✧【 @-jedhaarchivist 】✧
Anakin followed her movement into the light, the gold glow catching in his hair, across the worn fabric of his robes. He noticed the way her eyes flicked to his lightsaber — not with fear, but with recognition. The kind that came from someone who knew exactly what that symbol meant now.
He didn’t reach for it. Didn’t even rest his hand near it.
“Anakin,” he said simply at first, then after a beat, as if deciding honesty mattered more than reputation, “Anakin Skywalker.”
There was a brief pause — not dramatic, not heavy, just long enough for the name to exist between them.
“I was told the Keeper of the archives might be able to help me,” he continued, voice low, respectful of the quiet around them. “Not with records. With people.”
His gaze shifted back to the holocrons behind her, then returned to her face.
“Jedi who don’t know where to go anymore. Refugees who don’t know what they’re allowed to hope for.”
A faint, almost self-aware smile touched his mouth.
“And… maybe someone who knows what it means to guard what’s left after everything else is taken.”