Star Wars: The Last Qymaili | ✔

16 | Exposure

Dedicated to DragonWriter664

For your hilarious comments and your own awesome writing.

Song: "Jedha Arrival" from Rogue One OST

Back at home, they bathed in tiny stalls that opened out to the freezing river, with almost nobody owning a true heater to regulate the temperature of water. She recounted one bath on Kalee, heated by Qymaen when she'd first arrived dirty and torn from the wild, and it had been heaven. Other than that, she'd never had hot water, let alone water to bathe in.

Having been used to dirt and filth for most of her life, it was strange to Ronderu to permanently wash off that dirt with a shower. Alma then dressed her in a gray-colored shirt and leggings, and her hair had been twisted into disks on either side of her head. Finally, Alma had granted her wish, providing her with a triple-layered Mandalorian headscarf in the same color as her outfit.

They walked out to the lobby. Ronderu limped a bit, feeling as though she was lugging around a wooden block. Her respirator caught suddenly; Qymaen would someday see her modifications if they got married. A part of her wanted to believe his love for her would drown out his prejudice against cybernetics, but the other more rational part of her doubted it.

I'll just have to explain the truth right off the bat when I get home, and let him take what he wants from that. I won't force him to get over it.

He'd love me anyway. I am sure of it.

When they reached the lobby, they spotted another human waiting for them. He looked a similar age to Alma, with closely-shaven black hair and the same dark blue eyes. His striking handsomeness was offset by the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

"Su cuy'gar," he greeted, standing and smiling. He folded his arms within the pockets of his robe, bowing slightly. Ronderu pressed her lips together and returned it.

Alma stepped forward. "Ru san Jinn, this is my brother, Arna Gray. He will be your supervisor for the duration of your servitude. I will check in with you two periodically," Alma said. "Ru, look out for him. Arna, don't do anything stupid."

"It's not stupid," he said with a shrug, grinning. "It's called an alternative solution."

Another person who thinks with his gut, like Qymaen. Oh, joy.

Alma rolled her eyes with a smile. "Sure. Now, be off. I have patients to attend to."

✺✺✺

Silence graced them the whole way to Arna's house, and when Ronderu stepped into the small complex, her lip curled. It was the simplest thing she'd ever seen, blander than the doctor's office and holding less possessions than she'd had in her poorest state, when she'd been little more than a slave to the khans she served as a child.

"How long will I be here?" She asked him, vaguely distracted.

"Two years."

She swallowed. This is the noble thing to do. You don't want to end up dead. You don't want Qymaen to crusade the Republic looking for you. You don't want Kalee involved in a conflict with a giant like Mandalore.

A single room was set before her, with two pieces of furniture that vaguely reminded her of sleeping mats. A low-set table rested in the center, and on it rested two bowls and two glasses of water. The house had a full window that looked out over the transparent, sterile perfection of Mandalore. Only a single door stood in the small structure, presumably to the refresher.