The music wove itself gently into the air again with a flick of Jonyna's fingers, subtle and seamless — and Anneliese found herself smiling, not just at the display, but at the word
kiddo.
It stuck with her, in a good way.
Something about it was comforting. Familiar. Not patronizing, but close — like a gentle hand on her shoulder or a knowing glance shared between those who'd walked similar paths. It made her feel like she belonged in the room, and maybe even in the moment.
Anneliese closed her eyes.
The chatter in her mind settled, and she let herself breathe — deep and slow, sinking into the stillness. She wasn't trying to prove anything, not to Jonyna, and not even to herself. She just…
existed, tuning into the current beneath the surface. The Force shimmered there, always present, always waiting.
It pulsed in soft waves around her — and in the middle of it all, the music. Not just the sound, but its rhythm. Its pattern. Its heart.
She didn't reach out so much as she aligned with it, isolating its undertone like a thread through fabric. She followed it, let it fill her lungs, then shifted her hand gently — coaxing the air to respond. No grand gesture, no dramatic flair. Just quiet imitation, a reflection of what Jonyna had created.
But it was hers now. Warmer in tone, drawn from memory. From the hush of wild Kashyyyk nights. From lullabies long gone. From the soft hum of morning sparring rituals and the ache of too many goodbyes.
The music changed — subtly, but noticeably. Not better, just different.
Anneliese opened her eyes slowly, meeting Jonyna's with a quiet, almost shy smile.