Lamia Genarik
So close, yet so far
Annual young Talents in Music competition
Galaxies Opera House, Coruscant, capital of One Sith
"Use every spare minute you have to practice some more. Anando mentioned that last crescendo is still not perfect." a stern voice sounded across the comm, as if giving out orders in the army. The undertone was void of any affection, giving little evidence the person on the other side of the line was in any way related to Lamia by blood. Yion was a typical emotionless Arkanian, efficiency driven and often arrogant merchant who naturally had very few character traits that would make a good parent. In the matters of work and learning he was merciless, even towards his only daughter.Very much like his wife, he agreed the best way to raise a child with Lamia's "condition" was to ostracize her from the family and then society, and hope this issue would resolve somehow. On one hand, Yion was not a superstitious, but a man who's beliefs were firmly rooted in reality(and more precisely, hard credit). On the other hand, he believed Lamia was cursed, perhaps by the hand of her biological mother. He never mentioned her infront of Lamia, but the Arkanian woman remembered overhearding a conversation between him and her stepmother which included words sorceress and Sith. Lamia never dared to ask her father what those words meant.
"I will, father." came the meek reply as Genarik sunk into the back seat of the taxi speeder car racing across the Coruscant skyline. The sun was hanging low on the horizon, golden rays gleaming right into Lamia's silvery orbs. She blinked and looked away, her sensitive eyes hurt by warm light of planet's ripe star. Her gaze dropped to the suitcase infront of her, which cradled her Hapan lute. The instrument was ancient, made from trees that grew on Hapes during times of Galactic Empire. In the hands of an experienced player, the lute would produce music only comparable in beauty to Diathim of Iego. Yion's impression of the instrument was more pragmatic - for him, the lute was an investment.
"And remember, do not talk to anybody unless spoken to. I've arranged escort from Opera house to the spaceport. You will leave immediately after the contest. A ship will be waiting to take you home." he instructed rigidly, making sure she understood that any deviations from his plan will not be tolerated. This was the first time Lamia was so far away from home, alone, out of the cage. A risk, Yion would argue. Nonetheless, he let her go. The prospect of her winning the contest, the sweet scent of victory was almost at his fingertips. And the cash prize, of course. Never miss an opportunity to earn a dime, he postulated.
Unlike her father, Lamia was both excited and scared. People, so many of them, around her, all at once. What if someone...extended a hand towards her? You know, simply to place a palm on her shoulder to tell her she dropped her purse? What if she wins a prize and someone wants to shake her hand? Genarik rubbed her gloved hands together, shuddering at the very prospect of now almost imminent human contact. The worst part would be the extensive and fabricated explanation she would have to give when avoiding bodily contact. What was she supposed to say - that several seconds of bare handshake might turn someone into a dried out corpse, akin to a mummy? Would anyone believe this before it actually happened? So many questions raced though Lamia's mind, only to remain unanswered.
"As you wish, father." the silver-haired woman replied and heard the comm terminated a second later. There was no reassurance from the other side, no proverbial good-luck or break-a-leg, just a few moments of idle silence where parental support was supposed to be. Instead, a void, as empty as interstellar space.
A chime sounded, signifying the arrival to the Opera house. The door of speeder car slid open, making way for Lamia to exit. The Arkanian slid the white silken scawl over her face and up to her eyes, while making sure the entirety of her head was covered by the hood of her light gray cape. She then slipped out of the speeder car and onto the opera plateau, with her instrument in tow.
"Lamia Genarik?" a protocol droid inquired, leaning in to help her with the suitcase. The Arkanian nodded and politely declined with a wave of a gloved hand. A quiescent sigh left her lips. A machine for an escort, smart.
"There are some people who want to hear you play." said the droid in a metallic voice as he motioned towards the staircase that lead into the main hall.
"I'm here for the competition. My father was not sure how long it will take me to get to Coruscant, so I know I am a little early..." she explained, but the protocol droid gently pushed the small of her back, as if wanting her to hurry up.
"You are just in time. There is a very special audience, eager to hear you. The jury is interested in your talent." he said and literally pushed her in the direction of the entrance.
"Alright, on my way." Lamia said and picked up the pace, the intricate fabric of her long light grey dress flagging behind her as she ascended up the stairs.
Some twenty meters behind Lamia, another Arkanian eagerly looked at the sky, while standing at the very edge of the plateau.
"She's not here yet." he said into the comm, eyes still plastered at the horizon - "Traffic is terrible at this time of day. I'll call you once she is on stage, so that you can hear her play, uncle."
The protocol droid lead Lamia into a smaller hall, which was set up as a small amphitheater, where students of Conservatorium would have rehersals. The scene was lit by a solitary white stage light, while the rest of the hall was in shrouded in darkness. A single ballroom chair was placed in the middle of the scene.
"Please take a seat. The jury will be with you shortly." said the droid and vanished into the darkness. Lamia stood in the spotlight for a few moments, before settling the suitcase onto the floor beside her. This was not how she imagined the contest. Perhaps this was already an audition for the orchestra? Or maybe even for a solo act?
The Arkanian opened the suitcase and took the lute into her hands, then gracefully descended into the seat. Cape slid from her shoulders to reveal a form-fitting plain dress and white hair assembled into a neat, braided bun. She then removed the shawl from her face and the gloves from her hands to be fully ready for upcoming performance.
Delicate fingertips grazed the strings of the lute, when her gaze drifted upwards and into the darkness. Somebody was there, their heat signature alerting Lamia of their presence.
"Hello..." she greeted with almost childlike naivety. - "Is anybody there? Should I begin or...?"
