Simple piano music paired with a subtle percussion in the background. He enjoyed the more soft tunes of this piece, allowing himself to be emersed in the relaxing world of music. It was one of the few ordinary escapes from the everyday horrors of warfare, relic hunting, and general Sith business he had. That, and socialising. He had recently begun spending time with one of the other Praetors, an Epicanthix going by the name "[member="The Slave"]", and his apprentice, [member="Arken Lussk"].
The three spent a good amount of time together, in Atlas' eyes, though by the standards of someone properly adjusted to social life it would still be shockingly low. But hey, every little bit is progress, especially for a creature perpetually locked in solitude its own world and domain.
He had his eyes closed, essentially lying inside the repulsorlift chair as if it were a hammock, slowly drifting off to sleep, when The Slave entered the room, announcing something loudly while sittig, or rather falling into the chair, which resulted in a rather sizeable chaos of orange-powdered triangular snacks.
The white-haired Epicanthix pulled up something on a holo-screen, trying to get them to read it, though Atlas only had to read the title of this newfound application to know it was not for him.
He left his friends to their own devices as he simply reclined further into the chair, allowing the music to calm his troubled mind.
The three spent a good amount of time together, in Atlas' eyes, though by the standards of someone properly adjusted to social life it would still be shockingly low. But hey, every little bit is progress, especially for a creature perpetually locked in solitude its own world and domain.
He had his eyes closed, essentially lying inside the repulsorlift chair as if it were a hammock, slowly drifting off to sleep, when The Slave entered the room, announcing something loudly while sittig, or rather falling into the chair, which resulted in a rather sizeable chaos of orange-powdered triangular snacks.
The white-haired Epicanthix pulled up something on a holo-screen, trying to get them to read it, though Atlas only had to read the title of this newfound application to know it was not for him.
He left his friends to their own devices as he simply reclined further into the chair, allowing the music to calm his troubled mind.