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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House Naberrie stands on its hill, warm yellow light pouring out onto the grounds, visible from a mile away in the darkness.
It's a house seemingly made of windows, which peer out into the night like eyes, spilling their glow out onto the grounds. Circe leads a group of Younglings up the path through the garden, their dresses catching on rose thorns and nettle leaves. Music can be heard from a distance, a waltz of some kind, growing louder and then fading out as the Naberrie guards open and close the front doors for the guests.
The small group makes their way up the path, Circe counting heads every few minutes. The rather large group of children has been split into smaller ones; more manageable for the Jedi leaders that are charged with escorting them into the safety of the guarded house.
Though she knows they're all safe under Padme's care, the darkness of night makes her nervous. The rustle of the wind in the gardens and the sound of bubbling fountains from every direction keeps her on edge, searching every corner for someone using the noise to hide. She keeps her eyes fixed on the shining manor before them, anxious to get inside and relax. To find Anakin.
This will be the first time they see each other wearing anything other than training gear or robes. The excitement of it all is more overwhelming than she'd anticipated. It's the same anticipation she feels waiting for him to return from an off-planet mission, or when she's landing a ship and senses him inside the Temple.
It's the sun and the moon, always aching to be close, holding their breath each time dusk or dawn approaches.
Inside, the giant house is glowing. The ballroom is not quite so crowded that she has to push her way through, but a number of people are gathered there. She's dazzled by the spectacle of it all. Fabrics of all kind swaying loosely around the floor, shimmering silks that change color as the light bounces off them, gems and expensive metals hanging off necks, and wrists, and ears. Some women wear light, linen quilted skirts and leather corsets laced up the back, the very best a young maid has in her closet. Others heave jewel-clad gowns around with them, the weight of the fine stones and beaded threads too heavy to dance with.
Most of them seem to be Padme's friends from within town. Circe did not expect to see so many people. She feels danger lurk around every corner. Behind every brilliant skirt is someone darting towards her Younglings. With every sway and turn of the crowd, someone is sneaking up behind them, hidden under the chatter and the music.
She shakes her head. There is no point in losing her mind to anxiety. She must stay calm, and alert, and it wouldn't kill her to enjoy the effort her friend has put into preparing a party for the Jedi. Padme has spared no expense.
A vast table stretches across Nabberrie's ballroom with food unimaginable to the children, who have spent much of their lives eating the Temple's clean, sustainable diet. Candied plums shine under the candlelight as though they were covered in ice, chocolate bonbons and strawberries laid atop cream puddings, a spectacle of fruits and vegetables lures them in. All the kids, done up in the clothes that their parents sent for them, rush to the table to pick at everything within reach.
