Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Medbay Hijinks

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Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike


After the Bacta tanks, Azzie was confined to bed rest.
Good luck with that.

Even before she was awake, Aadihr could tell she was restless. The Miraluka Jedi Knight was trying to focus his thoughts into a Holocron, a sort of journal of his thoughts and planning for the education of both Aris Noble Aris Noble and Brander Brander .

He barely registered the first time the Twi'lek Nurse dropped by with breakfast for Azzie. What surprised him was when she returned with a second tray for Aadihr - evidently waiting by another's bedside was common enough that the service corp has didn't even have to ask.

It interrupted his focus, but he offered the nurse a soft smile as she left once more.

Soon Azzie would be awake, and any hope of quiet time to focus his thoughts would end. Not that he minded.

 
Spitfire Soul, Heart of Gold
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Still Here
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Outfit: Post-Bacta Clothing | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: The Force

Azzie woke with a sharp gasp, thrashing weakly against invisible restraints. Her heart hammered a frantic beat against her ribs, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gulps. Her body felt heavier than it should, like gravity had decided to make her a target. She blinked, trying to clear the fog, but all it did was thicken. It felt like she was drowning in it, pulling her under until her chest ached with the effort of each breath. For one long, agonizing moment, she didn't know where she was, only that she had to get away.

The room was too still, too quiet. It was like the air was holding its breath, waiting for her to remember. She clenched her fists, her back screaming in protest. A low groan slipped from her lips as she tried to shift, feeling the dull pressure where the new tattoo had been printed across her lower back. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to focus, but it was like swimming through fog.

"Kriff," she whispered hoarsely, barely able to hear herself. Irrational panic spiked again. Where are the cameras? Where are they watching from?

Azzie turned her head jerkily, scanning the walls, the ceiling, and any corners where hidden eyes might lurk. Her muscles refused to cooperate, trembling with even that small motion. There were no cameras she could see. No glint of lenses, no mechanical hum. Still, she couldn't trust that. They hide them. Always. How else could Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex have gotten all of that footage?

It was only when she caught the edge of a presence—a brilliant, familiar glow—that she froze. Her mind wasn't reliable lately; she knew that. But there it was again, that unwavering brightness, steady in a way such few things in her world had been for weeks now. Sitting nearby, a tray of untouched food on the table beside him, head bowed slightly in meditation or deep thought, was Aadihr.

Azzie stared, her heart thudding painfully against her chest. She blinked several times, trying to clear the haze from her mind, half-expecting him to vanish like so many other mirages had. But he didn't.

She hesitated, with no idea what to say. Unsure whether to disturb him. He was there, but had he noticed her waking up?

"This is new. Usually when I wake up after a disaster, there's more yelling and less... breakfast." Her lips twitched into a half-smirk as she pushed through the haze. Her voice came out rough, raw, it was still her. Dripping with a dry sarcasm.

Even with the faint tremor in her hand, she tried to sit up again, this time more slowly, testing the limits of her strength. Aadihr's presence was like a rock in the storm, but it didn't stop the storm from raging inside her chest. She bit back the tears that threatened, instead focusing on her back. The skin there had a lingering feeling like it was still branded, but the fire from before had faded. It didn't burn so much anymore, just a dull ache like an old wound that had been reopened.




 
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iwUtOsZ.png

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike


The tray wobbled slightly in his hand as he sat down beside her, bumping the corner of the bed with his knee in a dramatic thud.
He winced.
"Smooth as ever. In my defence, they let me out unsupervised."

With mock ceremony, he set the breakfast tray on the side table.
"Behold. Toast. And whatever this orange paste is — I think it’s legally fruit."

He tilted his head in her direction, the ever-present blindfold hiding the subtle twitch of a smirk.
"You know, some people wake up and ask deep philosophical questions. Instead, you get breakfast"

He leaned back in the chair, sighing theatrically.
"Medbay hijinks™ aside, it’s good to hear your voice again. It was starting to get quiet in here. Too quiet. Like ‘I might have to talk to myself’ quiet."

Then, more softly, more real beneath the joking:
"No rush. I’m not going anywhere."

 
Spitfire Soul, Heart of Gold
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Still Here
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Outfit: Post-Bacta Clothing | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: The Force

Azzie blinked slowly, trying to coax the world into focus. Everything still felt a little off, like her brain was two steps behind her eyes and her body had forgotten how to be made of muscle instead of mush. The tray clattering against the bed frame helped, though. A jarring yet comforting reminder that she wasn't in a Sith cell anymore. Her lip twitched upward, and she glanced sideways, or rather, tilted her head slightly in his direction.

He wasn't wrong. His entrance had all the grace of a newborn Bantha, but it was... him. "Maybe I should get you a seeing-eye droid or something. I don't think that staff is doing its job." She attempted to joke, hoping it landed as well out loud as it had in her head.

Azzie squinted at the food, eyeing the questionable orange substance. "Legally fruit? What... does that even mean?" She couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped. It was weak, but it was something. The irony wasn't lost on her in the slightest. "Damn, I'd have thought if they were going to leave me toast and... possibly fruit, they might be gracious enough to provide me the pill that actually lets me digest it without dealing with the fallout."

It was easier to keep up the sass than acknowledge the weight in his voice. That quiet I'm not going anywhere settled against her like a blanket. Warm, grounding, and just a little terrifying in a good way that made the tightness in her chest shift to something more like a flutter. So instead, she let out a soft, tired snort and closed her eyes again. "You might want to be careful about talking to yourself if you're not exactly sure about what you'll say back."

So much for nothing deep and philosophical.




 
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N9vw914.png



iwUtOsZ.png

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike


He gave a mock gasp, clutching his chest like she'd wounded him.

"A seeing-eye droid? Wow. How dare! This staff and I have been through a lot together. It has a name, you know, and you've never even asked."
He paused - just long enough before she might actually think he's upset.

"...It's Stick. I've been told I'm very creative."

He gestured vaguely at the tray, nearly knocking over the cup of water in the process. "And I stand by my assessment. That orange paste is only classified as fruit because some bureaucrat in the Core signed a waiver after losing a bet. Probably blindfolded."

Then, after her line about the digestion pill, he leaned in with a faux-serious expression.
"Okay, one — how dare they forget the anti-revenge-toast pill. And two — if your guts declare war, I’m invoking the Jedi Right of Noncombatancy. You’ll have to settle things without me."

But even with the jokes, the shift in her voice didn’t escape him. The way she settled back, that flutter-soft pause. So instead of pushing further, he leaned back in his chair, letting a breath go.

"Talking to myself’s the least of my problems. Half the time I don’t like what I hear. The other half I suspect it's just Stick giving me sass."

He let the silence linger for a beat, a gentle truce between humor and everything else unsaid. Then, softer:

"...Glad you’re brack, Azzie."

 

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