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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Circe meets Padme below her suite building to comb the city streets for food. The Senator is dressed up, not formally, but much fancier than Circe, who wears only her black robes and boots.
"They really don't let you wear anything else?" She says, staring Circe down playfully as they start down the street.
"Even if they did let me, I don't have anything nice to wear. It's just these robes, day in and day out."
Padme laughs. "I like what you wear. I think the black makes your hair glow," She says lovingly, "You and Anakin are the only Jedi I see wear black robes regularly."
"He started it," Circe replies, "He liked the edge it gives him, but you know how he is. Never wants to do anything by himself."
"Well, I think they look good. And I see you have an entourage?" She points behind her.
Circe turns around to see Nej, Khoan, Angel, and Kiger clunking down the street in their uniforms, looking very out of place among the well-dressed crowd in the street.
She grimaces, turning back to Padme with a sour look on her face. She had nearly forgotten they were watching over her after her days in the Temple where they weren't needed. As expected, the Chancellor insisted that since they were already there, they might as well carry out the mission for the rest of the appointed time.
"Those are my personal bodyguards." She smiles sarcastically.
"Bodyguards?" Padme says incredulously.
"Anakin had them assigned," Circe says through gritted teeth, "He apparently thinks I need to be babysat."
"At least he cares?" She jokes.
"Oh, I'm enchanted by it."
They meander down a busy street, lit with fluorescent bar signs and restaurant windows. Pools of water on the sidewalk, leftover from the afternoon rain, shimmer on the pavement as they pass. The higher levels of Coruscant always get soaked when it rains, while the lower levels enjoy pools of grease and old dishwater.
Padme lives in the wealthier area, which means Circe doesn't have to wonder about what's making the pavement shine, but there are still beggars on the street and Circe still feels biting guilt and some discomfort with all the luxury of the upper level.
Padme must have gotten used to it, though, because she walks down confidently, nodding at the beggars compassionately but moving right along.
"Padme," Circe starts as the two of them stop in front of a cart, "I need your help coming up with some ideas for a field trip."
She takes two skewers of fried Porg on a bed of rice. "Sure, who for?"
"The Younglings we took to Ahch-To," Circe says, taking the container from her and handing her a dozen credits. "I want to take them out, make up for everything that happened, but I can't fathom where. Somewhere like Jedha, or—"
