Voice of Naboo
The late afternoon sun bled gold across the rolling heights of Dee'ja Peak, bathing the Abrantes estate in warm light. Out on the wide gravel stretch where the vineyards gave way to hunting grounds, Sibylla stood with the weight of a long rifle in her hands, jaw tight, shoulders tense.
Her motions were brisk, almost clipped, as she worked the bolt of the slugthrower and fed in the heavy cartridges. A sport of leisure for the nobles, pigeon shooting was meant to be refined, measured. But the way Sibylla handled the weapon betrayed no serenity, only restless energy begging to be spent.
Cassian arrived just in time to catch the sharp edge of it. Sibylla's hazel eyes that typically shone within the grounds of their home with warmth or wit, now burned with a different fire now. And while the details of it were not known to him, it would be evident that something was bothering her. The Sovereign Campaign had left its marks, the Gala more so. And whatever storm she carried from that night on the beach with Kadaara with Aurelian, it lingered still.
The solid-state projector set near the hedgerows hummed to life, ready to launch holographic clay pigeons into the sky. But Sibylla was hardly thinking of glass discs. Her mind chased darker shapes: the memories of the beach, the taste of whiskey, the confusion etched in Aurelian's face, and the sting of choices she couldn't untangle.
"Ready?" she muttered, sliding the last round into place with more force than necessary. Her hands were steady, but
Cassian Abrantes
' knew his sister's frustration was clearly behind them.This wasn't sport for her. This was exorcism.