There are few stories that are told among the Jedi Order long enough to become myth. Legend. It takes importance to stand the test of time that way. A lesson has to be learned.
Anakin and Circe's story is told for generations long after they are go...
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By the time Circe has finished leading the Clones in and destroying any last sparking droids within the base, Anakin and Obi-Wan have messaged that they're on their way back to Coruscant.
She leaves the rest of the base's maintenance in the hands of the Clones who've been stationed there, and boards Rex's ship, eager to get home. If they've managed to capture Count Dooku then they're all one step closer to ending the war.
To going back to being peacekeepers.
Circe's politics are complicated, rarely shared with anyone other than her closest of friends, and never allowed to interfere with her duties as a Jedi. In a perfect world, she and the rest of the Order would be spreading peace and prosperity, not war and violence. She falls awkwardly between traditionalism, and progressiveness. The Jedi are guardians of peace and order, and violence has no place within their method of work, and yet, the Order must take more responsibility and fight for what's right no matter the consequences.
And killing, no matter who the enemy is, is something the Jedi should never have been allowed to start doing. Circe allows herself to be contemptuous in little but her hatred for the act of killing. Of taking another thing's life.
She believes in peace. She also believes in what this war is trying to change. But she will struggle with rationalizing the lives it has stolen for the rest of her life.
On Coruscant's main landing pad, the ship has barely touched down before Circe is leaping out of the opening doors and searching for Anakin's tall silhouette in the distance. The light stone that makes up the Jedi temple makes it hard to make everyone out in the blinding sunlight, but she can sense his presence, just a few meters away.
"Circe!"
There he is.
"Anakin!"
His features come into focus as he approaches, casting a shadow over her and relieving the burning of the sun in her eyes.
He's grinning, as always, but a few cuts and scratches adorn his face. She doesn't say anything, despite that she's itching to ask if he's alright. She knows he can handle himself, and that he's back in one piece, but she can't avoid the familiar weight on her chest as she searches him for pain, her worry like a cherry pit caught in her throat.
She finds her words. "What happened? Did it go well?"
"Dooku slipped past us again," He sighs, the sun glowing in his lashes as he looks away, "But we have great intel from the ship he left. We'll pick up his trail in no time."
Circe hums, reaching up dab gently at the deepest of his wounds on his face. "Let's go to medical."
"And then let's go to a shower," He replies, dragging his fingers across her cheek teasingly.
"Oh, would you stop doing that?" She retorts, rubbing at her face.
"Look, I've just wiped off a layer of dirt. You're disgusting."
