Private Filler

[Madrona A’Mia]

Kor'ethyr Academy's infirmary was of course cutting edge, top of the line, and exceedingly well funded. The next generation of Sith could not be expected to do without excellent medical care. That said, treatments received there could still be harrowing in ways that had nothing to do with lack of resources. The kinds of injuries or illnesses that Academy students could acquire were many and varied. Poisons, violence, and Force or sorcery related accidents were all commonplace.

So when the half broken body of Gavin hobbled through the blast doors of the medical bay with help from Diarch Reign , A'Mia got right to work calmly assessing his injuries. She seemed coldly unimpressed and unconcerned by any of the boy's bluster- even commenting in strangely cheerful voice:

"When the mind is lacking, the body pays the price. Good thing you're strong."

She soon determined he'd need to be restrained or knocked out in order for his internal wounds to be addressed so she wasted no time- summarily excusing Reign in a way that still offered enough respect to acknowledge his rank and station. Once the Sith Lord departed, her real work began. Gavin Vel was lashed down to a med-table where his vitals were read through haptic or dermal sensors and broadcast onto a screen beside him.

"This will sting a bit," the neti assured him.

For his part, Gavin likely experience the next few days as one long, strange, and painful blur. At times he might feel living grafts and stitching creep across and move beneath his skin as they pieced parts of him together. A'Mia's snaking tendrils worked with precision but her methods were not for the squeamish or the faint of heart. At other times, Gavin would be blissfully unaware of his surroundings due to medically induced sleep.

Slowly the moments of wakefulness and clarity grew more frequent, the pain lessening. A handful of days after his treatment began, the blast door slid open with a hiss and Naamino Zuukamano walked through. Wary eyes cast around the room- he sought to know if the strange tree woman was elsewhere. Making his way toward Gavin's sick bed, he appeared appeased for now to know that A'Mia was not close by.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

"Hey man, looks like you're healing ok."

The boy greeted him in a quiet tone, voice serious but warmer than it had been when they were sizing eachother up on the nexus spire.

 

[Gavin Vel]

The aftermath of his battle with Darth Reign and Naamino above the Nexus Spire was mostly a haze for Gavin. He had been hurt before—who hadn’t? But this was different. His body felt broken, not just from Reign’s strikes but from the strain of tapping into so much uncontrolled Force energy. He hadn’t been prepared, wasn’t yet trained to wield the Force at that intensity, and the toll had left him in fragments.

Over the next few days, Gavin’s memories came in pieces. He remembered being carried to the Academy’s medical wing, surrounded by the clinical silence and bright lights that stung his eyes. Every part of him ached, yet he stubbornly tried to hide the pain—though it was obvious to anyone who saw him.

Flashes of someone talking to him surfaced in his memory, a voice unfamiliar and muffled. He’d tried to nod as if he understood, though he hadn’t, and moments later, he’d slipped back into unconsciousness. He had brief, fevered dreams—Reign’s face filled with disdain, scenes of being cast out of the Academy for his failure, and distorted images of battles he couldn’t quite place. Every time he awoke with a surge of aggression, hands twitching for a weapon, they quickly sedated him again, sending him back into the shadows of his dreams.

In his final dream, he saw two figures standing over him, their faces blurred, but he knew instinctively they were his parents. He was a child again, reaching out to them, needing comfort. They remained just out of reach, silent and unmoving. Why wouldn’t they come closer? Why wouldn’t they acknowledge him? Desperation flared, a need as primal as the fight itself.

ACKNOWLEDGE ME!

With a start, Gavin bolted awake, drenched in sweat, his heart racing as he sat upright. The dream faded, though the raw emotions lingered, leaving him feeling vulnerable in a way he despised. As his breathing steadied, the med bay door opened, and for a moment, he half-expected the figures from his dream. But instead, it was Naamino—the Zabrak who had fought alongside him against Darth Reign.

Gavin grimaced as Naamino asked how he was doing. “Yeah, it’s gonna take more than a Sith Lord to take me out.” he replied gruffly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The soreness lingered, but he felt functional enough. Testing his balance, he stood, relieved to find no permanent damage.

Curiously, he looked at Naamino, wondering why he’d come. The idea of thanking him crossed Gavin’s mind, but he pushed it aside, unwilling to appear weak. Instead, he settled on a nod. “So… we’ve got a long way to go before we can take down Reign.”

As he stood, his tall, muscular frame towering over Naamino, he tried to appear less imposing, though he felt a twinge of pride in his physicality. Wearing only his underclothes, he began to stretch, unbothered by any modesty, running through motions to work out the soreness from his limbs.

“His power…” he muttered, still replaying the battle in his mind. “At the end, it was overwhelming. His Force aura was so intense I couldn’t even sense you. It was… beyond anything I’ve faced.” The memory gnawed at him, the knowledge of how thoroughly they had been outmatched.

After a moment, he paused, glancing at Naamino with something resembling respect. “You’ve got more courage than I gave you credit for,” he said flatly. “Most here wouldn’t have stood with me like that, let alone without hesitation. I respect that.” With a small nod, he acknowledged the Zabrak, a silent admission that Naamino was not the weakling he’d assumed. For Gavin, it was the closest thing to a genuine compliment he knew how to offer.

Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

The boy's eyes widened as Gavin made to stand. After having seen his broken body carried to the infirmary by Diarch Reign , it boggled his mind a bit to see him looking relatively ok. For his part, Naami's psychic recovery had been a fairly solitary journey as he'd turned away all offers of support and refused to really speak of the matter.

He corrected his expression back to neutrality though as Gavin Vel started speaking, listening intently. To his credit, Naami showed no sign of being intimidated by the young man's hulking frame. Instead he watched with impassivity while the human mused aloud and tested out his recently healed form. His eyebrow did raise at the matter of fact compliment and the zabrak even offered a small smirk in response, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against a surgical table.

"Already plotting, huh?"

The humor fled him though as contemplation took over and his brow knit together. The guy was ambitious, definitely knew more about fighting than he did, and had proven to be not so stupid as his testosterone fueled exterior might suggest.

"Yeah he was pretty terrifying- so you saw that too? Like- how his shadow was a storm around him?"

He nodded, as if just sinking back into the memory himself. A slight wince forming without him realizing.

"And uh- thanks I guess. That's sorta why I came by," Naami looked up from his far off stare to collect Gavin's gaze.
"Well I figured we've kinda been to battle together now, and I think we should train together."