Chapter Title: now that the end's in sight
Chapter Summary: Nomi Sunvhett improvises. Her memory problems and lack of useful intel make it inescapable.
Written for the fan_flashworks health and fitness challenge.
A KOTOR fic, ft F!Raven, armor, massage, a smattering of (Tatooine) slave culture in the broader universe, and some downsides of letting your plant think she's a hardbitten smuggler type. Amnesia really is a fun trope.
It is remarkably easy to casually sneak the small group of Amavikka (Amavikka? The word seems right, though Nomi can't remember where she learned it) into rooms. Serves as explanation of their scouting trip, and neatly centralises their position for push in other direction, which is where the hanger must be. Ship they're stealing will be big enough - a freighter won't notice another handful of inhabitants.
Their Jedi might object when they pick her up, but she does nothing but object. Nomi can't even procure a change of firstmeal without a comment.
And the armor she wears is heavy - worse, it's unbalanced. Best that they could get, on Taris, and it has saved her a few injuries, but that is very little consolation to her straining muscles. It makes an excellent excuse to keep in chambers until the early morning, and to show off her scars to Ordo. Mandolorians are into that sort of thing. And Nomi's into Mandos. Ones that aren't trying to shiv her, at least.
