Heathens

[Farah]

Bastion
Sith Empire Medical Center

In the weeks following her creation, Farah gravitated towards medicine because it necessitated a great understanding of biology. In biology, she understood herself. What she was. How she was formed, from her proverbial birth until adulthood. It hadn’t taken a long time, much shorter than it would have naturally. She didn’t know if she was thankful for that or not.

The Zeltron had latched onto medicine quickly, becoming a general surgeon who flitted between Coruscant and Bastion. Bastion because of its Sith presence and Coruscant because she found it charming and a way to exercise her skills out from underneath the eye of the Empire. They knew she was there of course, practicing medicine in Alliance space under an alias. It wouldn’t do to have a Dr. Zambrano treating patients on an Alliance planet.

Her loyalty, for now, was borne out of necessity.

That being said, she tended to treat the middle ranks of the Sith Empire. Acolytes and Knights, the occasional Master and some military personnel. It was a way for her to gain experience, especially when it came to working with Force users.

Today though, she happened to be running late to her next appointment. She didn’t know what it was beyond the fact that it was a non-urgent consult that she was now covering for someone else. Striding down the halls, the redhead turned sharply down a corridor lined with exam rooms. Arriving at the appointed one, she took the chart from the slot on the door and entered.

“I apologize for the wait.” Her tone was neither rude nor sympathetic, and in truth Farah wasn’t particularly concerned with how long whoever it was had been waiting. Not after being on her feet for an 8-hour surgery. She hadn't even bothered to look at the patient, not yet. Bedside manner was never her strongest skill.

Placing the datapad on the counter, she began washing her hands in the sink, eyes wandering over to the chart as she scrubbed. “What brings you in today, Mr…”

[member="Xevek Rakama"]

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Although he had only been in a few, Xevek was sure that hospitals were not his favourite place to be, not by a long shot. His sense of smell was far more sensitive than the average human, even more so than the average Zabrak if he was being honest, and, as such, the smell of hospitals burnt at his nose. If it wasn't the unnatural, unwell scent that hung so heavily within the corridors above even the smell of air fresheners and flowers and gifts brought to patients that often succeeded in hiding the foul stench from the average person, then it was the further unnatural cleanliness that clung to every surface. Whatever substance the hospital was using to wipe down the surfaces it burnt within his sinuses, stuck there, clogging up his sense of smell as it swarmed around him, leaving him lightheaded at the least and dizzy at the worst.

However, he had been forced to attend the appointment of threat of pain and while he did not care if any pain was directed before him, he did care about being told to attend - to be precise he wished to prevent being told repeatedly to attend, not caring to listen to people waste their words and their breath is such an impractical fashion. If they wished to speak to him, let them speak to him for a reason, not in futile attempts to get him to do something. No, it was best he attend as told and not be tempted to snap bones and taste the blood of those that annoyed him. It was, ultimately, a much easier path that allowed him to seclude himself with his own company for a longer period of time, preventing him from associating with fools and idiots - which the majority of Sith Acolytes seemed to be if that arrogance that dripped from them was any indication.

Already he had been siting, waiting for whoever had been assigned to handle his appointment, for more time than he cared to count and, currently, he was tempted to just up and leave. Comparing sitting and waiting for much longer in such a foul smelling place versus having to deal with more fools and risk his temper getting the better of him was, really, no competition - he'd rather risk tearing into an idiot than sit and wait for much longer. It was only as he was drawing his robes around himself once more, having taken off the tattered cloth while siting and waiting, when the door to the exam room swung open and who he assumed to be his doctor rushed in.

Taking in the way the pink-skinned and red-haired woman was distracted, Xevek was tempted to simply slip out before she noticed him. But, just before he left, he inhaled sharply to scent the woman, as was instinctive for him to do so for the purpose of being able to recognise her later on. Doing so proved to be the mistake that lead him to not leave and suffer more time within the hospital.

Pausing in place, Xevek's eye drifted shut beneath the bone mask he wore, nostrils flaring all the more as he sought to take in a deeper, silent smell of the alluring scent that had graced him. Immediately he felt a warmth filter through his body, a sense calmness that he so rarely got to experiance drifting across his mind and lulling him into a stupor as a pricking, tingling feeling began to burn in his remaining fingers. He could not truly describe the scent, could not place what it was that made it so alluring nor could he pin down what it smelt similarly to, all he could think to label it as was an alluring scent unique only to itself. He couldn't tell how long he stood there, simply basking in the scent that had seized him, so knew and so unique were the emotions, emotions he did not know, that it triggered, but, what ended up bringing him back was the woman's voice.

Eye snapping open sharply, Xevek tilted his head slightly in curiosity as he silently stared at her, taking in her form slowly, feeling sluggish from the sudden awareness her voice had brought him. He felt so sluggish that it took him a few beats of his two hearts (running faster than normal, he subconsciously noted), to recognise that she had asked him a question, one that he should probably answer if he wished to observe the standard rules of social interaction that he was still trying to learn. "Xevek." The single word was growled out like normal, muffled slightly by the mask he wore but gruff all the same and yet Xevek was slightly alarmed to hear a slight huskiness to his voice that was not normally there, like it had gotten caught on something in his throat. Frowning behind his mask, he lapsed into silence once more, confused at himself and feeling awkward in his own body - a feeling he wasn't use to.


[member="Farah"]

 

[Farah]

If her patient was uncomfortable, Farah did not sense it. Or perhaps she did—Zeltrons were known for the empathetic abilities—but chose to ignore it. She’d had a busy day and the mood of her patient was of little concern.

After she finished washing her hands, the good doctor donned a pair of disposable gloves and turned to face her patient. She was not surprised at his large stature, but rather for his shrouded appearance.

“I’ll be your physician today, Dr. Farah Zambrano.” She informed, glancing down at his chart and frowning. There was very little information in there, not even enough to be constituted bare bones. She’d have to chide the admitting nurses later, but this wasn’t the first time something of this nature had happened. Typically the Sith who served the Empire got a pass when it came to paperwork for obvious reasons.

“Right then.” Slipping the datapad into her pocket, she took a seat on a rolling stool. “What brings you in today, Mr. Xevek?” His chart had said ‘generalized pain’ which…did not help. It was typically an indication used when a patient was being uncooperative or vague, something they could fill in the box with in order to send them on through.

“I’ll have to ask that you remove your mask, if you will.”

[member="Xevek Rakama"]