Private Miss Chandrila Beauty Pageant

[Maeve Linahan]

"I am going to kill Master Noble."

Maeve grit her teeth as she climbed the marble steps to Chandrila Hall, where the planet's annual beauty pageant would soon be hosted. Colorful buntings and banners hung from the building's entrance. Reporters gathered to discuss the day's competition, gossiping over candidates.

It was all so nauseating.

Maeve didn't want to be here, but she didn't have much of a choice. Intel had suggested a Sith Lord was hiding among the contenders in the pageant—for reasons yet to be discovered—and Master Noble and the Jedi Council had chosen to send Maeve and, of course, Cora von Ascania, to the task. That required infiltrating the pageant undercover. Worse, actively participating in it.

There was little other way they could track the Sith without alerting them of their presence, so she and Cora had been signed on by Valery as random contestants from the Chandrilan countryside. Still, Maeve found it so... unbecoming. The thought of strutting alongside a dozen other preening women to the cries of thousands? Vile.

"Let's make this quick. I would prefer not to spend the entire day in this wretched place," she told Cora. The girl was recently knighted and eager to prove herself. Maeve trusted she would help her in tracking down the Sith, just as they'd found the lost artifact at the arts university years back, but she could only hope it didn't take half as long.

Then again, knowing how the Force worked, that was terribly unlikely.

Corazona von Ascania​

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[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora was hesitant about entering a beauty pageant, which might've been surprising for those who knew how much effort she put into her daily appearance.

Ukatis was more conservative when it came to beauty standards, and women who showed themselves off - which may not even have been their intent in the first place - were looked down upon.

The young knight wavered somewhere in between ancient customs and modernity. Some of the clothes she liked wouldn't have turned heads on Coruscant, but the bare-shouldered gown she'd worn on Anaxes would've certainly earned some disapproving stares back home.

That said, she seemed more comfortable with this mission than Maeve. As they ascended the never ending staircase, Cora looped an arm around the other blonde’s own. To keep up appearances, of course.

"You're going to need more lipstick." Her own painted lips pursed in thought before she quickly added, "It's for the mission."

She had a vision of Maeve decapitating her if she even tried to get close with another cosmetic.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but you do look nice."

When they reached the top platform, a reporter bounced over to them.

"My, don't you look lovely. And where do you ladies hail from?"

A microphone was shoved in Maeve's face.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Lipstick?" Maeve scoffed. "I don't wear makeup. It's distracting."

She held nothing against women who liked to pretty themselves up, but that simply wasn't her. As a Shadow, it tended to draw the wrong kind of attention. Last thing she wanted was men fawning over her. Sounded like a nightmare.

Unfortunately, in a place like this, that just wasn't possible. Moments after they'd reached the upper steps, near the glittering entrance of the pageant, they were accosted by a suited reporter with a blindingly white smile. His question immediately put her on guard.

"Why do you want to know?" Maeve asked suspiciously.

"Why, we're just looking to get to know some of the jewels of Chandrila!" The reporter said, completely oblivious to the death-glare Maeve was shooting him. He pushed the microphone closer, almost hitting her face, and she recoiled in disgust. "Come on, what do you say?"

Maeve batted the microphone away with a smack. "No, thank you."

An unwise move, but the whole reason she had come to this wretched place was to track down a Sith Lord. Even if she had a duty to play the role of a ditzy country girl seeking glory in some beauty competition, that didn't mean she'd actually do it. Certainly not.

"Well, she's in a mood!" The reporter laughed as he turned to the camera, slick as butter, before targeting Cora next. "What about you, bright eyes? You aren't camera shy, are you? How about you tell us where you're from?"

Corazona von Ascania​

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[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora couldn't decide if she was amused or horrified at Maeve's reaction to the nosy reporter. She briefly considered elbowing the more senior Knight in the ribs, but that ran the risk of hitting every step on the way back down.

The ex-princess immediately brightened as the microphone was pushed into her personal space.

"We're from a small town outside of Rospro!" She chirped, naming one of the countryside's only cities. If things went south, it would make it harder to trace their falsified identities in a more populous area.

Cora tugged on Maeve's arm to bring them closer, uncomfortably so as she pressed the side of her face to Maeve's own.

"We're just so excited to be here! She thinks that she's going to win this year, but I'll be giving her a run for her credits!"

Cora giggled, and the reporter laughed before moving on to accost another contender.

"Lipstick." Cora repeated lowly to Maeve. "And rouge, too. Maybe some kohl to bring out your eyes…"

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve resisted the urge to trip Cora down the steps. The girl was a Jedi Knight now, one of Valery's brightest, and she had a point. The two of them had a responsibility to blend in, to act like eager contestants, and here Maeve was, sneering at reporters and cosmetics.

But Ashla's Light, lipstick? Rouge?!

She glared at Cora, murder written across her face. "Lay so much as a hand on my face with that nonsense, and I will throw you over a cliffside."

Maeve shook her head in disbelief, continuing up the steps and into the pageant. The lobby was enormous, packed to the brim with guests and competitors alike. She saw women in stunning outfits the color of burnt-orange, of red, of midnight blue. Some had their hair piled in braids. Others let it tumble over their shoulders and down their back.

For the first time in a long time, Maeve almost felt… inferior.

She looked down at her simple outfit and cloak, then grimaced. There was still wardrobe changing to be done, but she and Cora already had caught the attention of several women inside the lobby—contestants, no doubt—and they looked at them up and down before giggling.

"What's this?" one girl said. "Did someone let their tauntauns loose?"

Corazona von Ascania​

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[Corazona von Ascania]

Mean girls.

Tiny hairs at the back of Cora's neck stood on end before they'd even approached. Growing up on Ukatis, she’d occasionally been the target of snobby young nobles who lived in the capital rather than the countryside. The doe-eyed girl from a farming province lacked their killer instinct, but she could recognize it.

Some of the women here truly were stunning, and their giggling stuck in Cora's mind like a thousand tiny needles.

Still, she put on a pleasant face and batted her lashes in faux-innocence. Leaning in close to Maeve, she raised a hand between them as if to obscure her moving lips, still speaking loud enough for the girls to hear-

"Oh my, I certainly hope that telling jokes isn't her talent! But if it is, that'll just up our chances…"

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

A muscle in Maeve's jaw twitched at the insult lobbed their way. She took a step forward, possessed with the sudden urge to fracture an ankle in three places, but Cora kept her in line, leaning close to whisper loudly in her direction. Cora's next words drew glares from the other contestants, who sneered and stalked off to find easier prey. Good riddance.

Maeve huffed. "These people, I swear…"

The whole room reeked of narcissism. Girls all dressed up in pretty gowns drenched in glitter, eager to outshine everyone else in the claim to be Chandrila's most beautiful. It was nauseating. She didn't fit in at all.

As she cut a path through the lobby, a few more girls turned to size them up, judging them in silence. Not all of them were hostile, but it still left Maeve feeling like she'd walked into enemy territory. "Was this what it was like for you on Ukatis, during your time enslaved to that bucket of dysentery you had called a husband?" A grimace. "I don't know how you did it."

Given her absence, Maeve knew little about Cora's stay on her homeworld and as a full-time princess, though she'd clearly learned a great deal from the experience. She seemed stronger, more clever. Only slightly, but enough to tell.

Corazona von Ascania​

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[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora had a lot of choice words for Horace. Many of which she was uncomfortable verbailizing, let alone thinking.

Maeve's designation for her departed husband was, by far, the most creative one she'd encountered. It even injected a measure of genuine amusement into her otherwise pleasant expression.

"No, the women of court were much more subtle about their distaste. It wouldn't do to glare at their Princess."

Cora smiled brightly at a pair of women who'd nearly clipped them as they walked past, sneers curling their scarlet lips.

She wouldn't deny the sudden urge she had to actually win this contest, if only to see the looks on their pretty, painted, broken faces. The Princess-in-exile was accustomed to being judged, but not looked down upon by this many eyes.

"They tried to gain my favor, if anything."

None of that was happening here, nor did it have reason to. Cora and Maeve made their way backstage, lined up with several other girls waiting to have their hair and makeup done.

"But having every detail of my appearance scrutinized, down to every little movement I made, was admittedly exhausting. I couldn't even be bloated for a day without rumors of pregnancy sweeping the court." She waved a hand as if to dispel that unpleasant thought. "It certainly didn't help matters that he dismissed my household staff and replaced them with his own eyes and ears."

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve fell quiet as Cora spoke about her time on Ukatis and as Horace's trophy wife. The story made her gut twist. Living like that hardly sounded like living at all, and it only stoked Maeve's hatred for the dead prince—may he rot in peace.

"That sounds horrible. I'm... sorry I was not there to help."

Maeve couldn't help but feel slight regret at having left for the Unknown Regions when she did. She could've stayed, tried to have done something, but her obsession in hunting Sith blinded her to the people around her, made her think only of the mission ahead. She had missed so much in her absence, and for what? Had it been worth it, in the end?

Maeve shrugged the thought aside. "No woman deserves that kind of life, but I'm glad you're free of him. Knighthood suits you better than royalty."

She offered a rare smile before proceeding down the line backstage. It didn't take long for them to enter a large changing room, arrayed with mirrors framed in blinding lights and packed with gossiping girls and makeup artists.

"Oh, my!" said a voice. "You must be this year's corn-breds!"

A man in a stylish headscarf came forward and eagerly studied them both. Lacking any sense of boundaries, he examined Cora's nails, chin, and hair. "By the stars! You are stunning, if I may say so myself. What strong cheekbones! What is your name, my dear?"

Corazona von Ascania​

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[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora managed an awkward smile. Talking about Horace was never easy - and even though she'd been rid of him for some time, occasionally his shadow would sneak up on her.

Maeve expressed that she wished she'd been there to help, and Cora didn't have it in her to verbalize that she would've refused help, as she had when others extended their hands toward her. It was only when she'd been backed into a corner after murdering Horace did she allow herself to be saved.

"Does it?" She brightened a little, knowing that Maeve would not say something that she did not mean. Oh, that little smile made her heart flutter.

The nice moment was broken by a pair of fingers grasping her chin, tilting her head this way and that.

Startled, Cora wobbled in place before righting herself. Corn-bred? Cheekbones? What? The compliment didn't register.

It took her a few stunned moments to raise both hands in an attempt to put some semblance of distance between her and the man. She took a small step back for good measure.

"Oh, ah - I'm…Anna Marie. Pleasure to be makin' your acquaintance, Sir!"

Where had that accent come from?

"This here's my friend Maisie. We're ever so excited to be here! By the stars, I've never been to a city this big before!"

Even Cora knew that she was laying it on thick. She gave Maeve a wide smile, though there was a touch of please don't kill me in her eyes.

"Maisie here always said she wanted to be competin’ since she was a little girl!"

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Really?" Maeve muttered, barely holding back a grimace as Cora introduced them both. Of all the names she could've chosen, why Maisie? For someone just named Jedi Knight, she seemed eager for death…

"Maisie and Anne Marie," the man said, clapping his hands. "How sweet! But ah, this is your first time in the city? Well, you've come to the right place! It's here that dreams are made reality!" He glanced at Maeve. "Er, most dreams, at least."

"No matter! I have been assigned to help enhance your outer beauty and drown your inner beauty with foundation, so it would be an honor to make you two lovelies the loveliest of this year's pageant."

The man moved onto Maeve, circling her slowly, giving her a quick look-over. "Mhm… beautiful locks—save for a few tangles—and your face is sorely lacking in blush, but this is nothing that Stefan can't fix! Come, come, let's begin."

The man grinned and twirled flamboyantly between them. Hooking an arm with Cora and Maeve's, he guided them to a bright vanity and cushioned tool in the corner of the room.

"Let's start easy," Stefan said, taking Cora and plopping her into the seat. Just as he did, several mechanical arms sprouted from around his back, eagerly picking up brushes and tweezers and curlers on the dresser. He leaned over her shoulder and offered another wide smile. "Are you ready, my dear? Because it's makeover time~!"

Corazona von Ascania​

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[Corazona von Ascania]

Drown us in foundation?

Now a little more self conscious, Cora placed a hand against her cheek. Was her skin really in need of that much…assistance?

This is probably a normal thing for a pageant. I hope. I pray.

With the comments he made towards Maisi- Maeve, Cora was surprised that the elder Jedi knight didn't thrust her elbow into his ribcage the moment he'd linked arms with her. In a whirlwind of flamboyant movement, the noble was plopped down in front of a brightly lit mirror. She visibly flinched when the cybernetic limbs burst from the beauty coordinator's back.

"Erm…"

When she'd been a Princess, Cora was used to having attendants assist her with primping for the day. This was…different enough for her to shoot Maeve a wide-eyed look.

"Nothing too heavy, please." Anxiously, her gaze flicked up to Stefan. "I don't want to look like a harlot."

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"A harlot? Do not worry, my dear! Stefan would never." He pouted and wagged a finger at Cora through the mirror. "I mean, truly! With a face like this? No, you shall be a virgin beauty! Like the Saint of Jedha, floating down from the Heavens! The judges will throw themselves at your feet in reverence once you make the stage, I am certain!"

Maeve rolled her eyes. She was getting a migraine listening to this man.

Ignoring her glare, Stefan grinned wide and immediately got to work. His hands moved lightning quick, as did his extended mechanical limbs, which eagerly descended on Cora's face and hair, curling and twisting and daubing and brushing.

Maeve could barely keep up with what was happening.

After what felt like an eternity, Stefan stepped away, giggling like a madman. Maeve inched closer, looking in the mirror to get a good look.

She blinked. Once, twice, and then again. Cora was still Cora, of course, but changed. Transformed. She looked like a legitimate princess, far more than she had during her engagement party with Horace all those years ago.

Glossy lips, painted a deep red. Hair thrown up in a gorgeous weave, sparkling with rubies—wherever the hell that came from—and Ashla's Light, her skin! Not a single mark or pore. It glowed, smooth like porcelain, and a warm shade of blush circled her cheekbones. She looked like the women back in the lobby. No, better.

Maeve pursed her lips and murmured, just enough for Cora to hear, "Well, if there is a Sith lurking here, you're sure to catch their attention now…"

Corazona von Ascania​

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[Corazona von Ascania]

"A v-virgin?"

Pale cheeks flushed at the notion, but Cora was too startled to say anything in protest. She wasn't even sure if she had anything to protest about.

It was probably better for everyone if she kept her mouth shut, anyway.

When Stefan has finished his work and turned Cora's chair towards the mirror, she paused. Entranced by the vision staring back at her, she didn't move for several long seconds. This was far better than the results her handmaidens on Ukatis had produced.

"Ashla's Light, my skin looks like glass."

Cora turned her head to the side in disbelief, wondering what products and techniques he'd used to achieve such a diffusing effect. She'd been having a rough skin day, too - her pores the size of craters were nowhere to be found.

After gazing at her reflection for a little too long, Cora cleared her throat and picked herself up from the chair and gave Maeve a sidelong glance regarding heir target.

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing." Sure, they were here to catch the Sith reportedly lurking among the contestants, the idea of attracting that kind of attention was intimidating. Stepping to the side, Cora swept a hand towards the open seat for Maeve.

"And for you, my dear…" One of Stefan's mechanical arms would cradle his chin in thought. "I'm thinking glitz and glam, yes? You have such a lovely bone structure, you'd pull off a smokey eye well!"

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Glitz and glam? Smokey eye? What language was this man speaking? Maeve didn't understand half the terms he was throwing up. Although she understood a little fashion—only thanks to Thelma and Amani—make-up was a field she severely lacked in experience.

Magical as Cora's transformation was, and as beautiful as the girl now looked, Maeve resisted the urge to let Stefan do the same. So, she raised one hand to stop him. "I don't know what you're saying, but I'm fine. I have no need for your services."

"Nonsense!" Stefan exclaimed. "You could use all the help you can get, my dear." He toyed at her hair. "I mean, look at those fraying edges, and don't think I don't see those shadows under your eyes! Oh, and your lips, they're about as thin as my uncle's hairline—"

"Enough," Maeve growled. She plopped into the seat. "Fine. Do what you want. Just make it quick and nothing too extravagant."

"Oh, please. Extravagant is my middle name!" Stefan leaned over to Cora and murmured, "It's actually Bartholomew, but let's leave that between us." Without another thought, he flourished around Maeve and clapped his hands twice. "Anyway, let the work begin!"

Mechanical arms descended on Maeve. She felt herself be tugged this way and that, hair pulled and brushed and curled. Eyebrows were threaded, lips painted and eyeshadow applied. It wasn't for another eternity until Stefan finally stepped away, grinning like a fool, spinning her around on the cushioned stool to look in the mirror.

Who Maeve saw was like a completely different person.

Corazona von Ascania​

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