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THE GOOD MOMENTS NEVER DID LAST LONG. Something always occurred, whether it be from an outside force or from the people Astrid had surrounded herself with—plus, the ones that Anakin had forced her to be with. Even before the rise of the Empire and the fall of her own life, she knew all too well that the good never did last long, for the darkness always created some sort of shadow. So when Astrid saw the live recording that was sent to her by an unknown source, her heart plummeted and her hands grew clammy.
She was a statue, as still as stone and cold like marble. Her jaw tensed, eyes a bit dry from her slow blinks. Disassociated. Her mind went blank, her nerves sparking a bit before going numb. Numb. A dark sensation crawled up her back, sucking everything out of her. Empty.
But that paralysis had soon run out, quickly replaced with the hot, agonizing fury. The emotion was suffocating, her green eyes ablaze with such heat it made Anakin look away. Furious. The intensity in which she felt was to an extent that she'd never gone to, one that she was only used to feeling from Anakin's own violent and severe emotions. Suddenly the heavily jeweled crown on her head felt right, like the heftiness it once held had diminished. The crown seemed to sit perfectly on her head. Vengeful.
