ʟᴀᴅʏ sᴀɴsᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴋ: ᴀʟᴀʏɴᴇ sᴛᴏɴᴇ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
steeledskin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-10-28 07:04 pm
steeledskin) wrote in driftfleet2015-10-28 07:04 pm
» 1st lemoncake
Who: Sansa StarkAlayne Stone and YOU!
Broadcast: Video (fleetwide)
Action: Marsiva (bathroom + hallways + kitchen)
When: Early morning.
[ she stares at her refection -- standing in the communal bathroom on the marsiva. another morning, which had followed hard upon another night. at least she could only assume they were mornings and nights by the waning of the lights, and the jarring onset of such cryptic dreams. these nightly journeys into strange places and stranger memories exhaust her, and with girlish vanity she touches the dark circles under her eyes -- so starkly visible in such a perfectly reflective surface, far better than even the best polished metals in king's landing. my name is alayne stone, she mouths to herself -- more bewildered now by the obvious dark dye in her hair than she'd ever been before. sansa is gone; sansa is dead. but already her roots are beginning to show copper--!
she gathers her hair into a simple plait and fastidiously straightens the dress she'd worn to the tournament feast in the vale, and the same dress she'd worn when she'd woken up elsewhere on the marsiva. it would need a washing, soon. but she had no handmaid to prevail upon. so, looking almost as dreary as she felt, she walked solemnly and slowly back to her assigned room: nothing to keep her company except a fur-lined cloak and a mockingbird pin.
she had avoided the bizarre little message-givers for so long. but having slyly watched someone else use theirs on the previous evening, she dares to address whoever else might be listening: ]
Please. I want to go home. I'm not supposed to be here.
[ it doesn't occur to her that no one else should be, either.
but once she's been thoroughly schooled on that front, she can be found drowning her private sorrows in the kitchen, her gaze stuck on the warmed milk filling her mug. she can't decide whether she's relieved or angry she can't return to where she's meant to be. ]
Broadcast: Video (fleetwide)
Action: Marsiva (bathroom + hallways + kitchen)
When: Early morning.
[ she stares at her refection -- standing in the communal bathroom on the marsiva. another morning, which had followed hard upon another night. at least she could only assume they were mornings and nights by the waning of the lights, and the jarring onset of such cryptic dreams. these nightly journeys into strange places and stranger memories exhaust her, and with girlish vanity she touches the dark circles under her eyes -- so starkly visible in such a perfectly reflective surface, far better than even the best polished metals in king's landing. my name is alayne stone, she mouths to herself -- more bewildered now by the obvious dark dye in her hair than she'd ever been before. sansa is gone; sansa is dead. but already her roots are beginning to show copper--!
she gathers her hair into a simple plait and fastidiously straightens the dress she'd worn to the tournament feast in the vale, and the same dress she'd worn when she'd woken up elsewhere on the marsiva. it would need a washing, soon. but she had no handmaid to prevail upon. so, looking almost as dreary as she felt, she walked solemnly and slowly back to her assigned room: nothing to keep her company except a fur-lined cloak and a mockingbird pin.
she had avoided the bizarre little message-givers for so long. but having slyly watched someone else use theirs on the previous evening, she dares to address whoever else might be listening: ]
Please. I want to go home. I'm not supposed to be here.
[ it doesn't occur to her that no one else should be, either.
but once she's been thoroughly schooled on that front, she can be found drowning her private sorrows in the kitchen, her gaze stuck on the warmed milk filling her mug. she can't decide whether she's relieved or angry she can't return to where she's meant to be. ]
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But it's not a monarchy. We're a democracy, so every planet part of the Republic elects a Senator to represent them and their concerns in the Galactic Senate, and the Senators then elect a leader to preside over Senate proceedings, called the Chancellor. Voting comes around every four years, so if you don't like your elected official, you can vote in someone else in their place.
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Chaotic.
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Not really. It runs pretty smoothly. Though the senate debates can get a bit hectic.
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[ she wonders if this squire -- this padawan has spent time at court. ]
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[Though it occurs to her suddenly that line was probably just an excuse for Anakin to spend time near Padmé. She never saw other padawans spending as much time in the senate building as she did.]
Mostly they just made my head spin.
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... Anyway-- here I am going on and on about myself, sorry. I should really know better...
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The Jedi masters back home always said I chatter too much. Apparently it's "not dignified." [Ahsoka even does the little air quotes with her fingers as she says it.]
I can't help it. I just like talking to people! You never know what you're going to find out, right?