Private Ayeha Qeyl

[Bastille Rommer]

A M O R O U S

Tag: Jamilah Rommer

Ra'Katha was the planet of the golden sun, a symbol of strength and unwavering sovereignty against the harshest of oppositions. But that did not stop its cool nights from being a time of beauty and festivity. More often than not, Ra'Kathans would come alive during the night, celebrating in the coolness of the air and getting the work they needed to do or participating with the drunken crowds at taverns under the light of Ra'Katha's moon.

The cool scent of the spices of the market drifted their way through the city, and on the balcony of the Kemotar's palace, Bastille was able to smell them as their odors wafted by. Bastille had been away from his home too long; the duties of a Kemotar and Viceroy had kept him abroad, on Naboo and elsewhere. And soon he would be due back at the Capital for the lengthy and annual review process of national Confederate law. And all the time, he had been neglecting one thing, one person: his wife.

And so he planned to make up for that deficiency to her with a little surprise, a night in the calm before the storm that was to follow.
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[Faye Malvern]

Woops

 

[Jamilah Rommer]

T A G S | Bastille Rommer
W E A R I N G | [X] - [X] ​

Sorrow was still written into Jamilah’s face. It was as clear and defined as the ebony kohl that lined her lids. Losing her friend had been difficult. She still bore that burden every new day that dawned. Every sunrise that she watched and her friend had missed.

What had been harder still was losing Bastille. Once she had found his determination a positive thing. The sure and certain fact that Bastille held his title in the highest regard, that Ra’Katha came first, had been an attractive quality. It made him dependable, a steady and immovable rock in the centre of an ever-changing galaxy. But now…

She had needed him, and he was not there. Instead, halfway across the vast expanse of space, in stuffy halls with other politicians talking nonsense. As she shoved herself away from the mirror, away from the sorrowful face that glared back at her, Jamilah scrunched her eyes up to block out the light. She had needed him. Had she not spent their entire marriage being there for him? Attending meetings and dinners and parties and dances, sitting in his stead when he travelled to Naboo. She had done everything he had asked, and more.

Yet, he had failed to show the same regard.

Tension was wrought into her shoulders as she slipped an orange dress over her shoulders and fixed it into place with a broach shaped into a golden sun. The material was lighter than usual. Despite the sun long since slipping behind the sand dunes, it was a particularly warm night. The cool breeze that licked through the desert and wound its way through the city streets into her open windows was a welcome sensation on her bare skin. Perhaps a welcome distraction too. It was the first night she had seen Bastille in months.

On her way back to the mirror to affix the rest of her golden jewellery to her arms, ears, and wrists, Jamilah wracked her brain for things to say. It had been so easy before, so simple. He would return, and they would talk into the small hours of the night of all the things he had done. All the places he had seen, the people he had talked too, everything down to the food and drink he had eaten. Now? Jamilah did not want to hear it. No talk of politics or people, or food or drink, would hold her attention. Not when she knew where he had been, and what he had placed before her.

She held her wrist out to allow a servant to clip the final bracelet securely around it. The sound of the clasp clicking shut was like a deafening bell, announcing the end of her time in the sanctuary of her rooms. With nothing else to do, she focused on the face in the mirror again. The one now written with sorrow and anxiety. “Tell him I’m ready.” Her soft tone whispered out to the servant as she leaned over the vanity to fuss over the rouge on her cheeks.​

 

[Bastille Rommer]

T E N T A T I V E​

Tag: Jamilah Rommer

"Mva'Kemotar, she is ready," a bowing servant informed him, breaking Bastille out of his thoughts as he leaned against the balcony.

He turned, nodding his head graciously. "As am, I. Prepare the qari'b."

The last few months had been riddled with tension, both abroad in the larger Confederacy and here at home. After an unintentionally extended stay at Naboo; which had been caused first by what had felt like decades of deliberation and deals over Project Starbound, and then the messy attempt that the Lord Commander and his allies in the government had made to try and accuse Bastille of treason. As soon as that had been settled, he'd made his way to Ra'Katha. He'd been away from his home for far too long.

Walking through the palace, he found himself at the bottom of a grand set of stairs waiting for his wife in a marbled courtyard, a covered palanquin fitted with repulsorlifts, a civilized version of a barbaric form of transportation. The night air was cool -- and unfortunately, he feared that his wife would be as well. It wouldn't be anything that Bastille didn't deserve, at the very least. There was much work that he needed to do. Much he needed to make up for.

Hopefully, tonight would at the very least be a start.

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[Jamilah Rommer]

T A G S | Bastille Rommer
W E A R I N G | [X] - [X]​

Slap, slap, slap.

It was the only sound that dominated the corridors as Jamilah walked silently toward the courtyard. She was tense, and the emotion was written over every inch of her body. In the way her shoulders hunched slightly, in the soft lines worked onto her sun-kissed face, in the rush of her heartbeat as she drew closer to him. What would it be like? She could only think of the negative. Awkward, uncomfortable, painful…

Jamilah had never imagined herself using any of those words to describe her marriage. It cut her deeply that it had come to this. That they had allowed politics to drive a wedge between them. Bastille had always been a man of steadfast determination, where it was needed. Yet, he lacked the ability to do so where it was necessary.

The butterflies in her stomach danced feverishly as she neared the steps down to the courtyard. It was hard not to feel slightly sick at the sensation. She took the stairs one at a time. Slowly. Purposefully. Drawing out the inevitable had never been her style, but today, it could not have been helped.

Her feet hit the ground, and she was forced to look up.

There he was.

It had been so long since she had seen his face.

He looked much older. Stress had worn lines into his tanned face, and she could see the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. Suddenly, Jamilah could not even remember why she had been upset with him. All she could think of was how long it had been.

Wordlessly, she stepped forward and slipped her arms around his waist. She could hear the steady thud of his heart in her ears. Smell the sweet perfumes that lingered on his skin. This was all she had wanted from the moment he had delivered the news that had rocked her entire world.

Just him.​