Voice of Naboo
Theed Gardens
Interacting with:
Elara Veyne Tal’aris
Items: x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x
The morning Naboo sun spilled soft, warm, golden rays across the gardens, glinting against polished stone pathways and the quiet trickle of fountains tucked between flowering hedges. A few loose wisps of Sibylla's hair tickled her cheeks as a soft breeze stirred the gauzy curtains of the gazebo where she stood, carrying with it the scent of steeping tea and blooming wisteria from the terraces below. The Voice of Naboo had arranged the meeting with Lady Elara Tal'aris here, hoping that it seemed like the better choice for a conversation.
Oh, certainly, the palace was beautiful, but the palace walls had a way of turning every conversation into what one could only consider either a performance or a briefing. Out here at least, one could enjoy being beneath the open skies and the shaded vines, making things feel just a little quieter and more intimate. Or at least, Sibylla hoped they might.
An attendant waited near the entrance of the gardens for Lady Elara Tal'aris, prepared to escort the Chandrilian noblewoman through the winding pathways toward the secluded pavilion where the two of them could speak freely without worrying over wandering ears or curious court attendants.
Truth be told, there was already enough tension weaving through the Core Worlds without adding gossip to the pile.
Sibylla rested one hand lightly against the back of her chair as her gaze drifted toward the distant skyline beyond the gardens. The delicate curve of her brows pursed lightly, thinking towards the situation regarding Chandrila itself now that it was beneath Sith Covenant jurisdiction. Even thinking the words left a faint knot of unease in her chest.
Because it wasn't just Chandrila. But Alderaan as well. The galaxy had become far too accustomed to hearing about occupations and shifting borders, but what worried her more was the people impacted by them.
What were the Chandrilian diaspora thinking now? Fear? Anger? Resignation? How many worlds were quietly watching the Covenant advance and wondering if they would be next?
With a soft exhale, Sibylla told herself to push that to the side. Today was about listening first and foremost.
Sunlight caught against the gold jewelry resting at her throat and wrists as she shifted, the maroon and gold fabric of her gown stirring faintly around her. Her chestnut hair had been loosely pinned back in soft waves while the rest fell freely down her back. And though the three scars along the left side of her face had faded into pale pink lines against honey-beige skin, they remained visible enough to draw the eye if one looked too long. The last lingering reminder of what Corellia had cost her to stand up for another world, one she would do again, if only to save more lives.
As the sound of footsteps neared along the garden path, Sibylla straightened slightly, feeling that composure settle over her shoulders with practiced ease.
Right, tea first. Then the more difficult conversations.
