Rhya was standing on her small balcony, looking at the cityscape. The massive, tightly-packed buildings had blocked the horizon and imposed upon the viewers their megalomaniac structure. Dark clouds had obscured the small portion of the sky perceivable from Rhya’s balcony, but they made no huge impact on the view of the night sky whatsoever – the stars were generally dimmed by the bright city lights of Nar Shaddaa. It was hot and the pressure had brought the smog down, making the otherwise acrid air even harder to breathe. A breeze would seldom fly by, sweeping through Rhya’s thin hair. She’d move it away from her face, but only until another breeze decided to play with it again.
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