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Chapter IX - Life of an outsider

Year 7955 (22 BBY) - Location : Coruscant

Anakin's POV

The sound of someone banging the metal on my door startles me out of my sleep, so badly in fact, that I fell onto the floor of my quarters. Letting a curse under my breath, I glare at the door, knowing fine well who was standing behind it.

"Anakin, hurry up, or we'll risk being late before the council." The sound of my master's voice reaches my ears, his coruscanti accent especially grating on my ears this morning. The sunrise on Coruscant hasn't even started yet, it's that early.

Who in their right mind is this chipper in the morning? I think to myself as I push myself slowly onto my feet, running a hand through my hair, it gets caught in some of the locks that had tangled during the night. I sigh as I start brushing through it with both hands.

Every. Kriffing. Day. I then grab the little hair elastic and put the longer hairs in the back of my neck into a ponytail, its ugly; but these stupid padawan haircuts are custom. I put on my robes, knowing I'll get the standard look from my master as soon I step outside.

A conversation from some time ago springs to mind.

'That's a little... dark?' Obi-wan comments as I step out of my room, wearing a new outfit I picked out for myself while he was gone on a mission, I was bored, and the standard jedi outfit just didn't really suit me.

'Really? I was hoping it would be.' I answer with a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders, out of the corner of my eye, I can see his face turn into a frown; before quickly covering it up with a hand to face. Brushing that beard of his, as usual.

'Anakin, you know why we wear these robes. It identifies-'

'Yeah, yeah. We're jedi that are a part of the jedi order, appearances, tradition, blah blah blah,' I cut him off as I start walking down the hallway, he lets out a surprised huff of air before following after. 'I heard it the last hundred times you went through the spiel.'

I could sense his growing agitation, but he kept it tightly hidden under a neutral smile, nodding towards a passing master. I roll my eyes, keeping them trained on the hallway in front of me.

'I don't like that tone of yours, padawan,' he says with a slight edge to his voice. 'Perhaps you need another lesson with Madame Jocasta about the traditions and history of the order, it sounds as if you've forgotten the importance of it.'

My eyebrows shoot to the top of my forehead, and turn I to face him with a look of suspicion.

'You wouldn't...' his eyes crinkles at the corners of his eyes, in a familiar way that means I'm going to do something you won't like, and you'll most likely want to run your head through the engine of a speeder at the end of it and all I could do was send him a pleading look.

Before I could hear his response, he turns his head away from me, and coming towards us was the grandmaster. Or the green troll as I like to call him in private.

'We'll talk about this later,' he whispers under his breath, I make a face at that. 'Master Yoda, what a pleasant surprise. How are the younglings today?'

Yoda greets us with a half-smile. 'Good, the younglings are. Say the same for the people of Dantooine, I can not.' Obi-wan and I share a look, before I ask the question we're both thinking.

'What's happened?' I ask. The little troll lets out a hum as he starts walking away, the tapping of his gimmer stick echoing with every tap, we follow him silently.