Prologue
Having Fallen From the Sky
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just playing in the giant Star Wars sandbox.
The world slowly came back into focus, as she pried her eyes open, despite the pounding headache. The room was relatively dark, with the occasional headlights of a holocar zooming past. It was night, then. And she was planetside, somewhere. "Mrf.." She grumbled something nonsensical. She felt sticky, as if she'd been sweating—feverish, perhaps? Was I injured? Or sick maybe? She tried lifting her head and bit back a moan.. No moving about for a while, I think. Fine. What do I remember? She forced back sudden nausea, a rush of conflicting memories.
- She was a young Jedi Knight, arguing that the Mandalorians were a threat to the Republic, encroaching on the Outer Rim. - She was Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith, staring balefully at some young waif of a Jedi Padawan barely out of the skinned knees and pigtails age who was attempting to threaten her with a yellow, double-bladed lightsaber.- She was Mia Nal'raya, a small-time smuggler pressed into service for the Republic after being caught. -
What?
She was from Deralia, on the Outer Rim - no, she had no clue where she was born, she'd been found in an orphanage on Coruscant.
Wait. What?
Her migraine worsened, pounding in synch with her pulse. This time, there was no biting back a moan. "Sithspit, what a headache.."
Who am I? Where am I? What was I doing?
She tried to take a deep breath and gasped at the sharp stab in her right side. Fractured rib, maybe ribs. Already healing. A cool, analytical voice commented in the back of her closed her eyes and tried to focus, pushing back the pain in her head. This is ridiculous.
Let's try being Mia first. From Deralia, in the Outer Rim. Recently orphaned, parents killed by Sith not too long ago, during the bombing of Telos IV. They'd been on a business trip. What were my parent's names? She wasn't sure. Trying to remember only worsened the headache. Did I have any pets? Best friends? An unsettling blank.
Frak my identity. Did I hit my head? What else is wrong with me? She tried to sit up to get a better look at the room, doing so slowly in order to avoid exacerbating her headache. Dusty, although the tracks in the dust indicated that someone had likely half-dragged half-carried her inside. Humanoid. Probably male, given the size of the boot prints. The room was empty of life. Certainly not a hospital—or healing quarters. Am I broke? Or hiding from someone? Friend or foe? She shivered slightly—cold now that she'd eased out from under the moth-eaten, threadbare sheets that had been covering her naked form, and slowly slid off the bed, cradling her side with one arm while stumbling towards the fresher. Seem like I'm alone for now.
Twenty minutes and a brief sonic shower later, she was studying herself in the fresher mirror. Vaguely familiar features looked back at her. Pale, with a slight greyish tinge— like she'd been ill for a while, and dark circles under her eyes. Average enough features: a small nose and large, doe-like brown eyes. Loose brown curls, cropped to shoulder length, hanging loosely. A slender figure, but with lean muscles coiled beneath her pale skin. Short, for a human female anyway, but well-proportioned. A rather pretty twenty-something, really— or she would be, if not for the rather vivid dark purple bruise covering most of the left side of her torso. A handful of other half-healed bruises in rather unappealing shades of dark greenish yellow, just starting to heal, including one to her left temple. Heh. Looks like someone or something got the jump on me. Her lips curled into a sardonic grin—the headache had dulled to an ignorable throb.
"Right. First thing's first. Clothes, maybe some sort of food, and then back to trying to figure where and who I am.. Now, where are my clothes, I wonder?" She listened carefully for signs of life from the other room. There were no towels in the fresher, since it was just a sonic shower—but even that had helped her feel better.
She flipped the lock on the door and gingerly peered out— still no sign of whoever carried her in here. Good. More time to gather her thoughts.. And figure out who I am. Some clean clothes were folded neatly on the stool by her bed; given the general disrepair of the place, it was a fair assumption they were hers. She ambled across the small room, over to the chair— slowly, given the state of her ribs, and pulled on the plain undergarments and fitted grey trousers on hastily. She moved the long-sleeved shirt and jacket over to the bed. Well, that's handy.. There was a clean sheet, no less tatty that the ones she'd been sleeping under a short while ago, folded on the chair. She calmly ripped several to-inch wide strips of cloth from it, gritted her teeth, and carefully bound her ribs to stabilize them. She tossed the jacket back on the chair, and pulled on what was apparently her shirt. "Right.. Food next?" Come to think of it, I'm not all that hungry, and it doesn't look like there's much in this apartment anyway.
She sat on the bed with a sigh, gently rubbing at her temples. The persistent headache she'd had earlier was all but gone now. Time to try to figure out what the frak is going on with my head. Back straight, and hands folded loosely in her lap, she closed her eyes with a sigh.
The world fell away.
Prologue End.
So, I finally gave in to the plot bunnies that have been stalking me (for years) and decided to write my own Knights of the Old Republic fanfic.. I've been working on bits of it on-and-off for a while now. I refuse to rehash the entire story all over again, so the plan is to have a few glimpses into Revan's mind, more a series of connected one-shots more than anything. I might do some interludes from the points of view of other characters, if I can find the right voices.
Tell me what you think, and feel free to offer constructive criticism.. And suggest what you'd like to see.
Really. I mean it. I have some ideas of what I want to see, but suggestions are always wanted.