‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ PART TWO ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

THE CLONE WARS!

WHEN ARTIE PRESENTS HER LIGHTSABER TO THE COUNCIL, THE LOOKS ON THEIR FACES MAKE HER FEAR SHE'D DONE IT WRONG.

          Quickly, she goes over its construction in her head. It's not crudely fashioned at all—in fact, Artie thinks it's rather nice-looking, the metal smooth and cool and unique from what she's seen. She's positive she fused the hilt right, and the kyber crystal is definitely balanced . . . perhaps the stabilizers are weak? But the plasma extends just fine. The only thing that is obviously different is the blade's distinct lack of color. Rather than green, blue, or even purple, it glows white, like a sword carved from bone. Artie glances uneasily at Obi-Wan and his face only seems to say Of course this would happen. Clearly, they don't see many white sabers, and Artie feels a sweat break out on her palms as she wonders why.

        "White," is all Mace Windu says from his seat, his back stiff and face unmoving. Artie stands in the center of the Council's ring of chairs, subconsciously leaning toward Obi-Wan, who shockingly seems the least scandalized in the room. Her heart is hammering now. It's not like she chose her color. Really, she'd been hoping for green, but she isn't sure if that's worth mentioning.

         "Interesting, this is," muses Master Yoda, a small hand going to his chin (or what would have been his chin, he doesn't really have one).

         "Why is it like that?" Artie asks, probably sounding childish (they always tell her she sounds childish) but in the moment she doesn't care. She wants to know why her lightsaber is different from literally every other lightsaber she's ever seen. She's beginning to empathize with Obi-Wan; between her and Anakin's seemingly routine insubordinations, things are bound to start reflecting badly on him. Of course this would happen.

          "A white blade is typically a sign of a . . . split perspective," Windu continues in a tone so affronted he might as well be saying "I don't like you."

          "What perspective?" Artie asks. Her heart is beating too fast and she wants to sheath her saber and leave that room forever.

           "It has to do with the Force," Obi-Wan says calmly, a knowing look silencing the "Doesn't everything?" Artie has ready on her lips. "A white blade is extremely rare, Artemis. But it nods to a sort of . . . noncommittal attitude . . . towards either side."

           "The Jedi and the Sith," Artie finishes for him. "You think this means I could turn."

           "No," Obi-Wan says at once.

           "It's plausible," Windu ventures.

           "I won't," Artie insists with fervor, but it is only for their benefit. She is not concerned with their opinions of her—let Windu think what he wants. She doesn't care. "White blade or not, I'm not a deserter. I'm loyal to the Republic."

          Windu's mouth draws thin. "And you've proven that. But we must all be aware of our feelings, Adhara. Even those we do not entertain." It's not a threat, but it feels like one. We know you're not blindly loyal, it seems to imply. Your missteps are not overlooked. It's a rash and paranoid implication, to even suggest that she, a scrawny nobody with less than three weeks of training, would pose any kind of threat to the Order.

         But Artie swallows her insult and dips her head and sheaths her strange lightsaber. "Yes, Master." She hates the word.

           "It is only an indication that you are not quite as devoted to the Order as is ideal," Windu goes on, "which is not entirely your fault—your membership is new and a wholehearted appreciation must be learned over time. But I will not pretend clearly defined loyalty is not preferred, especially in trying seasons like the one we find ourselves in."

          Artie nods and does her best not to be outwardly incensed. It's too bad you didn't get to snatch me up when I was a toddler, she thinks hotly, but does not let her anger show. She has learned to assume the same airy but fraudulent attitude she used to adopt when having to talk to senators and bureaucrats she did not like. Her brow never stays furrowed for long and her eyes are always wide and attentive, when in reality she is usually thinking of Anakin or training or flying or meeting Padmé for tea as soon as the Council releases her. Artie thinks Obi-Wan sees right through it, and he wouldn't be her friend if he didn't, but Windu and Yoda and the others seem to lap it right up. "Yes, Master."

          Yoda lifts a three-fingered hand. "Go, you may. Worry too much about this, we should not."

          "I'll need you at training in an hour," Obi-Wan says, and Artie realizes upon studying his face that the topic of her lightsaber is far from dropped.

           She returns his pointed look with a wag of an eyebrow. "Yes, Master," she says for a third time, most insincere of all. Artie turns on her heel and marches out of the council chambers, testing the new weight of another tally on the imaginary board that keeps track of all the things the Masters (semi-excluding Obi-Wan) are cross with her about. Artie begins to understand why they're always frowning—what else would they look like after spending their time pondering how others fall short of their expectations?

           Artie blows a breath through her lips and balances her lightsaber in her hand, the metal hilt cool and at ease on her palm. If she admits it, she sort of likes that it's different. Safely outside of the council room, she smiles. A white blade, huh? Exceedingly rare and a bit of a scandal . . . well, she's never opposed to ruffling a few feathers. She doesn't want the attention, but she isn't about to roll over and submit, return to Ilum and hope the frigid caves offer her a new crystal. Hadn't Yoda said whatever kyber jewel she found was meant to be hers? And if it didn't have anything to do with the crystal, and it was just about what was inside of her, how could she help it?

In any case, Artie cannot wait to show Anakin. She'd gone straight to the Council after returning to Coruscant and had not seen him since leaving for Ilum three days before. He'd been lending her his lightsaber to practice with when Obi-Wan had her spar with him and though appreciative, Artie is happy to now be self-reliant. She knows Anakin will admire the blade's uniqueness and won't make her feel even more detached for having it—some days she feels he is the only person besides Padmé who doesn't begrudge her being herself, and it renders her blind with devotion. She feels her very soul is safe and protected in his hands.

          Artie's heartbeat takes an upswing and suddenly she breaks into a run; he said he'd wait for her by Rex's barracks (Rex found them out a week ago, but is blessedly willing to help them remain a secret) and she cannot wait a moment more to see him.

        No words from spiteful maws can touch her when she is held in Anakin Skywalker's arms.

( I yearn to be held
in the great hands
of your heart )

rilke maria                       book of hours

stardust child,

battles brew in tangible stuffs

note.
here we go!! very excited for all this angst!! the chapters and this part as a whole will likely be shorter and loosely based on the events of the clone wars tv series (go watch it it's amazing). there WILL BE SPOILERS and i don't feel bad bc it's been out for like 10 years. the chapters will not necessarily follow a consecutive plot but WILL be progressing forward towards revenge of the sith. i hope you're all as excited as i am!