It was the 14th of October C.Y. 4886. On the Republic's Calender, it was 836 ABY. Alarah, like most Hapans, counted the year by local measures, however. Consortium Year 4886 meant that it was 4,886 years since the founding of the Hapes Consortium. 30 years ago today, Ducha Alarah Kel was born in C.Y. 4856, which was more commonly known as 806 After the Battle of Yavin.
The Ducha lay still in bed that morning. She managed to not be stricken with yet another nightmare of that traumatizing battle at Lorell 3 years ago, but was still somewhat rudely awakened by her lead maid barging in to straighten up the Ducha's bedroom... as neat as Alarah typically kept it, the maid had little work to do in there, besides turning the privacy windows form partially opaque to full transparent, allowing the bright morning light from Gallinore's sun into the room from over the starscrapers of Dimitor City beyond.
Alarah scrunched her face in disdain and threw her comforter over her eyes, groaning. "Thank you for the warning!" she grumbled out in Hapan.
"Happy birthday, My Lady." her Maid replied with a grin. "The celebration's preparations are underway."
Alarah sighed and slowly dropped the white comforter from her face. ".... Le'ba e'Frak gne L'noan tira'h?" she'd ask, staring at the alabaster ceiling, which reflected practically all of the light from all sources. (translation: "how the f--k did I become thirty?")
The Ducha lay still in bed that morning. She managed to not be stricken with yet another nightmare of that traumatizing battle at Lorell 3 years ago, but was still somewhat rudely awakened by her lead maid barging in to straighten up the Ducha's bedroom... as neat as Alarah typically kept it, the maid had little work to do in there, besides turning the privacy windows form partially opaque to full transparent, allowing the bright morning light from Gallinore's sun into the room from over the starscrapers of Dimitor City beyond.
Alarah scrunched her face in disdain and threw her comforter over her eyes, groaning. "Thank you for the warning!" she grumbled out in Hapan.
"Happy birthday, My Lady." her Maid replied with a grin. "The celebration's preparations are underway."
Alarah sighed and slowly dropped the white comforter from her face. ".... Le'ba e'Frak gne L'noan tira'h?" she'd ask, staring at the alabaster ceiling, which reflected practically all of the light from all sources. (translation: "how the f--k did I become thirty?")