First Reply Dancing's What Clears My Soul

[BB-4001A]

K A T T A D A
The City of Haleoda

[ dancing til the break of dawn ]​

Kattada was what a planet should be.

Warm summer breezes. White sand beaches. The smell of ocean salt and suntan lotion. A light rain had moved out, leaving a humid but fresh atmosphere. Moist sand crunched underfoot.

Hondo's was a well-known establishment, despite being something of a dive. Some people said it dated back to before the Gulag Plague, but no one could have said for certain who had established it or what the name was supposed to mean, if anything. It wasn't much more than a bar tucked inside a tiki hut with a few pavillions that were interconnected to give it the sense of a structure even though it was completely open, spilling out over a stretch of pristine beach and crystalline waters.

The music was cranked up, the speakers aimed at the partygoers on the beach. The beat dropped to a backdrop of softly rolling waves and seagulls providing backup vocals overhead.

The barefoot Nautolan was at the center of the party. Where else would he be? Energy and motion, the emotive consciousness of the crowd as people swayed and vibed, either copying moves that they had seen or shedding restraint and letting their personality shine through the movement of their body.

Zak fell into the latter. Locking and popping through a controlled set of movements, the boy artfully pulled off the dance commonly known as the droid before seamlessly transitioning into a more free-form style that better resembled his own combination of rave and break dance.

It drew a lot of eyes on him.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

...the Jedi Temple on Kashyyyk burst into flames. The smell of burning fur and bodies...

The memory slipped through the mask. The illusion of happiness sinking as a darkness seemed to wait to trap him in his own head.

He pushed it aside, trying to lose himself in the rhythm and the beat. Losing himself to the music. Tried not to think about the sound of a voice calling out for help...

...her name was Basa'ni. She was a Rodian his same age. He'd been a padawan longer, but she was a better Jedi. He'd traveled more, with Master Sovint and Master Ike. She was smart. Smart like he might wish to be. She talked about the Jedi Archives like they were the most amazing thing. He didn't like the archives, but he liked how she talked about them...

There was a Chadra-Fan on the beach. Small, but with a big personality that came out in how they moved. Shifting through the make-shift dance floor of sand, Zak started vibing with the bat-like alien.

It gave him something to focus on. Something other than his own thoughts. Reacting to the moves of a dance partner. Trying to blend. Mirror and contrast. Feeling the partner in the Force. Feeling the life around him.

...he wanted to save her. He was desperate to save her. An overhead branch had broken off, pinning the girl underneath smoldering ruin. He could hear her screams. He could feel her pain...

The song ended.

A breathless Nautolan continued swinging his hips as the crowd around them started to break out. In an instant, Zak had gone from being the center of attention to being a boy alone.

He cast his eye toward the tiki hut, where people mulled around and got drinks to subside the thirst brought out by Kattada's sun. There was a Rodian there. Older.

He wondered if Basa'ni would have looked like that when she'd grown up.

Another song came over the speakers. As the boy began to vibe to the music, people started to congregate back to the beach. Some people danced to remember.

Some people danced to forget.

 

[John Q]

John turned the corner. The road branched out. He saw the tiki party. There were dozens of people dancing. Some looked drunk and some did not. But most were moving. Swaying might be a better word. Like grass in the wind. John walked towards the scene. He hadn't danced in years. That was okay. He wasn't a ballerina, but he didn't have to be. His mission didn't require it.

A body drunkenly slammed into him. He caught the person's shoulder. "Hey there, watch it!" they screamed. John contemplated putting his arm around their neck and choking them until the passed out. He had done that before to several people. Usually they were miners. Grim folk. Hardasses who had it coming. But he had a mission to complete.
"Okay, buddy, my bad," he said.
"Damn right." The man pushed off from John and went away.
John circled the tiki hut. He surveyed the entire premises. The building was roughly built. It could go down in a bad storm. Or a strong 'force push'.

There was one last thing to do. John bent down and picked up a handful of sand. He put it in his pocket. You never knew. He looked down and around for crabs and cacti, but didn't see any. He then put both hands in his pockets and walked in. The music. The bodies. The party. It was almost overwhelming. He wasn't really a 'life of the party' type guy. That was why pretending to sing and dance was so hard. Especially in denim overalls and black rubber boots. At least the human's hair was cropped short.

This next part would take all his concentration. In one big heave he used the force to pull the speakers down and onto the ground. The music sputtered. The crowd jeered. John smiled.

 

[BB-4001A]

The problem with being a 'life of the party' guy was that, inevitably, the party always came to an end.

The music would stop. People would depart, either for home or for the adventure and mystery of what the next club might hold. No matter how brightly a star might want to shine out on the dance floor, there always came a point where they were dancing in the dark, alone.

...and in some cases, it was because the speakers just fell from the ceiling.

From where he was, on the beach, lost in a crowd of people, the young Nautolan only knew that there had been a loud, sputtering noise as static had been followed by a crash. Then the music was gone.

Around him, the atmosphere seemed to plummet from an emotional high to a miasma of anger and disappointment. People were jeering as the boy just let out a slow sigh.

Had he realized that all of the speakers had fallen, simultaneously, then he might have been suspicious. But from his vantage point, he only knew that the music had cut out. With the noise that had preceded it, he assumed it was a malfunction.

As the crowd on the beach started to disperse, the Nautolan stood there, looking out over the surf.

The music was what had attracted him to the spot. Otherwise, a tiki bar wasn't the sort of place that attracted a lot of kids his age. Except on Taungsday nights. Hondo's did a Mandalorian barbeque on Taungsday nights that was arguably the best culinary experience this side of the Corellian Run.

Putting the grumbling, disgruntled crowd to his back, the boy ventured closer to the shore. Bending down, the boy gently probed a starfish in the wet sand, letting his mind drift like the ocean time.

Should he return to the Jedi Temple? Kattada's Jedi Temple was not far. And, more important for Zak's sensibilities, a wing of the temple was located under sea. Not that he had anything against open air or dry land, but it was nice actually live like an aquatic now and again.

Zak spent so much time on land that he sometimes forgot he had gills.

But the thought of being back in a Jedi Temple wasn't exactly... somewhere Zak wanted to be right now.

Tidehome was also nearby. Maybe there'd be a party going over there?

Mulling over his next move, the boy lost track of what was happening in the crowd or the tiki bar, at least for the moment.

John Q​

 

[John Q]

"Those speakers didn't break themselves!" shouted John. A few looked at him with puzzled expressions. The speakers had fallen and broken apart. This sent nuts and bolts crashing across the floor.

"What do you mean?" asked a party goer.
"I saw the force, as it was used. Someone used it to break the speakers and ruin our party," said John.
The party goers looked him at him uncertainly. They didn't know what to think. Half shrugged their shoulders and left. Others turned away and started talking to friends. But a few approached him. They had open-mouthed expressions. Their eyes were a mix of fear and wonder.
"What do you mean?"
John stroked his chin like a cartoon villain and frowned.
"I mean that we have to discover whoever did this. If we don't then they could hurt someone. First, they pull down a speaker. Next, they pull down your pants. Before long, they'll be pulling your eyeballs out of your sockets."
The small group assembled before John looked at each other.
"Best of all, we can make this villain, whoever did this-" John pointed at the speakers -"fix or replace the speakers they broke. Then we can get back to partying!"
This seemed to win the group over. They cheered and nodded.
"Let's start by questioning everyone here who looks sus," said John.

He and a few others went up to each person. They asked them who they were. What they knew about the speakers. But that was just within the tiki hut. John looked out on the beach. He saw others out there. "Don't forget them!" he yelled.

Zak Dymo

 

[BB-4001A]

The tiki hut had gone quiet.

The only sound that the boy heard was the ocean lapping against the beach. That was until voices from further ashore started a low murmur that suggested there was conversation starting to spread through the beachfront bar.

"You!"

The Nautolan's abyssal eyes blinked, as he turned his head to peer up at the voice that had called out.

He found himself looking up at an Aqualish, who didn't seem particularly happy. "Who are you?"

"Uh, Zak?"

Yes, it was a question. Because the boy didn't know what the man was looking for.

"What are you doing here?"

The boy's head just tilted to one side. "Dancing?" he offered, again uncertain of just what the man was looking for. Standing up, the boy realized that he wasn't actually dancing now, so he amended his response. "Well, not now, but, like, before."

"What do you know about the speakers?"

The boy's head tilted in the other direction, as the look on his face read I'm thirteen and what is this? "Uh, they're not working?"

This was a very confusing line of questioning.

John Q​