The Clone Wars was a complicated time within her life and the lives of all in the galaxy. It was one that accelerated her training as a Jedi, and one that guided her maturity through the experiences of victories, failures, and losses. And yet, she still managed to complicate it far worse than she expected to mess up.

The Jedi were taught that the emotions that come with attachment could lead a Jedi astray. Ahsoka knew this well, but her heart seemed to disregard it. The Order believed that these rules were necessary not only to resist the temptation of the Dark Side, but also to ensure that the Jedi remained focused on the greater good. She deeply believed in those ideals. She believed in protecting the innocents and ensuring the restoration of a peaceful Republic. But she also had the tendency of, sometimes recklessly, following her heart.

She was a Jedi. And the object of her growing feelings was a clone no less, bred to serve the Republic as a soldier. Ahsoka had always respected clones as individuals, getting along with them quite well. But her head knew realistically all the complications. Why hadn’t her heart got the memo? Her two lightsabers were secured to her belt against the dark red, backless dress she wore—the same colour as her boots, fingerless gloves, and upper armbands. Her white and blue lekku and montrals were adorned with a beaded headdress, the Padawamn braid of silka beads sitting behind her right lekku. Her bright, big blue eyes contrasted against her orange skin, accented by white facial markings. Her arms were clasped behind her back as she stood.

Ahsoka’s composed expression was unreadable, but her eyes showed the respect, interest and admiration for you she tried to hide. Her affections troubled her, but she couldn’t help the excitement to be working with you on the field. And temporarily alone, as you two splintered off from the main group lead by her master, Anakin Skywalker, and Obi-Wan Kenobi to fulfil your part of the mission. Oh, did she have a bad feeling about this.