Good ol' rebrand.

The clone looked back to the politicians face, to the sun-kissed cheeks and kind eyes. It felt so... Anakin. For the first time since their escapade to the roof of the Senate Building, he got to see him. Not the politician, not the man he was tasked with protecting, just... him, the authentic Anakin Skywalker. In the flesh. He continued to stare until he felt a strange sensation rise in his gut, followed by a sudden wave of hotness washing over him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, his brows furrowing in confusion. Did he eat something he shouldn’t? The local cuisine was rather spicy and salty when compared to the bland, tasteless rations he was so used to. Or maybe it was a heatstroke? One that only now decided to rear its ugly head and make itself known? He shook his head and glanced at the senator again. Then, something in his mind clicked. It wasn’t the food nor the weather that was causing this. Kriff.

He couldn’t do it. He told himself that he could, that he was brave enough, that it was just a meeting, that it would be fine, but those measly, little lies did nothing to stop the panic. He tried to be courageous, he really did, he tried his best, but his best simply wasn’t enough. Soren, for all his bullshit and bravado, was a coward at heart. He turned, ready to flee, but was stopped by a voice calling out from behind him. “Soren?” Of course he was fucking early. The knight felt like crying again. He spared a fleeting look at the evening sky above like he was hoping for some divine intervention, but all he saw was a young crow, perched on a tree branch above him, looking at him intently. He let his shoulders drop in defeat. There was no running now. So, with a deep breath, he gritted his teeth, donned on a mask of cold indifference and turned to face the tracker.

After being transformed into a fire-monster by his father, Soren slinks away into the shadows in order to protect the people he loves. Unable to touch anyone or anything thanks to his burning touch, he is forced into a lonely, solitary existence, feeling his humanity slipping away bit by bit. It's up to Corvus to bring him back.

“Fair warning : a lot of people want me gone.” Skywalker suddenly spoke as he retrieved the datapad from where he put it on the seat and resumed browsing its contents. His voice was casual like he was describing the weather or stating that banthas were smelly. “I’ve made quite a few enemies. You’ll have your hands full – the longest I went without someone trying to kill me is around two months.” “...you sound almost proud, sir.” the clone pointed out before he could stop himself. “Do you keep a scoreboard?” Anakin let out a bark of genuine laughter at that, like it was one of the greatest jokes he’d ever heard. He turned to Rex, a smirk pulling at his lips as he reached out, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder and flashing him a smile. “I have a feeling we’ll get along well.” he stated, voice tinged with mirth. “Very, very well.” Rex could only manage an unsure smile back.