Jannik Morlandt
convergence
[OOC: The purpose of this thread is to lift spirits, get to know each other better, and show Jannik in his element. So join in, and... enjoy!]
Jannik had shipped back to Coruscant from Tython on the fact that someone had summoned him, taken an interest in his learning on this new path.. and it had turned out that she’d been someone he’d already met. The first Jedi to show him their face, directly, to divert him off the path of certain self-destruction. But then she’d been called away, and she hadn’t come back. He’d waited, almost foolishly, for hours, sitting in the forum of the Great Hall, just outside the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He’d gotten looks upon looks, questions that he largely brushed off, and… there he sat, until his stomach could bear it no more.
He was on Coruscant for another day, hence, and now had nothing to do but bide his time until he had to head back to Tython. Fortunately, he’d brought along a couple changes of clothes, and his quetarra… so the next best thing was to change, grab a bite to eat and a pint at a cantina nearby to the Coruscant Temple that was more-or-less calm this evening, and find a corner to sit in and be with his music.
Things had been going so quickly, and dare he say well, but he should have known something would come up. Something would throw a wobble in it all. Sitting there in the cantina - whose name he did not catch - the relatively new padawan nursed an ale, his quetarra across his lap, as his eyes were drawn to the holonews, still covering outcome of the Battle of O’reen, and the fresh Treaty of Telos between the Galactic Republic and the Lords of the Fringe that had come of it. It made him consider that for all his problems, war had not been one of them, and for that he was fortunate.
If anything, war gave the average person plenty of reason to drink, and it wasn’t long before other patrons began to filter in… among them, some of the faces he’d fielded questions from, hours before. For his part, Jannik kept to himself and his stringed instrument, strumming not loudly, humming a tune, and thinking on what the future might hold, and what his place was in the grand scheme of things. Were anyone to join him, he wouldn't deny them... in fact, he'd be more than happy to have a chat about anything, and maybe lift some spirits.
Jannik had shipped back to Coruscant from Tython on the fact that someone had summoned him, taken an interest in his learning on this new path.. and it had turned out that she’d been someone he’d already met. The first Jedi to show him their face, directly, to divert him off the path of certain self-destruction. But then she’d been called away, and she hadn’t come back. He’d waited, almost foolishly, for hours, sitting in the forum of the Great Hall, just outside the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He’d gotten looks upon looks, questions that he largely brushed off, and… there he sat, until his stomach could bear it no more.
He was on Coruscant for another day, hence, and now had nothing to do but bide his time until he had to head back to Tython. Fortunately, he’d brought along a couple changes of clothes, and his quetarra… so the next best thing was to change, grab a bite to eat and a pint at a cantina nearby to the Coruscant Temple that was more-or-less calm this evening, and find a corner to sit in and be with his music.
Things had been going so quickly, and dare he say well, but he should have known something would come up. Something would throw a wobble in it all. Sitting there in the cantina - whose name he did not catch - the relatively new padawan nursed an ale, his quetarra across his lap, as his eyes were drawn to the holonews, still covering outcome of the Battle of O’reen, and the fresh Treaty of Telos between the Galactic Republic and the Lords of the Fringe that had come of it. It made him consider that for all his problems, war had not been one of them, and for that he was fortunate.
If anything, war gave the average person plenty of reason to drink, and it wasn’t long before other patrons began to filter in… among them, some of the faces he’d fielded questions from, hours before. For his part, Jannik kept to himself and his stringed instrument, strumming not loudly, humming a tune, and thinking on what the future might hold, and what his place was in the grand scheme of things. Were anyone to join him, he wouldn't deny them... in fact, he'd be more than happy to have a chat about anything, and maybe lift some spirits.