Kalantha
Gach Gnut
Sibylla stood with her hands neatly clasped in front of her, the folds of her Nabooan gown catching the polished light of the great hall as though it, too, was listening. She observed in quiet attentiveness and couldn't help but respect the way the Senator framed his argument not as a cultural indulgence, but as economic foresight. It was pragmatic, perhaps even cynical, but it was rooted in realpolitik. Something she was becoming familiar with.
She resisted the urge to sigh.
It was easy, once, to believe that politics was simply about doing the right thing. About giving speeches, passing good legislation, helping people. But that was before she'd seen what compromise really cost, before she'd watched members of the Assembly shift their allegiances not based on truth, but convenience. Now, she understood that progress was never a straight line. It was a winding corridor of backroom conversations and careful partnerships.
Which made Queen Kalantha's response all the more satisfying. Sharp, measured, and open to discussion. That was the kind of leadership Sibylla wanted to model, to be aware of the stakes, but still capable of seeing the broader tapestry.
She caught the Queen's glance and returned it with a gentle, pleased smile. It felt…earned.
Then, after the brief pause in conversation, Sibylla took a step closer, her voice soft but clear as she addressed the Queen with practiced formality and just a touch of warmth.
"Your Majesty," she began, dipping her head slightly in respect,
"if you happen to find a quiet moment in the midst of all this... " she gestured lightly at the ebb and flow of politicians and planetary leaders still buzzing around them
, "...my mother, Lady Callista, has been organizing an art auction to support displaced communities. Nabooan pieces, many of them historic...some even recovered after the siege of Theed."
Sibylla's tone softened, just slightly.
"I know how deeply invested you are in preserving both culture and progress. If there's any room in your schedule, I'd be honored to share the details with you."
She didn't press. Just that subtle offer, a thread laid down carefully between politics and compassion. That was the way her mother had taught her; to preserve legacy, but never lose sight of the living hearts behind every policy.
As she waited for the Queen's response, Sibylla stood tall, the faintest trace of her dry humor flickering in the tilt of her smile. It wasn't
quite a negotiation. But she knew better than anyone -- sometimes, the smallest asks could plant the biggest seeds.
~ Exit Thread ~