N A B O O
Tag:
Rann Thress
Objective: Crowning Ceremony
Location: Balcony [Near the Dancing, Chatting, and Drinking.]
Dressed in: White
What Are You Doing: Waiting for the call for the Ceremony for
Svana Neoma
(Queen Livina) to start.
_________________________________________________________
Naboo was
picture-perfect.
It was the epitome of what most would consider to be an idyllic world. Complete with pristine cities, flourishing greenery, and bottomless fresh-water lakes that put most other sovereign systems to shame. It was everything that Geonosis wasn’t. Temperate and enchanting; while the former Capital of the Confederacy had been little more than a planet-sized convection oven. Srina should have been able to take in the blooming floral arrangements and smiling faces with a sense of pride and satisfaction.
Only, she did not.
She
hated this world.
Naboo was the place in which she had once thought to make a home and build a family of her own. In the deceptively safe confines of a quaint chateau by the water in the middle of nowhere she’d let her metaphysical walls fall and crumble to dust. She had done the unthinkable, a truly, insipid thing. In unmistakably blind faith the pale creature had allowed her heart to take the lead rather than her head. She chose emotion over logic. Srina was Echani.
She knew better. She had always known better. Her hubris,
her mistake, had cost her more than she had ever thought possible.
That dwelling stood empty, now. Just a shell. Untouched and buried with notes of antiquity while she deliberately left it to rot slowly. There was nothing there for her. Nothing, but a barren cradle that had never rocked the child it had been built to hold.
This world was the source of her greatest, however fleeting, flashes of contentment. It was also the birthplace of her greatest suffering. There was nothing so cruel as to bless someone that had been living in the darkness for decades with sunlight. To let them feel its warmth, charity, and the benevolent way it allowed hope to spring from infertile dirt. Then—To take it away. To feel it,
no longer.
To hope,
no longer.
The silvery specter leaned idly against a metal and stone railing in a gentle solitude that suited her wintry persona. Her choice of clothing had fallen on her own personal culture rather than the bright flashy colors Nabooian citizens seemed to fall victim to. A long ivory dress clung to form as if she had been poured into it while a translucent cloak, embroidered as it would have been on Eshan, softened the emphasis of feminine curves. The hood lay down to expose a river of silken, snow-white hair, that fell to the middle of her back. Formal braids, twists, and a few curls led the eye back to a silver pin that kept it all in place.
Perfect, in every way.
Arkanian geneticists had seen to that a long, long time ago.
It was the Festival of the Moon. That resonated with her, perhaps, almost as much as the significance of being in attendance at the Coronation of a Nabooian Queen. She was an Exarch and therefore required to attend the crowning of the leader of the planet that hosted the capital of the nation, but it was bittersweet. She hoped that (
Svana Neoma
) Queen Livina would reign
long and
well so that Naboo could regain its lost sense of stability. It was the thing that no one talked about, but everyone knew.
The Confederacy was only as effective and as stable as the capital in which they dwelled.
It was beyond time to right their own house.
A gentle breeze stirred the cloak that sat low on slender shoulders and she turned, briefly, at the feeling of eyes piercing the back of her head. Most of the citizens wouldn’t recognize her. She was glad of it. If she was wearing the Obsidian Strike Armor or perhaps even her Exarch Robes, she would have never gained a moment's peace in an already energetic affair. This meant that the individual who seemed so content to inspect her, as thoroughly as one might scout new land, knew her. By sight, or through the Force—She did not yet know.
Mercurial eyes took on a sharp glint for a moment while her mental presence rose from the depths of her mind like a great leviathan breaching the cresting waves of an endless sea. Where she moved the Force and all it entailed tended to ripple, swiftly, proving that which she required. In a crowd of hundreds, thousands, a singular face took shape. The thread that bound the whelp to his father touched the dotted line and, in a flash, quite like the flare of a match—
She knew.
Rann Thress
.
Srina turned back around and her gaze refocused on the skyline. If he wanted to be her voyeur for the evening; so be it. She had heard of his duel with Gerwald, her wolf. It was neither here nor there. She did not have the same perspective that others might keep, regardless, of how violent it became before the end. A fight, a duel, was so much more than a clashing of swords. It was a battle of will. A test of endurance—A statement to the heavens.
It appeared if whispers held true, that the progeny of the Vicelord had spoken.
“Why are you here, all alone, by yourself—With no one to accompany you?”
An unfamiliar male voice interrupted her thoughts and she drew her gaze away from the velvet sky that was sweeping over the land. A quick glance told her that he was noble, though, intoxicated. It was no surprise. Wine flowed from one end of the temple to the other. Srina did not respond immediately but her eyes returned to that which she preferred to see. Endless, stars.
“Leave.”, she uttered, though, her tone was neither cruel nor kind. It was soft, almost lilting, and fleeting as the wings of a hummingbird.
The man sputtered and his mouth opened and closed a few times while he tried to form words to reply.
“W-What House are you from? I demand to know. Didn’t your elders ever teach you how to address your betters? You should look at someone when they speak to you. What am I to do with this?”
“You may leave.”
The same airy deadpan greeted the foolish man and she did not need to look to know his face was turning various shades of red and mottled purple. Angrily, full of liquid courage and instability he reached to grab her arm.
...Mistake... 
