Location: Swan Float
Job: Protect the Queen
Interacting With: [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Kyle Ajahn"] | [member="Vyra Silara"]
Post: 1
Srina felt trapped in a place of spiritual warfare. Every nerve ending buzzed, burning, and raw from all of the voices and shouts from the crowd. There were so many auras. So much to feel. So many intentions to sort through, to analyze, to search for the seeds of a citizen disgruntled enough to take matters into their own hands. She didn’t know how the others could stand it so easily, but endurance, was an Echani specialty. Suffering, adaption, and pain. She would endure as her duty demanded it.
Flawlessly.
Before the parade, she had sat deathly still, letting droids and assistants paint her face with rice powder, turning already alabaster skin, to a colorless shade of pale. A blank canvas, with their hair hidden, would help all of the handmaidens blend in seamlessly without another. She was not pleased with the lavender hooded gowns they had been given for the event, but, at least she could hide her lightsaber in the hidden pockets. The red band of leather and onyx around her wrist also remained out of sight and out of mind. To most, save for her extremely snowy complexion, and gray eyes—she would seem little more than a servant to the newly crowned Queen of Relovian.
That was the point after all. To keep the dark-haired royal safe, they needed to appear subservient to the imposter in the gilded white gown, all the while ignoring the true ruler. The warrior and strategist within her demanded to know why [member="Vyra Silara"] had decided to join the procession in person at all. If the whole point, was keeping her secret, sequestered, and safe in the guise of something she was not…Why keep her so close to the one thing that presented the most danger? If something came for Savani that could not be stopped in time would Vyra really be able to do what was needed?
Surely, she knew the point of her handmaidens. They were expendable lives, existing solely, to ensure that she continued to thrive. Would Vyra really let Savani die in her place?
Srina was inclined to believe that she would not, despite, her best efforts to adhere to what was expected. She had seen compassion in her eyes. It was in her voice, in her soul, in every movement she made. The Queen had an obvious beauty, something that lived and breathed both within and on the outside. She did not display the traits of someone that could stand idly by. It was admirable, certainly, but a death sentence for someone under threat of assassination. It was beautiful. It was weakness. Srina knew, yet, could not bring herself to put it into words.
All of the qualities that made Vyra capable and well-suited for the position she had been appointed would only harm her in the end. She would inevitably suffer for her kindness.
Such was the life of a politician.
Srina hoped much like [member="Darth Metus"] that today would not be that day.
Silently the Sith Apprentice used the shadows of her hood to observe the faces of the people that lined the streets. A soft and pleasant smile sat on nigh-angelic features that was entirely out of place for the Echani. Yet, it was entirely appropriate for a loyal and beloved handmaiden. She didn’t linger on any one citizen for too long, but even the children that [member="Ahani Najwa"] threw candy at, were not safe from her inspection. When she realized that a tendril of moonlit hair had escaped her hood, she immediately reached up to discretely secure it. That was a mistake that would not be repeated.
Srina could feel her Master on the approach. He was appropriately dashing in his white swan-suit, playing his part with grandeur, and flourish. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought that he’d spent some time leading a circus, or a parade, as it were. When he requested a dance she hesitated for a laundry list of reasons, but mostly, because she didn’t want to be any further from Vyra than she needed to be. It was a well-known fact that the Handmaidens were close, sisterly, and could almost always be seen with one another. The words to politely decline died on her lips when the brunette of the hour answered for her.
Eyes of the purest silver found Vyra. She looked long and hard before her focus fell respectfully to the faux-Queen. The wintry woman bowed, grace woven into her every movement, and requested orders before making assumptions. That was what a servant did. They obeyed.
“By your leave, Majesty.”
They had no idea who was listening, who they could trust, and who they couldn’t. Srina would keep up the illusion they had presented as long as possible. The Queen’s life may depend on it.
Savani waved her away, just as joyous over it as Vyra, and Srina inwardly sighed. Were they really out to drive her mad? The apprentice could not let her guard down on the best of days—Let alone this.
“I’m better than he is at many things. Dance is too close to combat. My apologies…”, she breathed elegantly as she floated down from the dais, entirely ignoring her Master’s outstretched hand, in favor of taking herself to the area of the float where multiple people twirled and swayed in time with the lively music.
“You will lose.”
“Again.”
Certain that her Master followed in her wake the young woman awaited his arrival patiently. In the meantime, she waved to those that cheered, doing what was required. She may have loathed this setting, but her disguise didn’t leave room for argument. When appropriate, she curtseyed low for Darth Metus, before rising to meet him.
“You know…You should behave more like the bodyguard [[member="Kyle Ajahn"]].”
“This isn’t Leritor.”
The song changed and Srina changed her stance with it. The orchestra and marching band must have been so tired, so sore, since they’d been playing for what felt like hours—but it still sounded as if they had all the energy in the world. The dancing around them appeared courtly, joyous, and was filled with quick turns and breathtaking spins. She would depend, many times, on Darth Metus to keep her from falling.
Srina knew he would catch her, always. Darth Metus was smart. He would know, that if he didn’t, he was a dead man.
They had barely moved into the first turn when a familiar sound pierced the air above the buzzing white-noise of the crowd. Srina did her best not to freeze as the dancers began to look around in confusion. Fear was like a disease. If they let it spread it would consume everyone present. Someone on the streets could get hurt or trampled if panic set in. The float with the massive canine began deflating and Srina set her jaw, pointing toward it, blaming it for the sound.
"It was just the float. Keep going."
Yes. She knew the sound of a rifle. Did they?
Probably not. Yet, if the parade kept moving, if the officials didn't panic, the people would likely follow their lead. [member="Muad Dib"] was playing it off perfectly.
'You should have our people start sweeping the building to the left. The vantage point required would be near there.', Srina mentally spoke to Darth Metus, pale features still imitating the witless, perfect expression of a Handmaiden.
