The Crescent
Suggested Theme:
Main Theme- A Silence Song, Silent by Michael Cashmore
Rama Pestage is standing one-legged atop his purple ball. He has decided to practice balancing while also pondering the most urgent question a seven-year-old would have: What do I get Vader for the Festival of Love?
For seven years, Vader had never been on Coruscant to celebrate the Festival of Love.
Until this year, I never had to get Vader anything. I only had to worry about Father, Sire, Kinman, and the Red Guards. And even then, I didn't really have to try with their gifts. I always give wine to Father, Sire, and Kinman, while the Red Guards get candy. They're all so easy to get gifts for!
But those gifts would not be appropriate for Vader.
He won't be able to smash the chocolates to dust, and I don't think he really cares for wine. I never see him drink any at the Imperial functions. He must subsist on dust! Rama concluded, feeling as though he solved one great mystery.
I could get him dust, but I don't think that's luxurious enough for this holiday. Perhaps, I can get him a cape? Something with sparkles? But that would ruin his fearsome image, and Sire doesn't approve of sparkles. He remembers all too well his sire's sneer when he came dressed in a sequined reindeer sweater that Mr. Jade got him last Life Day.
The furrows in his face became chasms, while his yellow eyes blazed like twin suns eating a moon. He shudders at the memory and makes sure to never make such a fashion faux pas again.
I could get him a plain cape, but he probably has dozens of those. I want to get him something meaningful since this is his first Festival of Love! He hears a knock on his door.
"Rama, it's time for bed!" His father says through the door. Rama takes one hop off his ball, causing the ball to roll under his bed, and lands one foot on the lavender carpeted floor. His knee bends slightly, ruining his almost perfect landing.
[Damn!] He curses in Naboo just like Kinman taught him.
A boy, no more than nine, with yellow sand hair and sky blue eyes takes a knife to a piece of ivory-colored wood. He whittles the piece of wood, bigger than his fist, into a snippet with eclectic designs of swirls and stars with a doorway to the cosmos.
The boy secures a crude leather throng through the snippet like a necklace.
The boy smiles and kisses the snippet for good luck.
Rama leaves the slumbering past for the present. He finds himself staring at his lavender ceiling with his Heartless is still tucked under his arms, listening to his erratic heartbeat.
Da dum, da dum, da dum!
He turns his head towards his nightstand and sees the chronometer flashing 0400 at him. He smiles at the numbers and hugs his Heartless tighter, causing the misshapen, shadowy head to loll.
He has found the answer to another great mystery.
Through careful negotiations and silver-tongued flattery, Rama got the materials needed for Vader's gift.
Glow stones are known for the warmth they give off, and in my hands, it feels like I'm holding a still beating heart! But I only have two since they are hard to import at a reasonable price. The Tatooine stones cost Rama his allowance for the next two months, but he finds it a worthy sacrifice.
I'm only making one, so I'll save the other one for the future. He opens his nightstand's drawer and exchanges the glow stone for a vibro-knife.
The knife shakes slightly in his firm hand; he sinks the vibrating blade into the stone's heart.
Darth Vader could feel Rama enter the Palace. His Little Moth's Force-signature used to beat rapidly like wings, but now it's nearly as silent as a moth's fluttering.
Today, he's back to that rapid beating. Most likely because of this accursed holiday. He always gets excited around holidays. His Angel would get excited around this time, love burning in her breasts, and he burning for a taste.
I hate this holiday. He wishes that there was a rebellious cell to be disposed of, but it seems that the galaxy has let him down. Again.
Rama must be delivering gifts to everyone at the palace. Candy for the Royal Guards and wine for my Master. He feels Rama fluttering down his hall.
Oh no! Rama knows I'm here! Poodoo, he probably got me candy or wine. The chocolate will melt all over my mouth piece! And the wine will short-circuit my suit! Oh no! I have to break his little heart today! He looks at his door like the herald of his doom.
Knock! Knock!
It's too late to escape! Vader shakes his helm and decides to face his doom. He opens the door and sees Rama without his Pestage headscarves. But nothing in his tiny white hands.
Thank the Dark Side! He probably found out too late and couldn't get me anything! Yet, Rama has a huge nexu-like smile on his tiny face.
"May I come in?" Aw, he's so polite like the Imperial Prince that he is!
"You may." Vader nods and moves out of the way to let his Little Moth through. He then closes the door.
"Today's the Festival of Love." His Little Moth begins much like the Emperor does when he's about to impart a secret test on Vader.
"Yes." Vader gives a monosyllabic response without apprehension.
"I always get presents for those that I love. I got candy for the Royal Guards, wine for Sire, Kinman, and Father." His Little Moth pauses. "But I didn't know what to get you."
"You don't have to get me anything." "Oh but, Ani, I want to give you something." "How about a kiss, Angel?"
"Oh, but I wanted to!" His Little Moth reaches into his deep purple robe and pulls out a iron-chained necklace with a carving of a crescent.
I know this stone! The clear, translucent stone brings up images of sand and crazy priests dancing around a Bantha.
"I made you a necklace!" The iron chain and the clear stone needs to be cupped, or else, they would've spilled out of his tiny hands like water in a cracked cup.
"Out of what?"
"A glow stone, but the chain is just iron." Both of which come from Tatooine, a world he'll never be trapped on. His Little Moth can dream of the past, but only of the distant past.
"Rama's retrocognition has limits, my Apprentince. He can only see in the distant past; the closer it is to the present, the darker his vision gets."
"He's a child, Master, but he'll become a man one day." His Master's thin lips soften like he's wracked with a private pain.
"Yes, yes, we must savor this time."
"Why a crescent?"
"Crescents…." His Little Moth pauses and pouts like he's trying to figure out himself.
Where does he get the cute pout from? Master never pouts, and Pestage is repulsive as usual when he pouts. Vader pushes his green jealously away, not wanting to disturb his Little Moth.
"I wanted to give you a piece of the moon because Father has a moon of his own." The Little Moth's green eyes darken with each word until they are two murky pits.
"…..Rama?" Vader asks, wanting to break whatever has a hold on his Little Moth.
"Yes?" His Little Moth's blinks at him as though he has no idea what happened.
"Thank you." Vader takes the necklace and immediately unclips the necklace to put it on. He feels the warmth of the stone, like a spark from a malfunctioning droid, through his chest plate.
"You're welcome!" Rama then scampers off, most likely to spy on his Sire and Father.
When I gave my japor snippet to Padmé, it was the proof of my promise to her. That I would marry her. In a way, my Little Moth has done the same, but he doesn't know that. Not yet.
Author's Comments- No links this time.
Rama is the Imperial Prince in all but name, which amuses Palpatine to no end. I really need to write the Little Moth meeting Thrawn one day considering how often the Little Moth is at the palace…but I still need to finish up the first year of his life and then get into something with Maul. Because, Force-dammnit, I WILL write about Maul this year!