Author's Note: Copying this over from my tumblr. This follows the Jedi Consular storyline post Balmorra and onward, so there will be spoilers. This story follows my Consular, Gaerwen "Wendy" Aurell. The chapters will sometimes make mention of scenes from Tharan Cedrax's and Zenith's companion quests, and potentially Nadia's. This story will consistently remain at the T rating.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Star Wars: The Old Republic. Bioware owns that, though if I owned it, THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN A ZENITH ROMANCE OPTION.
Someone To Fight For
Chapter One
Gaerwen had thought that Tatooine had been a nightmare of a planet—hot, dreadfully hot, sand demons, untimely sandstorms, sand people—on Tatooine, sand could be applied to everything. She certainly had not expected Balmorra to one up a planet like Tatooine. She could tolerate the sand, but she had been absolutely terrified of one of Balmorra's many native species—Collicoids. Killiks and Geonosians had been tolerable. Collicoids were where she drew the line.
She leans over the small bath tub and turns on the faucet in order to fill it up with hot water in her personal 'fresher. She lets out a puff of hair that pushes away a few loose auburn strands, and she narrows her brows in annoyance at the memory. Tharan had found the apprehension and anxiety against bugs laughable at first, but had redacted his teasing when he heard Gaerwen's blood-curdling scream when they first encountered a swarm of the large green bugs. To his luck, the flailing Jedi still managed to fling rocks and other debris toward the beasts even with her eyes closed.
As Gaerwen begins to undress herself, she folds each piece of dirty, soiled clothing and places them on the small counter next to several lit incense sticks. She recoils at the potent combination of smells coming from her robes—blaster-fire, bug guts, sweat, and some blood. She sighs. After having killed the first swarm of bugs, Tharan had made a comment along the lines of "Well, that wasn't so bad, was it, Wendy?" with an extra laugh. Of course, he had spoken far too soon. A moment later, the bug corpses exploded into sopping piles of green goo—bug guts included—thus, covering their clothes in the horrendous mess.
The thought makes her grimace and a little angry, as she had not appreciated Tharan's not-so-innocent teasing, and so before she dwells upon it any further she gets into the bath tub and tells herself to relax. There's time to spare for relaxation and recharging oneself after several long days of battle on Balmorra.
She washes herself with her favorite soap that is lavender scented, one of the few self-indulgent expressions of vanity she partakes in as a mostly humble, selfless Jedi. Taking a bath is her favorite part about returning to her ship after a long mission. It is time solely for herself—no inquiring comrades, no hovering diplomats demanding her attention to their planet's most vital matters, no galaxy half-in-ruins, no Jedi Code bearing down upon her shoulders, and worst of all, no worrying about a potential traitorous Imperial presence on her ship.
Gaerwen closes her eyes and slides down into the water to wet her hair and begins to scrub it thoroughly with a similarly scented shampoo and conditioner, since it took the brunt of the same dirt and grime as her clothes. Once finished, she steps out of the now dirty water and drains the tub in order to refill it with fresh water. As it fills up again, she dries her hair and ties it up into a loose bun. She sinks back into the tub once it's filled again and lets out another long sigh.
Her thoughts wander as she soaks in the clean water. Gaerwen avoids thinking about Tharan—she's too disappointed in his cowardly behavior in the face of Balmorra's warzone and rude teasing to think pleasantly of him. Tai Cordan and the fate of the last Balmorran president cross her mind, and she frowns. Balmorra was the first war zone she has encountered, and she learned quickly the costs and sacrifices of war. Given the state of the galaxy's politics and diplomatic difficulties, she imagines those costs and sacrifices will only happen more often and escalate in scale.
The hot water soothes her aching, sore muscles, and she eventually succumbs to its seductive embrace completely. Thoughts of war and politics, death and torture, and morality and suffering slip away or are simply temporarily forgotten. The closest segue from these thoughts is Zenith—her newest resident on her ship—because he is a survivor of Balmorra and a new face.
Gaerwen lingers on the image of the sniper and guerrilla soldier as it takes shape fully in her mind. Jagged, rough features—purple eyes, sharp cheekbones, a permanent crease in his brow, and darker, vertical lines down his lekku. It's a clear image despite the uncertainty about his character and background, which are shrouded in mystery. She knows there's a degree of danger and violence behind his eyes—saved solely for the Empire and its collaborators—and she is not frightened or disturbed by it. It's not her place to judge or criticize.
Either way, she's eager to work with and get to know him.
With that, she finishes her bath and gets out in order to dry herself off. As the water drains out of the tub for the second time, she puts on a mildly scented lotion. Her fresh clothes are a welcoming change: a loose, cap sleeved burgundy colored dress ad matching slippers. Once dressed, she takes one last look at herself in her 'fresher's mirror and then leaves her quarters to head for the common room with hopes of crossing paths with the elusive sniper.