(no subject)
Padme has the door to the room wide open, and she's cleaning. She's wearing oversized jeans belted at the waist and a sweatshirt, along with a scarf around her neck.
The climate is so very cold. It never really got cold on Naboo. Not like this. It was temperate all the year round.
Padme pauses in her cleaning and goes over to the closet. The dress she came here in was still hanging here. It was dusty and a little frayed, but still beautiful, diaphanous layers of fabric gathered under a tight bodice in a full skirt, enough layers so that she was decently covered. No sleeves, it had been high summer, high summer at home, and everything had been green and growing.
She sighs, a small smile on her face, shaking her head. And she wonders if she should get rid of it. She won't ever wear it again.
But it still smells like home.
The climate is so very cold. It never really got cold on Naboo. Not like this. It was temperate all the year round.
Padme pauses in her cleaning and goes over to the closet. The dress she came here in was still hanging here. It was dusty and a little frayed, but still beautiful, diaphanous layers of fabric gathered under a tight bodice in a full skirt, enough layers so that she was decently covered. No sleeves, it had been high summer, high summer at home, and everything had been green and growing.
She sighs, a small smile on her face, shaking her head. And she wonders if she should get rid of it. She won't ever wear it again.
But it still smells like home.