Sublimation

[LE-03 (Leigh)]

"And we acted as quickly as we could once we knew. Neither of us hesitated."

Leigh's own words felt strangely hollow, as if bouncing around her dome for several minutes before emerging. Her body felt strangely heavy, as if converted into some denser metal; her mind seemed to be lagging, too slow to be comfortable. More disconcertingly, she found herself doubting her own words even as she spoke them.

"You went to find Karre--she and her son survived because of you. And the barn would have fallen entirely had I not been there to coordinate the defense."

But had either of them noticed the signs of trouble sooner, the defense might have been mounted more efficiently, the escape planned more quickly. Had they noticed, more organics might have gotten out before the main force of golems arrived--they might have even been able to raise the alarm for other settlements--how much more efficiently, Leigh couldn't seem to calculate properly--

"We did our best, didn't we?"

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

We did our best. Our best. Na'an recoiled at the words, twisting loose from the droid's comforting hand with enough violence to send the seat spinning.

"If that was out best then our best isn't good enough!"

She half-jumped from the seat, stumbling against the far viewport until her hands could grip white-knuckled at its edge. She could see herself murkily reflected in the viewport's glass, wild-eyed and unkempt, Leigh a vague shape behind her. Looking at her face, it seemed like she could feel the smudge of ash on her cheek, as hot as if it were still fresh enough to smoulder.

"You saved over thirty people, Leigh," she said. "I saved two. But whatever. Big karking deal, 'cause how many people did we leave behind, with rocks growing out of their faces, huh? How many people died before we even woke up this morning? What the hell kind of protectors are we?"

She turned back to face the droid, still gripping the porthole behind her. Leigh had always been the slower one of the two of them, but now she didn't seem to be capable of any movement at all; she was just sitting there, watching Na'an with the same blank, neutral expression her dome projected when she didn't know what to say. But that didn't help any. Gods, her partner was so calm. How could she be so gorram calm--

"We had a home! We had people! We were helping, your prosthetics were helping, I was even useful for karking once, and now it's gone! I had to cut down people we knew, people we'd worked with, people you'd saved--I knew them, I knew and I didn't even--I couldn't--I can't--"

Leigh's shape was blurring again, but this time not in reflection. Na'an wrung at her good eye with a balled fist, hating the way her fingers came away wet--hating every moment of it--every horrible second, every half-choked sound she couldn't stop herself from making--all of it, hot and feeble and pathetic--

 

[LE-03 (Leigh)]

At first, Leigh only watched as Vidalu Na'an dissolved before her.

She had seen organics cry before--had seen Na'an cry surprisingly often, in the last few years. Observing it, the droid had always felt that it was such a messy way for organics to express their emotions. So volatile. So many fluids, all of them wasted in such furious expulsions of tears and spit and snot.

But all the same, the mess seemed...appropriate, tonight. After all, despite how she appeared on the outside, she wasn't any better, was she? Her own processors were, by any droid's standards, a complete mess--a jumble of nonsensical calculations and strange variables and horrible audiovisual inputs. Her memory banks were still replaying images from Dantooine: a young thresher's eyes bulging in horror as a crystal sprouted from his forearm, dark curls of smoke as the side of the barn caught alight, the ground heaving as the Sith summoned the ground itself to split open to swallow a blaster-wielding mechanic behind the barricade. The sight of the foreman's back, waving the last of them inside the ship even as a golem's jewel-clawed hand reached for his arm.

Each of those images were completely useless data. Each of those images had been recorded with perfect clarity and in full audio. Each of them were moments that happened despite Leigh's best efforts at the time. Each held someone who would still be alive if she had been just a little more observant, a little more diligent, a little faster to process that the red sky this morning had not just been a normal sunrise.

Leigh had the choice to delete such images, if she so chose. She could reorder herself in seconds.

Not that she would.

Deleting the images would not make their inhabitants any less dead.

So she watched Na'an's helpless, furious tears in silence at first. As she watched, her processor spun with a similar helplessness, working in overdrive to find something, anything, that she could say in response.

"...I am not physically capable of crying for them, you know," she said finally. "I...don't have the necessary equipment. But I'm glad you can."

A subroutine Leigh hadn't used in a while activated, caused her dome's expression to flicker, then shut down entirely.

"Someone should."

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

Na'an thought that she'd hit the worst of it. She'd been wrong. Leigh's admission was the worst part.

That damned, beautiful, horrible, wonderful droid. Of course she wasn't as calm as she looked. The blank dome always gave it away. And how could she be? Leigh had spent just as much time with these people as Na'an had, had known them just as intimately. Hells, she'd crafted limbs for so many of them over the last few years. And, after all that work--all that time--having it ripped away without even a chance to process why--

Na'an's vision didn't clear to let her reach out to the droid. If anything, she was all but blinded by the time her hands reached Leigh, by the time her face rested against her metallic chest. She was only dimly aware of the wet, dirty smudge she was leaving against that cold surface, but her friend didn't seem to care. If anything, Leigh seemed to welcome it; her hand was on Na'an's shoulder again, and this time she reached for it with one of her own, wrapping her fingers around Leigh's like a lifeline.

"Gods, we're pathetic," she forced out between sobs. "So karking weak. It was all I could do to get back to you."

 

[LE-03 (Leigh)]

"I am glad you did."

The human's fingers were warm and damp. Leigh closed her own hand around them, careful as always not to crush them.

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

"We can't be weak next time. We can't."

 

[LE-03 (Leigh)]

"In that case, It is good that you are crying for us now. There will be plenty of time to finish and recover before we arrive on Relovian."

Leigh was rewarded with a half-sob, half-laugh muffled against her chest, and couldn't help but find some comfort in the sound. Such a thing was the kind of absurd, messy response that, despite everything, made her glad she'd been made with an organic mind as a model.

****


Two minutes later, the ship's hyperdrive activated. The Hawk, and its cargo of thirty-seven survivors, would be in Relovian orbit within six Standard hours.


[member="Adelle Bastiel"], [member="Vyra Silara"]

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

The halls of the spaceport felt as busy as the roadways of Largan outside. Adelle tapped the soles of her boots against the floor, knocking dried mud from them. They felt heavy and thick, tight around her sweating feet. What she wouldn't give to walk barefoot everywhere, but Relovian had a different cultural atmosphere than Dantooine. And boots had been one of the quicker ways to have herself taken more seriously. Adelle looked at her chronometer for the umpteenth time. Leigh had given her an ETA a few days ago. They should almost be here.

She sat back, releasing the breath she hadn't realized she held. Her trip from Bothawui had been uneventful, cooped up in a transport crowded full with as many passengers as it could hold. So she'd done research. A monarchy featuring a foreign queen, lip-service at the least to the Confederacy, factions and a class system, honor and curfews. Even now she was still trying to digest the dearth of information. Karre Noba would need it. Leigh and Na'an would need it.

Na'an. Adelle stood up and walked the corridors of the long-term landing pads. Most of the other beings around her were mechanics, tradesmen, craftsmen, smaller crews and companies. Na'an would be in a state on arrival. What kind, Adelle couldn't say. But the last transmission they'd had, she clearly hadn't been okay. And if her past behavior had been anything to judge by, she'd like bury it and try to pretend it was no big deal.

A holoscreen on the wall blinked as it updated information. A HWK-1000 class light freighter, callsign "Hawk" and tagged "refugee," was beginning landing procedures, due at pad 34. Adelle jogged lightly down the corridors, heart in her throat. She had to be there when it landed. She had to see the damage for herself.



[member="Vidalu Na'an"] | [member="Vyra Silara"]

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

Location: Relovian, Largan City spaceport

Na’an hadn’t stayed to watch the ship make planetfall on Relovian. After the hyperspace jump left them in orbit of the garden world, she’d stuck around long enough to provide the Hawk’s clearance codes in a human voice, then made her way to the refresher. Leigh hadn’t objected; if anything, the droid had seemed relieved. After all, they were about to throw themselves on the tender mercies of an unknown government, and Na’an had spent the last few hours either crying or attempting to sleep in the cockpit’s scoop seat, still dressed only in her filthy running gear.

It was, Na’an could admit, far from her best look. Not that there was much improvement to be made at this point. As the small human bent over the refresher sink and peeled off the strip of cloth over her left eye, she couldn’t help but wince at the sight of her own reflection. She hadn’t been a pretty crier even when she’d had both organic eyes, but the network of scars that made up her prosthetic’s socket had included the destruction of the natural eye’s tear duct. The result was that the last few hours had left her face strangely lopsided, with only the right side swollen and red from all the tears.

It was, she thought, almost hilariously grotesque. At the very least, it was far from the kind of face one should ever willingly present to royalty. And that was ignoring the bare midriff and skintight fit of her running gear, the bird’s nest of her hair, the mingled stink of smoke and sweat clinging to her skin, her ever-growing list of other exposed scars…

She groaned and cupped her hand over the faucet, using a handful of water to scrub at the smudge of ash on her cheek. She couldn’t afford that kind of thinking right now. Yes, they were expecting to make their pleas for amnesty to the Queen herself, but they were refugees, weren’t they? A little ugliness was practically part of the expected package when fleeing a burning planet. She’d try her best to clean up in here. Her patch would cover up the worst of the scars on her face, if not the swelling, and her jacket and shoto were still in the cockpit. But other than that, she’d have to just grin and bear it.

At any rate, she couldn’t take too long. As the leader of these people, Karre Noba would need to clean up just as much as she did.

Na’an sucked in a deep breath, then bent over and stuck her head under the faucet.

*****​

The next hour was...hectic. While Leigh managed the landing procedures, Na’an and Karre had had to coordinate all the other refugees—waking them, feeding them, keeping them abreast of the situation. Karre had managed to find a clean dress in one of the storage boxes, and was sorting the farmhands into some kind of buddy system, yelling at the older boys to keep one hand on the younger ones, for god’s sake, did they want to look like a bunch of lost chickens in front of this foreign queen? It was, Na’an couldn’t help but notice, very like her: berating her people into keeping their discipline tight and their spirits high.

“The guys in Orbital Clearance told us that this dock was meant for official royal business. I think that means we should be expecting some kind of escort,” she said as they passed another group of men all trying to muscle their way into the refresher at once. Apparently, Karre had made it very clear that as many of the refugees as possible should follow her and Na’an’s example and try to make themselves presentable. “When they show, I was thinking Leigh and I would take up the rear? This planet doesn’t recognize droid independence, I’d rather not offer up…unnecessary questions.”

“Mhmm.”

Karre’s lips tightened—maybe at the implications of Na’an’s words, or maybe at what hadn’t been said—but again, she didn’t seem interested in pushing. “I’ll do the talkin’ in front of this Silara,” she said gruffly. “Just make sure nobody gets separated from the group, girl. This ain’t a youngling field trip.”

“...Yes’m.”

Karre really was too kind by half. Na’an turned towards one of the older refugees, a dark-haired man sporting a set of Leigh’s prosthetic knees, and offered him a hand in getting to his feet.

The rest was logistics. By the time the ship made contact with the ground and the engines had powered down, the entire group was organized with as close to military precision as a gang of farmers could manage. Standing in the back of the group, Na’an couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as the cargo hatch opened to let in the blinding Relovian sun.
Everyone was raggedy, exhausted, and most of them still smelled at least a little like smoke. One or two were old enough to need help walking, and she could count at least three women toting children young enough to be carried.

But all of them were standing ready.

“I really hope this works,” she said to Leigh. The droid had approached the hatch from behind as she’d exited the cockpit, taking up her place right next to Na’an. As Na’an turned to look up at her friend, she was greeted with a familiar mass of freckles and those solemn blue eyes.

She was still too quiet, but at least she’d turned her face back on.

[member="Adelle Bastiel"], [member="Vyra Silara"], [member="LE-03 (Leigh)"]
[SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE]

 

[LE-03 (Leigh)]

For Leigh, cleaning up was considerably simpler; a damp cloth was more than sufficient to manage the worst smudges on her chassis, and smaller issues such as grit in her joints could be temporarily oiled into submission. The overall process only took a few minutes after landing the ship; by the time she exited the cockpit to join Na'an, Noba and the others, she was, if not polished to gleaming, presentable enough to pass inspection.
At any rate, being 'polished to gleaming' was not necessary in this scenario.

As she took her place next to her partner, she scanned over the group of human refugees with her own sense of pride. There was, in the droid's estimation, a sort of quiet dignity in Karre Noba's insistence on discipline even in such scenarios. The concept that even a soot-stained, homeless refugee would insist on being respectable...it implied that even here, on a strange planet in a strange sector, nothing left to their names, about to be presented to a queen in the hopes of some scraps of mercy, the people of Dantooine believed that they deserved to be shown some measure of respect.

And perhaps they did.

“I really hope this works.”

Leigh met her friend's eyes without responding. Na'an looked like...many things. Guilt. Worry. Hope. Exhaustion. On a whim--some affectionate new quirk of her code--she reached for the tiny human's hand, squeezing it once in lieu of even changing her projected face. Her own algorithms were not so fine-tuned to create complex expressions.

Yet.

As the cargo hatch opened to let the people of Dantooine out into Relovian, they were met by a flood of bright sunlight. Leigh's photoreceptors momentarily overclocked, then adjusted, allowing her to take in the docks, and the uniformed officials already ushering people out of the ship. Almost instantly, she was able to identify [member="Adelle Bastiel"] exiting corridor nearest their landing pad, already heading for them with alarming speed.

"Miss Bastiel is here," she intoned, the warning only quiet enough for Na'an to hear. "She has, as you would call it, 'that look'."

She raised her cannon arm slightly and waggled it once in the Healer's general direction, the best approximation she could make towards 'waving weakly' without a hand.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

[SIZE=11pt]The Hawk loomed over the villagers filing down the ramp. Torn clothing, charred fabric, burnt skin. The weight of their grief and guilt hit her all at once. She faltered, staggering. Adelle reached out for the nearest wall, her knees buckling underneath her. Smoke. Fire. Screams. Panic. So much. All at once. Too much. It felt familiar in a way that made her sick. But that was neither here or now. She pushed herself upright and trudged to the landing pad.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Leigh towered over everyone, her dome visible even with thirty-odd beings in front of her. The droid’s head moved in her direction. Offered a wave with her cannon. It lacked her implacable certainty. Anxiety squeezed her heart. Even Leigh had been affected. Na’an would not be far. Adelle broke into a sprint.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The jerks. Standing at the back of the line. Almost like they were hiding. Making her wait.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She hit Leigh first with enough force to move any other being backwards. Her arms wrapped themselves around the cold chassis that smelled of crowded quarters and burning flesh.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Assholes,” she hissed. She stepped back from Leigh, and stared at the smudge on the otherwise spotless body. Adelle took the sleeve of her blouse and polished it off. Na'an hung onto Leigh's hand. Adelle hesitated for a moment then wrapped the smaller woman in as fierce a hug as she had Leigh.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]"Both of you," she said, "are complete assholes."[/SIZE]



[SIZE=11pt][member="Vidalu Na'an"] | [member="Vyra Silara"][/SIZE]

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

Neither Na'an or Leigh had moved to meet Adelle, but there Adelle was all the same, tackling them with a fierceness that almost knocked the smaller human off her feet. Na'an thought she'd be prepared for this, having gotten all the awfulness inside her out in the open with Leigh during the jump. Even so, she could feel her resolve start to buckle as soon as the Healer wrapped her in her arms. She'd guessed that Doc would do something like this as soon as they were reunited (Adelle Bastiel was a worrier, and as awful as it was to admit she worried over Na'an the most these days) but knowing it was never the same as experiencing it. Seeing Doc safe--knowing she'd left her friend out in space with little more than the news that their home was just gone--having the first response be to embrace them--

It was all Na'an could do to not let herself tear up again. There wasn't any time left for tears, the escort would be there any moment. Instead, she buried her face in the crook of Adelle's neck with a thunk, inhaling the smells lingering there. Doc always smelled so clean--all soap and sweat and old soft linens, and not a single hint of smoke.

" 'm sorry," she muffled into the folds of Adelle's shirt. "Sorry."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Na'an's pain felt raw. It burned the back of her throat. She could still smell the smoke in Na'an's hair, felt the smothering weight of guilt she was burying herself with. For a brief moment, she held Na'an tighter, the smaller woman's apology ignored. And as suddenly as she had embraced them, Adelle let go and tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes.

"I told you Leigh," she said hoarsely, "Don't leave me alone. Talk to me next time."

A disciplined cadence of steps echoed in the corridor leading to the rest of the spaceport from the landing pad. There was so much she wanted to ask, to say. After having seen how few villagers were left, she wanted to soak up their presence. To be still, to grieve, to process. Adelle wiped her hands on her pants and took a place next to Leigh and Na'an. All that could come later.

Right now, the Queen waited for them.



[member="Vidalu Na'an"] | [member="Vyra Silara"]

 

[Eirene]

​

Relovian
Largan City (The Capital)
Royal Palace, East Wing Reception Room


Early morning sunlight streamed through the towering alabaster archways of the East Reception Room, broken only by the gentle flutter of draped teal silk across each entry. Spring in the Capital was in full bloom and the Palace had shed its thick winter shutters and heavy rugs, the scent of loamy soil and freshly blossomed flowers filling the marble hallways as it was carried through the open porticos on sweet breezes.

It was Kelwyn’s Feast Day and preparations for the celebrations had begun weeks ago. Largan City was pulsing with activity as the people of Relovian set the streets for the festivities. The green and glimmering gold colors of House Forsyth, Sanctus Kelwyn’s ancestral house, had been tastefully arranged around the entire Palace, hanging proudly beside the Relovian royal crest and the rich amethyst banners of the Confederacy. People hurried about cheerfully, sporting the special day’s colors in some fashion and exchanging traditional gifts of tiny glass angel wings in various colors.

Eirene’s pockets were already full of them, despite having none of her own to trade. They clinked together satisfyingly under her robes as she moved towards the reception room, and she smiled at the delicate noise. It was the sound of progress for her, months and months of tender work as she strove to gain trust and friendship among the proud but cautious Relovi people. They’d had a hard enough time accepting a foreign Queen, let alone her mysterious Handmaidens. The others maintained the mystery, remaining cool and aloof, distanced from Relovian society, but the Queen had instructed (to Eirene’s great joy) her to ‘unveil’, so to speak. Get closer, forge bonds, immerse herself in the culture, make connections, avail herself to the public. Show a more human side.

Thus far, the Stewjon native’s efforts were paying off.

It was a dangerous gamble for many reasons, but Eirene trusted in Vyra’s wisdom, and she had to admit, she enjoyed feeling like part of a community again. The others, as much as she loved them, couldn’t understand. Savani, Vishaka and Reyna had trained from childhood to serve as Handmaidens in the traditional Naboo way, fostering a quiet, introverted way of life away from the distractions of society, though family could visit occasionally.

Eirene was the odd woman out. In some ways, she envied their complete focus and total devotion to their work. It gave them a kind of freedom, never missing anyone, never yearning for the spring of Stewjon’s orange grasses between their toes or the soothing heat of the hearth in the longhouse.

Passing the humble refreshment tables in the reception hall, the Handmaiden put it all from her mind as she strode past the four guards in ceremonial attire standing at the entrance. They followed her silently, out of the hall and down the walkways towards the landing pads, where the silver transport shuttle waited patiently. No words were needed. Everyone knew their places and what was required of them.

Smoothing the velvet of her hooded green robes, Eirene drew the fabric back from her face, presenting a more casual, friendly face. She’d been given no direct instruction as how to handle these refugees, though she knew what the Queen preferred under these circumstances: warm and informal.

Eirene intended to deliver it with flying colors.

Lightly fingering the miniature glass angel wings in her pockets, she gave the driver a nod as the doors closed, took her seat near the exit, and composed herself properly as the shuttle sped away towards the spaceports.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Relovian
Largan City (The Capital)
Relova Spaceport, Executive Port


She left the guards near the shuttle, bringing only R2-MK, or ‘Mik’, the shiny purple Palace ‘jester’ droid, with her as she descended the short ramp and made her way into the designated pick-up area. It was as unorthodox a greeting party as anyone would likely see on these landing pads, but Mik seemed happy (if droids could be happy) to be outside going somewhere he’d never been, and Eirene found his excitable chirping and whooing quite pleasing. The details on these travelers were few, but if there were children aboard, perhaps Mik and his songs and arm-waving ‘dances’ would be a fun distraction.

Eirene wasted no time. The moment she spotted the company, she advanced towards them, smile bright, a bounce in her walk and a chipper glint in her voice. She tempered it all with a gentleness, of course. It wouldn’t do to scare them away, and Whills only know what they’d been through to get here. “You must be the people from Dantooine, welcome, welcome to Relovian!”

Mik rolled squeakily out from behind her cloaked form, waving one mechanical grabber arm and blooping and twittering his own goofy greeting.

She took quick stock of the group before her, the way they were lined up, subtle scent of smoke, the weary lines of their faces, heaviness of their shoulders. Immediately, her heart bled for them, but the handmaiden kept it under control. There were one or two up front that looked like they might be in charge, and so she settled her gaze on them. “My name is Eirene. The Queen is holding an audience at the moment or she’d have come to greet you herself. Who among you leads your party?”

|| Adelle Bastiel || Vidalu Na'an || LE-03 (Leigh) ||​

 

[LE-03 (Leigh)]

The three of them stood out, Leigh was more than willing to accede to. Between her size and Adelle's...singular greeting, it would not be out of the question for them to address the pretty woman and tinker-toy of a droid that had approached them. It was, she thought, a marker of their hospitality that the Queen of this planet had sent such a formal-looking emissary for only a single ship of refugees. Was such pomp a common occurrence on Relovian?
At any rate, neither Na'an nor Adelle was in any shape to field the logistics of this greeting. Na'an's face was still buried in the medic's shoulder, and Adelle didn't seem inclined to let her go just yet. This would have to be a matter she and Karre addressed, in order to get things moving. Leigh pivoted her bulky body to face the woman, activating the humanoid face modeled after her creator.

"We are here with Madam Karre Noba, our employer and former owner of the Noba triticale farm," she said with deliberate evenness, noting that the woman was dressed in the style of the Handmaidens of Naboo. She even bore the appropriate markings on her cloak, which a quick mental search identified as being linked to the Naboo royal house. How odd. "She is just coming out of the ship now, with the children. You will have to pardon our informality; we have had a...trying day."

The droid offered her good arm to the woman and gestured towards the ship's hatch with her cannon, where Ms. Noba was ushering Alain and a pair of younglings down the ramp with both hands. A quick calculation left her holographic face flickering into a bland smile. She might as well take advantage of one of the more peculiar benefits of her construction--the ability to make such expressions look convincing, but not too convincing. After all, Relovian's policy towards droid rights was not something she had had the time to address in her filters.

 

[Eirene]

“Yes, not to worry…” She trailed off, gaze tender as she watched the procession. “..I can only imagine what you’ve been through.” Eirene looked up, and up, her petite form dwarfed by the towering armored ‘woman’ in front of her. Just a tad too tall to be human, she thought, but her facial features were very unlike an Epicanthix. Hmm. The Handmaiden fixed the being’s lovely freckled face with soft, compassionate eyes. “No words can express our sorrow for your loss.” She thought of sharing word of her family and their sugargrass farms in the Dantooine Western Belt, but it didn’t feel appropriate. They were fine. These people had lost…so much, and it wasn’t HER place to say such things. That was for the Queen. Yes, she’d been instructed to show informal kindness, but her role here was still just an escort.

Best get them to the Palace as smoothly and quickly as possible.

“We’ve prepared a refreshment room for you at the palace, and there’s still plenty of time for you to—”

With a cacophony of excited tweets and beeps, ‘Mik’ blew past Eirene on his way towards Madam Noba and the exiting children, his lights twinkling with mischief.

“—Mik!” Smiling, the Handmaiden put a finger to her lips and motioned ‘quiet’ with her other hand as he wheeled around to take instruction. “Gentle, shh, they’ve had a long journey.”

Mik stared at her in silence for a moment, and with an understanding (and perhaps slightly embarrassed) ‘awhoo’, the violet R2 unit put away his waving grabber, dimmed his lights, slowed his roll and paused a few feet from the younglings near Madam Noba with a quiet but friendly greeting. He swiveled his head back to Eirene for approval.

Good, she mouthed, giving him a thumbs up. Gentle. Good!

Mik opened up his speaker hatches and began playing classic children’s lullabies, lights flickering in time with the music.

Eirene rolled her eyes a little. “Apologies, I thought he might be a fun distraction for the children but he hasn’t been out of the Palace in nearly a decade. Anyway, as I was saying, there’s still plenty of time for all of you to rest a bit before your audience with Queen Silara, if you wish. Once everyone is gathered, we’ll head to the shuttle, just around the corner… Can we help with anything? Off-loading, things to carry?”

|| Vidalu Na'an || Adelle Bastiel || LE-03 (Leigh) ||​

 

[LE-03 (Leigh)]

"Regretfully no. Our circumstances did not allow us time to...pack."

An odd question to ask a group of refugees, Leigh thought, but perhaps this strange handmaiden had not been briefed on the specifics of their arrival. Certainly, the officials in Orbital Control had not asked many questions once they had filed a request for asylum. "Please, come with me," she continued smoothly, and led the robed woman towards Karre Noba at the hatch. The droid paused only to rest her hand briefly on Na'an's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Her partner would need to recover quickly, if she was going to have any composure at all when they reached the palace.

Ms. Noba, however, was already in fine form. She was watching the smallest of the younglings make a fuss over the strange little astromech chirruping music at them, her arms crossed, looking rather puzzled at the sight. She bustled past the droid as Leigh approached, taking the handmaiden's hand in both of her own as if greeting one of her more popular clients.
"I'm Karre Noba, milady," she said warmly; Leigh noted the sudden formality in her tone with bemusement. Karre Noba, the Boss-Lady, was already in mid-negotiation. "You and your Lady are very kind to have such a greeting for us, but we've had plenty of time to rest on the way here. I would not wish to keep a Queen waiting. As you can see, me and mine are ready as soon as she would have us."

Her sharp eyes flicked up to Leigh's face, still carefully arranged in that human-but-not-too-human smile, and she jerked her head back towards the main body of refugees. The droid took that as her cue to leave the pair, and usher the group towards the shuttle. After all, it would not do for a simple droid to hover when given an order, would it?

 

[Vidalu Na'an]

Na'an knew she was, probably, making a terrible first impression. Their escort had all but come up and spoken to her directly, and she hadn't even raised her head to look, let alone address her. She'd let Leigh take control of the situation while she sought to wring every last drop of comfort out of Adelle's embrace. If she'd really been in charge of this group, this would be considered a terrible showing of leadership.

Well, thank the gods she wasn't here to lead.

After a few more moments, she finally pulled herself together and her face out of Adelle's shoulder. She rubbed her eye blearily as she took a quick look around. Leigh had already led the escort towards Karre, and was making her way towards the rest of there refugees. It seemed like they would be going at any moment. She turned back towards Adelle, an apologetic half-smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"I know this probably wasn't what either of us wanted to be doing today," she said, "But I'm glad you're here. I just wish I wasn't so...well..."
She gestured to herself helplessly, once again aware of how inappropriate her dirty running gear was for a royal audience. At least the jacket, her shoto safe in its inner pocket, covered up some of the exposed midriff--and at least she'd remembered to put her eyepatch back on. If she'd had to walk into a literal palace without her patch or her weapon...

A little shiver rolled down her spine; Na'an shrugged it off as best she could. "Even so, it's got to be done. You up for this?"

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

For a moment, for just one tiny immeasurable point in time, they could just be. No fights, no emergencies, no jobs, and no messy uncertainty. Just resting. Just being. Na'an felt incredibly warm in her arms, incredibly small. Had she clung to her former friends, the Family, this way or had she been distant? She would certainly be the first that Adelle didn't keep at arms' length since before Felucia.

Then Na'an pulled away and the moment was gone. "I know this probably wasn't what either of us wanted to be doing today, but I'm glad you're here. I just wish I wasn't so...well..."

Adelle cocked her head to the side. "So what? Battle-worn?"

She couldn't keep the sharpness from her voice. There had been little information and less sleep ever since that first terrifying message over comlink. If Na'an thought that refugees fleeing straight from disaster to a potential haven had to be as pristine as a princess, maybe a wire had come loose. Adelle quickly scanned her over for signs of injury, measuring how her eyes moved and her organic pupil dilated and focused. More than anything, Na'an seemed exhausted and it leaked into her next words.

"Even so, it's got to be done. You up for this?"

"No," Adelle scoffed. "But it's not like there's a choice." She moved towards the back of the whole procession, ensuring none would be left behind.

Vidalu Na'an | LE-03 (Leigh) | Eirene