𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙍𝙀𝙏𝙎 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙃𝙔𝘽𝙍𝙄𝘿, clone wars ² ✔

[20] the price of freedom

❝Adaptation is the key to survival.❞

・❥・

In the forest clearing, dappled sunlight filtered through emerald leaves, casting shifting shadows across Nyx's still form. She sat cross-legged on a bed of crushed grass, each blade bent beneath her weight releasing the sharp, green scent of chlorophyll. Her shoulders curved inward, a subtle tell of the psychological weight she carried from Moris - that cursed place where shadows had seemed to breathe and darkness had worn familiar faces. While Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan appeared to have shaken off those psychological chains with typical Jedi resilience, the experience clung to Nyx like a second skin, whispering in the quiet moments when her guard dropped.

The rhythmic crunch of military-grade boots against forest debris shattered her introspection. Captain Rex emerged from between two ancient trees, his white armor gleaming like polished bone in the filtered light. Scuff marks and carbon scoring told tales of recent battles across his chest plate, each scratch a story of survival. His presence brought with it the familiar scent of weapon oil and the metallic tang of recently cleaned armor.

"Nyx, are you ready?" His voice, carrying that distinctive Mandalorian accent all clones shared, cut through the forest's ambient symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls. Her blood-red eyes - stark and unsettling against her pale features - locked onto his deep brown ones, genetics-engineered eyes that had seen too much war for their years.

"I...I am," she managed, each word falling from her lips like heavy drops of rain. Rising with liquid grace that made even the most basic movement seem like a choreographed dance, she gathered her shoulder-length hair - black as starless space - into a secure ponytail, individual strands catching the light like filaments of silk. "Let's go. I don't want to keep General Skywalker or Kenobi waiting."

The docking bay assaulted her senses as they entered - the sharp tang of fuel, the metallic echo of boots on durasteel flooring, the underlying hum of generators that vibrated through the soles of her feet. Fives' grin split his face like a sunrise, his ARC trooper armor pristine and decorated with the blue markings of the 501st. "Hey there, angel, are you finally back from your little nap?" The tease rolled off his tongue as he nudged Echo, their identical features a mirror of shared mischief.

Echo's armor bore the same distinctive markings, though his carried more battle scars - testament to closer encounters with death. "Watch it, Fives. You're talking to our angel," he chided, voice warm like honey over gravel. The nickname 'angel' hung in the recycled air between them, a reminder of her otherworldly nature that set her apart from these men bred for war.

Nyx felt her lips curve upward, the smile feeling foreign on features that had grown too used to frowning. "It's alright, Echo. He's right," she responded, punctuating her words with a deliberate wink at Fives that sent color flooding beneath his tanned skin, making the distinguished ARC trooper squirm like a fresh cadet. "Now, let's go."

The assembled team stood out against the utilitarian grey of the docking bay: Obi-Wan Kenobi, copper hair neatly groomed despite the early hour, his cream robes settling around him like calm authority; Anakin Skywalker, dark hair slightly disheveled and mechanical hand gleaming dully under the harsh bay lights; Commander Cody in his distinctive orange-marked armor, standing at parade rest with ingrained military precision; Captain Rex, his dual pistols holstered at his hips, jaig eyes on his helmet marking him as a respected warrior; and the ARC trooper twins, Echo and Fives, their specialized armor bristling with extra ammunition and gear. Anakin's question cut through the pre-mission tension: "Are we all set to head out?"