LEX TALIONIS¹ | obi-wan kenobi

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Qui-Gon is not to be deterred, as usual. He sets his shoulders and says, "But Anakin—"

"We will discuss the matter later, Qui-Gon," Windu repeats, a clear rebuke in his voice, "and the Council will decide the boy's fate." He frowns in Qui-Gon's direction, clearly frustrated with the errant Jedi.

"Be with you, may the Force," Yoda intones with a slight incline of his head. "Protect you on Naboo, may it. Dismissed, you are, from this Council."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan (and Anakin, though he does so more clumsily than the others) make their bows as the Temple Guards pull open the heavy double doors. Obi-Wan doesn't waste a second before he's striding out of the room, purpose written into every line of his body. As Obi-Wan walks away from the Council Chamber with long strides, feeling anger well up within him once again, he hears his Master call out his name.

Obi-Wan doesn't look back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

NAR SHADDAA, 22BBY

Margo breathes in the damp air of Nar Shaddaa and lets herself appreciate the feeling of solid ground underneath her feet as she heads down the boarding ramp. After almost two days stuck in hyperspace with one Anakin Skywalker, she feels like a caged beast—ready to snarl and snap and wreak destruction on the city that towers above them.

Anakin, probably aware of the extent of her frustration in the Force, takes a cautious step away. Before he can say anything, though, a PortSec customs officer appears in the mist, coming towards them—a Rodian, dressed in plain blacks and browns, with a shining badge pinned to his lapel.

Margo didn't even know that the lawless world of Nar Shaddaa had PortSec, let alone customs. She smiles uneasily at the Rodian as he approaches.

"The docking fee is three hundred credits," he says in an odd tone, and he holds his hand out for the money. "And I'll need to see your identichips."

Anakin scoffs, mutters, "Three hundred credits?!" under his breath.

"You don't need to see our identichips," Margo corrects with a wave of the Force. The Rodian blinks, unsettled, and repeats the sentiment. "And twenty-five credits will be quite enough."

"Twenty-five credits will be quite enough," he bites out, like the words leave a bad taste in his mouth. Thankfully, he doesn't argue any further as Margo fishes in her pocket for the credit chips and drops them into his hand. With a cautious wave of her hand and a brush of the Force, she locks up the ship and grabbing Anakin's arm roughly.

"Come on," she hisses, eying the officer warily. He's still standing there, staring at the two of them. "Let's go."

Anakin doesn't need to be told twice. He follows her as she wanders out into the spaceport, which is filled with thousands of beings of all shapes and sizes. Margo ducks around a Wookie, almost slams straight into a Togruta, and then pulls Anakin out of the port altogether and into one of Nar Shadda's busy streets. Anakin stops to gape, dragging Margo back with him as he stares up at the sky.

Nar Shaddaa is definitely impressive. The city looms above them, speeders and starships weaving in and out of skyscrapers. The colorful lights of the billboards, similar to Coruscant's lower levels, make hypnotic patterns dance over Anakin and Margo's faces. The sky above them casts a strange reddish-orange hue over the passersby on the street.

Margo has been here before, on a mission with Quinlan during her apprenticeship (don't ask—it didn't turn out well), so she's well used to her surroundings. Anakin, on the other hand, looks like a fish out of water.