Angel's Demise. | anakin skywalker

i. vii

He takes a moment, a sigh leaving his mouth. "I want to have faith in diplomacy more than anything, but as it stands diplomacy isn't looking good. The Separatists are certain that they're seceding and the Republic is certain that they aren't. You're right, the kind of patriotism you described is taking root here, but that potent form of it is difficult to undo. Whether or not it fails is truly down to more factors than the emotions on both sides. We will put forward our best negotiators, but we can't determine who the Separatists will out forward. We can't promise peace before we've got it."

Nell nods in understanding. She checks the time and smiles warmly at her friend. "Well, this has been enlightening. Thank you so much for dinner, Bail, its been very informative." She stands with him, taking her coat and folding it over her arm.

"Thank you for coming, Nell. Honestly, you behave much better than politicians three times your age," he tells her, a slight amusement in his voice. "It's a pleasure to see you, as always, give Padme my regards."

"I'll make sure to. Have a nice evening."

She bows respectfully and allows herself out of Bail's Senatorial suite. She decides that she wants some fresh air to dwell on Bail's words so she takes the lift all the way down to the lobby and walks out of the Senatorial building. Her path takes her to the courtyard where many Senators spend their spare time. There's a group of Younglings finishing up their class in one corner as the sky turns a deep orange, but most people are avoiding the crisp of the evening by staying inside. Nell takes a seat on a bench, crossing one leg over the other and bringing her datapad out from her pocket (she loves big pockets). She notes down many of the things that she and Bail spoke about, the main arguments that will be presented by the supporting side. She's sure he's doing the same thing with what she said. That's politics, really.

"You're out late." The familiar voice causes a smile to fall onto her face.

"Hello, Anakin," she greets, shuffling over to give him space on the bench and pressing the button that makes her screen go dark.

"Working hard?" he questions with a grin, nodding down to the datapad in her hands.

"As always" she confirms. "What're you doing down here?"

"Obi-Wan is teaching the Younglings today. I'm surprised you didn't notice," he says. When Nell takes a second look, she recognises the stance and the slowly growing out hair of Master Kenobi.

"Oh, of course! I totally missed it," she laughs, shaking her head at herself. "I've just had a meeting, my head is so full of talk of the Separatists and the Military Creation Act that I'm not even sure if I can find my own name buried up there anymore."

"Well, if you need a reminder, I'll be happy to lend a hand. How is the Military Creation Act going?"

"Slowly," she replies, rolling her shoulder slightly in an attempt to loosen them up. A small crack is heard and she sighs happily. "We can't agree, really. There are quite a few systems standing with the opposition, Naboo included obviously, but there are systems that we generally agree with that are supporting it, like Alderaan. I just had dinner with Bail and it was enlightening but also concerning. People want an army to defend against the Separatists, but the Separatists will then want an army to defend against us and then we'll have to build our army faster and make it bigger and we just perpetuate a cycle of militarisation."

"Sounds like a lot of pressure on your shoulders," he comments. "Aren't you just... constantly stressed?"

"Always," she admits. "You've always got to be considering every angle to a problem and trying to solve it in a way that pleases your own system and as many other people as possible."

"That's a lot of weight for young shoulders." Obi-Wan joins them mid-conversation with a smile. Nell returns it widely.

"I'm used to it. It really comes with the territory," she replies. "Sometimes it can get a bit much when the morally correct thing and the thing that is best for your system are two different things. It causes inner conflict and that is the hardest to resolve."

Obi-Wan chuckles. "You are wise beyond your years, Nell," he answers. "Right, my young Padawan. We have training to do, so this is where we say goodnight."

"I wouldn't want to keep you. I should probably get back, Padme will be wanting to hear about my dinner and she'll start to worry if I'm not back soon," she agrees. "Goodnight."

She goes the opposite way to Obi-Wan and Anakin, heading back to the Senatorial building rather than Jedi Temple, the cold beginning to seep through her coat. Despite the bright artificial lighting of Coruscant, shadows still linger and Nell is sharply reminded of the darkness she felt when she first arrived and the darkness that has followed her from afar until that point. As she moves through the shadows towards the bright and warm lobby of the Senatorial building, she feels her senses prickling. She doesn't want that, she doesn't want that at all. If she gets attacked, she either won't be able to fight the attacker off or she'll have to return home. Three attempts in such a short time will not look good for anyone, much less the Jedi or the Republic itself.

She increases the speed of her steps ever so slightly, peering around herself anxiously. The shadows seem to be creeping up on her and rushing over her like waves— a new one pulling her right back down after the breath of air that comes in the form of streetlamps. But the relief is always short lived. It isn't a long walk from the courtyard and she can see the lobby, but no matter how much she increases the speed of her steps, it feels like it's not getting any closer.

Not soon enough, she finally crosses the threshold, her brain alert with anxiety and her breathing sharp and short despite only having walked a short distance. It's as though a weight has been lifted off of her chest, as though the waves have retreated and she's been left dry and dramatic on the beach. She wraps her arms around herself as she makes a beeline for the lift, thankful for the late hour since barely anyone is around to see her panic to herself in such a way.

She hadn't missed the way that she still has yet to call the Senate building home, but with the clutching, parasitic remnants of the darkness still lingering, she wonders if a place like Coruscant could classify as home at all.