Of amputations and evacuations

Nyavi was still cradling Issac, trying to prevent him from choking on his own tongue as shock was setting in. The twins were rifling through some cargo and pulled out a medkit, all in their maddeningly playful approach. “Yeah no worries,” Nyavi mumbled, “just got a pal fucking dying over he-”


The twins dropped the medkit in the grass as they hastened to gather around the Holocron. Nyavi rolled her eyes, snatched up the kit with the Force and pulled it into her hand. She worked rapidly, juggling several different tasks without lifting a finger. “Don’t die on me before I can give you a robot arm, alright?” she said, half-listening to Darth Orvain’s new missive.

A loud groan of agony signaled Issac’s return to the land of the lucid, clutching his fried hand instinctively to his chest as us used his good arm to attempt to force himself upright. Breathing heavily he inspected his ruined hand, grimacing as he checked the damage.

Feeling a slight sense of relief that he wouldn’t lose the entire arm, he began to look around for his saber, giving off a curious expression when he saw the hilt was now jet black. Picking up the blade, the burnt arm temporarily forced to the back of his mind, he ignited it, and was almost overwhelmed by the surge of pure, unrestricted, rage. Taking a moment to gather himself, making sure the blade would not control him, Issac raised his cooked limb and cut it off just below the elbow. He was just able to deactivate the blade again before he fell to his knees, going feint from the pain, but not making more than a bestial grunt as he did so.

“Well…” Nyavi said, eyebrows raised. “You just made my job a lot easier, kid.”

She dropped a few of the tools back into the medkit, pressed an injector into Issac’s arm and pushed down the plunger. “This’ll keep you stable for a while, dull the pain, and give you a nice high to boot. Trust me, I been there.” Her head tentacle twitched as she spoke. “And luckily for you, it’s pretty easy to attach a robot arm to something this fresh. Not like your limbs slowly dying off you, you see.”

Orvain had finished his speech, and the others seemed to be packing it up. “Some team, huh?” Nyavi said as she bandaged up Issac’s stump. It was already cauterized completely thanks to the lightsaber. “Not even an offer to get you back into the ship. Well, fuck ‘em. Guess we can only depend on each other.”

“Y-yea...S-sounds good…” Issac stammered in reply, feeling suddenly woozy and more than a little spaced out from the shot. Looking back to Nyavi, and speaking with the tone of a curious child, he asked. “Did you say robot arm?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna become about 5% droid, kid,” she said. She reached out with her mind and her chair hummed to life. She dropped the rest of the tools back into the medkit and shut it tight. “Here, hold this for me.” She thrust the kit into his lap and smartly directed the chair to scoop him and the kit off the grass.
Clutching his blackened saber to his chest, Issac enjoyed this small moment of numbness, able to put his mind at ease for once. He heard Nyavi speak and vaguely registered what she was saying, but for the most part allowed his mind to drift, enjoying this sensation while it lasted.

As the chair hovered toward the ramp of the Swamp Hag (we really gotta come up with a new name for our flight, she thought absently), she tigered after them, looking around as the other ships began to take flight. “On to the next breadcrumb then,” she murmured.

(Joint post GardensTale and Farrell)

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