Iberis sighs as she lays on the floor, totally refusing to move. Kylo Ren had left their little "session," and she feels exhausted. She knits her eyebrows together as she forces her tired eyes to examine her small cell, for seemingly the hundredth time, but she is looking for any sort of escape route. Poe managed to escape, and she is beyond thankful for that, but she has to find a way too. Eventually, her eyes skirt up to the small metal crate just above the restraining chair. She tilts her head, examining it. It's tiny, but she may be able to wriggle her way through it and get into the ventilation shafts.
She forces her sore body to move, every bit of her tissue and muscle practically screaming in pain. She crawls over to the restraining chair before putting her had on the small, circular wrist restraint. She pulls herself up and hoists herself up, reaching high for the metal grate. She bites her lips, puffing her cheeks, as her sore ribs make her wince as she grasps for the damn grill. She finally manages just to grace the metal with her fingers before she loses her footing and crashes to the ground, her head hitting and knocking off the tiled floor. Black spots explode in her eyes, and she reaches a quivering hand up to her head, feeling the blood seep on to her fingers.
"Nuts." She sighs before closing her eyes. She doesn't feel like she will faint, but her head hurts badly, and she just decides to lie there for a while. Her plans are interrupted, however, by the cell door slid open. She cracks open one eye to see a tall man standing in her doorway. He almost looks startled at the sight of the rebel sprawled out on the ground.
"Ugh, erm, I have clothes for you," he stutters out before practically throwing a pair of stuff grey trousers and a hospital shirt at her. She props herself up on her elbows, wincing again as the bright lights make her headache more apparent.
"Right, then." She mutters and nods, waiting for him to go. The man is still staring, though, and she cocks an eyebrow and waits for an explanation.
"Your stitches have broken, I'll need to fix that." He tells her before turning on his feet and exiting the door quickly. He was wearing dark navy trousers and a shirt with a high collar on it, so she is guessing he must be one of their doctors. She just sighs again and shuts her eyes, grimacing at the warm feeling on her head.
She must have fallen asleep because when she awakes, she is on her stomach and her face smooshed into the floor. She lets out a hybrid squeal snort before squirming, but she feels a steady hand on her shoulder.
"Please do not move, I am trying to fix your wound," The man murmurs seemingly transfixed on his work. She cracks an eye open to look at him. The man has tufts of blond hair sticking out under his hat and vivid blue eyes, which are still staring at her head. He has a soft-looking face, not like so many of the angry looking First Order soldiers. She can tell he has long limbs, and his mouth twitches as he focuses on applying the adhesive to her wound.
"Who 're you?" she asked, her words still muffled by the floor. She notes her new clothes are folded in a neat pile next to her, waiting for her to dress in. Beside them are a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of water. Soup and water? The First Order is getting better with its prisoners.
"My name is Amias. I'm taking over your care," He says, in a quiet tone, as he finishes his work, finally. He carefully stands up, examining her head. She glances at him as he stands, awkwardly, before gesturing to the clothes and food. "Please eat and change; it should feel better. I know you must be in a lot of pain, but this is the best I could get for you. I'll be by tomorrow to check on your wounds." He explains before quickly turning on his heels and scurries to the door, only to trip on his feet, and he nearly falls headfirst into the hallway, in front of the two Stormtroopers, who suppress a snort and laughter.
What a silly man, but at least he is kinder than the rest. She reaches a still quivering hand over to the grey pile, pulling the shirt over. At first, she just lays on it, using it as a pillow with her eyes still squeezed shut. Everything hurts now, but she knows to change, and eating will help at least a little bit. She slowly pushes herself up before yanking her torn and ratty shirt off by the hem. Once she peels off her shirt, she looks down at her torso. She is covered in purple and red marks, running in patterns up her ribs, on her back, and her collarbones and neck. She carefully pulls the shirt on, wincing at the movement. The fabric is coarse and stiff, but at least it is clean. Her pants take longer, as moving her legs is difficult. LF8190 took a baton to her knees, she shudders at the memory, and she is honestly surprised her knees didn't shatter.
Iberis bites her lip as she slowly tugs the torn cloth off her legs. The sight of them is horrifying; black and blue marks in criss-cross shapes across her legs and swollen kneecaps. The trousers Amias gave her are stiff too, but at least they cover her. The uniform swallows her figure, but she feels slightly more human in it.
With hesitant fingers, Iberis reaches for the soup, half wondering if maybe they poisoned it- but if they wanted her dead, they would have done it already. She sips the tasteless broth with a few vegetables floating in it. It's better than gruel.
Her door slides open, and, unsurprisingly, heavy footsteps follow. Iberis doesn't bother looking up at him. His feet stop in front of her. Kylo Ren's breathing is slow and steady, and he kneels in front of her.
"How are your wounds?" He inquiries, tilting her head.
She snorts and smirks over her bowl, still not meeting his eyes. "I'll live, I promise you," she murmurs before taking another sip of the broth. Kylo Ren just looks at her, wondering why on earth this woman reappeared in his life.
