Afterglow II | The Clone Wars

5 | 501st

Her hand ran along the hills and crevices of the cool bedspread, engulfing the empty space to savor its taste. A vacant spot at her side in the late hours of the night was nothing out of the ordinary, for those of importance laid beyond the walls of her quarters. A desolate quiet danced along the walls of her room, with distant highway traffic oozing in from the drawn windows blinds.

She sat up in her bed, bringing her legs over the edge to let her feet rest on the hard floor. One leg was coated in caramel skin, the other, icy metal. She wiggled each of her bare toes and felt as the bone and muscle maneuvered. Then she went to wiggle her bionic toes next, hearing the mechanisms operating in response. They cried out to her, reminding her that what she had before has been lost. She is, quiet literally, half the woman she used to be.

Ventress's words rang through her mind.

Across from her in the room was a mirror. With a deep breath, she pulled herself from the mattress and went to the dark reflection, immediately pulling up her maroon night blouse to see the tainted skin of her torso. A reaction from the metal had continued to spread despite the multiple altercations to the material. She rubbed the skin, letting out a small, annoyed groan.

Her black hair was long, and splitting unevenly at the ends. It was in desperate need of a cut. Each day, her skin withers pale from the lack of sunlight from the suns. Bags were a constant under her eyes framing her thinned face.

She somewhat resembled the face that she had before the starship accident, although not quite. Her entire frame was a few fonts smaller with less muscle mass overall. Through her stomach skin, her ribs were prominent, and not muscular as they had been before. She dropped the hem of her maroon blouse and walked away from the mirror "enough of this" she muttered to herself, stepping into the wash room and grabbing the razor.

No use in sleeping now.

In three swift cuts, she rid herself of the dead ends of her hair and they fell to the ground. Now the raven tips fell just over her shoulder. Next, she moved on to her makeup satchel and did her usual routine. With each swipe of her finger, she covered the unfamiliar tone of her skin. Lastly, she slipped on the new attire that Ahsoka had helped style for her. The blackened clone armor remained a staple, annunciating that she is dedicated to her men as their leader.

She kept the traditional black tunic over top her grey, long-sleeved shirt but shortened the tunic's sleeves similar to that of a vest. Clone armor rounded her shoulders and fell to the top of her elbows. A sash was tied at her waist and hung alongside her legs both coated in grey pants. There was nothing particularly unique about her clothes. When she was younger, she was constantly reinventing her style, but as time went on, she felt less and less compelled to do so.

She stepped out into the shadowy hallway, being met with not a single soul. Everyone was asleep, although Madam Jocasta Nu was undoubtedly still awake in the library. Dakota walked down the hall with crossed arms, not intending on going anywhere in particular. The curve of the hallway took her parallel to the statues beyond the walls, with the city skyline behind them. She gazed up at the bronze faces of long lost Jedi that she can't quite remember the names to.

When she was a kid, she pretended to know their stories, and made up, imaginary lives for them, thinking that one day she would live in extraordinary life of her own. A life far different from what she experienced on Mandalore. Up ahead was an opening that opened up to a view of the city. Despite the late hour, one person stood there looking out. Dakota approached them, and recognized who it was in an instant. He didn't seem to see her at first.