Prophet of Bogan
Darth Strosius felt like chit.
A condition that He wasn't at all alone in of course as many of the other passengers aboard the Tyranny could attest.
Unlike the rest of the wounded being treated however, He wasn't reliant on the medics and bacta nor even confined to the ship's medical wing at all. In the waning hours before He'd made His way off of Abregado-Rae He had been fed by one of the prime annoyances in His life. Darth Strosius hated it. He hadn't even gotten the chance to tear Quinn's throat out, too busy healing His injured form and restoring His lost arm. The newly regrown limb was wrapped up and covered as best as He could manage with bandages and spare bits of what had once been His sleeve, thankfully out of view of the rest of the ship's occupants in spite of the total loss of His gauntlet on that arm.
The metal left behind was barely worth salvaging, merely some scraps tucked into a pouch in His robes that He intended to simply melt down later to serve as material for a replacement. Abregado-Rae had been an experience and one that He didn't intend to repeat any time soon. The pale tendrils trailing from His back were still flowing at their full extent, much to his frustration and embarrassment. Undoubtedly a side effect of His...potent meal from earlier. He pushed the thought aside before it ruminated in His mind and spoiled His mood any further, keeping His strides long and consistent as He moved.
More importantly than His own survival and recovery, both Lina and A'Mia were aboard the vessel as well and they were the only reasons He was still onboard at all. A'Mia had been in quite the state when He'd last seen her, before he... Darth Strosius stopped and found his wrapped fingers digging into the new palm that they were attached to, hard enough to draw trickles of maroon blood that stained the bandages. The wounds were gone in but a moment of course but the stains remained. In more than one sense. As for Lina He wasn't sure what state she might be in but she had evidently exhausted herself as well from what He could tell.
Regardless He wanted to ensure that the both of them were recovering well, not that He didn't necessarily trust the medical staff aboard the Tyranny to provide adequate treatment but rather purely in order to soothe His own guilty conscience. He hadn't been there when they'd both needed Him but now He was going to make as best amends as He could. Darth Strosius steadied His nerves before He took the final steps that carried Him to one door in particular where He sensed the pair within. His still gauntleted and uninjured hand pressed the console beside the door to open it, although there was a moment of hesitation before He actually crossed the threshold and entered into the room.
"Forgive me for the delay, this ship is massive you know."
A condition that He wasn't at all alone in of course as many of the other passengers aboard the Tyranny could attest.
Unlike the rest of the wounded being treated however, He wasn't reliant on the medics and bacta nor even confined to the ship's medical wing at all. In the waning hours before He'd made His way off of Abregado-Rae He had been fed by one of the prime annoyances in His life. Darth Strosius hated it. He hadn't even gotten the chance to tear Quinn's throat out, too busy healing His injured form and restoring His lost arm. The newly regrown limb was wrapped up and covered as best as He could manage with bandages and spare bits of what had once been His sleeve, thankfully out of view of the rest of the ship's occupants in spite of the total loss of His gauntlet on that arm.
The metal left behind was barely worth salvaging, merely some scraps tucked into a pouch in His robes that He intended to simply melt down later to serve as material for a replacement. Abregado-Rae had been an experience and one that He didn't intend to repeat any time soon. The pale tendrils trailing from His back were still flowing at their full extent, much to his frustration and embarrassment. Undoubtedly a side effect of His...potent meal from earlier. He pushed the thought aside before it ruminated in His mind and spoiled His mood any further, keeping His strides long and consistent as He moved.
More importantly than His own survival and recovery, both Lina and A'Mia were aboard the vessel as well and they were the only reasons He was still onboard at all. A'Mia had been in quite the state when He'd last seen her, before he... Darth Strosius stopped and found his wrapped fingers digging into the new palm that they were attached to, hard enough to draw trickles of maroon blood that stained the bandages. The wounds were gone in but a moment of course but the stains remained. In more than one sense. As for Lina He wasn't sure what state she might be in but she had evidently exhausted herself as well from what He could tell.
Regardless He wanted to ensure that the both of them were recovering well, not that He didn't necessarily trust the medical staff aboard the Tyranny to provide adequate treatment but rather purely in order to soothe His own guilty conscience. He hadn't been there when they'd both needed Him but now He was going to make as best amends as He could. Darth Strosius steadied His nerves before He took the final steps that carried Him to one door in particular where He sensed the pair within. His still gauntleted and uninjured hand pressed the console beside the door to open it, although there was a moment of hesitation before He actually crossed the threshold and entered into the room.
"Forgive me for the delay, this ship is massive you know."