"We're fighting to protect this?" Anakin waved a disgusted hand at the roomful of dissipated Senators, assembled for a charity ball. Supposedly to raise funds for care of injured troopers, the Senators seemed to be competing to see who could be most decadently dressed and escorted and indulge the most freely. It was a despicable spectacle.
"Please you, the party does not, hm?" Master Yoda suggested, hobbling over. "A different one, you would prefer, yes? Tomorrow, the créchlings' tea party you will attend. Tell them you will be there, I will."
Anakin blanched as the ancient Master teetered off. "He's not serious, is he?" the young man murmured to Obi-Wan, the original recipient of the complaints. "He can't be serious."
"I'll go speak to him." The ginger-haired Master drifted after Yoda purposefully, catching up quickly. "Master, are you sure that's wise?" he asked hesitantly, stroking his beard. "He's been very moody lately, he might upset the younglings..."
"Go, he will," Yoda said firmly. "Reminded of why we fight, he must be. Look up to him, the younglings do, with genuine admiration, not the calculated political expediency of those around us. Soothe him, the little ones might - so much time I spend with them, why think you?"
"An...interesting idea, Master," Obi-Wan said pensively.
"Go, you will too!" Yoda insisted firmly, with the tone of one inspired.
"I?" Obi-Wan asked, alarmed, then winced as his elder drove home his point with a sharp poke of the ubiquitous gimer stick to Obi-Wan's kneecap.
"Go, you will," Yoda repeated. "Do you good also, it shall."
Anakin gave his master a glance of sullen dismay before palming the door open. The shouts, squeals, cries, and laughter of the créchlings within echoed out, and Anakin grimaced as though being sent to his doom. Obi-Wan gave him a gentle shove in the back, and the two elder Jedi entered.
Instantly they were accosted by ecstatic younglings and dragged to a table already set with rows of small plates, saucers, and cups. They were thrust into seats at the head of the table, slightly crooked, bent, and sticky flower crowns bestowed upon them. Anakin bore it with a look of long-suffering, but Obi-Wan smiled behind his beard, beginning to see what Yoda had meant. The little ones clustered around the adored Jedi, showering them with their own brand of small-child affection and admiration.
All in all, the tea party was a success. Though immediately after departing the nursery, there was a tacit pact between the two to never speak of it again, Obi-Wan noticed the spring in Anakin's step and the long-absent twinkle in his eye. He would also not soon forget the image of his former Padawan, decked in flowers and beads, dancing in a ring with a small Rodian, two humans, a Tholothian, and a Wookiee and singing a simple nursery rhyme.
I'm sorry for the delay, I have been so...so...so busy. Still am, really - this is the last of my backlogged material and I have no idea when I'll be able to write again. I won't forget y'all, I promise, I will get back when I get time.
