“Kark!”
Rose slammed her fist into the mirror in front of her. Her skin had become pale, her eyes were blood shot and her normally bright hair had all but lost its luster. The young woman looked like death itself, the lines on her face etched deep and the sweat running down her cheek a clear sign of exhaustion. She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling, her body barely holding itself up as she leaned over the sink.
Her eyes folded closed.
She tried to remember when it had started, when she had first started to feel this way.
Maybe Mandalore? Who knew what those filthy barbarians carried around their planet. They likely had plagues, viruses, and whatever else on that world. She looked down, eyes opening and glancing in the mirror. Standing back she saw deaths door behind her. An opening to a black abyss, a small gate tearing through the wall and reaching towards her.
Eyes quickly snapped shut.
Rose's head shook from side to side, pale red swinging across her bare shoulders as she tried to focus. Had it been Hoth? The planet had been freezing and even though she had had a coat she distinctly remembered the cold of the tomb, how it had felt to have the freezing ice touch her skin.
Her lips thinned.
That must have been it. It was the cold.
The cold had gotten to her somehow, the freezing biting cold of Hoth. Many had died there, hypothermia, wampas, lack of food. She and Lily had ventured there for Vrag, had gone to find the holocron.
Holocron.
That had turned out to be a massive disappointment. Her Master, or whatever Vrag actually was to her, had sent Rose to Hoth to retrieve one thing and one thing alone, the Holocron of an ancient Sith Lord. She had invited her sister along, bringing Lily with her in hopes of using her sisters knowledge to find what she was after, and in hopes of bonding with her a little more. Of course she had achieved the latter, if only slightly.
In the former, she had failed. They had made their way into the tomb, climbed to the deepest reaches and searched the darkest depths. They had explored the tomb and found something that had shocked and amazed them. It had been a room of treasures. Gold, platinum, electrum, palladium, and every other type of rare metal that could be found. There had been gems, crystals, things that would have shocked and amazed half the galaxy.
Yet Rose hadn't been interested in any of it.
There had been one prize, one thing that she had wanted from that room, and it had turned to dust when she touched it.
A cough wracked Rose's body, surging from her lungs and tearing at her throat. She spat blood, dribbling it down her chin and propelling it onto the cracked mirror in front of her. A groan escaped her and Rose slumped slightly, hanging over the sink, her hair dipping into the sink.
What was this?
The Doctor had told her it was a simple infection, something gained on her travels. He had taken her blood and left her, telling her he would return later. It had been three hours now, and she had heard nothing from him.
Her eyes slid closed once again and she thought about Hoth, about her failure.
The holocron had turned to dust, had withered into nothingness. That moment she had felt failure, she had felt fear and she had felt terror. Vrag was not a woman to disappoint, and though Rose had passed every test, propelled herself through every milestone, and pushed herself to the very edge under the Sith's tutelage...she knew the danger that could be found in failure.
That was why she hadn't returned. Instead of going back to Vrag, instead of revealing her failure and admitting defeat Rose had simply refused to return to the Temple.
She had parted with Lily, bidding her sister fair travels and good luck in her business meetings, telling her she would return to Vrag. That had been a lie. The truth was she was cowering, running like a child and hiding where she felt safe.
Slumping back Rose fell against the wall, her head rolling against the odd marble fixtures. Bright blue eyes peered out the bathroom door, catching a reflection of herself in the massive windows that lined the living room. She scowled in disgust, then closed her eyes. This had been her fathers apartment, the place that he had called home while living on Coruscant.
There had been a small measure of comfort in coming here, like being patted on the head.
Rose laughed at the thought, her lungs burning as her dry chuckle caused her to cough again. Her body surged and she slumped slightly, her head turning away from the doorway and down towards her own pale body. It felt as though she were living her end.
She was sick.
Her body was burning, her eyes stung constantly, her fingers were numb, and for days it had felt like someone was there, watching her.
Rose didn't know if she was paranoid. If the sickness was crawling into her mind or if perhaps someone was really watching. At first she had thought it was her parents. At first a small measure of hope had come to her that Mom and Dad had come back, yet when she had cried out for them, when she had begged and pleaded, they had not come.
She had crawled her way to the bathroom. She had spat and vomited, she had pleaded and cried all on her own.
Her head shook from side to side.
She smiled a sickly smile, blood tinting her teeth.
She didn't know what this was. She didn't know where she got it. Her guess was Hoth, that filthy little iceball that had denied her what she wanted. Bitterness surged through her, and with it, defiance. She would get over this, she would overcome it.
The Doctor would return soon, and he would tell her what was wrong. Her head leaned back against the wall again, her hair shifting as her eyes met those reflected in the cracked mirror.
“It'll be fine.” She said to herself, voice barely a rasp. “We'll get over it.”
The reflection seemed to nod, a slow nod.
Rose smiled. Yes. She would get over this. Or so she thought as she drifted into unconsciousness.
Rose slammed her fist into the mirror in front of her. Her skin had become pale, her eyes were blood shot and her normally bright hair had all but lost its luster. The young woman looked like death itself, the lines on her face etched deep and the sweat running down her cheek a clear sign of exhaustion. She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling, her body barely holding itself up as she leaned over the sink.
Her eyes folded closed.
She tried to remember when it had started, when she had first started to feel this way.
Maybe Mandalore? Who knew what those filthy barbarians carried around their planet. They likely had plagues, viruses, and whatever else on that world. She looked down, eyes opening and glancing in the mirror. Standing back she saw deaths door behind her. An opening to a black abyss, a small gate tearing through the wall and reaching towards her.
Eyes quickly snapped shut.
Rose's head shook from side to side, pale red swinging across her bare shoulders as she tried to focus. Had it been Hoth? The planet had been freezing and even though she had had a coat she distinctly remembered the cold of the tomb, how it had felt to have the freezing ice touch her skin.
Her lips thinned.
That must have been it. It was the cold.
The cold had gotten to her somehow, the freezing biting cold of Hoth. Many had died there, hypothermia, wampas, lack of food. She and Lily had ventured there for Vrag, had gone to find the holocron.
Holocron.
That had turned out to be a massive disappointment. Her Master, or whatever Vrag actually was to her, had sent Rose to Hoth to retrieve one thing and one thing alone, the Holocron of an ancient Sith Lord. She had invited her sister along, bringing Lily with her in hopes of using her sisters knowledge to find what she was after, and in hopes of bonding with her a little more. Of course she had achieved the latter, if only slightly.
In the former, she had failed. They had made their way into the tomb, climbed to the deepest reaches and searched the darkest depths. They had explored the tomb and found something that had shocked and amazed them. It had been a room of treasures. Gold, platinum, electrum, palladium, and every other type of rare metal that could be found. There had been gems, crystals, things that would have shocked and amazed half the galaxy.
Yet Rose hadn't been interested in any of it.
There had been one prize, one thing that she had wanted from that room, and it had turned to dust when she touched it.
A cough wracked Rose's body, surging from her lungs and tearing at her throat. She spat blood, dribbling it down her chin and propelling it onto the cracked mirror in front of her. A groan escaped her and Rose slumped slightly, hanging over the sink, her hair dipping into the sink.
What was this?
The Doctor had told her it was a simple infection, something gained on her travels. He had taken her blood and left her, telling her he would return later. It had been three hours now, and she had heard nothing from him.
Her eyes slid closed once again and she thought about Hoth, about her failure.
The holocron had turned to dust, had withered into nothingness. That moment she had felt failure, she had felt fear and she had felt terror. Vrag was not a woman to disappoint, and though Rose had passed every test, propelled herself through every milestone, and pushed herself to the very edge under the Sith's tutelage...she knew the danger that could be found in failure.
That was why she hadn't returned. Instead of going back to Vrag, instead of revealing her failure and admitting defeat Rose had simply refused to return to the Temple.
She had parted with Lily, bidding her sister fair travels and good luck in her business meetings, telling her she would return to Vrag. That had been a lie. The truth was she was cowering, running like a child and hiding where she felt safe.
Slumping back Rose fell against the wall, her head rolling against the odd marble fixtures. Bright blue eyes peered out the bathroom door, catching a reflection of herself in the massive windows that lined the living room. She scowled in disgust, then closed her eyes. This had been her fathers apartment, the place that he had called home while living on Coruscant.
There had been a small measure of comfort in coming here, like being patted on the head.
Rose laughed at the thought, her lungs burning as her dry chuckle caused her to cough again. Her body surged and she slumped slightly, her head turning away from the doorway and down towards her own pale body. It felt as though she were living her end.
She was sick.
Her body was burning, her eyes stung constantly, her fingers were numb, and for days it had felt like someone was there, watching her.
Rose didn't know if she was paranoid. If the sickness was crawling into her mind or if perhaps someone was really watching. At first she had thought it was her parents. At first a small measure of hope had come to her that Mom and Dad had come back, yet when she had cried out for them, when she had begged and pleaded, they had not come.
She had crawled her way to the bathroom. She had spat and vomited, she had pleaded and cried all on her own.
Her head shook from side to side.
She smiled a sickly smile, blood tinting her teeth.
She didn't know what this was. She didn't know where she got it. Her guess was Hoth, that filthy little iceball that had denied her what she wanted. Bitterness surged through her, and with it, defiance. She would get over this, she would overcome it.
The Doctor would return soon, and he would tell her what was wrong. Her head leaned back against the wall again, her hair shifting as her eyes met those reflected in the cracked mirror.
“It'll be fine.” She said to herself, voice barely a rasp. “We'll get over it.”
The reflection seemed to nod, a slow nod.
Rose smiled. Yes. She would get over this. Or so she thought as she drifted into unconsciousness.