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 drops low to the ground, the taste of blood flooding her mouth as she spins out of the way of a droid's blaster.
One of the machines managed to knock her off balance and her teeth had slammed down on her tongue, forcing her to stop for a moment in the face of the searing pain in her mouth. And this had given them a chance to advance past her guard.
"Anakin," She says into her comm, spitting the taste of copper out of her mouth, "You better hurry it up, you've got company coming."
"Can't you give me a minute? We just got here and already you're losing the upper hand? I think you're losing your touch, Cirs," He replies, ducking around the corner of an empty hallway.
She glances around at Nej, Khoan, Angel, and Kiger, who are all taking their shot at the droids steadily approaching. Their blasters do damage, and they've kept her out of trouble so far, but there's no use for gunfire when it's into a never-ending crowd.
"I'm not losing my touch, they just have more soldiers," She argues, pulling her lightsaber up the chest of a droid. It splutters and sparks before falling to the ground in a heap of scrap metal.
"Mhm, sure. Don't dawdle, I'm nearly to the main deck."
A Separatist ship has breached a border, one that the Temple cannot turn a blind eye for. Anakin and Circe have been sent to lock the ship down and take the captain into custody, but they're heavily armed, and Anakin can only move so fast through the hull. Circe needs to fall back, or she'll get caught in the middle of a troop. Outnumbered and outgunned, something even her skill can't save her from.
"Follow me. I'm headed down the East side," He says, pushing out with his senses to find the captain.
There are people gathered just a few meters down from him. It must be the opening to the captain's deck, and it must be guarded well. Circe's voice crackles over the comm line.
"I'm following. Don't get into too much trouble before I get there, okay, Chosen One? We need you alive."
He grins, pulling back into a doorway at the sound of a few droids coming down the hall. "I'll see you on the other side," He teases.
If she responds, he doesn't hear it. He's leapt out from the doorway and made quick work of the battle droids, their metal bodies falling to the ground with a clang. The sound will have given him away. He doesn't quite have a plan yet, but he has no choice to enter the main deck before whoever is inside comes out first.
Through the door, a number of blasters fire in his direction, the heat of the bullets warming his face as they whiz by. It only takes a moment to spot the captain, a tall young man, dressed in a black uniform. His eyes dart to Anakin quickly, pale, and white. His resemblance to Circe nearly makes Anakin stumble. The frosted, white hair, his pale skin—everything but those eyes are her.
The droids descend, their feet rattling on the shiny metal floor loudly. As one swings at him, it's thin metal arm dangerously close to his chest, he swerves to take its legs out from beneath it. Before it's even dropped to the ground, he's on to the next two, swinging his blade through their necks and pulling a shock grenade from his robes, rolling it towards the group of droids coming on his right.
