OTA - Diamond Mind, Soft Music
2015-Dec-15, Tuesday 03:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oneahn_ayeshIstini Ayesh Ni Hata Kan had achieved mastery before her world ended. Before the first time her world ended, that is. Now, far in the future, last left, she found peace in her meditations, and calmness. You might have seen her before. She spends time in the lounge, which is where she is now, and she walks the halls. She uses the holodeck, but that is of little help, since she usually remembers to lock it.
But she is usually quiet, not speaking unless spoken to, usually drawing little attention. The woman is short, almost child-like in size, though the silver here and there in her dark tight curly hair proves her to be an adult. As usual, since being told her uniform was not for her until she earns it here as she had there, she wears a black quilted jacket over a thin shirt and black quilted pants. She is usually seen with a rather large knapsack.
Today, something is different. She is dressed as ever, she is seated near the windows to the back, away from the doors as ever, but her bag is open beside her, rather than closed, and one of her treasures is in her hand, a small metal flute that looks... somewhat odd perhaps. It certainly is not of Earth or Federation origin. And as she lifts it to her mouth, it is hard to escape the fact that a neat scar runs across each hand, that where she now has but four, once she had five fingers.
The four fingers of each hand settle into place, and her eyes half close, making a meditation of the room as she begins to play a brief tune. The notes are soft, and flow one into another, they seem almost sad, almost nostalgic, but there is an edge to the music, an under current of fear and rage and anger, as if the music can try to be sad all it wishes, but something in it drives itself towards a fugue of emotions. None of those emotions can be seen on her face - carefully blank and neutral, nor in her relaxed but aware posture. She seems to have all the passion of uncarved marble, while the music bursts with emotions.
Feel free to ask her about the flute, the music, or, well... anything.
But she is usually quiet, not speaking unless spoken to, usually drawing little attention. The woman is short, almost child-like in size, though the silver here and there in her dark tight curly hair proves her to be an adult. As usual, since being told her uniform was not for her until she earns it here as she had there, she wears a black quilted jacket over a thin shirt and black quilted pants. She is usually seen with a rather large knapsack.
Today, something is different. She is dressed as ever, she is seated near the windows to the back, away from the doors as ever, but her bag is open beside her, rather than closed, and one of her treasures is in her hand, a small metal flute that looks... somewhat odd perhaps. It certainly is not of Earth or Federation origin. And as she lifts it to her mouth, it is hard to escape the fact that a neat scar runs across each hand, that where she now has but four, once she had five fingers.
The four fingers of each hand settle into place, and her eyes half close, making a meditation of the room as she begins to play a brief tune. The notes are soft, and flow one into another, they seem almost sad, almost nostalgic, but there is an edge to the music, an under current of fear and rage and anger, as if the music can try to be sad all it wishes, but something in it drives itself towards a fugue of emotions. None of those emotions can be seen on her face - carefully blank and neutral, nor in her relaxed but aware posture. She seems to have all the passion of uncarved marble, while the music bursts with emotions.
Feel free to ask her about the flute, the music, or, well... anything.