fine feathers

The early sun peeks through the slats at the window, and the girl considers her wardrobe.

She surveys the rows of dresses, the thick velvets and voluminous silks. She glances across the lines of dainty, decorative shoes. She even takes into account the trays and trays of jewellery before making her selection. It takes the combined efforts of both her and her single handmaiden to get her into the gown, burdened as it is with a fitted bodice and silver needlepoint and jewels, and the second its padded shoulders settle in place she can feel their weight bearing down on her.

Padme forces herself to straighten, breathes all the way down to her stomach, and gives Eila a brave smile. As heavy as the gown is, she can already feel it bracing her, transforming her, reminding her that she is no longer the girl struck with awe at the capital city of Naboo, she is a senator who barters with planets.

In the slanting sun, Eila does Padme's hair, smoothing in veda pearls that catch the rays in sudden bursts. She does her makeup; the Senator fastens her own jewellery, today a band of black and white around the throat. Then the handmaiden pulls over a full-length mirror so Padme can make a final inspection.

The transformation, Padme can see, is complete. Eila has completely hidden the circles under her eyes and the dryness in her skin bred by long hours and sleepless nights. The gown, dark, full, and sculptural, emphasizes her, making her presence commanding, full of power and ethos. Padme, the tired young woman carrying a burden too heavy for her, is gone, and Senator Amidala, the beautiful and intelligent champion of democracy whom Padme hopes to really be someday, stands in her place. 

(Deep in the recesses of her wardrobe Padme still keeps a gown from when she was Queen. The rest are gone--made into simpler dresses, cut up to be resold, or given to charities--because she could not in her new position justify owning such opulence. But she keeps one. It reminds her that the people chose her, and the people loved her, and that, by all accounts, they still do.)

The sun is rising higher as Padme travels to the Senate, her long train creating a wake behind her, like the waves of change she leaves in the sky.

-

The sun is beginning to sink when the girl considers her wardrobe.

She has to force herself not to slump, not to let the sweat and dirt and blood all over the sheets or fall asleep right there and then. Instead she opens the large metal trunk she stores her clothes in and eyes them dubiously, rooting through the pants, the vests, the white dresses and silver jewellery stark against the browns and greens. She has nothing coordinated or particularly suitable for an emergency meeting in lieu of dinner--laundry can be slow on an overtaxed Rebellion base--but she sighs, hits the shower, and throws on a shirt and pants that vaguely match.

Leia could try to scrape up something to eat in the five minutes she has left, but instead she gives herself time to braid her hair, coiling the finished braid around her head and pinning it in place. The routine forces her to slow down, soothes her, stills her nerves. Her mother used to braid her hair, sometimes to keep her quiet, sometimes for a special occasion. In the familiar action Leia can still feel her mother's hands.

She ducks into her bunk to look into the small mirror kept there. Her face looks very small and pale and tired against the shadows filling the room, but Leia lifts her chin and sets her jaw, hard. She has seen her father do this before he leaves for the Senate. She has seen her mother do this before she makes difficult decisions. The mask hides the frightened girl who has lost her home planet and turns her into the lion-hearted leader of the Rebellion. One day Leia hopes to be able to drop the mask and lead regardless, but for now, it has to do.

(Leia still keeps the few gowns, silver-white and shining, she has left. True, they do not belong in this age of war and tears, but before she was a rebel she was a Princess. The time may come when she has to be a princess again, free and clean and beautiful. She does quite not realize her men love her the better for dressing like them.)

The sun has nearly set when Leia marches out to the Rebellion, the sound of her boots loud and certain against the tiles, like the shakers of entire worlds.

-

The night is breathing its last, gusting over the sands, and the girl considers her wardrobe.

One of the lenses from her goggles has fallen out, and just poking it back in isn't going to work; she's tried. Which means she's going to have to find some glue, which means she's going to have to buy it, which means she's going to go hungry again--but no one in their right mind would try to scavenge without goggles. And her belt has once again become too loose. That she can fix now, so she stitches it tighter with a big needle and a scrap of rawhide thread. Sitting upright, she rocks her hammock with one foot on the sandy ground, listening to the soft animal sounds of the desert.

The task finished, Rey lets out a frustrated little sigh, stretching out to full length. Her empty stomach makes sleep impossible. Absently, she winds and rewinds her gauzy arm bindings and scatters the loose sand. Soon the sun will rise, and she will set out again to the junkyards of Jakku, hopefully to find enough scrap to buy her dinner and glue. She jumps up at the first sign, the barely perceptible rose glow on the horizon, grabbing her quarterstaff as she goes. Before she steps out of the shadow of her walker, she draws herself up to her full height, grips her quarterstaff a little tighter, makes herself seem like a difficult target so that any lowlifes looking for an easy victim will decide she isn't worth it. 

(Rey gathers her hair every morning into three little knots at the back of her neck. It's extra trouble, and time is food on Jakku, but she has to allow herself the indulgence. There is someone out there who will remember her real name, her past, her family. In the meantime this is all she has to remember, and she will keep doing her hair so, because someone who loved her once did it for her.)

The sun is gaining strength when Rey sets off to the scavenge, and she leaves footprints in the sand, like the path she will trace out in the stars.