Phobos
Hot Headed
Rain.
Why did it have to look so pretty? Phobos was perched on a covered bench, her only sanctuary from the sudden storm that had swept through wherever this was she had wound up. The Bendu had guided her safely to a shuttle away from that strange dark cloud, so who was she to question for what purpose she had come here. Wherever she was did seem rather beautiful, and she had been enjoying the sights up until the rain had started. All she could really do was look out at it longingly, wondering what it might feel like on her skin.
Phobos knew what would happen, of course. She wasn't sure how, but she knew the flame on her head was the thing that kept her spirit in-tune with the Force. The warmth of the light was a beacon of comfort, one that she didn't want to leave her. So her vigil continued...
But she could maybe stick her hand out a little bit, right? It would only weaken her if it touched her flame in theory.
The Ashspawn slowly extended out her hand, letting a few drops land on her hand. She very quickly retrieted her hand back in, assessing the water that had now pooled up in her palm. It was... weird. Cool, refreshing... Tempting. Was it really worth weakening her connection to the Force just to go out there and run around in it?
No. Probably not. She should just stay put.