Faction The Art of the Unseen Stroke (THP)

[Michael Angellus]

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PERSONAL FLIGHT LOG – Entry #
Location: – Celestial Forge(whatever THAT is)
Assigned Craft: My X-wing
Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30)
Current Mood: Curious
Background Noise: I can’t hear anything over the noise of this place.


Okay, so we’re doing something else now, I was not painting that guy by himself, I’m sorry…
“Chitter.” [Translation: What’s the matter? I thought you appreciated the male form.]

Will you stop?!
“Wooo-beeep.” [Translation: It’s a picture, not a sign of your love life.]

I don’t even have one to defend!

“Weeep-bwoo.” [Translation: Moving on… someone else came in at that point…]

That was a BIG KITTY!

“Chrrp.” [Translation: Feline was big too...]

Okay, that was funny!

“ChrRRP.” [Translation: So what were they doing there? Besides flexing?]

We had to paint’em. Supposed to be some lesson about interpretation and getting a gift in return.The lesson was about appreciating different perspectives and learning to see beyond surface impressions. Painting the "big kitty" helped emphasize the importance of observation and creativity in understanding others. It was an unconventional but effective way to explore art, communication, and the value of shared experiences.

“Bwoo-Weeep.” [Translation: You tried so hard to sound like an adult there.]

Dude! Let me have SOMETHING.

“AWOOOOP.” [Translation: Just paint!]

Yeah, fine. I did…

I think I’m getting this.

– Michael A.
WHO IS THIS “WRITER”?!

TAG: Krass Wyms , Lyra Ventor , Jack Wright
Text like this is in “recorder” and review of what happened.

This is where he is speaking

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra froze for half a second with her brush hovering just above the canvas when the atmosphere in the room shifted.

She felt it before she fully understood it, the way the light softened, the way the air itself seemed to hush as if the forge had collectively decided to hold its breath. Her eyes lifted despite herself and landed on the new tableau forming at the center of the chamber.

The tiger.

Maker above.

Her breath caught quietly, not in fear but in sheer, unfiltered awe. The creature was magnificent in a way that defied reason, all coiled power and impossible grace, and then Junko stepped into view, somehow making the moment even more unreal. Lyra took in the bells, the spiraling hair, the calm, sovereign confidence with the same instinct she used to read a battlefield or a flight vector.

"Okay," she murmured under her breath, unable to help it, "that is…not a bowl of fruit."

She adjusted her canvas automatically, shifting composition, recalculating balance, the way she would reroute power mid-flight. This was different. This was presence layered on presence, symbolism stacked so densely it almost hummed. Her brush dipped again, capturing the curve of light against fur, the contrast of motion and stillness.

And then she made the mistake of glancing left.

Syn hadn't moved.

He didn't need to.

He was still exactly where he had been, still carved out of silence and discipline and memories she very pointedly was not supposed to be thinking about in a room full of Jedi Masters and students. The recollection hit her like turbulence she hadn't braced for, heat and breath and four stolen days that had rewritten her internal definition of distraction.

Maker damn it.

Her hand slipped, the line going thicker than intended. She corrected it with a short, controlled stroke, jaw tightening as she forced her attention back to the canvas.

"Focus," she muttered to herself, barely audible. "You can paint a princess on a tiger without thinking about—"

She stopped herself there, lips pressing together.

Supisy's earlier encouragement echoed faintly in her mind, grounding her just enough to keep going. Lyra leaned closer to her easel, braid falling forward, letting the lesson take hold the way Krass intended. Precision. Control. Seeing past the obvious.

"She's incredible," Lyra said quietly, more to the room than anyone in particular, brush moving again with steadier confidence. "But… yeah. I get it now. This isn't about copying what's in front of us."

Her gaze flicked once more, traitorously, toward Syn, then back to the canvas with a faint, resigned exhale.

"It's about surviving the distractions," she added under her breath, a rueful edge to her tone. "And apparently I picked the hardest possible one."

She kept painting.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, carefully tucked away for later, she made a very clear, very deliberate mental note:

After this class, she was absolutely hunting Syn down.

Supisy Blen Michael Angellus Jack Wright Krass Wyms

 

[Krass Wyms]

Michael Angellus Lyra Ventor Supisy Blen Jack Wright

Krass looked at them and some were finding the class as it was supposed to be. Others seemed to adpat to it and she spoke with a nod of her head. "You are all doing well, your attention to the details and the skills have been quite informative. I can see why most of you are considered such highly skilled pilots." She said it looking at each of them and she didn't get up just remained in her seated position as the princess was there posing for them to move onto once they were done. The sounds of the forge around them and her voice came out. "ONe small question for each of you though. How many stars were outside when we started?