BB is excited.
He chirps in high, electronic, tones. He tells you that he's never been to a tropical planet. The little droid rolls around your quarters, his body flashing like a strobe light while you pack your bags.
You laugh at him. He's a sight. The black ball had made sure he was fully charged before the trip to Baleine; he told you he didn't want to miss a single thing.
Is it warm there? he had asked you. Is it cold? Are there lots of buildings and people?
You answered his questions one by one. Yes, it is very warm in Baleine – it's a tropical planet mostly covered with a great ocean. There are many buildings in the city, but mostly damp forests outside the civilized limits.
At this, he squealed. A water planet! he bellowed. I've never been to an oceanic planet!
That was hours ago. And his excitement has not yet worn off.
Nyx enters the room, dressed in traditional Baleine wear. The two of you don thin silk – Nyx chose a brilliant turquoise while you had opted for white. The choice was symbolic. The neck of the gown was cut deep, freeing a good majority of your breasts. To foreigners, the dress would seem seductive – risqué. But in Baleine, such fashion as this was customary and showed one's status.
After all, you were still royalty in Baleine. Despite your father's death, those who once belonged in a royal family continued to be considered a monarch - even after their term ends. And you'd be required to wear a crown unless on palace grounds; it was a badge of sorts.
Nyx brushes her slender, pale fingers through your sleek and curly hair. It's halfway up, twisted loosely at the base of your head. Two long curls frame your face. She had applied a clear gloss on your rosy lips, making sure that it was clean and applied to perfection. Then she retrieves a silver box placed on the bed.
"Are you ready?" she asks.
You smile, glancing at the box, though with bated breath. "Yes. More than ever."
With nimble and careful hands, Nyx opens the chest. Inside is a dazzling tiara, though instead of traditional diamonds (usually crafted from the depths of Baleine's inner crust), it is made of grey saber-crystals. An outlander wreath bends the crown – the plant of your royal house.
Nyx smirks in the mirror before you. You watch as the crown glistens in Yanni's sunlight. BB cooes in awe, his one eye taking in the majesty of such a crown. It was, in all truthfulness, rather overwhelming. You hadn't worn a tiara in so long; the image was almost emotional.
Your maiden bows her head slightly. "Welcome back, your majesty."