Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━
THE campaign on Geonosis lasted multiple days. After being evacuated along with the rest of the injured, Araminta had been dunked in a bacta tank and the wound on her stomach had mostly healed, along with the rest of the cuts and bruises she had sustained in the disastrous landing. The once-gaping wound was slightly tender if she twisted too much, but for the rest of the cleanup, she had managed to keep it in check.
Following Anakin and Luminara's success in destroying the primary factory and crippling Geonosian defences, it was their turn again to lead the secondary attacks on smaller factories and collections of soldiers– that the Clones had affectionately started to call bugs. The padawans for both Jedi had been badly hurt and evacuated, and Araminta was yet to see Anakin and gauge how he was.
She didn't dare ask directly and give away her concern, and Araminta and Obi-wan had only met up with Luminara during their arrival. The female Jedi had been going after Poggle for information on the Separatists, leaving Obi-wan to lead with his bodyguard in tow.
"I never did thank you," Obi-wan said abruptly as they headed for the collection of frigates they had landed on the planet's surface. They acted as their base of operations for now as they continued to sweep Geonosis, and the perimeter was guarded by clones.
Araminta hid the stiffness in her shoulders at the remark. "Whatever," she said dismissively.
"Even if you did yell at me," Obi-wan said teasingly.
Araminta shot him a look. "Blame it on the adrenaline."
"I always do. It's common knowledge that you grow teeth on the battlefield," Obi-wan continued lightly.
Araminta rolled her eyes to the back of her head, but was relieved that her harshness in the landing had been swept under the rug. She hadn't had much of an opportunity to talk to Obi-wan since they had been evacuated– she believed she had lost consciousness on the gunship out.
The assassin had been injured plenty of times in the field, and she had healed from far worse than a light stab to the side of her stomach. But they had all been occupational hazards– she had fallen from a great height, she had been stabbed by a target resisting, or been struck in the head to the point she saw stars by a much larger opponent. All things she had done in the name of completing the mission and earning the paycheck that Octavian lived off of.
This hadn't been that. Sure, she could argue that it was in the name of the mission to protect Obi-wan, but Octavian never would have accepted one of his assassins taking such a risk. They were not as expendable as he would have them believe– he did not spend sixteen years training up a weapon simply to break it down their first outing.
"For an assassin you make a good warrior," he added, drawing her back from her thoughts.
"I'm adaptable," she sighed. "That is what I was really trained for."
