Lysander von Ascania
Bard of Korriban
Lysander was at ease in the abandoned warehouse, nestled just a few minutes from the Kor’ethyr Academy. Several areas of the floor were cracked or uneven, and despite the peeling metal panels, the place had grown on him quickly, for it was here that he could truly breathe. Everything would fall into place soon.
Close to where he studied, it was strategically perfect, just near enough to stay effortlessly connected to students turned clientele, but also far enough to keep operating under the radar. Using the last of his father's credits, he secured the old building, hoping it would offer a safer haven while expanding his business with A'Mia and her greenhouse.
The space inside was sparse, but at least possessed a new couch in one corner, along with a modest kitchen that had just enough appliances to fuel their ever-needing gains, and a growing collection of tools slowly accumulating what would be a makeshift garage, reserved specifically for the mechanic-inclined friend, Haro.
Seated now at a metal desk scarred with burn marks, his black athletic wear hung loose on his lean frame. His gaze flickered down at the datapad in one corner, where a breath control app pulsed with lights, guiding his inhales and exhales. It served well to train both his ear and mind.
Hours earlier, he stood before a broken mirror, singing softly, voice brushing against the glass. It felt more like a confession, than anything close to a performance. While there, he scrutinized every detail in the reflection, from the different shapes his mouth made to any tension that might have gripped his jaw. The practice struck the blonde as odd in the beginning, comparing himself to a programmed droid, but as the weeks passed, the efforts compounded, and improvements were becoming noticeable.
Taped next to the mirror was a worn, printed photograph of him from when he was nine or ten, standing beside his sister
Corazona von Ascania
, both of them making peace signs with cheesy grins. Now.. that very gesture was against the Code he followed. But somewhere along his journey on Korriban, he'd stopped hiding his roots, and accepted that there would be no return to the Light.Emotionally, he was still searching for his voice.. something authentic, something beyond technique.
Around his neck, a pair of studio headphones rested; a song was still playing, the beat being background noise. Between new hits from the HoloWave and drops from a Zikzok creator called Outer Rim Riffs, his mind was well nourished with inspiration.
Pen poised between his fingers, it drifted across pages of his journal, doodling random sketches, random words, and broken thoughts.. hoping they would bloom into something more. Perhaps, they were secrets and desires that sought life beyond his mind. Because the ink bled from his heart, sometimes he wrote things he didn’t understand until later.. but it burned all the same.
i left the door unlocked
but not for you
just couldn't bear one more thing closed
I can no longer look at the stars
not after they watched you leave
no sleep last night
or the night before
black ink on my tongue
still tastes like you said nothing
when I needed anything
too far to fix
and too close to forget
your silence is the loudest
but I'll keep the exit soft
Silently, bathing in the natural light near a window, Lysander breathed in, then breathed out; but, he was not just surviving; he was slowly finding himself again.