Christmas came to Coruscant in a blaze of light, and nowhere in the galaxy was it louder, brighter, or more absurd than the Skywalker house. The entire house glows like a hyperspace beacon—colorful lights draped over balconies and columns, wreaths on every archway, and so many pine trees scattered through the halls that it looked less like a home and more like a holiday market that had violently lost all restraint. Ornaments hover gently with repulsorlifts, snow projections drifted from the ceiling, and the scent of spiced sweets and fresh needles filled the air. Rosalina wears a red-and-white gown styled after her usual regal attire, the fabric embroidered with delicate white snowflakes that shimmered faintly like frost caught in starlight. Soft white fur trimmed her sleeves, hem, and collar, and perched atop her head a red Santa hat, the pompon bobbing cheerfully every time she walks. She sits comfortably—imperiously—inside an enormous Santa sled, clearly enchanted, one hand resting on the rim. In front of her, Anakin pull the floating sled fully dressed as a reindeer—antlers, brown fur suit, jingling bells and all, The bells ringing with every step, And then there is Obi-Wan. Forced—absolutely forced—into green-and-red elf attire, complete with striped tights and a ridiculous little hat, he trudged alongside them. While ahsoka and padme laugh.
