My Unfortunate Fate

chapter 43

Change is necessary and inevitable to life.

I wake up and struggle to move out of bed; still stuck by grief. I haven't moved much since returning from Lola Sayu, and I don't plan on heading out for another mission anytime soon. Alas, I know I will have to.

I am grateful to finally have been able to sleep after an eternity of being forced awake by my body and mind. Sleep is like an escape of some kind; I often find myself running from my problems, and it is one of the easiest ways to do that.

Running from my troubles, though it is sometimes wrong, seems like the only option I ever have. Acceptance is difficult to reach, yet avoiding it feels like our only solace. I still haven't accepted the truth of Echo's death fully, but I know I will eventually.

I sit up at the edge of my bed, looking back at Anakin for a moment, still sleeping peacefully. I don't want to disturb him. He deserves some rest, at least once in a while, and especially after such a tense mission.

Instead of bothering him, I choose to tiptoe carfully to the closet at the edge of my room. It's quite small and I've never found myself using it much, as I would often lay out my robes for the next day on the edge my bed or on the meditation chair beside it.

I have little to nothing to store in said closet, now that I live on my own. Well, I usually live by myself, when Anakin doesn't come by. Which happens to be almost every night.

I slowly open the closet door and look inside.

Though it is often not allowed, I sometimes took offerings from the people I've helped on missions, before the war. They help fill the void, leaving my life a little less empty with the knowledge that I have helped those people and earned their gratitude.

My most prized possession is a small gold band—given to me by Queen Breha Organa, after my return from Alderaan. I've never worn it; flaunting such a thing seems wrong, and it would be like bragging—something Jedi simply do not do.

I gaze at the nearly empty closet for a moment before looking up and turning my attention to a box on the top shelf. This is what I am looking for, what I have been dreading to take back for the past week or so. I use the Force to quietly lower it into my grasp, observing the box.

I haven't opened this box since I was sixteen; that was the last time I used its contents. The box is a flat grey colour, just like any other storage tools in my quarters and some of the accents of my bedroom. My quarters are very bland in terms of decoration, I'm aware of that.

I carefully remove the lid of the box, putting it on the top shelf of my closet as I stare at the contents. My hand reaches in and holds the tough, black fabric for a moment. The material, although it is pretty comfortable, offers a good amount of protection against most impacts. Its colour is deep and piercing.

I haven't worn these robes in a very long time. In fact, I haven't worn any robes that aren't my maroon ones since my knighting. Now I think it is the time to change that.

These black robes were the first I ditched, deeming their shade to be too obscure for my light-hearted personality. I have always been close to the light side of the Force; I am forgiving and well-collected, though I feel recently I have drifted from that.

Since our time on Mortis, I've felt myself stray from the light I once had, the one that led me to forgive unconditionally.  The feeling has been with me since killing the Son; even though I'd just destroyed the dark of the realm, guilt washed over me after taking a life.

I slip off my nightclothes—I now remember when I managed to change into them last night—and quickly put on the black robes. They still fit well, luckily. If they are too tight, I may have to go out of my way and request new ones; this is something I am not willing to do right now.