Saga - OT EP's Neck of the Woods | One-shot/vignette thread 2015-2017

I was slightly unnerved by the maltreatment. However, I understand that sometimes one needs to be dark to address grave issues.

 

[The comment that was here had nothing to do with the above and it looks odd.]

 

-------------------

 

(Removed)

 

Edited at author’s request

 

Wow, that's deep, raw stuff!

 

My Tooka

Genre: Poetry
Characters: An unnamed narrator of Bimm species and a tooka
Timeframe: Around the course of Rebels, because why not?
Rating: G
Summary: Not necessary.

Dedicated to TrakNar's cat, Mabel, who passed away on November 24th 2015. Stay strong, Trak!

---

My tooka,
One with the Force today.

My tooka,
Gone, but not gone away.

My tooka,
I loved how she knew me
Like nobody else did,
I loved her big grin.

My tooka,
My trusted listener,
My biggest critic.
And my biggest fan.

My tooka,
Will be reborn a tree,
With heart-shaped leaves
And fruits so sweet.

I will hear her purrs,
And when wind blows,
In rustles of the branches
So long, until again we meet.

---

 

Oh wow. This hit me hard in a good way. So touching. I am crying right now. (Or is someone cutting onions in here, maybe?)
Great job! I think I will save this for the future, it is so beautiful and potent.

 

It's a nice touch that you pointed out the tooka knew the narrator better than any other living being, and could simultaneously be their biggest fan and critic (anyone who has ever spent any time around an animal knows this is true...it's humbling when a cat susses you out). The concept of the tooka being reborn as a tree...is lovely.

 

Ok, I cried a little when I heard that Mabel died, and now I have tears again. It's funny how attached we get to our pets, maybe because they love us so unconditionally (even cats), never judging and always affectionate (unless the food bowl is empty or you touch that spot on her belly). A very sweet tribute.

 

First of all, thank you TrakNar for liking this and I'm sorry that I made you cry, as you said elsewhere. I hope Erma is being a good kitty and that she's the kind of a successor Mabel would've wanted for herself.

Second, thanks to everybody who have read this and here are some comments.

It was totally onions and you know it. Real ISBs don't cry!

That is precisely how I see my dog and my black locust tree. I look at Judi's face, I look if Miki's branches are swinging from the other side of the window and I instantly know if they approve or not.

As for the concept, check the subsequent comment to what Finds said.

Now, that's funny...Judi is affectionate when the food bowl is empty, she becomes this shadowy, personal space invader who will follow you to the bathroom and almost raise a rating when the poodoo hits the 'fresher. And it's the kind of a rating that's not good enough to enter the finals, let alone get an actual medal. Boo.

In other words, your pets are probably saner than mine.

I have not completed the fanon entry on Ewoks' beliefs yet - in fact, you just gave me a good idea, I shall combine it with funeral rites, as they're simply too long to be added to Chyn's post on the topic - but basically, that's what I had on my mind and I do hope that Bimms, despite how technologically advanced they are, would adopt a similar belief. If not, we can always assume that Teebo wrote a poem for a Bimm friend instead.

The concept of trees being a part of both the underworld and some sort of a neither-world between life and death previously appeared in my favourite chapter of Snowed In, chapter 21. So, if anybody is interested in that, here it is.

The OC challenge story and the fic-gift I am immensely excited and flattered to be writing should be posted here soon, so...watch this space, mmmkay?

 

Radiophonic Heart

Genre: General, OC Backstory
Characters: Anjie Mencuri, Antonio Nokaarbe, Wompy, Dale Pavan
Timeframe: 11 BBE / 7 BBY
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An awkward 18-year-old boy who lives and breathes music just got a chance for his big break. The world of show business is cruel, but he may have wandered into its darkest corner. Willingly.

A/N:
This is my non-competitive response to Bring Back the OC Revolution -- challenge 'Music'. Just like the last two times around, when I wrote about Yehan and Soleo, I'm writing a character backstory. This one features Anjie Mencuri, the former [as of The Black Star] quetarra player in Steamy Wasaka Stew.

For those concerned about such things - this is not homoeroticism.

Many thanks to Findswoman for beta-reading.

---

Twelve hundred straight the last time he looked at the chrono. Six pairs of eyes versus one. Six pairs of hands twiddling their thumbs, all of those hands smaller than his own. Three different eye colours. Three different builds. One muscular singer. One angry little bassoon player. And the latest addition to the band - a grey bear of a man on drums. This was the last piece of the puzzle cube they needed and the previous twenty-two prospects did not have it. But this slightly hunched, scrawny youngling standing before them, holding a tiny datacard in his large hands…he was recommended by none other than Cade Skagor, the wailer with an Outer Rim cantina stench and Coruscanti aura to him, the starving artist and Core Worlder’s answer to Dalyn R. Baobab!

“You’re the last one for today, right?” The short bassoon player with azure eyes broke the silence. His facial expression was not clear - was he angry, or was he always like this?

“R-right.” The subject nearly blushed. He realised that he did not know his favourite bassoon player’s actual name, he knew they called him Wompy and that was it. Then again, he did not know anything about the drummer. “Can I s-start? Or are you going to ummm…watch my audition tape first, things like that? Why did you pack your bassoon up already, by the way?”

The muscular man with no music instrument anywhere near him stepped out. “We are going to do both. Wompy, Dale, get your instruments. It’s not just about the sonic possibilities an individual can bring to our thriving microcosm of space debauchery and tunes worthy of a Hutt orgy, it’s also about the said individual’s persona.” His near-black eyes were closing in on the fresh-faced youngling like an Imperial Star Destroyer would.

The young quetarra player shrugged. For a moment, he was not sure if Antonio Nokaarbe actually spoke Basic. Were those big words really that necessary? He handed the datacard to the protocol droid, who looked so beat that the silvergreen paint was peeling off her. Were they kriffing around with her? He knew everything about Steamy Wasaka Stew’s reputation on the Coronet’s ever-present party scene, he knew about their reputation and sure, this new drummer of theirs knew about it too…but this would have been too much. He was not above it all or anything – he wanted women, he wanted spice, but this was where he drew the line.

“Go on.” Wompy nodded and took his bassoon out of the duraplast case. Dale, the drummer, came back and sat at his Sapphyra kit.

The hologram with the audition data was being replayed side by side as the candidate strummed on his Ebanze quetarra. A slow jam. Was that all he had? Seventeen of the hopefuls had ended their slow jams even before they started them.

“Last month I...auditioned for Zap Farr's Extraordinary Jizz Orchestra. Actually, I didn't. When it was m-my turn, I gave up. Zap demands discipline from his wailers and I-i wanted to live the CoCo kind of life...deathsticks, beautiful women, parties."

Antonio was so confused that he forgot to start singing. He always wanted a partner in crime for what he called raids. Wompy was not exactly a black hole for sucking in beautiful socialites and busty Twi’lek waitresses. Dale had said he was married.

“I know all your songs by heart. Ros was one of my favourite people in the world and as…as you can see, I am doing my best to actually look like him, too. That is not hard, because I’m thin...hehe. But if you need me to be more attractive, I can hit the gymnasium. I heard that the zero-g workout was g-g-good.”

Wompy stopped playing. For some reason, his fingers were more itchy than usual. This kid was using an unusual strumming technique to respond to his rhythmic pattern. Had he read that they considered hiring an actual Zabrak at some point or did he hang out with the Zabrak underground community to learn all the secrets of quetarra from before the hyperspace era? That little bastard!

“If you give me a song, any kind of a song, I can replay it on a quetarra. I have started learning it a decade ago. I liked Kriff Blasters and their holoalbum ‘Ignore the Spuds’ and I sat down and strummed…strummed…until I could play all eleven…I mean twelve…songs on it.”

Dale slowed down for a moment. Did this kid just say that he could play anything by ear? And what was he doing right now? Were his fingers composed of organic tissue or was he actually a droid? Why were Antonio and Wompy looking at the young one like that, anyway? Why was his fierce drumming turning into these plooooook…plooooooooonk sounds?

"Funny things about me? I'm Human, but I'm flexible…like…I think they’re called Teevans. I really like caf. I also like cigarras, they’re my favourite food. And I can sing, too. Listen!”

All three men were now listening to the young man harmonise to his own holographic projection. His original voice was a light lyrical tenor, something they have heard before, but mostly in operatic singers. But the voice coming from the chest of the full-colour, three-dimensional being standing before them was surprisingly high for a Human male.

“D...did you like that?” he asked the three men. “I practiced harmonising to myself, because...because I was too anxious to audition for anything after that audition I ran away from...or before, for that matter.”

Wompy paused the holovideo just as the prospect smiled ear to ear, solely to find that the person standing before him was now sporting the same shy grin. He looked even younger than the shaky projection in shades of blue, with long and wavy, dark brown hair and freckles dotting his face. Even stranger, too – he was lip-synching to his own audition datacard!

"You forgot to tell us your name."

"Sorry! I was too excited when I recorded that! My name is Anjie Mencuri." The young one looked away for a moment. “On top of it, my art matters more than my name ever will. I believe in a philosophy where all the art that is ever to be created in this universe already exists...and therefore, the name of the one who finds it does not matter...”

“We will be right back.” Antonio cut Anjie short. He left the room with Wompy by his side, as the two other men sat at the rickety table in the corner.

“Nice to meet you, Anjie.” Dale patted the kid on the shoulder and offered him a small bottle of Alderaani beer. I’m Dandelion Roba Pavan...but don’t call me that, ever. To my friends, I’m just Dale.”

“N-nice to meet you, Dale.” Anjie took a sip of the beer, put his foot up on his knee and started fidgeting around with his shoe, to the grey bear of a man’s surprise.

...​

The moment he and his best childhood friend got to the refresher stall, Antonio turned the water on.

“I cannot possibly sing along with him! Having him around will require me to actually sing. And he’s almost pretty and sort of...stupid. I want him away from here.”

“I agree and I don’t agree.” Wompy looked through the window and lit a cigarra. “He is clumsy, fidgety and definitely not the ‘lady poison’ our HoloNet ad called for. But have you heard him? He’s a monster on that quetarra! Trust me, I can play an instrument and all...”

Antonio pouted and turned around. Wompy was often right. And he did not like when anyone else was right, especially when it would mean that he was...wrong!

“OK, I am going to tell him that he is in for one final test…” He turned back to Wompy and winked. “...and you will bring me the oven mitt.”

...​

"Steamy Wasaka Stew isn't just any group of promising young wailers. Our bodies are our weapons. We are lady poison, Sprout. Just imagine how interesting it could be..."

"My name is not Sprout.”

Anjie sighed and then bit his tongue, fearing that something was just wrong with him. There he was, standing almost froz-naked before three men a decade older than him, wearing solely an oven mitt to protect his modesty...and that’s all they had to say? He knew that something like this was to come at some point, but not immediately. He knew about the mitt trick that Steamy Wasaka Stew were famous for, but the last thing he expected was that he would have to strip at his audition. He was a musician, not a performer!

"You are Sprout from now on. It fits you well. You’re really young.” Antonio raised an eyebrow. “As I was saying – you may be precisely the kind of spice our Stew is missing. Lean, pale, the tortured artist type. Handsome. Nice body, too. Where are you from, once again?"

"Here. I studied at the Coronet City Conservatory of Music until about two months ago."

"You don't look like a Corellian to me." Antonio was now breathing in his face. "Come on, tell us the truth. Wompy is from Talus, I am from Kiffu. And...uh...oh..."

"I am a Corellian, you nerf-herder!" Dale protested. “And you are Kiffar as much as I am a Kaminoan."

“Okay, my father is from Naboo. I was born there, in a city named Keren. My mother’s origin can be traced to Ha..."

"Naboo. I heard of that one."

"Can we talk about music instead? Why does anything else even matter here?"

“We can. Our music is in unison with our appeal. Therefore, we have one test left for you…”

Anjie grinned from ear to ear. He knew all SWS’s songs and he was hoping that he would get to improvise to one of his favourites, even if he had to do so wearing that unfortunate stage costume.

“…you need to take off the mitt.” Antonio finished the sentence.

The young prospect’s expression changed to a semi-suspicious, semi-terrified one. But he obeyed, hoping there was nothing else to come. For a couple of minutes, Antonio stared at him, while Wompy and Dale were waiting.

“Did I pass the test? Are you going to hire me?”

“Yes. But you have to cut your hair.” Antonio slowly pointed down.

“W-what exact hair?” Anjie’s eyes were open wide at this point, almost making him look like a Gand. “Don’t tell me you want me to…”

“The hair on your head, of course. I'm the one with long, beautiful hair. And what did you think...Sprout?”

“Hey, I didn’t cut mine.” Dale Pavan pointed out his own long, messy mane. “And I won’t, you nerfs. Why does the kid...”

“But he will. ” Wompy cackled and nudged the drummer. “Because you want to create art with us, right?

“I…I will. Yes.” Anjie looked down. “C-can I get dressed? I’m cold!”

“Yes, you can. And the rehearsal is tomorrow, at the same time. Make sure you’re not late.”

---

Footnotes

Spoiler

Antonio Nokaarbe, Wompy and Dale Pavan appear in The Black Star with another quetarra player, a genuine Zabrak named Sassvar Graba. Anjie Mencuri is referenced in the said story, but he has not appeared in it so far.

Dalyn R. Baobab, the cult wailer from Manda, was previously referenced in another one of my stories, Nolevorution, but he is yet to actually appear in a story. We all know whom he was inspired by...I think!

Cade Skagor just wishes he could be as important as Dalyn R. Baobab is.

Zap Farr is a very gifted jizz artist whose songs are...very strange and he has waaaaay too many albums. Even more than Dalyn R. Baobab!

Ebanze and Sapphyra are brand names I made up on the fly, for this occasion.

Froz-naked is an expression I made up myself. At this point in time, it's an in-universe neologism common in the Corellian sector, referring to what happened to the planet Froz.

Oven mitt trick refers to Steamy Wasaka Stew performing with nothing but strategically-placed oven mitts. The tagline for that is "What's cooking? Steamy Wasaka Stew!"

 

This is really different, and I like it. I think Sprout is in for a wild ride with these boys. I'm a little concerned, though, about his "anything for my art" philosophy because that may mean he sacrifices things that are vital for his own emotional health for the greater good of "art."

I really hope you'll give us more. I am very interested to see what happens here!

Edit- I bet they got their stage costumes from the same folks who got the Red Hot Chili Peppers their stage costuming.

 

I like this a lot!! The tone is perfect for the scenarios, and the characterisation is nice and clear. One thing I really have to compliment you on is portraying Anjie's persona without overusing things like stammering or pausing. It was very natural. I'm happy to see this backstory!!

 

fun piece and excellent for the music challenge

 

On "Radiophonic Heart"

Right, I'm writing this on my phone on a coach with a woman blowing her nose on me next to me, so forgive me for any errors.

"Six pairs of hands twiddling their thumbs, all of those hands smaller than his own. Three different eye colours. Three different builds. One muscular singer. One angry little bassoon player. And the latest addition to the band - a grey bear of a man on drums." Perfect introduction. Quite an anxious and intriguing feeling so far. I want to read on already.

Ah, Antonio, the "muscular" singer who can't really sing... enjoying the bro vibe, but he immediately comes across as sinister with his eyes likened to a Star Destroyer (love that simile) and the way he treats Anjie like an object and/or threat to his ego from the beginning.

A lot of people would expect this to be friendly, I think, an audition for a band - but the way Wompy too is evaluating someone who's clearly vulnerable, already hostile regardless, is scary.

And it gets worse with the oven mitt. Poor Anjie. He's definitely being manipulated. Also, Dale pointing out that he didn't have to cut his hair... that's a worrying sign of how they plan to use Anjie.

This is an awesome interpretation of "music", showing the reality of actually taking it on as a profession (then again, you already know that's my thing!) and also allowing us to get to know Anjie better. Good stuff!

 

Ah, the joys of auditioning...like a job interview, but with the added stress of proving your performance chops. Yeah, that's not stress inducing at all.

"Strategically placed oven mitt"...indeed, that is one seriously terrifying costume. (Like @divapilot said, definitely has a Red Hot Chili Peppers vibe ).

Anje is willing to give up A LOT in order to join the band. That's a pretty sad state of affairs when you're between jobs but also want to do what you're good at. This is definitely an excellent fic about the compromise between art and life, between creativity and necessity. Anje wants to play the quetarra, and is gifted, but will have to balance his gifts with commercial viability. It's an unfortunate reality in any galaxy.

His nervousness is definitely very realistic. It's not so much a matter of hemming and hawwing as trying to stumble across a mix of thoughts that vary from presenting oneself in the best light to one's personal history.

This is a great vignette that manages to paint a funny yet sad scenario for our young Anje the quetarra player. Great work as usual, EP.

 

I am impressed by the range of emotions you are able to convey in these viggies.

My Tooka A very tender tribute to a lost and fondly missed pet.

 

[EDIT: January 22nd, 2016] I am going to reply to your comments to Radiophonic Heart separately, because I sense there will be a couple more, plus there's the next story, which we had to post in a way that would not seem suspicious. Hope that makes sense!

Until then, a reply to Nyota's Heart's comments on the two poems is being shoehorned into this placeholder that was originally meant to be used for Radiophonic Heart replies.

Thank you for enjoying my poetry. That poem is very dark, but I'm glad it carries the message right.

 

Two Sides to Every Story

Genre: Slice of life
Characters: Firmus Piett and Jaye Tatsu
Timeframe: Probably slightly before Battle of Yavin.
Rating: G
Summary: Captains Firmus Piett and Jaye Tatsu cannot sleep...

A/N: This began as a little get-well gift for Admiral Volshe from Finds and me, with best wishes for her continued improvement and eventually recovery. But the process of character borrowing and vetting has made this just as much a gift for Shira A'dola too, and a tribute to the friendship between her and Volshe.

Many thanks to Findswoman for beta-reading and Shira A'dola for allowing me to use her original character and reading this before it's published.

To read Finds' story, Commence Orbital Bombardment!, click here.

---

"Can't sleep?" Firmus turned his head to Jaye. The half-Pantoran had just arrived at his quarters, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate.

"I see you weren't quite sleeping, either?" The newsflimsi on the bed surprised Jaye. "Reading Juicy Blabber, of all things?"

"Yes, Juicy Blabber." Firmus nodded and realised that he did not even register the busty Twi'lek entertainer on the cover. "The only thing that could put me to sleep, because I don't know who any of these people are...or why they're famous, for that matter!"

They sat down at the modest table facing the viewport.

"We'll be stuck in Unknown Regions for quite a while." Jaye looked towards the star field. "And one would think I would be used to this by now, but I simply cannot sleep."

"And you know what this means, right?"

"Legends?"

"Legends!"

The two captains had been on first-name-basis for a couple of years and sometimes, one could swear that they would forget each other's last names – Tatsu and Piett.They forgot each other's birthdays more often that they liked to admit as well. Since when did Imperial captains have the time to remember such trivial details?

Oddly enough, Firmus and Jaye had perfect memory of the legends they had been telling each other ever since they both ended up on the same Star Destroyer. These stories may have been changed more times than an average storyteller would care to remember and, by now, they were a shadow of what inspired them – if anything. But to two lonely people in deep space, they were reminders of home.

"This legend is my own." Jaye took a sip of chocolate. "But I never shared it with anybody, because it was too silly. And, since I ran out of actual, millennia-old legends, you will get to hear it first."

Firmus cocked his head. "I'm all ears."

"When my siblings and I were still younglings, I would come up with scary stories. But only one of them was really scary. The one about Mondo. He was a man with an immortal soul, wandering through space and looking for a new body to inhabit, as his was falling apart."

No answer. Jaye took another sip of chocolate. "I know, it's pretty silly."

Firmus broke into laughter. Seconds later, he knocked over the mug, prompting a noisy mouse droid to wake up and rush towards the table.

"W-what is funny?" Jaye asked. "Do I have a chocolate moustache again?"

"No." Firmus patted his friend on the shoulder. "You see, on Axxila, the name Mondo..."

Jaye swallowed a lump. “P-please, don’t tell me that he’s real or something!”

“...means something completely different.” Firmus got up and walked to the viewport, putting his hand on the transparisteel, pointing to a random dot that might or might not have been his homeworld, thousands of light years away. Jaye shrugged and followed him.

"Mondo is the bringer of light.” Firmus drew an imaginary line from one white dot in space to another, brighter and larger one. “When you live in an ecumenopolis, you soon learn what’s up and what’s down. Some people live in such dark places that you don’t see the sun for days. Weeks. Even months. And that is where Mondo comes into play. When the days are short or when one does not see the light of the day, he brings it with him. If you’re poor, he will bring you presents on Life Day.”

“The silly Wookiee holiday?”

“That’s right...but I didn’t mention it being celebrated on Axxila.” Firmus’ finger followed the second imaginary line to an even brighter and larger dot. “I cannot think of anybody back home whose face doesn’t brighten up when talking about Mondo, the Bringer of Light. My children love him. My...my mother-in-law loves him!”

Jaye tried to imagine his friend actually having facial expressions other than neutral. Now it was his turn to choke on hot chocolate.

“I was Mondo in a younglings’ medcentre for three years in a row, before my service took me away from Axxila. I wanted to pay it forward to the planet that raised me, somehow. But Jaye…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell anyone!”

Firmus winked – a sight rarely observed. Jaye noticed that the imaginary path among the stars had reached a pretty peculiar nebula. For a moment, still shocked by the fact that his childhood spur-of-the-moment character had a completely different life elsewhere, Jaye could swear that the nebula...winked. W-what was going on?”

“With folk heroes like Mondo, every single day is Life Day.” He turned to Firmus, raising his mug.

“With friends like you, even the darkest of the days where one cannot see the light are worth living and more bearable. Cheers?”

“Cheers!”

---

Footnotes

Spoiler

Jaye Tatsu was created by Shira A'dola and previously featured in three of her short stories: Mondo, Here's How It Started and I Rise. He's a Human/Pantoran hybrid.

One of the legendary characters called Mondo appearing in this story was too created by Shira A'dola, for the story Mondo.

The Axxilan Mondo is my creation.

Juicy Blabber is a fictional newsflimsi supplement that originated in my posts in the Galactic Correspodent Round Robin. It was previously used in another user's epic as well.

Axxila is Firmus Piett's homeworld and it indeed is an ecumenopolis.

Life Day

 

Eeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Another Firmus story, and one of Shira's characters as well. Yet again written so very well. Oh, I am so spoiled. Thank you! Thank you!!

This was great. I love seeing someone beyond that quiet, professional Axxilan face of his. And this, this was great. I love how they each have their own version of Mondo, and how Firmus was Mondo, too. That made me laugh. This brightened my day for sure, lots of smiling at all the little things - Juicy Blabber, the idea of Jaye with a chocolate moustache, the mouse droid. Awesome.

Thank you again.

 

How fun! That probably happens in RL more often than not. What is a scary legend in one culture is a sweet, lighthearted one in another.

I absolutely adore this sharing of OCs and backstories among authors. Coolest thing ever!