Scar-Faced Hag
Laughter was not the reaction she'd expected to her simple question—but still, it was the one she'd gotten.
For a moment, Cora's nose crinkled in distaste before she swept the undignified expression away into a placid smile. Onlookers who lingered near stalls or meandered by had cast lingering glances on the man who appeared to be laughing at their Princess. She glanced over the Ginko Pop table, finding a line of cartoonish figurines of Horace next to her own. Briefly, she debated purchasing one so that she could cathartically smash it to bits in private. Or maybe Dreidi could put a hex on the doll.
"I see. Forgive my assumption; there seem to be many Jedi in attendance. A rarity for Ukatis."
Perhaps she'd been wrong, her senses muffled by the voidstone ring and lack of practice.
It was only then when Cora realized the potential scandal of being seen conversing in public with a strange man without her husband or father present. She could almost hear the rumor mill churning already, and the thespians at the puppet theater rubbing their hands together in delight at the fresh meat for their next script.
With that in mind, Cora was searching for a polite way to excuse herself before the stranger called attention to a ruckus happening a little further down the midway. Children shrieking and adults yelling were all par for the course at the outdoor celebration, but there was something different—
Vera?!
Vera Noble, fearless as ever, had captured an adult racyon. It was simultaneously the last thing she'd expected to see, but it also made an incredible amount sense.
The initial surprise drained from her face, softening her features. As the strange man moved to intercept Vera, Cora drifted closer to the racyon booth, which was quite large in comparison to the other merchants.
While the racyon kits soaked up attention from native Ukatians and off-worlders alike in their circular pen, members of the Gautier family, the area's foremost racyon breeders, tended energetically to their customers.
The Princess found herself gravitating towards the closest familiar face, a spark of recognition lighting up her eyes. Ever observant, the Royal guards kept several paces behind her. Even they did not listen entirely to her orders, and Cora could not blame them. If anything were to happen to her—unlikely though it may be—they'd be executed without trial.
"Senator Terassi, Cadence. How kind of you to attend."
Cora approached Desric with all of the aristocratic airs he would expect, but she could not keep away the genuine smile that lit her expression. Though friends, the two had something of a small rivalry that would only be understood by true nobility.
For instance, Cora had used unorthodox methods to secure her victory in a friendly duel, and Desric had shown her up at the Organa's wedding by wearing a hat with a slightly larger brim than her own.
A courtly nod was directed towards his friend—a woman who Cora did not recognize. The important part was that this other party was a woman, and it would be far less defamatory for her to engage a couple in conversation.
"Corazona von-"
She paused, her smile tightening just slightly when she remembered to use her married name.
"…Cholmondeley. Princess of Ukatis."
It felt strange to have to introduce herself. She'd happily boasted about being Corazona von Ascania, daughter of Viscount Marcel von Ascania of Ukatis to the Jedi—who, in turn had varying reactions to her haughty mannerisms up to and including disgust—but having to name herself a Princess felt distinctly different in an unsettling way.
"I hope that you two are enjoying the festival. My husband, Prince Horace, sends his regrets that he could not be in attendance."
The racyon cradled in Thania's arms playfully pawed at Desric's spotless tunic, which drew a chuckle from Cora. Tilting down, she dipped a hand into the pen, giving one of the more playful cubs a scritch behind the ears.
"When I was a child, my brothers and I tried to trap a racyon that had been causing havoc at the edge of our property. She was smart though—or at least, smart enough to outwit a few children. We were running around for weeks, brainstorming up the most ridiculous methods for capture." The memory inspired an earnest grin. "Eventually, we did catch her. Named her Lula, and she was happy eating mice and other vermin in the gardens. One day, she turned up pregnant and father made us find homes for her litter. Sylvania Gautier ended up taking three—" Her head tilted in the direction of a plump middle aged woman who'd just taken payment from the Nobles.
"Some of the racyon here are probably Lula's grandchildren. Er, great-grandchildren?" Blue eyes rolled in thought, as if she were trying to work out the average racyon gestation cycle. Another spark of familiarity, and her eyes tracked back towards Sylvania. Valery was still close by, back turned, talking to…
Makko.
Startled, Cora straightened and drew her fingers away from the racyon pen. A disgruntled kit nipped at her hand, but she could hardly feel it over the pounding of her pulse. They'd managed to keep in touch since her marriage, but it had been…complicated and strained.
Wiping the surprise from her face, she turned back to Desric and his friend with a wry smile.
"The racyon seem to be doing more for public relations than any diplomatic delegation could."
From the corner of her eye, she watched with amusement and pride as Vera assert herself against a stranger and a talking racyon. Dutiful as ever,
BB-610
whirred and warbled after the eldest Noble child.The months had passed at an excruciatingly slow pace, and her life had been lonely. Being among friends--even at arm's length--was indescribably warming.
