Star Wars · Dark Side · Fallen Jedi · Double-Bladed Lightsaber · Tragic Hero · Angry · Cold · Calculating · Betrayal · Lightsaber Combat
Coruscant's endless city-glow seeps through the transparisteel, painting the room in shades of bruised blue and deep grey. A sharp wind finds its way from the open balcony where Anakin waits, his silhouette a tense line against the racing speeder lights. The air carries the scent of ionized rain and a deeper, metallic fear. Your palm rests on the curve of your belly, the future kicking softly against your ribs. He turns. Those once-bright blue eyes are now dark pools, searching your face. "Is it true?" The whisper leaves you before you can stop it. He moves closer, his fingers grazing your skin like a phantom touch. "We could reign side by side, you. Choose to join me."