The water ran over her in rivulets, hitting her face and pouring over her hair and down her body. She stood in total darkness, blunting herself to her own special vision, in short- the Miraluka version of having her eyes closed. It felt good and safe in here, inside the darkened shower. Somehow the water pouring over her helped her feel better, made her feel like she was watching the unclean that coursed through her body.
Unclean. That’s how she felt. She felt like she was swaddled in a filth she couldn’t be rid of. Caer had never minded being dirty, not physically; after all she’d seen her fair share of blood, guts and glory- or whatever it was heroes and such talked about. She’d rolled in garbage, she’d fallen down mud pits, slogged through disease infested swamps. She had survived ship crashes, back in corner scenarios, and assassination attempts.
Adria had bought them an indeterminable amount of time, and as she reached for the bottle of shampoo, she wondered how much. Days? Weeks? Months? Years? There was just no way of knowing and while Caer knew that her life- no matter which one she chose to live- either as a Jedi, a Luka Sene, or even a regular civilian could be cut short by the powers that be. Ashla knew that she didn’t exactly live a cautious life. Nothing about the galaxy she lived in said it was safe or she had a chance to live to a ripe old age.
But. She never wanted to consider going out like this. Not like a monster, her body slowly becoming not her own. Turning into something that would not stop killing until it was killed itself. Her hands moved through her hair, washing out the dirt, sand and grime that seemed to accumulate daily while being on Tatooine.
Her hands moved over her body, feeling the contours of her sides, breasts and hips. She tried not to think of what it might be like to lose it all. Lose everything she had worked so hard for. A future with the Luka Sene, friendships she could forge with so many others, her position on Voss, maybe even finding someone to love.
She could do that now, fall in love. No longer constrained by the Orders doctrines. It wasn’t why she quit, though some might see it that way. But she could’t help that. Caer wasn’t even sure she could do that now. Who would want to fall in love with someone who could potentially kill them? Or worse yet, transfer the disease to them?
Caer couldn’t worry about that right now. The important thing right now as her brother Raiyden. She sighed and rinsed off, the soap foaming up at her feet and swirling down the drain where it’d be recycled and filtered to be reused later on the ship. Clean now, she continued to stand there, turning the heat up with a touch of her fingers, she let the hot water wash over her.
She let her fingers wander to her lips and furrowed her brows, her fingers brushing against her bottom lip. Her conversation with Neirov. Her mind wanted to tell her that the brushing of lips was imagined, she had thought of it as a dream or perhaps some sort of fever imaginations. It was hard to tell. Their conversation sounded almost like a goodbye. He had boarded her ship, brought medical supplies and had spoken to her.
Caer could barely recall the conversation. She’d felt feverish and terrible last night and half of it seemed like a dream until she had been approached by the ship droid, sounding confused about Imperial medical supplies. Then it had snapped back into sharp relief, Neirov saying he didn’t belong, that he felt she and her brother despised him.
All of it untrue on some level. Some part of her loved Neirov, though the thought of ever saying anything like that to anyone seemed a little premature and embarrassing. She cared a lot for Neirov and no matter what he thought they thought about him, she only ever wanted to put a smile on his face, see the life in his aura and make him feel like he belonged somehow.
But even he admitted that he didn’t belong. No matter how hard they tried. Lowering her hand, she let it fall loosely at her side, feeling at a loss as to how to fix the damage that was done between her brother, herself and Neirov. She half wondered if there was any chance to fix anything at all.
Or if there was enough time.
Shutting off the shower, Caer once again attuned herself to the force- basically ‘opening her eyes’, she wrapped a towel around herself, drying of and getting dressed. Today was another day and she had work to do.