Anakin probably didn’t think she hated him or thought she was too good for him. He was likely just as busy as she was.
Her relief didn’t last long. By the end of the week, a seed of worry began to take hold in her stomach. Her thoughts drifted to Anakin in moments between audiences and meetings, while she scrubbed her face clean of paint, and as she checked her com before she went to sleep. (She was slowly making her way back into Sola’s good graces, it seemed, although Rabe kept pouting about how she had begun to feel like one of the family when Padme had come along and ruined it all for her.) Anakin still said nothing.
He’s just settling in. It must be a huge adjustment. Padme reminded herself over and over again. Give him time. But the worry grew and grew, until she began to wonder one morning as she was lying in bed if they had perhaps miscommunicated before Anakin left Naboo and he was just waiting for her to contact him, not the other way around. She snorted at her own foolishness and rolled over to snag her com off of the bedside table.
“Oh, good, you’re up.” Sache yawned from the doorway. “I was about to wake you. You’ve got an audience in three hours.”
Padme groaned and buried her head in her pillow, fingers closing around her comlink.
“It’s not that bad.” Sache chided. “It’s just – ” she paused to yawn again “ – excuse me, just Horace Vancil’s final confirmation hearing for his senate appointment. Unless – ” another yawn “ – unless Boss Nass has concerns he hasn’t already voiced, it should probably go pretty smoothly.”
Padme raised her head from her pillow and turned to stare at her handmaiden, who was clutching the doorframe with one hand. “Do you know what I miss?”
“Is it being able to sleep alone?” Sache made a valiant effort to keep her eyes open. “Because you’ve mentioned that one before.”
“No. Well, yes, but that wasn’t it.” Padme pulled herself out of bed, com still in hand.
“Then no,” Sache slurred, swaying slightly, “I have no idea. What do you miss?”
“Not needing two hours to get ready before I go out.” Padme saw Yane coming down the hall over Sache’s shoulder and caught the other girl’s eye. She made a series of complex hand gestures that roughly translated to “please make Sache go to bed.”
It wasn’t until Eirtae was trying to pin her hairpiece onto her head and hissing “for the love of all things holy, Padme, try to keep still” that Padme actually opened her comlink and started to write a message to him. She considered apologizing for her silence, but couldn’t find a way that didn’t rub her position in his face, so she settled on a “Hey, how are you?” instead.
Anakin hadn’t responded when she returned from Vancil’s confirmation hearing. She didn’t think much of it – as far as she knew, it could be the middle of the night for him. He still hadn’t responded when she returned from the official send-off of the Senate delegation (a delegation that she was already trying to mentally reconfigure without making unnecessary enemies if their request for an additional senator to represent the Gungans was denied) or when she woke the next morning, but she didn’t pay it too much mind. She knew, she realized, very little about the Jedis daily routines when they were not attempting to mediate negotiations or fighting off invasions or betting other people’s ships on pod races.
is continuing their Pen Pals AU fic and I’m so excited. I love Padme’s voice in this so much.
im still alive!! new art is coming soon!!! hopefully!! along w commissions!! bt in the meantime heres some figure studies from last semester i still like..i cant remember how long they were maybe like 30secs-3 mins. we had a Good model
Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.
Please write back. Love from Derek.
Notes: This is just a cuteness overload. Dumb boys in love give me life. -C
“Oh, fuck you!”
Stiles socks him on the arm, turns to hoist his bag up onto his shoulder. “You aregonna miss me, whatever you say.”
“I won’t miss your snoring.”
“Well, I’m not exactly gonna miss you talking in your sleep,” Stiles flutters his eyes, mimics Derek’s sleepy mumblings before Derek launches forward and punches his arm, making his bag slip.