Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A BLUSTERY WIND SWEPT PAST ELARA, PICKING UP THE ENDS OF HER BLACK HAIR. Elara frowned as the last of the light purple Delrian moon faded into the dark purple Delrian sun; the night was over, and so was Elara's time to worry.
The day and it's light gave very little time for anxiety; that was something Elara had learned early in her senatorial education.
Elara hovered by the balcony, taking a deep breath as the breeze tickled her cheeks, welcoming her to the warmth of the day. Today was possibly the most important day of Elara's life. Today she, Padmé Amidala, and Luca Thorne had to give persuasive speeches to the senate and somehow, with their strong words and even stronger voices, tear down the Military Creation Act. Elara had spent at least two months working with her father to develop a speech competent enough to hopefully change some minds. And she'd spent at least two weeks rehearsing and memorizing said speech, over and over, in till she could site it with her head underwater.
Elara knew just how much was riding on hers, Padmé's, and Luca's ability to persuade. The lives of so many innocent people—her people—were on the line. This time they had no room for mess ups. No room for stumbles; they had to be completely sure in their footing, or otherwise the people would pay for it.
Elara took one last anxiety-ridden gaze at the newly-risen Delrian sun and turned around, taking a heavy breath and leaving her anxiousness on the balcony. Being a mess of anxiety won't help you stop a war. Elara reminded herself as she walked through the tall hallway separating the balcony from hers and her sisters quarters, light purple night gown fitted loosely around her figure. She'd already had Lidá tend to her hair and makeup when she had first awakened, giving her some time to tend to herself. Her hair was done up in an elegant half-up braid, leaving most of her ebony curls trailing down her shoulders and her back, and a small, tight braid curling around the back of her head. Lidá knew that it was one of Elara's favorite hairstyles, and she'd insisted that Elara had to be in her at most comfort whilst bargaining for peace within the galaxy. Elara had simply rolled her eyes and not argued further; she'd be doing galaxies worth of arguing later in the senate chambers.
