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•.[STAR WARS].•
21 BBY
The Clone Wars
.•|{}|•.

The room was laced with gold and ductile shades of pinks and lilacs, a perfect and faultless epitome of quintessential elegance and grace

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The room was laced with gold and ductile shades of pinks and lilacs, a perfect and faultless epitome of quintessential elegance and grace. It was every little girl's dream: bounds and bounds of toys and games, a bed crafted in flakes of aureate gold that scaled the ceiling like the branches of trees, dangling figurines and butterflies and soft tensile pillows and chairs. Odessa could remember every crack and detail of that room, her bedroom, were she once spent hours in her own individual world with brunette pigtails and extravagant dresses.

It would never grow old, the large substantial sized window which she once had to put her feet on tippy toes in order to see. She would spend hours watching the world go by, slowly yet peacefully whilst her mother's handmaidens braided her hair. She used to hate getting her hair done, the pulling and tedious brushing of her long and untamed locks boring her to death. The only thing that kept her juvenile and small body in place, was the enjoyment she felt talking to the kind and caring women who she grew up with, their fascinating and absorbing story's always urging her to ask for more.

Odessa was quick to recognise the back of the small child's frame placed comfortable in the middle of the room, on a fleecy soft rug with books and pencils scattered around her. The adolescent girl was comfortable in her own company with large indigent space buns on the side of her head, rapped and braided before being gathered up on either side. That hairstyle was one of Odessa's favourite, her mother's favourite, which she hoped at times would encourage the busy women to spend more time with her.

Odessa felt like she wasn't exactly present, like it was footage being played out in front of her. She didn't know what to do but watch what seemed to be significant memory's rapped in the depths of her mind. She could tell you what was going to play out even before it happened, the day itself being one that stained Odessa permanently and crucially.

The door swung open making the small girl peer particularly towards the striking woman moving towards her with such hesitance and delay.

Odessa never really rationlised nor recognised how much she looked like her mother, especially here, still in her youth and glow. Her heart clenched, her mother looked so real, sure she wasn't physically there but she was presented so clearly and so accurately to how she remembered her as a child. She yearned to be able to talk to her again, hug her again or even argue with her again, anything, that could show her that she was not actually gone. But this was simple a figment of her imagination, and Eleanor Tove was long gone. She had been for years now.

Eleanor Tove walked towards her daughter softly, kneeling down beside her as she ushered for her lady's to leave the two in their own company. She lay in a bundle of her ruby red gown, watching Odessa read quietly for a moment, before tracing her fingers on the pages of the paper "Dess- my love."

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