Another Day, Another Brother

[Aver Brand]

Aver was already laughing with her head in her hands as the alchemist emerged from the backstage. Her shoulders shook, lips split into a wide grin behind the faceplate of her helmet.

“You got one with terentatek hide?” she called over the growing thrum of percussion. “Don’t wanna break your fancy toys.”

 

[Dissero]

"Are you putting in a new order?" the man smirked, brow lofting in response as the drumsticks came to a quiet still.

He itched at his temple with one, chuckling despite himself, "I could make it. Not with terentatek hide - that's stuff's too thick and rigid for a drum. But maybe some stretched and treated vornskr hide, phrik-plated casing..." he nodded with frowning consideration, "completely doable."

 

[Aver Brand]

“I… am not.” Aver leveled him with a steady gaze, then the instrument in his lap.

“You’re an enthusiastic one, ain’t ya?” Chuckling, the merc held out a hand for the drum. Weighing the sticks, Aver gave them a twirl before touching them lightly to the taut membrane.

“So. How’s this work?”

 

[Dissero]

"Enthusiasm is simply the by-product of loving what you do."

Despite not having a new order to fill the man didn't miss a beat. Pun intended. Ba-dum ting.

He held up a hand to give the woman pause, "A moment," and buzzed back behind the curtain one more time. After some rattling about in the back for several minutes he emerged with the same snare drum attached to a stand leaving himself free from the sling. A secondary pair of drumsticks in hand, he set the drum before her.

"Consider this," Mr. Alchemist deftly rolled up his sleeves, "a free introductory lesson into the world of musical passion. Hold your drumsticks like so - palm flat, rest the drumstick along the inside of the first joint of your first finger, thumb flat at the opposite side. It's a light hold, not controlling. This is the fulcrum, the pivot point of the drumstick, it should move freely but not wildly. Gently wrap your other fingers around the stick," he demonstrated, "not too tight or loose, should have a few centimeters of the stick left out the back of the palm. Got it?"

"Now turn your wrist in so that your first knuckle is the highest point of your hand ... good. Do the same with your other hand and make sure they're symmetrical. You'll want to form an arrow between your elbows and the tips, right? Should be a straight line all the way through, shoulders relaxed, wrists set. The drumsticks are an extension of your arm, bit like working with a blade," he batted a brow at the woman, "you should be familiar with that."

"The hold is really the most important part; once you've got the proper set up the rest just sort of falls into place. Whether you want to do single strokes-" he rapped off a quick set of single beats on the drum, "or double strokes," another round of swinging double beats, "the fulcrum and the hold is your foundation. Right? Try a few single strokes, aim for the center of the drum."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

The mercenary never blinked throughout the whole explanation. Keen blue eyes paid rapt attention to the alchemist’s hands as he talked. Lips quirked behind the faceplate. A thin furrow formed between dark brows as she processed the new wealth of information.

Replacing the drumsticks for a moment, the woman shed her gauntlets and peeled back the armor underlay. Familiar, except this time there’d be no bloodletting.

Probably.

“Right. So—”

tap

“Musical passion?”

tap tap

“How long’ve you been playing?”

Aver waited a beat – pun intended – then unleashed a fraction of the power coiled in the corded muscles of her forearms.

 

[Dissero]

"All my life," the man smiled simply before proceeding to teach a woman that had once given the galaxy nightmares how to play the drum.

~~~~

Some many months later...

To: A Mercenary Who Moves to the Beat of Her Own Drum

Next time you're in the area feel free to stop in. I have something here that might interest you.


Signed: The Drumming Alchemist

 

[Aver Brand]

You know you fucked up when the sewers of the Coruscanti underbelly were starting to feel familiar.

Aver found her way through the tunnels without a map this time, slipping inside without so much as knocking. The gall.

Her boots clicked against the rotten wooden planks. The merc tilted her head aside as she scanned the quiet shoppe for any signs of life – and found them. Her mouth hooked up at the corner, and she stalked towards the familiar sound of whetstone against metal.

She didn’t knock this time either.

“Must be something real fancy that it earned me a message,” Aver spoke as she stopped in the door and leaned against the frame. “Phrik drumset?”

 

[Dissero]

"Actually it was for a man-eating sentient cactus an associate of mine brought in," Dissero looked up from where he stood at a workbench, wane half-smirk pulling at his beard, "but it, uh, escaped the other night. Hadn't anticipated it being ... mobile."

His brows pinched and perked, shifting between vague thought to a facial shrug, "I suppose a boring old phrik drumset will have to do."

 

[Aver Brand]

Thanks, helmet. Aver didn’t have to hold that poker face together.

“A what?” she ventured after a beat of processing silence. The merc blinked the confusion away, lips slowly tugging into a smirk. Surely they couldn’t be talking about the same man-eating sentient cactus.

Hers was back on Thral, likely riding some spawn of Netherworld with a stupid grin on her stupid face, with that stupid blonde hair billowing in the wind.

Aver sighed.

“Any chance of hunting that cactus down, you think?”

 

[Dissero]

"Mmm," the man lifted the blade currently under his care and fixed it beneath the light of a nearby bulb, inspecting the edge, "maybe. How far can a cactus really go around here?"

He actually was mildly concerned about just how far it actually could have gone, but he'd rather not be deemed responsible for whatever mayhem it was causing.

"My associate is out looking for it now, he should be checking in within the hour," blade spun in his hand then pressed lightly against the skin of a bare forearm, shaving away a patch of hair with the unnerving ease that it should. Perfect. Now it just needed to be finished ... where'd he put that Svolten Rhyolite?

"How's about a look at that drumkit, ey?"

 

[Aver Brand]

A derisive snort sounded from the armored woman. “Next you’re gonna tell me it’s alchemized too.”

Shaking her head, Aver let her gaze dip lower, to the knife in the man’s grip. She bit her lip. Fine piece of work – both of them.

“Sure. See if that practice paid off any.”

So long as cracking skulls counted for practice, that is. Aver pushed off the rotting wooden frame and moved towards the long corridor that led to the abandoned hall.

 

[Dissero]

"Noh, not alchemized -" the man had moved to follow, leaving the blade at the workbench for now. As he passed through the threshold of the armory entrance he gave pause and considered, "at least, not to my knowledge." The small grin he bared would have revealed mild fangs had Aver been looking his way. Alas, she wasn't.

In the Opera House the stage sat empty of the grand piano, a full drumset now stationed in its place. It was dark in color, almost black in the dim lighting of the hall. Leather wrapped and unpolished, it sat like a Brute Squad waiting for orders.

​

He followed the Mercenary up the stage steps and produced a stool for her from left stage. To the trained eye, the knowledgeable eye, it was very apparent that every piece of metal was solid phrik. That was the least expensive part.

"I had a wookie friend give it a test run - it's very sturdy, very stable, and these," Dissero picked two drumsticks off the ground, ashen black in color, "are compliments of him. Wroshyr wood - very snappy, treated for expected abuse. You won't break them, I promise."

 

[Aver Brand]

Not Aver herself, perhaps – but the pineal sensor in her helmet kept her HUD updated with a full 360° feed.

Nearly skipped a step because of the sight. Feth. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. With each new clue to the nature of the alchemist, the story became more and more muddy.

Which was, incidentally, about the color the merc would use to describe the phrik battery.

Thankfully she wasn’t a woman of delicate sensibilities, and so she merely took her seat and began to play.

All other instruments were associated with melody. But drums – drums didn’t need to sing. Aver grinned as she bore down on the leather with ever more force, as if determined to outdo that wookie friend.

 

[Dissero]

Little more to do but stand back and watch the woman. Crossed arms, raised brows, calmly amused, Dissero couldn't help but feel like he was watching a holofilm. The scene before was so curious, so strangely odd that it was almost surreal. The chuckle that escaped him couldn't be heard over the ruckus.

Time passed, perhaps an hour, where man taught armored woman a few new tricks on her new toy. Some techniques to practice. Didn't take long for her to pick up the drumstick flip and twirl, as much as he suspected after seeing the way she handled that dagger. When a welcome quiet began to stretch beyond just taking a break and it seemed she'd had her fill, he stood from where he sat on a stool nearby and gestured to the set, "Well the wookie made me a good offer on this kit if you decided you didn't want it. Apparently alchemized instruments aren't a widely-spread phenomenon in the galaxy."

Dissero smirked through his beard and rubbed at his neck, "I'll sell it to you for cost if you want it."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

Stamina wasn’t a problem, obviously – his sister would be the first to attest to this – what Aver lacked was technique. (Which also wasn’t a problem, ordinarily, and Des would attest to the same.)

But it’s the practice that makes perfect, and the merc certainly hadn’t invested as much time into drumming as she had into whoring.

She clicked her tongue and set down the drumsticks. “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that. I’m one foot into retirement anyway. And everyone needs a hobby, right?”

Punching people or battering a battery; both got the job done far as venting excess anger went, and Aver was hardly picky.

“Also meant to tell you,” she added, standing as she shook out her arms, “that ring of yours turned out fine.”

Her mouth split into a smirk behind the visor. “Gave it a damn good test run, too.”

 

[Dissero]

The man's smile persisted, faintly drawing wider at the comment of hobbies. He chuckled, "At least one, preferrably many. Variety is the spice of life, isn't it? I'll draw up the bill..."

He'd turned to head off the stage, making his way up the aisle as she spoke up again. Dissero paused, looking back pleasantly surprised. Wasn't often he received feedback on the items he made for people. A woman like her? He never really expected to see her again after she picked up her ring - really, her coming in simply for the invitation was unexpected.

"I am glad to hear it," and he sounded it, too. Genuinely pleased to know the item had been of use and, perhaps, help, "You may find with regular use it will help you in ways you aren't expecting."

 

[Aver Brand]

His words might’ve been meant as kindness, but they twisted that grin into a scowl right quick. Aver wasn’t particularly fond of unknowns. When she bargained, she wanted to get exactly what she paid for.

The chair scraped over wood as she strode after him to the shop. There was a slight edge to her voice as she caught up with the alchemist. “What ways?”

 

[Dissero]

He settled behind the counter with the ease of a creature in its own domain, no matter the edge to the voice that followed him. His was a calm conduction of movements and gestures, bringing to his fingers the same datapad from before. Curious how out-of-place the technology seemed in the shoppe, surrounded by history and the arcane.

"Well," Mr. Alchemist began, "the realm of emotions is often one not fully understood or explored by most. Emotions are gateways to various forms of existence and they are constantly evolving. Never static. They are one of the few things that maintain the tether to our instincts - arguably the wisest portion of the psyche. When we don't exercise our understanding of these things, or in a case such as yours when we deny these pathways completely, we consciously place hard limitations on our own potential."

 

[Aver Brand]

The furrow in her brow grew deeper as she stopped beside the counter. Metal scraped softly, gently together as she crossed her arms.

“My instincts are fine.” Aver winced at the defensive tone in her voice. Hopefully the helmet’s modulators would warp it beyond recognition.

Frakker.

The longer they talked, the more she believed her tenuous instinct to tie him to Qui. A family trait, surely, the way they could both needle their way under her skin with the ease of a hot knife sliding through butter. Her mouth curled in distaste.

“Just give me the bill.”

 

[Dissero]

The man offered her a tenable smile in reply, one brow lofted in faint curiosity at the sudden defensive stance. Well, he supposed anyone that needed help with their emotions like this one might get a little defensive about the topic. Admitting to one's shortcomings was no one's favorite thing to do.

"I'm sure they are," he turned the datapad and slid it across the counter to her, "you never struck me as someone that doesn't know what they're doing the majority of the time, learning to play the drums notwithstanding.

He turned to open a crate on the floow behind the counter, taking from it a smaller open box containing a collection of glass bottles. The amber liquid inside them sloshed gently, a hazey golden glow emitting as the contents mixed. The more it churned, the more it looked like bottled fire. He set it on the counter before her and began to take count of the stock.

Aver would certainly pick up on the essence of darkside coming from the bottles.

"But I am glad to hear the ring works the way it was intended. The nature of such artifacts cannot always be guaranteed - often alchemy is an unpredictable beast."