Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi sat still in the pod. The chamber rang eerily quiet, every small sound echoing throughout the vast room. His pod creaked, swaying from his weight. His hands clasped tight together on his lap, his hood pulled up over his head. Everything was still. Anyone at a distance could tell it was him; the senatorial pod gave it away. But no one was here. The Senate wasn't meeting, the workers weren't cleaning, and the dead of the night had overtook Coruscant.
Below, in the Underworld, the nightlife thrived, leeching off of drunk patrons, shady dealers, and corrupt politicians with a secret identity. Crimes ran rampant and spice ran free, and what was the point of saving the Republic when it was rotting from the inside out? What was the point of working for this , fighting for this already corroding system, a system that would crumble in its own rot sooner rather than later?
The eerie silence echoed throughout the chamber, and Obi-Wan looked out into the darkness that was waiting and threatening to suck him in again. He was alone. That's the whole point. Engulfed in a whole lot of alone to distract himself yet somehow remain focused on the fact that his life's work was as much of a scam as the slythmonger dealing out deathsticks down in an Underworld bar.
But matters other than drug dealers concerned Obi-Wan tonight.
He imagined angry yellow eyes staring down at him. He told himself the flash of guilt wasn't real. Nothing had been real, so why would that be? Power, dark power, and the deception it had wrought on Obi-Wan were all that remained corporeal enough to leave him shaken and torn, yet somehow still moving on..
His hands shook now, his shoulders carried too much tension, too much weight. Obi-Wan normally proved himself to be a composed, logical man. He'd lived a lifetime of rationality and keeping as tight of a reign as he could on his temper. But this? He'd been sucked into this faster than he could say no.
He couldn't say no - no one could, not to a Sith. Not when you were a mere senator, unaccustomed to that power the Jedi so freely wielded. He had been set up perfectly, had been trapped in an embrace, and had been so thrilled in the seduction that he had been oblivious to the scheme. All it had taken was that crooked smile, tanned legs tangled in his own, sweet nothings that had turned out to be exactly that. And then it had all come to a disastrous conclusion with Anakin Skywalker at the helm of the wreckage.
But that's what happens when you fall in love with a Sith Lord.