Finrod Ar-Feiniel
Jun 10th, 2003, 02:21:41 PM
Homework. Was there anything more foul? At the moment Finrod Ar-Feiniel could think of nothing that topped it. As he stared glumly down at the Intro to Astrophysics text, the boy sighed and wondered for the millionth time why he’d insisted on continuing with his extracurricular studies, despite recently making a commitment to the Jedi Order. It baffled him as to what he had been thinking; responsibility had taken over his brain, he supposed, and Finrod wished again that it wouldn’t happen so often.
“I don’t get any of this tripe! It’s pure rubbish!”
He didn’t say it to anyone in particular. It just helped to voice his frustration. The little datapad that was used to enter in his calculations and answers was a mess of scribbles and scratches, evidence of his growing confusion with the assigned problems.
Finrod was a different looking child. He wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either. Just unusual; His ears stuck out from his head, which was covered with a downy white-blonde fuzz that passed for hair, and his eyes were rather large considering the size of his cranium. When he walked, the boys feet turned in, and he was forever tripping over his own tows because of it. But for all his unfortunate physical attributes, Fin was a happy—if not too mature—child.
“Bloody blasters! I can’t take much more of this lot!”
The nine year old flung his hands up in despair from his seat in the Bar and Grill. He had taken to the place and enjoyed spending his afternoons here. He could often be found in a discussion with an adult, his preferred companions, tucked away in a booth somewhere, and quite content with it too.
Alas, today was not being so kind to the Padawan.
“Dash it! It just doesn’t make any kind of sense!”
“I don’t get any of this tripe! It’s pure rubbish!”
He didn’t say it to anyone in particular. It just helped to voice his frustration. The little datapad that was used to enter in his calculations and answers was a mess of scribbles and scratches, evidence of his growing confusion with the assigned problems.
Finrod was a different looking child. He wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either. Just unusual; His ears stuck out from his head, which was covered with a downy white-blonde fuzz that passed for hair, and his eyes were rather large considering the size of his cranium. When he walked, the boys feet turned in, and he was forever tripping over his own tows because of it. But for all his unfortunate physical attributes, Fin was a happy—if not too mature—child.
“Bloody blasters! I can’t take much more of this lot!”
The nine year old flung his hands up in despair from his seat in the Bar and Grill. He had taken to the place and enjoyed spending his afternoons here. He could often be found in a discussion with an adult, his preferred companions, tucked away in a booth somewhere, and quite content with it too.
Alas, today was not being so kind to the Padawan.
“Dash it! It just doesn’t make any kind of sense!”