Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Healing Wounds


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Healing Wounds

Location: Harbinger, Medical Ship, Recovery Room
Tag: Tamsin Graves Tamsin Graves
Gear: Medical Gown

Alana follows Tamsin into the quiet, dimly lit recovery room, the soft hum of the ship's engine in the background. The door clicks shut behind them, sealing them into the sterile space. The faint scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of the ship. She fidgets a bit, seeing the several of the tables about, for what she imagined was therapy purposes.

Not wanting to be standing around, Alana moves to sit, letting out a sigh as she does so.

"So," Alana says, her voice a low murmur, "What’s your story?" Her hand rests on the her legs, fingers drumming lightly as she waits for Tamsin to respond. Her injured arm still hung in its sling, unmoving for the time being.

She probably should have went and acquired actually clothing by now, but, alas, Alana hadn’t thought that far ahead.
 






Theme: Survivor
Tags: Alana Calloway Alana Calloway

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Tamsin moved into the recovery room of the buzzing of florescent lights and the dim hum of the ship's engines. Sometime had passed since Alana and Tamsin had their conversation in the hall and her recovery had come along nicely. She was now allowed to walk around a little bit on her own.

She was spacing out a little, lost in her own thoughts on why Alana was so insistent on following her. She had warned her of the demon but still she insisted, and Tamsin still wondered how long before the demon tried to break Alana. She was pulled from her thoughts as Alana spoke out to her.

"Wha…" Oh she wanted to know her story as the blurriness from her thoughts lifted from her mind.

"Me…I uh..I don't have much of one." She said honestly, what could she really tell. She was a slave girl who was freed and possessed by the devil.

"I grew up mostly on Tatooine, though I wasn't born there. I was sold there at age five or so to a Hutt. Until Darth Anathemous saved me, along with some other people." She thought for a moment as to how much she telling Alana considering some of it she was still dealing with herself. "I mean you already know about my demon, it's been with me from my making…erm birth." Well, she already sort of knew that so what did matter if she told her. "The Demon made me; I am its clone. I don't know who they were, I do know that they did some horrible things. That I am a conduit for their return just a tool for them to use."

She wasn't sure what else to say or what more Alana wanted to know beyond that. So, she tried to change the subject to Alana. "What about you?"


 

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Healing Wounds

Location: Harbinger, Medical Ship, Recovery Room
Tag: Tamsin Graves Tamsin Graves
Gear: Medical Gown

Alana leaned back slightly in her seat, arms crossed loosely, red eyes watching Tamsin with a quiet intensity as she listened. The hum of the lights filled the silence between words, but she didn't interrupt. Not once. She was far more interested in learning about the girl she had danced with prior.

When Tamsin finished and turned the question back on her, Alana didn't answer right away. She gave a soft snort instead, almost amused—but there was no humor in it.

"Well… hell of a thing to carry around," She muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "Makes a girl feel a little under qualified, being in such rare company…I’ sorry you were dealt such a hard hand, Tamsin."

She glanced over again, her expression softening, though there was still something guarded behind her gaze. "But you're not just a tool, y'know. I've seen tools. Cold, dead things. You ain't one of those."

Then, with a dry chuckle, she added, "As for me…I guess I'm a little messier. Raised on Nar Shaddaa, my parents ran with gangs, did things they probably shouldn’t have proud of….its really foggy, honestly. I remember Dantooine, just flashes really. I remember being happy, once. Faces of people that I’ve lost, people I’ve loved…”

A soft smile came to her face as she recalled an older man. A set of gentle hands on her shoulder, trying to help her aim a rifle. Helping her learn how to track, teaching her how to pilot-


Standing before a freshly dug grave.

Her smile vanished. Guess happy endings didn’t run in the family.

“Being honest, I don’t even know where I get my name from. I have so many gaps in my mind, I feel like…a damn moon or something. Just full of holes."

She trailed off, her jaw clenching slightly before continuing in a lower voice. Her gaze remained fixated on the ground, pondering to herself. "I know, I bounced around. I took bounties, got into trouble, did some real questionable things. But, well one mission went south. Then the Sith got me. Then….I wake up and I’m here., sometimes I go to bed, and I’ll wake up in my armor, no clue how I got there. It just…I feel like I have no control of it at times."

Her eyes flicked back to Tamsin. "I guess that’s why I keep following you—there’s something inside of me too. Something jusr, wrong. It feels like… someone just hallowed me out. Like they were taking my soul apart, piece by piece, until I don't know where I start and where-"

She stopped herself, feeling a tightened forming in her chest, an unfamiliarity starting to come over her.

She forced herself into silence as she tried to catch her breath.

She let the silence stretch for a moment before finishing, a little quieter, "I know there’s nothing I can do. I know that, but it helps when you aren’t alone. I guess that’s what I’m saying."

Then, like a switch flipping, she leaned back again, expression easing. "But hey, don't let me get all sentimental. You're doing pretty good on your feet again. That's what matters right now."

 






Theme: Survivor
Tags: Alana Calloway Alana Calloway

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"You had people you loved and loved you, you should cherish and hold onto that." That was the hardest part to Tamsin before Kaila Irons Kaila Irons saved her, she didn't have anyone who really cared. The beast master in the Hutt's Palace maybe but he was just a slave too and would have sold her out to save his own life. She had no family she was just made in a vat, a science experiment of a demon's dna. There might be people out there related to the demon, but they weren't her family, they were its family.

"No matter what your parents did they, they did it to get by. My maker killed billions because she wanted to, not because she had to survive." Since Woostri fragments of the demons' memories had bleed through, small things but Tamsin had seen the terror the demon had caused. She saw the monster it was and knowing she was made in its image scared her even more.

"I don't know where the name Tamsin came from, but my last name of Graves was given to be my slave master. All the kids Blougah the Hutt bought started as grave diggers. If you survived the beating and starvation, you got the last name Graves and moved onto a new position." Tamsin gave a smile of understanding, even if her story was heart breaking. In a strange way she was proud because she survived not broken by that experience. Her dark eyes looking upon Alana's face seeing a sadness there for the memories lost. She listened to the woman's story, and she felt the pain of not being able to remember and the strangeness of waking up not even knowing what she did the night before.

She saw how broken Alana was in her telling of getting caught by the sith. Tamsin hadn't ever seen it firsthand but she had read of the ways the sith broke people to their will. As she looked at Alana, she knew on some level that might have been what the sith did to her. It sadden her deeply, because she knew there were better sith out there ones that didn't have to subjugate people to get what they wanted.

In a way Alana herself was a slave not exactly the same, but she hadn't yet broken her chains fully. "Not wrong, just broken. Things that wrong aren't meant to be, things that are broken can be fixed." That sounded wrong coming out of Tamsin's mouth and she quickly realized it. "I don't mean you're a thing…..or that you need to fixed….fuck I just mean you aren't wrong….you uh…uh….just need some help." Crap that sounded just as bad.

She moved closer but then quickly stepped back again. She didn't know what she should do or say, she felt she really flubbed up with her words. "I mean not being alone is a good start to helping yourself. All wounds can be healed." All wounds could be healed, that was true, but the scars always remained to remind you.

"Hey, you can tell me anything, I'm always here to listen. How's your arm?" She said trying to change the subject to something lighter for a moment and since Alana commented on how well she was healing. "Yes, I can walk somewhat still my ribs hurt, makes me almost wish I had metal bones." Alana wouldn't get the remark to metal bones, but on a normal day she wouldn't wish the torture her master went through on anyone but on a day like this she did envy her sisters ability to not have to deal with broken ribs.



 

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Healing Wounds

Location: Harbinger, Medical Ship, Recovery Room
Tag: Tamsin Graves Tamsin Graves
Gear: Medical Gown

Alana was quiet for a few long seconds after Tamsin finished, eyes low, jaw tight. She wasn't sure what part hit her harder—the sheer weight of what Tamsin had endured, or how casually she'd spoken about it, like it was just…normal? Survival, cruelty, names given by slavers made into brands burned onto skin. The kind of life no one should've had to live. Yet she had.

What a cruel galaxy.

"You survived hell," She said, voice low and steady, but laced with something deeper—respect. "And you didn't come out of it hollow. That counts for something. A lot of people don’t even do that."

She exhaled a slow breath, fingers brushing the edge of her injured arm absently. "And maybe you don't know where your name came from… but you made it yours. You made it mean something more than just what they gave you." She met Tamsin's gaze then, eyes a little tired, but warm. "That takes strength most people don't have."

When Tamsin flustered over her words, trying to backpedal, Alana gave a small, tired laugh—not mocking, just understanding. "You're fine," She said gently. "I've been called worse than broken. And you're not wrong. I don't even know what all they did to me, just… pieces, gaps, feelings that don't belong. I feel like I'm stitched together from someone else's life sometimes."

Her voice dropped a little. "But if something's broken… yeah, it can be fixed. Piece by piece. I don't need to be perfect. Just…free."

A pause, then a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "And I'm glad I'm not doing it alone. So… thank you. Even if you flub your words."

She glanced down at her arm again when Tamsin asked, rotating it a little. “It’s sore, but only tore a few muscles. Could have been worse. I’m used to working through the pain.”

Her smile turned dry. "Probably not the healthiest habit."

She mutters, shrugging a tad, before looking to Tamsin. “You know you can tell me things too, I’m just a grunt, people ignore me.”


The remark about metal bones made her tilt her head curiously. "Metal bones, huh? You'll have to explain that one sometime. Sounds like you've got a story there."

Her gaze softened a little more as she added, "And I'll hold you to that, by the way. You said I could tell you anything….so don't be surprised if I take you up on it."

She hummed for a moment, her hand gently playing with her sling. “I never got to say it, but, it was nice. Dancing with you? Hasn’t done that in a while. So thanks for that.”

She gave a soft chuckle, feeling a bit silly for how nice that moment was. It made her feel, nice. Appreciated.

That was the word that she longed for the most.

Appreciation.
 

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