Laundry Day
Standard Disclaimer: All characters belong to LucasArts and Obsidian, even my non-character of an Exile. I'm just playing with them. I promise I'll be good.
Pink had never really been her color. It made her skin look unnaturally pale; her lips and eyes washed out against it. She had stopped wearing the color when she had grown old enough to have a choice, and hadn't bought anything of the hue since. But now…
Brianna looked ruefully at the robes she held in her hands. Visas, the Miraluka, stood next to her, wearing an expression that could only be described as dismay. She all but tore the robes from Brianna's hands, her lips turned downward and a heavy blush tinting her cheeks as she examined the material. Or at least, Brianna thought she examined the material. It was hard to tell.
"I am so sorry. I… I don't know how this happened."
She stammered, staring (or was she staring? Between the veil and the tales of the Miraluka her father had told her, she wasn't quite sure of the answer) at the robes. Brianna gently disentangled them from Visas' hands and slowly began to fold them, all the while trying to quiet the storm of annoyance that was rising up inside of her.
After hearing a few more moments of non-stop apologies from the other woman, she finally snapped and threw the robes to the floor in exasperation. Visas instantly fell silent, and Brianna forced herself to smile.
"Don't worry about it, Visas. I needed some new robes anyways."
She said patiently, struggling to keep her tone light. Visas opened her mouth as if to speak, but Brianna cut her off.
"Really, Visas, it's fine."
Visas looked uncertainly at Brianna for another moment, then, with one final apology, quietly turned and walked out of the room.
When the door slid shut, Brianna sighed and leaned over to pick up the robes, lying discarded on the ground. Then, she went over to the laundry basket that sat forgotten on the Ebon Hawk's main table. She laid the robe next to the basket and began to sift through the contents of the basket. Atton's shirt, Kreia's under robe, another one of her robes… they were all ruined.
She continued to search until she found what she was looking for. Brianna pulled out Visas' extra head covering from the pile of clothes and grimaced, letting out a long sigh. The red cloth had faded a little, but the covering was otherwise undamaged. Which was more then she could say for the rest of the basket.
She tossed the covering aside and took up her robes again. A dark pink stain spread across the back and front of the formerly white robes, as glaringly obvious as the neon signs in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. Brianna sighed again, and began to pull on the ruined robes. They'd have to last until the ship reached Onderon.
As she exited the main room, basket tucked underneath her arm, unconsciously straightening the crumpled robes, she nearly ran into the Exile. He looked at her strangely, his mouth curling into a grin. Brianna muttered an apology and tried to slip past him, but he quickly grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him, dark eyes taking in the front of her robes. He quirked an eyebrow questioningly, and Brianna felt her face heat up.
She futilely struggled against his grasp, as he continued to look her over. Finally, with a laugh, he let her go. Brianna quickly tried to stride past him, her face flushed bright red, but he stopped her again. She looked curiously at him, and he let out a low laugh.
"You know, Brianna, pink isn't really your color."
Brianna forced herself to smile, seething underneath his laughing gaze. She turned away forcibly and stalked off towards her quarters. As she rounded the corner, she heard him mutter,
"And it makes you look like a fracking ghost."
And she snapped.
"What happened here?" Atton asked curiously as he entered the medbay.
"The Exile has experienced minor trauma to his skull, most likely due to being hit in the head with a large object." Visas replied calmly as she administered kolto to the unconscious Jedi.
"Any idea how it happened?" Atton asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Brianna passed by, carrying a large, heavy looking laundry basket. She smiled benignly at Atton, and tossed him a small bundle of clothes before continuing on. Atton caught the bundle and started to unroll it.
"None." Visas replied, and turned her sightless eyes towards Atton. "Is something wrong?"
Atton stood slack-jawed, staring at the shirt he had just pulled from the pile. He turned to Visas slowly, and worked his jaw a moment before he spoke.
"What…" he began, "Happened to my shirt?"
Author's Note: I always thought that with that much white on board, this was bound to happen sometimes. I mean, it's not likely Visas got much laundry done on her new clothes, seeing as she was a slave on a partially destroyed ship and all. Please, if there's anything you can see, please tell me, because I'd like to know. The ending to me seemed kind of iffy... what do you all think? And if you have a better suggestion for a title, please tell me. This was tiding me over while I worked on the second chapter of my other fic, so I would really appreciate the feedback. Thanks for reading!