Ra'a'mah
Baroness
The old district of Theed moved at a different rhythm than the rest of the city, a slower and more deliberate pace that seemed to belong to another era entirely. Tourists usually stayed closer to the palace terraces and the lake promenades, leaving the narrow, curved streets of the older quarter to locals, to quiet shops tucked between stone archways, and to the occasional visitor who preferred wandering without a guide rather than following a curated itinerary. Small storefronts lined the streets, their windows filled with books, antiques, and relics that had somehow survived generations of Naboo history without losing their quiet dignity.
Ra'a'mah found herself there more often than most people expected, drawn to the district with a regularity that had become almost instinctive. Her office in the government quarter was only a short walk away, and on days when meetings stretched endlessly or negotiations spiraled into the same circular arguments, stepping into the older parts of the city offered a kind of reset that nothing else quite managed. Naboo had a way of reminding people that the galaxy had existed long before whatever crisis currently demanded attention, and that it would continue long after.
The small shop she stepped into carried the soft scent of aged paper and polished wood, a comforting blend that settled around her the moment she crossed the threshold. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with old books, historical records, and the occasional oddity whose origin the proprietor likely understood far better than he ever admitted. A few antique pieces rested in glass displays near the center of the room—Naboo art, navigation instruments, and fragments of architecture that had been carefully preserved and quietly displayed without fanfare.
Ra moved slowly between the shelves, one hand resting lightly against the spine of a book as she read the faded title, her movements unhurried and thoughtful. She wasn't searching for anything in particular; sometimes it was enough simply to browse, to let her mind settle into the quiet and allow the noise of the day to fall away.
The stillness of the shop shifted slightly as the door behind her opened, the faint chime of the entry bell breaking the silence for a moment before fading back into the background. Ra glanced over her shoulder, her attention drawn briefly to the newcomer.
Another customer had entered—well dressed, though not ostentatiously so, the sort of person who looked comfortable in places where conversations and agreements tended to matter more than appearances. She returned the book to the shelf with a gentle motion before stepping aside to give him access to the display she had been standing near.
"Careful with that one," she said lightly, nodding toward an old astrogation device resting beneath the glass. "The owner will happily tell you the story of it for twenty minutes if you show too much interest."
A small, understated smile touched her lips, the expression carrying a hint of personal experience.
"I made that mistake once."
Her golden eyes lingered on the display for a moment before she looked back toward him, her tone shifting into something conversational and quietly observant.
"You're not from Naboo," she said, not as an accusation but as a simple truth spoken by someone who had spent enough time in the city to recognize its rhythms. "Visitors tend to pause here the way you just did."
She extended her hand with the easy politeness of someone who understood both diplomacy and the value of simple courtesy.
"Ra'a'mah."
No titles, no formalities, it's just a name offered naturally, as though she preferred it that way.
"My office is nearby, so I occasionally wander down here when I need a break from meetings," she added, her gaze drifting briefly across the shop as though acknowledging the quiet refuge it provided.
"If you're here on business, you're welcome to stop by sometime. Conversations tend to be much easier in an office than they are in a place like this."
Another faint smile followed, softer this time.
"Though this shop is far better for thinking."
The Lord of Hunger
Ra'a'mah found herself there more often than most people expected, drawn to the district with a regularity that had become almost instinctive. Her office in the government quarter was only a short walk away, and on days when meetings stretched endlessly or negotiations spiraled into the same circular arguments, stepping into the older parts of the city offered a kind of reset that nothing else quite managed. Naboo had a way of reminding people that the galaxy had existed long before whatever crisis currently demanded attention, and that it would continue long after.
The small shop she stepped into carried the soft scent of aged paper and polished wood, a comforting blend that settled around her the moment she crossed the threshold. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with old books, historical records, and the occasional oddity whose origin the proprietor likely understood far better than he ever admitted. A few antique pieces rested in glass displays near the center of the room—Naboo art, navigation instruments, and fragments of architecture that had been carefully preserved and quietly displayed without fanfare.
Ra moved slowly between the shelves, one hand resting lightly against the spine of a book as she read the faded title, her movements unhurried and thoughtful. She wasn't searching for anything in particular; sometimes it was enough simply to browse, to let her mind settle into the quiet and allow the noise of the day to fall away.
The stillness of the shop shifted slightly as the door behind her opened, the faint chime of the entry bell breaking the silence for a moment before fading back into the background. Ra glanced over her shoulder, her attention drawn briefly to the newcomer.
Another customer had entered—well dressed, though not ostentatiously so, the sort of person who looked comfortable in places where conversations and agreements tended to matter more than appearances. She returned the book to the shelf with a gentle motion before stepping aside to give him access to the display she had been standing near.
"Careful with that one," she said lightly, nodding toward an old astrogation device resting beneath the glass. "The owner will happily tell you the story of it for twenty minutes if you show too much interest."
A small, understated smile touched her lips, the expression carrying a hint of personal experience.
"I made that mistake once."
Her golden eyes lingered on the display for a moment before she looked back toward him, her tone shifting into something conversational and quietly observant.
"You're not from Naboo," she said, not as an accusation but as a simple truth spoken by someone who had spent enough time in the city to recognize its rhythms. "Visitors tend to pause here the way you just did."
She extended her hand with the easy politeness of someone who understood both diplomacy and the value of simple courtesy.
"Ra'a'mah."
No titles, no formalities, it's just a name offered naturally, as though she preferred it that way.
"My office is nearby, so I occasionally wander down here when I need a break from meetings," she added, her gaze drifting briefly across the shop as though acknowledging the quiet refuge it provided.
"If you're here on business, you're welcome to stop by sometime. Conversations tend to be much easier in an office than they are in a place like this."
Another faint smile followed, softer this time.
"Though this shop is far better for thinking."
The Lord of Hunger
