I don't know about you, but I have a soft spot for Eritha in my heart. Go ahead; gasp as you remember that I am an avid Tahl fan. It's because I really don't think it was really (kinda, sorta) Eritha's intention. It was her sister, who I loathe with every fiber of my being.
She smiled. Her neck was cold, her scalp was sore, but she was happy. She beamed.
Eritha loved braids. They were beautiful on her. She loved braids, and she always wore them.
It was the culture. It was the style. It was the fashion.
Every since they were children and learned to braid, Eritha had been bad at it. She couldn't get the hair to work the way she liked it to. But Alani was good at braiding, so Alani braided her hair.
They went to long lengths every morning. Every morning, every week, every year, it was the same routine…
Eritha would sit in a chair. Alani would stand behind her and get her straight blond hair smooth. Then she would divide it into three pieces; each equal. Next, she would weave them all together, one, then the other; one at a time. Alani would gently pull her head back, and Eritha resisted the urge to jerk her head forward. Alani pulled the hair taut, like a rope, as Eritha wanted to shake her head in rebellion. Finally, Alani would tie the end of the braid. At the top of Eritha's head she'd add a few pinching pins to keep tufts of hair plastered to her skull.
They loved each other; they really did. Those hair braiding sessions bonded them. Even as things around them grew worse, they stuck with it.
Year after year, as they entered their late teens, the sessions grew shorter and more troublesome. There was so much to do; so much to plan. Yet Alani insisted that she braid Eritha's hair.
There was pulling hair, and aching scalps, and many chilly necks. It grew careless but full of care; as they were harried and distracted and struggling to maintain their calm demeanors. Eritha grew to hate these braids. Her entire life reminded her of them.
Each day, she played three parts. The first was as a sister; the sister Alani needed in order to fulfill her dream. The second was for the Jedi, who thought she was true and innocent. The third was for the public- critically important. They had to see her as they did her father: a hero. She would need the same support they had once given him. All of this was woven into her.
Funny, because Alani controlled it, too. She was restricted, contained, and held back. She was pinned down like a loose tuft of hair.
But she let her do it. Because, like braids, she loved her.