Born Killer
He fluttered his eyes. At first, a stinge of embarrassment and shame. He had- fallen asleep. Of all the things in the world, he had fallen asleep. They'd taken his armor, his weapons- but given back his arm. They'd reattached it, and he knew that because he rubbed his eyes with a feeling of cold metal. Beskar was usually cold- something about the way it conducted heat, and it's durability. Took a while to warm up outside of direct sunlight and heat. He rolled his fingers, making sure the Jedi technicians or whoever reattached the cybernetic didn't mess up anything. It was a simple reattachment, as most cybernetics were.
He didn't know how long he'd been asleep. It was now sunlight- mid-day. But it wasn't even noon when he came to visit Cora. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up in.... wherever he was. He'd apparently just collapsed here. Someone had taken the time to pile pillows near him, and in his stupor of sleep, collected enough meditation pads to make a healthy sleeping arrangement. The ground was soft and had give to the material, to allow one to sink into it comfortably for hours on end.
Explains why he fell asleep so easily. He was exhausted after the ordeal, tired, his whole body screamed for sleep. He didn't even remember coming in here. Perhaps the Jedi put him there. He looked around the room, realizing how he was... alone. In the temple. He heard voices outside. Children, younger adults. The room smelled clean, very clean, and faintly like vanilla. He felt oddly safe even without his Beskar'gam. He was in robes, Jedi robes. They'd been generous enough to grant him a training tunic. They were reasonably afraid of him wearing armor and weapons inside the temple.
They said he could collect them on his way out- and he couldn't recall where they'd taken them, or where he came in at. He laid back down, rubbing his eyes.
He fell back asleep for another two hours, before he stirred again, more refreshed than before- just barely. He was still tired. His body had a few years of restlessness to catch up on. He ached, he hurt- his entire body had convulsed, thrashed in that ordeal Cora had put him through. Fenn rolled onto his stomach, pushed his hands on the floor, and rose to a stand. A blanket fell off of him.
Damn Jedi put a blanket on him.
The humiliation never ended, did it?
He looked around the room. Furnished lightly, tomes and books and a few holopads no doubt containing lessons and reading material. He walked over to the shelf, thumbing through a book that was going over the Jedi codes and all it's refinement. It even had the Sith codes and some of their platitudes. The dichotomy wasn't lost on him. He put the book back on the shelf, eyes scanning. There was a book on the shelf regarding the Mandalorians and the Resol'Nare. He didn't even bother to pick it up. He lived it, he didn't need an author to speak for him.
He finally made his way to the doorway and slid it open. Doors were mechanical here, able to be locked but had to be manually opened, for the most part from what he could tell. Jedi did not take luxuries lightly. Natural light flooded his eyes, amber-brown eyes shielding themselves from the harsh change in light. Sunlight of the highest caliber from Naboo's blue skies shined into the walkways from windows and glass panes. Everywhere he looked, there was artistry and craftsmanship in the Temple.
And somewhere, in this temple, this testament to the light-
Was his armor, weapons, and the way home. He just had to find his way through it all. He began to push his feet forward, feeling their usefulness creep back up his spine. He felt light. He felt faster than before. But also weaker. Or maybe-
He was just still tired.