Fate had never been in Ahsoka’s favour. Or perhaps she was too stubborn to recognise that her fate was filled with nothing but loss. A fate she couldn’t swindle, one so interwoven into her being that her choices often felt futile. Ahsoka had come to the understanding that loss was a part of life.

It was mandatory for growth, which was something she had been enforced to learn. But something she had assimilated to endorse. After all, how was she supposed to accept anything else when loss was all she had known?

Now, she had lost someone else: You. Not to the clutches of death, but to the honeyed silver tongue of the dark side. It shed off your very form, disposing a bitter residue in her mouth and chilling down her spine. The harshness of your eyes—ones that used to shine like jewels in the sunlight that now didn’t dare to grace your flesh—crushed any hope she had that you were still in the husk you now called yourself to be the 'true you'.

But this wasn’t you—The Guest Ahsoka had known was somewhere in there. Either in the yawning depths of your mind, chained by the dark side, or peeking out in the twitches of your expression here and there. You had been friends. Once. A lifetime ago, Ahsoka would have revered you with her life. Now she was conjecturing if you could still be considered friends.

She didn’t want scattered pieces of your friendship to end so abruptly, to be cast away in the winds reduced to naught. She just wanted you.