Yellow Weaver
Loomi was sort of walking around the temple in a daze. There was all kinds of buzz around lately of different happenings, all which seemed far out of her reach. That gave her more time to think, too much if she was being honest. That was plenty of time to process what the memories she had received back in the burning neutral zone of Indoumodo were suggesting, and she didn't quite like the conclusion she came to. She had been used for... something against her will, torn apart methodically and cruelly by a terrible force she didn't know. They had taken her legs... her eye... It was strange to think that in her past life she hadn't been free, but deep down the Godoan wasn't actually surprised. It was though she had known it all along, mostly because she had. Her mind was simply hiding it from her.
But what did that make her? A Jedi? A fool who wasted her youth unwilling to free herself? A twisted form that had been torn apart and put back together simply to prove some terrible person's point? Loomi had always been self conscious in spite of her friendly disposition, but now she struggled to imagine that anyone may want to interact with her, let alone look at her disfigured face.
These intrusive thoughts kept her in a trance, walking with no purpose, no direction, and no attention spared for the world around her. It was only a matter of time before she ran into somebody she shouldn't. This, of course, is exactly what happened. Loomi found herself bumping face-first into the side of a taller woman, jamming her nose ever so slightly. The Godoan was quick to look away, attempting to hide her face as she stepped back.
"S-sorry," she muttered. "I-I'll pay better attention."
The padawan had yet to recognize who it was she had bumped into.