Choking on the Air [Irajah Ven]

[Nisha Skaiyr]

Nisha hated this place.

Her captor - for she refused to acknowledge Carnifex as her Master, not after what he'd done - called it Vain Hollow, and she thought the name fit quite well. It was made of cold metal and lifeless stone, a prison shaped like a palace. Guards littered every hallway, every one of them unnecessary; Carnifex could destroy most any intruder on his own. It was a show of power, and a pointless one at that. Vain Hollow was, indeed, a monument to the vanity of its master and the hollow, gaping wound where his soul should reside. Even the air here choked her - since she arrived, she'd gone no more than an hour without having a coughing fit. In fact, that was why she was here, in this "hospital," if it could be called that - there were no herbs here, no bandages that Nisha could see. Just more cold, lifeless metal and more strange smells in the air.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, the grey skinned warrior witch closed her eyes and waited for whatever frail alien was to come and treat her. In the meantime, she mumbled to herself, repeating ninety nine names over and over again - each ending with the surname Skaiyr. It was a way to remember the fallen, her family and her friends.

And it kept the spark of hate burning in her chest.

---

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

While [member="Nisha Skaiyr"] was waiting, in the corner of the lab, numbers ticked by on a small display. At a predetermined point, the entire machine kicked on, a soft whir and, a minute later, the rich smell of caf filling the room. As if on cue, as soon as the smell hit the opposite side of the room, the tak tak tak of footsteps rose outside the door.

Pushing the door open with one hip, the petite doctor backed into the lab. She was scanning something on a data pad in one hand, a half eaten pastry held in the other. Dark, curly hair framed her pale face. Hazel eyes flicked, and she used a knuckle (not covered in sugar glaze) to flip to the next part of the document.

Clad in a deep blue tunic, it covered her from just beneath her chin to her knees, the long sleeves stretching to the middle of the back of her hands. The crisp, white labcoat was unbuttoned, flapping slightly as she moved across the lab and toward the caf machine in the far corner.

Humming a little absently to herself, she set the pad down on the counter where she could keep reading. Practiced, habitual motions retrieved a mug from a shelf, drawing out the carafe and pouring the dark, hot liquid- all while still reading and munching on the pastry.

She hadn't noticed the figure sitting in the middle of the lab at all.

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

"You depend upon routine too much," came Nisha's voice, her accent rich and thick. Muscles shifted subtly as she rose with a predatory grace, stretching her arms above her head. Speaking of her arms - they were covered in scars and tattoos that sliced, twirled, and curved all across her limbs and presumably the rest of her body; jet black curves and jagged hooks peeked out above her neckline, as did a few scars. Each one was unique, and each told a story. "Everyone here knows your ritual by now, no doubt. If a guard went mad, or one of the masters of this place decided you were to die, you'd never see it coming."

Nisha observed the weak, frail woman in front of her, and then stifled a chuckle. Suddenly, she looked up into the healer's eyes - with both of her eyes, not just the one that looked healthy. The white, filmy orb in her left socket seemed just as alert and alive as its counterpart, and in fact seemed to look through Irajah, right into her metaphorical soul. In a way, it did. The grey-skinned witch's Second Sight, her sight through the Force, was inexplicably linked to that wound - when she lost her eye all those years ago, she gained sight, instead of losing it.

Nisha padded over to the healer's desk like a vornskr approaching its prey, her bare feet hardly making a sound. "I am here on the orders of the animal you call Carnifex, healer. Nearly on the hour, I fall into a fit of coughing. The air here is poisoned, just like those who breathe it."

---

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

"KARKING MAW!"

You would think that Irajah would be used to being startled in her labs, what with the way [member="Darth Prazutis"] carried on. But no, when she was lost in thought, it was alarmingly easy to sneak up on Doctor Ven.

"BELLS!" She declared, wiping in an utterly futile gesture at the caf she'd spilled on her lab coat. "Mandatory bells for anyone entering my labs, I swear I'm instituting that rule," she grumbled.

It took her a moment to process everything. Oddly, despite being so startled, and so easily, she didn't shrink back from the feral woman as she stalked into her space. She also didn't seem particularly alarmed by the commentary. If there was anyone on Panatha who was safer than she was, well, she'd eat her microscope. She looked puzzled for a moment, muttering-

"Carnifex. Carnifex? Oh! You mean Kaine. Hmmm. And we're not all bad. But yeah, he's kind of a loose cannon, I'll give you that. Just, don't tell him I said that, right?"

If the unnatural looking eye bothered her, it didn't show. If anything, she looked vaguely interested in it.

"Well, sit down. We'll take a look."

She didn't say the dismissive 'and the air here is fine,' that crossed her mind. It wasn't helpful, and she didn't normally sass her patients. Normally.

"My name is Doctor Ven. How long ago did the fits start?"

​[member="Nisha Skaiyr"]

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

Brave. The Doctor was, it appeared, very brave.

Or very stupid. It was hard to tell at first. If her ramblings were any indication, however, it was the latter.

Nisha had no idea what a cannon was, or why Carnifex was a loose one, but she nodded in agreement when Ven told her to keep that opinion secret. Very few people, Nisha mused, deserved to deal with an angry Butcher King.

At the request to take a seat, Nisha did exactly that, although with some reluctance; she preferred pacing. It made her feel like less of a target, but if sitting still was necessary, she'd do so. The table upon which she took her seat bent slightly beneath her weight, which was, if that was any indication, far greater than her appearance led one to believe.

"I am Nisha Skaiyr. Last of my name." The last sentence was uttered with the somber, self-loathing guilt that only survivors knew, along with an unhealthy dose of rage - aimed at who or what, it wasn't clear. Then, suddenly, she cleared her throat, looking back up at the healer. "And my cough began as soon as I stepped upon Carnifex's...ship? Yes, ship. I apologize. I am not expertly versed in your tongue, and you do not strike me as the type to know Sith." Nisha dipped her head in a sort of apology for her tangent, and then returned to the topic at hand.

"Three days ago, now. The air here feels...tainted. Bitter. It does not sit well in my chest. Within these walls, the burden is lessened, and the poison smoke this world's machines produce renders me incapable of breath - but beyond that, location matters little. Wherever I go, this ailment follows." The words were matter-of-fact, said with little emotion or any of the whining that normally accompanied such a complaint. Nisha had used up her resevoir of self pity days ago.

---

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah had gone very still for a moment. She hadn't looked- really looked- at [member="Nisha Skaiyr"] at first. Sure, she'd seen her. But that's not the same thing.

I am Nisha Skaiyr, last of my name.

She knew that tone. Didn't just recognize it, but felt it echo on the core of her own psyche. Something on the Doctor's face soften slightly, and she nodded, a barely perceptible motion. What she really wanted to do was reach out and squeeze her hand, but she didn't know how it would be taken. Instead, there was simply a certain sympathy in Irajah's eyes, and a softening of her tone.

It wasn't a big change. But a moment ago, Nisha had been simply a patient- one that had disrupted her routine, but of course she would take. Now, she was something else.

"Alright, let's take a look then." Though Irajah already had an idea of what she would find, based on the woman's explanation.

She produced a small instrument from a drawer, holding it up.

"I want you to blow into this. Take a deep breath and just go all out. It's going to measure your lung capacity, but also the saturation of certain things your lungs are exhaling- how much of certain chemicals there are, basically," she said, trying to simplify some of the jargon. If Nisha wasn't entirely certain of 'ship', Irajah wasn't going to bank on things like 'saturation'.

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

In that moment of stillness, Nisha looked into Irajah's eyes.

And then realization dawned on her.

They were the same.

Not in every way, of course - Nisha was strong, this woman was weak, at least in the flesh. The former was a warrior, the latter a healer.

But they'd both lost everything.

In that moment of realization, Nisha's predatory body language relaxed. She grew less tense, less on edge, if only somewhat. She'd found, at last, someone who wasn't an enemy in Vain Hollow - at least, she hoped so. No one deserved to be so completely alone.

The Witch nodded her head when the healer began speaking, a curious expression on her face. She had no clue as to how that odd, fragile looking contraption was going to help identify her problem. But then again, she wasn't quite sure how anything on this world worked. It was probably in her best interest not to start questioning, and to simply observe. With a surprising gentleness considering her raw strength, Nisha plucked the delicate device from the doctor's hands, then took a deep breath. And then, pressing the diminutive instrument to her lips, she exhaled.

And then she coughed.

And coughed.

And coughed.

Her fit didn't stop for a good five minutes - this one wasn't quite as bad as the others, even if it did leave her throat feeling raw and ragged. Offering something of an apologetic smile to the healer, she then handed that odd device back to the smaller woman.

---

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah didn't even try to hide the concern on her face as the coughing fit went on and on. She frowned, drawing out a stethoscope. As the fit continued, she moved it across [member="Nisha Skaiyr"] 's back, and then her chest. Once or twice she reached out, tapping at a certain spot and listening again.

She stepped away, returning with a cup of water. She'd originally got to fill it from a tap, but changed her mind, rummaging through one of the wall coolers for a bottle from elsewhere before pouring it. She traded the cup for the device without comment beyond a sympathetic smile.

But the smile faded into a grim line when she clicked through the read outs. She wasn't particularly surprised though, given what she had been hearing.

"For what it's worth, you're right. It is the air here."

She looked up at the larger woman, brow furrowed.

"Your lungs can't handle.... certain compounds in the air. Your homeworld..... pristine, yes?"

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

"Indoumodo is a beautiful world, yes." Replied Nisha, sipping gratefully at the water the healer had offered her. Carnifex had called her world 'backwater' and a 'mudball;' but he, like nearly every off-worlder, did not appreciate the savage beauty of the land, the subtle music to be found in the buzzing of delicate wings or the howls of hounds in the distance. Even the Butcher King was soft, in that regard.

"So...my lungs are not built to deal with the rigors of this world. Does that mean that I will have no reprieve?" This woman, savage and feral as she appeared before, sounded pitiful, desperate. She was a warrior; it was what she did. She found purpose in the heat of battle, music in the sound of blades clashing. But this ailment, this damnable sickness that could strike at any moment, had made her weak, vulnerable.

And she could not abide weakness, least of all in herself.

---

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

"No."

This time, Irajah did reach out, putting her hand over the other woman's hand and squeezing gently. She smiled gently, encouragingly. In this moment, she was the confident one of the pair, offering a silent support that was in no way physical.

"There are options. Medications to help reduce the inflammation, to start with. It'll make it easier to breath immediately, but it's a temporary fix. But you'll need a respirator, if you're to stay on Panatha, and possibly on other industrialized worlds as well."

She didn't need to ask why [member="Nisha Skaiyr"] couldn't return home. The details were very different, but she recognized someone with the same aspect of the lost. Even though their worlds still existed, there was no home to go back to. She didn't ask. Not because she didn't care- but because picking open that wound when she already knew the answer was the cruelest thing she could conceive of in that moment.

"It will take me a day to build one- a respirator- a machine that will help you breath. It must be custom made. But the medication will be helpful immediately. It won't be perfect, but you'll be able to breath without pain, and the coughing should subside."

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

With the same surprising gentleness she displayed before, Nisha Skaiyr turned her hand over and grasped Irajah's ever so carefully.

"Thank you." The simple sentence dripped with gratitude; not just for the remedy that the healer offered, but also for the first friendly physical contact the woman had had in days. That meant something to Nisha; it meant a lot, actually. It was kindness in a place where kindness was all but forbidden.

And then, suddenly, another question crossed Nisha's mind. She asked, quite nervously, as if she were afraid of the answer, "With this...respirator...will I still be able to move freely, to fight?" It was an important consideration; in fact, it was the most important consideration for Nisha. She'd not accept being bound to some clunky, immobile abomination of steel, no matter how well-intentioned Irajah might've been about it.

---

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah smiled up at [member="Nisha Skaiyr"]. Answers were always better than the fear of the unknown. The waiting, not knowing if never being able to catch her breath, always devolving in to crippling coughing fits- not knowing if these things must be addressed as the new 'normal'.... It wasn't much, but it pleased Irajah to be able to give her that small comfort.

She shook her head, heading over to one of the locked cabinets.

"No," she said, sliding her keycard through the scanner. "It shouldn't interfere in the slightest. It may be uncomfortable at first, but most people get used to it." After all, the alternative was to feel as though the air itself was trying to drown you.

"The device will fit over your mouth. Don't worry, you'll be able to talk just fine, but the sound of your voice may be distorted slightly. Eating and drinking also not a problem," she continued as she rummaged for a moment. She checked the label on several items before turning back to Nisha. Her smile was sympathetic.

"It's not ideal. But maybe we'll be able to find something even less intrusive. For now though this," she stepped back up, holding up the small inhaler. It looked almost comical. "Will give you some immediate relief until I can customize the respirator."

Slowly and patiently, she explained how to use the inhaler, her tone gentle. It was straight forward enough.

"Give it a try. You should start feeling some relief almost immediately."

 

[Nisha Skaiyr]

Calmly Nisha listened to Irajah explain why her fears were unfounded, and with each passing word the war-witch grew more relieved.

At least until Ven started explaining how the inhaler worked, and Nisha's face twitched with annoyance. Because in all likelihood, it probably wasn't strictly necessary to explain the inhaler to Nisha like she was a particularly slow child. But she'd let it slide without comment, because at least the healer cared, and that was a rare thing in Vain Hollow.

Deftly Nisha took the Inhaler from the doctor's hand, and with equal deftness followed the doctor's instructions for operating it.

In the first few seconds, nothing.

And then.

She could breathe.

No more scratchy feeling in the back of her throat. No more constant cough threatening to surface. She could actually, properly breathe for the first time in days. There was still a bit of pain, but it was bearable - and if what Irajah said was true, then the respirator would alleviate that entirely.

Nisha wasn't the type of person who hugged often.

But in that moment, she stood up, opened her arms, and wrapped Irajah in a massive bear hug.

---
[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

"Ermph"

Irajah hadn't been expecting that. On the list of responses she had expected, that was probably not even on the list at all.

Despite the surprise though, Irajah hugged back only a heartbeat later, without reservation. For the last year, she had kept people as such a distance. But she was a tactile person, someone who craved that physical affirmation of another person's presence. Only recently had she found that kind of solace again, from two such different directions- one lover, one son. But this was different yet again.

"Everything will be okay," she said, patting [member="Nisha Skaiyr"]'s back and looking up at the taller woman with a genuine smile.

Irajah hadn't been alone here on Panatha. But now, Nisha didn't have to be either.