Since Reva had entered the list of newcomers for the coming of age ceremony quite late, some shopping had to be done to compensate for it.
First thing in the morning, K'Sharad whisked her off to the open air Tatooine market so she could be fitted for the proper clothing. Although it was early morning, the sun already blazed high in the sky, baking the ground beneath their feet into dry sandstone and dust. Merchants called out and waved people over to their makeshift stalls, temporarily erected tents with simple wooden tables. In order to keep her identity hidden, K'Sharad insisted that she wear a thin veil of opaque cloth to cover her head. It was somewhat difficult to get the veil over her braids and wrap it in a way that didn't look somewhat odd, but K'Sharad seemed to know what they were doing, and eventually they had all of them contained. Reva found that it kept her hair out of the way, which she appreciated.
Once they approached the market, Reva was immediately hit with the smell of meat, spices, and sweet perfumes. Her attention was immediately drawn to a stall selling multicolored translucent glass bottles of fragrant oil, which seemed to be popular among the local women. The scent they exuded permeated the air and reminded her of something warm and herbal. Some other vendors sold sandwhale meat, roasted and carved on a stick. Others were trying to peddle strange charms carved out of japoor wood, claiming it was an authentic cultural trinket. K'Sharad immediately steered away and turned her attention towards a booth where a vendor was selling hand-woven, silken tunics.
"You need to be wearing something nice for the ceremony, if you don't want to dishonor A'Yark," they declared. Reva silently went along with them.
After haphazardly grabbing a few tunics directly off of the string they were hanging from, K'Sharad pushed her over to a small curtain-covered dressing area and dumped the robes on top of her. Almost all of them were extremely modest and covered the shape of her body, making them wearable for both men or women. However, many of them were woven with brightly-colored threads that stood out against the typical brown and beige cloaks of the Sand People. From what Reva gathered, this was one of the few special occasions that warranted wearing such finery.
"Hm...no," K'Sharad shook their head impatiently. "This one looks terrible. It totally clashes with your face."
"Hey!" Reva said, slightly offended. "I just put this on! And what's wrong with my face? Do you have a problem with it?"
K'Sharad shrugged. "Only that I have to be the one looking at it, so yes, you should change out of it."
Reva rolled her eyes. She reached up to undo the top, then her face flushed as she noticed K'Sharad was still watching.
"Do you mind?"
K'Sharad silently paused, probably rolling their eyes from underneath their goggles, but they did oblige her and face the other way. Still blushing, Reva finished taking off the tunic and quickly changed into the second gown that K'Sharad had picked out for her.
Once she was done putting it on, K'Sharad turned around. "That looks much better," they declared. Reva felt suddenly embarrassed, unused to them showing such enthusiastic approval towards her. "The green goes well with your hair."
"You think so?"
"Yes," K'Sharad nodded. "Very few people have hair as dark as yours." Before Reva could take offense, they clarified what they meant. "It looks good," they added. "My hair is the same color too."
Reva blinked.
"How much?" K'Sharad asked the vendor. From the language they spoke, Reva understood that this person was also a part of the Kumumgah even though she did not wear the full Tusken Raider outfit. Upon hearing the price, Reva immediately balked. "No, better get two instead. Reva, pick a second color you like," K'Sharad said, taking out a decently heavy purse full of credits.
"Wait! Isn't that too much?" Reva asked, causing both K'Sharad and the vendor to look at her with mild annoyance. Embarrassed, she felt herself flush red. "I'm only going to wear this once," she pointed out hesitantly.
K'Sharad stared at her as if she was dumb. "And so?" they asked, handing over the credits to the vendor. "You want to look good, Reva. Your appearance is a reflection of us. If you don't look good, people will think that we are not taking good care of you."
She wanted to argue and say that, this wasn't even a real coming of age ceremony, it was just a political farce to initiate her into the tribe so that A'Yark could use for her business dealings. But she kept her mouth shut.
Satisfied, K'Sharad tipped the vendor generously and asked them to package the dress. After the dress was wrapped up, the vendor handed Reva the bag and thanked her enthusiastically for her purchase. Reva's face grew warm as she reached into the bag and felt the heavy silken material under her fingers. She had never worn anything this beautiful or expensive before. It didn't even come close to the first day she tried on her Inquisitor's armor. How was she supposed to wear this in front of an entire clan?
"I hardly think anyone will care what I'm wearing," she huffed.
"Oh, you'd be surprised."
"What about you, though?"
She couldn't help but feel some curiosity about what K'Sharad would look like in their tunic.
What colors had they picked? Were they ugly, plain, or beautiful?
Unsatisfyingly, K'Sharad just shrugged. "I already bought mine weeks ago," they said haughtily. "Now move, we have other places to be."
The second stall they visited was a jeweler's. Reva watched on uncomfortably as K'Sharad pored over the various trinkets, shaking their head at prices that they deemed too high and gemstones that they claimed to be fake. Eventually, they settled on a few pieces of heavy yellow gold finery that weighed more than it was worth. She felt nervous as K'Sharad clasped the jingling charms onto her ears and a shiny filigree necklace that was as bright as the sun itself.
"I don't think gold is necessary for me," she tried to protest.
"Don't be silly. What else would you wear? Synthsteel?" K'Sharad snorted at the absurdity of the idea.
"Any alloy should be fine," Reva stiffened. "I hardly think A'Yark would be pleased to know I'm draining your tax funds for this."
K'Sharad walked over, stopping right when they were two steps away from her face. As she forced herself to look up and make eye contact with them, she could feel their presence towering imperiously over her.
"First of all, these are not our clan's tax funds. This is my personal money, and I will spend it as I wish."
Reva swallowed, trying to force herself to maintain eye contact. She would not let herself be intimidated by someone a mere head taller than her, no matter how much they tested her.
"Secondly, as I said, we need you to look good. Otherwise it will reflect poorly on us. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
Then they turned on their heels and stepped away. Grumbling to herself, Reva crossed her arms and watched them pay the vendor with yet another heavy sack of credits. She wondered to herself what side hustles K'Sharad must be conducting on the side to have this much money. Probably a spice runner, she thought spitefully. There's no way they get paid this much to be Storyteller.
Once more, K'Sharad placed the veil over her head and grabbed her by the hand. Reva soon found herself in front of a stand that was shaded by a tall parasol, the vendor a short dark-skinned woman with pleasant dimples and wearing a similar veil.
"You need to get your tattoos done," K'Sharad said, pushing her towards a vendor holding tubes full of dark green-colored paste.
"Huh?' Reva asked. "But-I don't want one," she said, trying to signal to the vendor that she wasn't interested.
"It's a part of the ceremony," K'Sharad insisted.
"Won't it be disrespectful for me to be wearing your things?"
"You're already wearing our clothes. Besides, it'll be more disrespectful if you don't," K'Sharad nodded.
"I don't want my hands to look green!"
"It won't, it'll turn red," K'Sharad assured her. "Now, be a good girl and hold still for the nice lady."
Reva frowned, biting her tongue as she tried to hold back the barrage of complaints she already had building up inside her mind, but she obliged. The tattoo artist started to pipe intricate, thin designs of the green paste on the backs of her hands. Slowly, Reva found herself becoming mesmerized by the detailed patterns.
"How long will this take?" she asked.
"At least three hours," K'Sharad replied nonchalantly. "Sometimes four."
"Four hours?" Reva balked.
"You'll do it if you don't want them to kill you."
Reva gulped. Something about K'Sharad's tone of voice told her that this was probably a joke, but it was sometimes hard to tell.
As she waited for the artist to finish, Reva found herself growing sleepy. Several hours passed by, making it harder and harder to sit upright on the tiny stool. Finally, she felt a harsh tap on her shoulder.
"Done," K'Sharad said, suddenly shaking her awake. "Now, it's time for us to head back."
"Can I wipe my hands off now?" Reva asked sleepily.
"No, you have to keep them straight so the paste will dry properly," K'Sharad scolded her. "Otherwise, it will ruin the design."
"I have to keep my hands out even longer?" Reva groaned. K'Sharad hurriedly pulled out the veil of cloth and placed it back on her head, enshrouding her. The tattoo artist smiled and waved at them awkwardly, wishing them good luck. With Reva's hands both occupied, K'Sharad simply grabbed her lower back with both hands and pulled her along with them. They began to walk towards the crowd of other Tatooineans, including both alien and human locals shopping for their daily groceries. As they wove their way through the multitude of faces, Reva couldn't help but nervously glance to see if they were being watched. To see if anyone recognized the former Inquisitor that used to terrorize the residential population.
As if they could read her mind, K'Sharad immediately tightened their grip on her waist. "Keep your head forward," they said quietly.
Reva frowned. "Okay, but once we are back, I am removing this," she mumbled.
Her courage melted away slightly as they reached the entrance to the Enclave. Although technically she could have removed her veil at that point, Reva still hesitated.
"Call off the massiffs please," K'Sharad ordered. Reva looked closer at the reptilian quadrupeds snapping at her. Now that they had fought an actual Krayt dragon, they weren't so scary-looking anymore. One of them snapped at her and she merely raised an eyebrow at it. Deciding to try out her own Jedi Tricks on it, she sneered and muttered "Quiet" at it. Nothing happened, the massiff just continued to snap at her. Reva decided maybe that being raised in a Sandpeople Enclave, they would only respond to commands in Kumumgah.
The Enclave seemed to be busier than ever. People were bustling back and forth, presumably in preparation for the ceremony. As they walked through the entrance, Reva could feel several pairs of eyes on eyes. She found herself wishing that she had covered up more. Some passersby were staring at her and muttering things to each other, possibly because word had spread that she would be formally joining them as a Sandperson. Her Kumumgah was still rusty but she could understand snatches of the words they spoke to each other. It did not seem that their opinions of her were particularly positive. K'Sharad's hand on her waist, however, remained resolutely firm.
Just then, they nearly bumped into someone. Reva immediately opened her mouth to apologize, but was interrupted before she could say something.
"Ah, Brother," K'Sharad said. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"K'Sharad," the person acknowledged her. "How are you?"
Reva stared at the person in front of her. So far, this was her first good look at a male Sandperson. She noticed that while one of his arms was covered in tattoos, the other one was a prosthetic made from metal. As he spoke, she became aware that his eyes were also different colors. One of them was blue, while the other seemed to glow orange under certain lighting. She decided it must be a strange reflection from his goggles.
"Reva, this is my brother, A'Sharad Hett," K'Sharad nodded. "A'Sharad, this is Reva. She will be joining us soon, as per A'Yark's wishes."
Reva stared at the tall man. Surely, he must be the elder sibling.
"Pleased to meet you," the man said coldly. "I am K'Sharad's younger brother."
Younger?
"We've just come back from the markets," K'Sharad said stiffly. "I'll be done soon, though."
"I see," A'Sharad nodded. "I wish you the best with that." With that, he moved out of the way and disappeared into the crowd of perpetually moving Sandpeople.
Reva blinked, confused.
"You guys don't talk much, do you?" she asked K'Sharad. When she was met with silence, she crossed her arms. "Well, I don't get the impression you're very close."
K'Sharad shrugged. "He is more of a true Tusken than me," she muttered. "I've never really had a single successful conversation with him. People can hardly believe that he has any human blood at all."
Before Reva could recover from the strangeness of the interaction, she was being pulled away towards her room. K'Sharad held her hand in a firm grip and led her along without looking back.
As they made through the Enclave, K'Sharad's body language seemed to grow even more frigid and detached. They stopped responding entirely to Reva's questions. Frustrated, Reva decided to throw in one last demand. "Can I at least remove this veil once we're back?" she half-shouted, trying to force a reaction out of the taller Sandperson.
K'Sharad paused only briefly. "Yes," they said tersely, as if their mind was occupied somewhere else. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Reva allowed them to continue leading her once more until they finally reached her private quarters.
Once they were back in her room, Reva wasted no time taking off the veil from her hair. "Finally, I've been waiting all day for this," she muttered as she unwrapped the fabric around her neck. Once it was loosened, her braids fell softly like a silken rope onto her shoulders. K'Sharad stood stiffly with their arms crossed, waiting for her to finish so they could leave. Reva took her time combing her fingers through them, checking for knots and detangling them. As she brushed through the braids, she noticed K'Sharad turn their head and freeze slightly. After a few minutes they walked over and cleared their throat.
"You'll need to have your hair redone as well," they informed her. "It's required as a part of the ceremony. Everyone's hair must be clean and neat."
"Oh really? But I only wash my hair once a week," Reva reached up and tried to undo the tangles at the top of her head. "If I wash my hair more often, it gets really dry and frizzy."
K'Sharad reached out and grasped her hands, stopping her from moving them any further. Their fingers were warm and soft. For a moment, K'Sharad's hand twitched slightly. "We have people that can do that for you."
"Oh, you're not going to do it?" Reva asked, confused.
"I have other things to do," K'Sharad replied.
"Like what?" Reva snorted.
"I have to find my ceremonial partner."
Reva's hands fell. As she removed them from K'Sharad's grip, their fingers twitched again.
"Your what?"
"My ceremonial partner," K'Sharad repeated, the life draining from their voice. "The person that I must bring to the initiation and spend it together with. It is quite a tedious task too, hunting one down, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste anymore of my time."
"You didn't mention that before," Reva raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean? Do I need a ceremonial partner too?"
K'Sharad took a step back hesitantly. "It's...not necessary," they mumbled. "You don't have to find one. We don't do it very often anymore, because it's more of a traditional thing."
Reva crossed her arms. Wasn't this all part of a tradition anyway?
So, even traditions can change, she thought to herself. But the people don't seem to.
"In the old days, we used to conduct the ceremony on pairs of people to strengthen the relationships between the members of the new generation. Normally, it's customary to ask a sweetheart or a beloved member of family. But nowadays it has a different meaning. A'Yark requires me to do it because I'm the next Storyteller," K'Sharad explained. "It is my duty to select a person who has the potential to become our next Chieftain. As her niece, I'm also required to represent the clan and pick a ceremonial partner who will conduct the rituals with me. She has been telling me that she wants to select someone with strength, to show that I will lead the tribe with power. It is the first time in my life that I have been handed so much responsibility."
"Do you have someone in mind?"
K'Sharad paused, and for a second Reva swore that they were wrinkling their nose from under the mask. "If I can't find someone, I must go with A'Sharad."
"Your brother?" Reva asked incredulously. K'Sharad looked over at her, as if surprised by her disapproval. "Nothing, it's just...I don't know, he has some weird energy," Reva shivered. "I feel like you could do better."
K'Sharag shrugged. "A'Sharad has made it clear that he will make a powerful leader for the sake of establishing peace and order. But I'm not sure if he is the right choice."
"If anything it sounds like they're preparing you for the role of the next Chieftain," Reva remarked.
"No, A'Yark has told me that I am too soft for something like that. But maybe, if I could find someone who is fitting for the role, she would approve of them to work with me and be our new leader. She does not intend on retiring anytime soon, even though I wish she would let herself rest."
Reva nodded. "She must want someone similar to her," she observed. "Ruthless, calculated, and on top of business. With only the clan's benefit in mind, who wouldn't be swayed by simple petty emotions. You're highly unlikely to find someone with the same exact disposition, even within one generation."
K'Sharad's voice took on a glum expression, even though it was still filtered through the grille. "If such a person is so rare, then how am I supposed to find one? My mother can't even attend the ceremony to watch the Storyteller role get passed onto me," they muttered bitterly. "A'Yark and A'Sharad are my only living family. I don't even know what my human relatives, if they're still alive, are doing right now."
"But you're doing what your mother would have wanted, aren't you?" Reva pointed out. "She loved the Sand People. She'd be happy that you stayed with them, and that you're carrying on that role for the community. Even if you can't find a partner, you should still be happy about that. At least you have a legacy to continue for her."
K'Sharad looked at her for a long second.
"Perhaps you have a point."
"Yeah?"
After a few moments, before Reva could ask if there was something on her face, K'Sharad stood up and turned their back on her again.
"I should go," they said quickly before disappearing. Reva frowned, deciding to go straight to bed. It was easier to trying to fall sleep in dangerous enemy territory than trying to figure out the inner workings of K'Sharad's mind.
Before she could lay her head down, however, Reva was suddenly awoken by the sound of several quick knocks.
"Let us in, please," a voice called out from the other side of her door.
When she opened it, she was surprised to see several Sandpeople standing outside her door.
"What's this for?" she asked, confused. "Am I being kicked out?"
The person closest to her shook their head. "The Storyteller has called for you to be their partner tonight," they explained. "We are here to ensure you will be physically ready for the ceremony."
"What?" Reva asked, confused. "Where is this coming from? There must be some mistake."
However, if she was to go by the attendants' determined body language there was definitely no mistake. Reva reluctantly allowed them to lead her to a bathtub, where she was instructed to bathe for an hour by herself while leaving her hair dry so they could wash it separately.
"Are you...going to watch me?" she asked uncomfortably.
The attendant shook their head. "We will take over once you are finished," they replied. "Just make yourself clean and when you are ready, we will be waiting for you."
With that, they left the room. Reva swallowed, trying to process the news by herself.
Why her?
She knew that K'Sharad didn't particularly like her. If anything, this was probably some sort of jab towards A'Sharad or a sign of rebellion against A'Yark. Had they lost their senses? What sort of weird mind game was this supposed to be?
She decided to take a bath first before jumping to any conclusions.
She was thankful for the privacy, taking as much time as possible to soak in the pleasantly hot water and wash off the now red-colored paste from her hands. After she was finished drying off and dressing herself, she was instructed to sit in a chair and remain as still as possible while they brought over a basin to wash her hair.
Although Reva was apprehensive at first, she was impressed by how gently they shampooed and conditioned her head. By the time they were finished drying it, she felt herself falling into a state of mild drowsiness. She allowed one Sandperson to brush fragrant oil through the strands, filling the room with the rich aromatic scent of herbs. They told her to wrap her hair in a towel and advised her to sleep for a couple hours with the oil still in it. Since there would be food at the ceremony, she was told not to eat a full meal but was given a tray of food with small snacks to choose from. Then they sent her to bed for sleep.
It felt strange to sleep with her hair still damp, but Reva managed somehow. Before she could fully fall asleep though, the knocks sounded at her door yet again.
The braiders had returned to unwrap and dry her hair so they could begin braiding it. First, they went through the lengthy process of combing it and making sure that all of her curls were healthy and strong. Then, they gently separated the hairs into different strands and began braiding them together into intricate patterns. This could have taken several hours, but working together they finished it rather quickly. They then told her to wait another of couple hours, after which the final team would arrive to do her makeup and get her dressed. Reva huffed, wondering why they couldn't all just work together at the same time. Why make her wait so long in between sessions? This was truly troublesome. If she got to see K'Sharad again, she would give them a piece of her mind. No, she would give him a piece of her mind. She was now positive that they must be a man. Only a man would be this inconsiderate and force her to primp herself beyond recognition while making her wait hours to waste her time.
By the time the third knock arrived at her door, she was barely able to keep her eyes open. Several makeup artists filed in holding pots and jars of various paints. As she allowed them to enter the room, Reva noticed that another person had joined them.
It was no other than the man of the hour himself, K'Sharad.
"You," she sneered.
If K'Sharad was bothered by the accusatory tone of her voice, they did not show it.
"Do you like them?" they asked, and she stared at them with confusion. "Your hair."
"I..."
Reva turned around and looked at the mirror that one of her attendants was holding up, suddenly caught off guard. She had not taken the time to truly appreciate just how much of a transformation the new braids had created. They were so thin that instead of forming one large rope, the hundreds of tiny braids created the illusion of having completely straight hair. She was surprised by how much she liked the look.
"It doesn't matter," she brushed it off quickly. "What I want to ask you is why you put me in this position."
"Because I like your disposition."
Reva groaned. She almost wanted to yell at them, "I know you're lying!" It was so obvious that they didn't like her, let alone approve of her.
"I think you would make a good leader, Reva."
"You don't know what that means!" Reva thundered. "I don't know anything about your people, your land or your culture. You're just making things difficult for the both of us!"
K'Sharad just stared at her, keeping their arms crossed. The perfect picture of nonchalance.
How dare he be so calm, Reva seethed.
"Are you a man or a woman?" she demanded. "Who even are you?"
"Does it matter?"
"If I'm going to be used as a laughingstock for some sham ceremony, I would at least like to know who I am addressing."
"It is not a sham ceremony," K'Sharad replied. "I would never make you a laughingstock. And you will get your answer today, by nightfall."
Reva wanted to stomp her foot at them.
"As my partner, you will be greatly respected and granted the protection that any potential Chieftain candidate would receive. It will turn away those prying eyes and silence any disapproving tongues," K'Sharad murmured and walked over, surveying the mountain of cosmetics that had been carefully laid out. Reva glared daggers into their back as they removed their glove and casually dipped a finger into the pots, testing the color and texture of the paints.
Reva scowled. "And what if I'm not?"
"Then, I suppose you can wipe your tears with the hefty pre-payment in cash that A'Yark has promised you."
The makeup artists began to approach Reva with soft brushes made of bantha hair. Too tired to fight back, she decided to give in and let them do whatever they wanted to. Under K'Sharad's watchful, they began to apply the cosmetics to her face. The colors that they had selected were surprisingly bold and vibrant. At first she objected to the dark red they had applied to her lips, only to be surprised by how well it suited her. The deep purple pigment that they rubbed onto her cheeks was also surprisingly fitting, a rich mauve that brought out the depth of her skin and made it look plump. One person painted her eyelids with gold and outlined them in black, then another person applied thick dark paste to her eyelashes. Throughout the entire process, she could still feel K'Sharad's eyes boring into her. By the time they were finished she felt as if she was an entirely different person. She watched as K'Sharad walked away to converse briefly with the makeup artists, possibly making some sort of request of them or negotiating the payment arrangements. After they were satisfied, they turned around and walked back towards her. Reva opened her mouth to retort something, but just then they reached up and gently touched the side of her face with a surprisingly warm hand.
"Remember, for tonight, you will be my representation. Do not forget that."
Reva wanted to retort something mean, but the fire had gone out of her. K'Sharad quickly tugged their glove back onto their bare hand and turned away.
"Hey!" she called out, but the door was already closed.
Frustrated, Reva groaned and stomped back towards her bed and sat down with a huff.
"Do you like it?" someone asked her. She looked up, making eye contact with the makeup artist. They held up a mirror to her face again, allowing her to admire her face. She stared at the young woman in the mirror, a striking beauty with gold-colored eyelids and thick dark lashes. That's not me, she thought to herself. That has to be someone else. But it was undeniably her, and it almost stunned her how they were able to make her look so lovely.
The makeup artist asked the same question again. Reva nodded, feeling too breathless to say anything.
"Then this is the design we will use for tomorrow morning," the artists told her. She was given a basin and allowed to wash her face. The attendants helped her get ready for bed, wrapping her hair in silk so the braids would remain intact. They warned her that someone else would be over to teach her a dance. When she asked why, they explained that she was required to learn it as part of her responsibilities as K'Sharad's partner.
Reva sighed and laid her head down, praying that this would be the last. As the sun set and the brightness level inside her room dimmed to just the light cast by a single oil lamp, she began to wonder if they had forgotten about her.
I wonder if they'll force me to learn the dance with someone else, she thought to herself. Well, it can't be any worse than having to learn it together with K'Sharad. I'd much rather dance with a stranger I don't know. I bet he would step all over my feet, the lousy brute.
Before she could ponder any further on the identity of her dance partner, however, she heard another knock at the door.
Reva sighed and walked up to the door, fully preparing herself for another round of beauty treatments. This time there was no team of Sandpeople waiting to attack her. Instead, there was only one person on the other side of her door. A woman with her hands clasped together and a long veil concealing her face. When Reva stepped aside to let her in, she hurriedly scrambled into the room and shut the door behind her.
Before Reva could ask any questions as to purpose of her visit, the woman quickly removed her veil and allowed her long black hair to fall to her shoulders. In the darkness, she could see how dark and silky the heavy strands were. When the woman looked up at her, Reva could see that she was beautiful. With deep brown skin, high cheekbones and a strong nose, she had a commanding air that almost made one feel as if they should bow to her.
Who was she? The dance teacher that was supposed to come instruct her?
It was only after a few seconds that Reva finally realized who she was talking to.
"K'Sharad?" she asked, confused.
The woman nodded, keeping her long eyelashes pointed downwards.
This confirmed for her that this was the same person who had fought the Krayt dragon with her, who had dragged her to all those markets and watched her negotiate with A'Yark.
"I came to practice the dance," the woman spoke quietly. Reva frowned. She began to wish that K'Sharad didn't have to wear a grille constantly. Maybe if she spoke in her natural tone more often, she would find her easier to listen to.
"I guess we had better get it over with," Reva mumbled. K'Sharad nodded silently, taking a step closer. It was so weird, seeing them act so easy to get along with. It threw Reva off.
She reached out her arms, unsure of what to do, and K'Sharad immediately latched onto her. She could feel their fingers, no longer covered by leather gloves, gripping her waist tightly. She almost felt like K'Sharad was trying to latch onto her so she couldn't escape.
"So what do I do?"
K'Sharad opened her mouth to respond, but when she spoke her voice was so soft that Reva could hardly believe it was the same person. "When I move, you copy me."
"Okay?" Reva said. They practiced the movement a few times and Reva stumbled through all of the attempts. K'Sharad did not let go of her waist and continued to stare eerily into her eyes. Reva messed up a few times due to stupid mistakes but K'Sharad never complained. Even after she finally got the dance step correctly, K'Sharad continued to repeat the same step until Reva pointed out that they had already mastered it.
"Oh," K'Sharad said awkwardly. "I...suppose we could move onto the next one."
Was it just her, or did she have a strange tinge of nervousness to her voice?
As K'Sharad broke down the dance into separate parts and explained how it went, Reva found it easier to pretend that she was just talking to someone else. It unsettled her knowing that this woman was the same person that she had been arguing with only hours earlier. This was the annoying pain in her neck that had shamelessly bossed her around for the past few days? Her hair was so soft, and her voice so quiet, and her eyes so large and sad that it was hard to believe. Reva began to wonder if maybe there were two K'Sharads, an evil one and the one in front of her right now. But it was hard to deny that the way that she carried herself - as if she was a regal princess that everyone else must bow down to - was just like the K'Sharad that she knew.
Reva stared at her. "Why did you make me your partner?" she blurted, the anger in her head strangely absent from her tone.
Without the tall boots that K'Sharad wore with her usual outfit, they were practically eye-to-eye. Although Reva expected to be immediately glared at, the woman just flushed and did not meet her eye. It was strange, seeing K'Sharad being so coy instead of barking orders at everyone. Perhaps she was less confident without her usual masks and gear to hide behind.
"Because I wanted to. You are the type of person I would want for this task," she said shyly.
Reva blinked.
"And also, because I'd hate to do this dance with my brother. A'Sharad may be many things, but he is not very graceful."
Now that was the snarky K'Sharad she knew.
The two women stared at each other. Reva suddenly became conscious of the fact that she was in the presence of a pretty girl. Her brown almond-shaped eyes were downcast and shone wetly like two dark crystals. A'Sharad Hett's were similar, but instead of making her want to look away, they had an alluring quality that made her want to look closer.
Suddenly, K'Sharad stepped forward and took both of Reva's hands into hers. Before Reva could ask what she was doing, she pushed something into her palm that was cold and smooth to the touch. When Reva opened her fingers, her eyes widened. In her hand was a white japoor snippet carved with strange symbols and hanging from a piece of thread.
"I-For me?" she asked curiously.
"This one is real," K'Sharad muttered. "Not like the touristy junk they sell at the markets. This one is custom-made."
Reva's fingers instinctively closed greedily in over the wooden charm. But, what did it mean? Was this some token of the Storyteller's approval, a superficial symbol of their political arrangement? A mere piece of touristy junk? Or was this something more special like a gift between lovers?
Did K'Sharad carve it herself?
"What is this?" she asked.
"For you."
She exhaled. "But why are you giving it to me?"
"It doesn't matter." K'Sharad turned away and held her hand in front of her face. Reva frowned. Why she was hiding? She felt almost annoyed and wanted to swat her hand away.
"Who made it?" Reva asked. She tried to hand it back, but K'Sharad wouldn't let her. "I can't possibly accept this. You should return it," she mumbled.
"No!" K'Sharad resisted, surprising her. "It's all yours. I made it for you."
The silence hung awkwardly between them. Reva let go and stepped back first. K'Sharad continued to regard her with the same sorrowful eyes. It suddenly occurred to Reva that perhaps she had misinterpreted all those times when K'Sharad had been staring at her. Those were not glances of contempt, but rather longing. Desire for something. For connection? For belonging? For the first other human that she had encountered outside of her enclave?
"The ceremony is in a couple hours, at the sunrise," K'Sharad whispered nervously. "Promise me that you'll be there?"
"I'll..." Reva hesitated. K'Sharad's eyes grew larger as she waited anxiously, looking up at her.
"Please?" she begged softly. Her voice was so quiet, she could barely hear it.
Finally, Reva found herself giving in.
"I'll be there," she found herself saying. Anything to stop tears from welling up in those dark round eyes.
Before she could take back anything, two surprisingly slender arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her excitedly. She almost gasped as the wind was knocked out of her lungs from how tightly K'Sharad squeezed her. She tried to wiggle her way out, but the other woman refused to let go for several minutes.
Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. Reva was left sitting on her bed feeling dizzy and reeling from what had just happened. But it wasn't just from the dancing. Her head spun as she tried to make sense of everything.
Everything about her current situation was confusing. Since waking up alone in a medical tent, surrounded by gaffi stick-wielding guards and fighting off massiffs, she had no idea what was to become of her. She had begged for her life, defeated a krayt dragon, negotiated a shady business dealing with a War Leader, and had her makeup done all within the span of a few days. She had no idea where Leia and Ahsoka were right now. In fact, she had no idea if they were even alive still. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest for abandoning them and deciding to integrate with the Sandpeople instead.
Well, I've already given them as much as I could, she thought to herself. I sacrificed myself for them. If that's not enough, I don't know what is.
She thought back on all her interactions with K'Sharad. How they hid their awkwardness behind a veil of imperiousness and indifference. How they pretended not to notice that she had already mastered a dance step already, just so they could keep holding hands a little while longer. Never before had someone decided to spend money on her, buying lavish things like fine robes and jewelry and makeup. It made her feel weird. It wasn't unpleasant, but she had never experienced anything that she could compare it. All her years of being labeled a gutter rat by the other Inquisitors had instilled a sense of self-consciousness in her. No matter how much money she earned, she would always be the street orphan they had found living in the poorest part of Coruscant.
But what if she actually became a part of the Kumumgah and joined K'Sharad by her side?
They did not seem to be lacking in anything. Quite the contrary, A'Yark had business dealings with the CMC and other local Tatooinean settlements. if she joined them, she would likely live a comfortable life. She could never show her face again though. And she could never use her powers as a Jedi again. As the Empire seized control of the Outer Rim, she would slowly lose more and more of her former life until she was no longer herself anymore.
It was a hard bargain. She wanted to say yes, to commit fully. But something was still holding her back.
And she couldn't stop thinking about the desperate way that K'Sharad had clung onto her, seizing her hands as if they were the only lifeline in the desert.
Whatever, she thought to herself. I'll feel better once I've had some proper rest.
But she did not sleep at all. When the twin suns rose and cast a pale pink reddish glow over the sky of Tatooine, she found herself lying wide awake. By the time the makeup artists came to fetch her, they were surprised to see two large circles of discoloration beneath her eyes.
"Did you rest at all?" One of them asked her.
Reva shook her head.
"Couldn't sleep," she said simply.