The evening breeze drifted through the window into your backstage dressing room. You took a deep breath through your nose as you reached back to clasp your silver-plaited necklace around your neck. Leaning forward to look in the mirror, you fussed with a particularly stubborn dark curl that just didn't want to stay where it was supposed to in your elegant updo.
"I told you you should have straightened it" came a voice from behind you. You turned to see your booking agent (who also happened to be your best friend), Mistalyn smiling at you in the doorway.
"The show is about to start, and you need to be out there in 4 minutes."
You smile and roll your eyes at her, turning back to the mirror.
"You know that doesn't work for my hair" you scoff.
"Who put you in charge anyway" you try to fight back a full on grin as she lightly punches you in the shoulder.
"YOU put me in charge to book you all over the galaxy so you can be rich and famous, remember?" She lifts her eyebrows and puts her hands on her hips.
"Whatever you say" you tease as you take your final sip of water.
"Alright let's go." You sigh, smoothing your deep blue gown with your hands as you glide gracefully out the doors of the dressing room.
"You ready?" Mistalyn asks, her green eyes sparkling.
"There's quite the crowd tonight, and I hear there's some really esteemed guests or something." she adds. This makes you turn your head, pursing your lips.
What do you mean?" You question, a tinge of worry sprouting in your chest. Usually whoever hires you to perform will inform you of any high ranking officials or esteemed persons attending your performance.
"I'm not sure, I think it was last minute." Mistalyn shrugs,
"you'll be totally fine." She places a hand on your back like she always does, guiding you to your place behind the curtains.
You try to shrug it off as easily as she did, and watch her hurry off stage, giving you encouraging thumbs up as she does. You square your shoulders. The silence before the curtains open is always the worst part. Every fear of what could go wrong flutters in your stomach, and your mouth becomes dry. You hear them announce you. The miraculously talented singing sensation Neveah. The crowd applauds, your stomach drops, and the curtains open, the stage lights blinding you for a split second. In front of you is a massive, dimly lit ballroom, with tables of both old and young guests seated, looking up at you. You hear the violins softly begin, then the clarinets, the music seeming to swirl and dance around you. You immediately relax, that feeling of belonging, of security, of joy when you hear music. You take a deep breath, and begin to sing. You sing in a beautiful language from fat across the galaxy. The melody is sweet and legato, beautifully connected in notes that ring and echo throughout the room. You lose yourself in the brilliance of the song. Singing with your heart, the notes coming easily.The orchestra behind you gives you goosebumps. You finish with a long powerful note before the music descends to a gentle hum, then stops. Silence. You inhale, and the crowd erupts on cheers. You can see sparkles of tears in the eyes of some in the front row, moved and touched by your breathtaking voice. You curtesy graciously, appreciative of the applause and cheers, taking it in a few moments longer before you wave, and glide off the stage as gracefully as you can. Once you're back in the curtains, Mistalyn is there to greet you, smiling her big contagious smile.
"Woah, I think that was your best one yet!" She whispers as she leads you backstage.
"You could really feel that one." She continues, handing you your water. You smile appreciatively.
"Yeah, that one's my favorite." you confess, taking a large swig of water.
"Well, the hard part is over, now you just gotta go say hi to some old people and listen to them go on about how amazing you sounded."
You sigh. It was always a little tiring after a performance when you went out into the audience to be crowded by people asking for autographs and telling you what a talent you have. You appreciated it of course, but it was very socially draining. As you and Mistalyn walked out the doors, you were already greeted by a small family, praising your astounding vocals, and telling you how their daughter, who was now tugging on your silky dress, wanted to become a singer too. You smiled and crouched by her, telling her that with hard work, training, and a lot of perseverance, she could be the best singer in the galaxy. Her small eyes lit up, warming your heart, and she hugged your legs. You laughed along with the family, giving her a hug back, before strolling further into the ballroom with Mistalyn. You had just finished talking to a couple when a shadow catches your eye. You turn your head and see the host of the gala, the one who hired you, conversing with a small group of men. You furrow your brow, noticing that this is not a friendly conversation. You nudge Mistakyn, and she looks too. In the dim lights of the ballroom, the tallest figure turns his head, looking right at you. You and Mistalyn gasp in unison. The long dark robes, the cold metal helmet, the iconic saber clipped to the leather belt, it was none other than the Supreme Leader of the galaxy, Kylo Ren.
