Private Verses in Ivory and Silence

[Sibylla Abrantes]

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Cassian Abrantes

The sun over Dee'ja Peak gently spilled into buttery hues through the tall arched windows of the Abrantes estate's grand music room, casting everything it touched in soft gold. The light cast soft rays along the polished floor, over the edge of a brocade chaise, on towards the dark varnish of the piano where Sibylla sat.

As was her tendency, she dressed in bright hues, this time in ocean silk, cut just so that it flirted with informality and providing movement of freedom. The sleeves were forgone entirely, baring the delicate curve of her collarbones to reveal the faintest glimmer of a birthmark at her left shoulder, and beyond that, the faintest glimpse of a faded burn scar healed by the Force than medic treatment. Her hair fell in loose chestnut waves down her back, lightly held back at her temples by delicate clips shaped like vines, gifts from her mother that were worn more often than she'd ever admit.

The melody she played was no simple tune. It was low and sweeping, threading disquiet through beauty like a storm behind a curtain. Sibylla's hands would hover and dart over the ivories, emotive, fierce, and defiant with every stroke of her fingers.

She hadn't lied to Lysander. The piano was her escape. There were no protocols here. No committees or policy drafts. Only ivory keys and resonance. Here her mind found a rare rhythm in the storm of chords and counterpoint. Each note was a rebuttal, each arpeggio a confession she refused to voice aloud.

She didn't hear the door open.

Didn't sense her brother's quiet tread on the polished marble until all of a sudden….

Slam!

The sudden furious crush of of keys rang through the chamber, jarring and final, like the shatter of glass.

Her fingers froze. Shoulders tight. Her breathing came out in shallow breaths, caught somewhere between restraint and revolt. She swallowed hard, holding her breath for a moment pursing her lips, as if the silence embarrassed her more than the outburst. After another moment, she leaned back after a while, one hand slowly ghosting over the keys.

"In theory," she murmured, lips barely parting, "...music is meant to soothe. Yet I find mine grows more disagreeable by the day."

She didn't look up. Didn't need to. She knew it was Cassian.

"It seems I have either grown too passionate," she continued still quiet, as though afraid to wake whatever emotion had curled beneath her chest, "or the piano has grown too fragile. I shall let you decide which it is, dear brother."

Her fingers resumed quietly, softer now, almost apologetic.

But the turmoil still lingered in the melody still gently coiling, aching, confoundingly confused and seemingly unresolved.

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Some would call it brooding, put it was something else entirely. The first light cast its spell through the windows. Right next to the window stood the form of Cassian Abrantes. It was a good start to any day, but it wasn't just over Dee'ja Peak. It was everywhere, the sun would cast its spell. And the light would illuminate the good culture and high spirits that the planet had to offer. Everything that Cassian had dedicated much of his life to protecting, while he was still young. He had trained as a soldier and in every facet that the Royal Defense Force had to offer. This seemed to be the only job that he was suited for.

He was a leader and a soldier. He and the several members of the house guard just finished a routine inspection of the grounds. For any safety and security hazards and overall general maintenance that should be reported.

A faint smile came across his face as the sound of the piano had begun to be played. It was beautiful to him, and yet laced with a sense of sorrow and something hidden deep within. He moved as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb his sister in the slightest. Cassian and their youngest brother could sit here for hours and listen to her play, he hadn't heard her play in quite some time.

He stood, hands as his back as he leaned slowly and softly against the wall. And there came the sudden rush, it wasn't a fit. It was something strong and real, and it clung its talons deep into Sibylla Abrantes skin. The eldest was not going to be presumptuous, but it could be something that he had his mind on for a time. He didn't interrupt as she played again, she had no reason to be embarrassed.

He was her family, her brother. There wasn't anything she could do that would cause him to doubt her. A small smile showed on his face as she began to speak, her intelligent speaking volumes now, recovering from what happened moments earlier.

"...music is meant to soothe. Yet I find mine grows more disagreeable by the day."

"It seems I have either grown too passionate,"

"or the piano has grown too fragile. I shall let you decide which it is, dear brother."

He looked at her from where he was, with a soothing expression, smile still on his face. He knew she wasn't looking as she was focused on the piano. Cassian let out a small sigh, not out of annoyance or pity. It was steered toward the fact that his sister was in pain. If he could snap his fingers and make it go away he could.

That wasn't the way the galaxy worked though.

"They both come hand in hand, sweet sister." Cassian spoke with a soft and gentle tone, yet with complete truth. "The more passionate we become, sometimes the piano.....or the heart can become fragile."

"I miss hearing you play." Cassian said, not to take her attention of her matter. Just to let her know he was here, she wasn't alone. "I'm your brother, Sibylla. You need not be embarrassed for how you feel right now."

It was truth and love coming from the eldest sibling. While he teased her time and time again, and they had their sibling spats as any sibling would.

Whatever it was, whatever it could be.

He would always stand by her side.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

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Sibylla seemed to half listen, her head tilting just so in the direction of her Cassian's voice, but her gaze remained on the keys before her, caught somewhere between distraction and a quiet ache. A few soft chords whispered into the din, no longer defiant but reflective, as if her very thoughts had taken to sound. But even then, the melody still trembled at the edges.

"The more passionate we become, sometimes the piano.....or the heart can become fragile."

Make no mistake, Cassian Abrantes 's words reached her as they always did; his voice was too steady to be ignored entirely but her thoughts were curled so tightly around the sensation in her chest that they only half lodged in her mind. His presence was a comfort, yes, but her heart had wandered, as hearts often do when left alone in music for too long.

So when the faint buzz of her tablet sounded from its perch atop the piano bench, it was as though something had physically snapped inside her. She gave a slight start and for just a moment, the tension once again returned to her shoulders as hazel eyes flicked to the device.

An incoming message.

That familiar ache in her chest bloomed anew because she knew who it was before even checking. Only one person sent messages to her private comm this late, and only one person had a peculiar knack for rooting themselves in her thoughts more and more lately that it had left her more than a few sleepless nights.

Lysander.

The thought alone set off a flurry of complications she had no time to entertain. Not when Cassian stood there, doing his best to be kind, thoughtful and painfully observant.

She pressed her lips together, trying to pretend her fingers hadn't just stilled completely, giving a light breathy laugh that was honestly more for herself than him.

"My heart is quite tired of being metaphored into breakable objects..." she said at last, her voice touched with the wry cadence that often laced her words when she was flustered. "Though you are not wrong, Cassian. As ever, the philosopher in armor."

At least she could admit that as she nibbled on the fullness of her lower lip.

Finally, she looked up to meet his gaze. And while smile that bloomed over her lips was faint, it was truly genuine. A soft exhale and she let her fingers rest gently on the keys once more, though she didn't play.

"I missed playing too," she admitted, softer now, as if the confession cost her something. Work had ramped up with the increasing additions of new worlds and systems into the Royal Republic, in her duties and responsibilities with foreign relations during the transition into the High Republic... in her recent bid for candidacy for Sovreign of Naboo.

"I think I stopped for a while because I was afraid of what it might reveal. Music is dreadfully honest when one is not..."

Much like a poem that Lysander had sent her a while ago, he had questioned the what-ifs and maybes in relation to her staying at that concert. If she had let her defenses and mask slip away, if she had truly faced what was growing between them, what would have happened then?

How could she explain that the situation was not as straightforward as it seemed? It wasn't that she didn't want to see him; that she'd gone out of her way to sneak out to do so was proof of it. That she had to leave hadn't been her fault. Timing, responsibilities, and duty all played a role in preventing her from finding a way to see him in person, never mind that he was right that even then she'd still had been holding him at bay. Unable to comment properly. Unable to stop a quip that she used as that very armor he accused her of. A rare flash of childish frustration surged through her as she felt that even despite that, he wasn't being fair. Not everything could be conveyed over text and holomail.

Her mind raced with growing frustration at the teenager she was at heart, and unable to help herself, she cast a single, swift glance toward the tablet

She didn't reach for it.

Didn't dare, not with Cassian still watching with that brotherly warmth that always seemed to see far too much. Perhaps that was her second mistake. Waiting. Delaying. Leaving Lysander von Ascania 's message unread.

Causing a mountain of complications and misunderstandings that might serve as even more fuel to the fire.

"I suppose I owe it to you," she said airily, giving a lift of her chin in mock grandeur, "to one day write a proper march in your honor. Something terribly noble and full of drums."

Her smirk was fleeting. But her fingers returned once more to the piano, playing something new. It was light, graceful... reticent.

But the undercurrent remained.

A single message, unopened, with her heart fluttering in its wake.

It was a silly thing to wonder.

And yet...she wondered all the same.

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