SWTOR: The Benevolent

Chapter Three - Violet Eyes

"You look like you crawled out of your own grave." Klemeral, Ikarus' roommate, gawked at his latest display of bruises and gashes as he stepped into their cramped living space.

"Well, it wasn't mine." Ikarus tossed his gummed up uniform and towel from the showers into the chute near the bottom of his cot. The hot water had been absolute torment on his bite marks, but it felt nice to be clean and bandaged up and in something much more forgiving to his injuries then the belts and boots of his academy combat gear.

Klemeral only half-laughed. "The hell is that supposed to mean?" He turned away from the mess of weapon pieces on his desk and leaned forward. "What do they have you doing, anyway? Getting out of morning training and all."

Not for the first time, Ikarus wondered why Overseer Tremmel had insisted that sharing a dorm would cause less suspicion. Perhaps on the surface it allowed him to blend in better with his fellow acolytes, but the irritatingly curious likes of Klemeral was proving to be a consistent annoyance.

Ikarus eyed him for a moment. "Following orders."

He wasn't even sure how his roommate had made it this far. Even in training, Klemeral's movements were jerky and uncertain almost as if he were wondering the same thing. Even his appearance was nondescript. He wasn't small, but he wasn't large. His hair wasn't exactly brown but it wasn't blonde either. Average personified. Someone else he didn't have time for.

Ikarus climbed gingerly into bed and immediately he could feel his muscles sink into what hardly passed as a mattress. It had never felt so soft and already sleep crept in, swift and delicious.

"Guess being singled out isn't all it's cracked up to be," his roommate shrugged, going back to his tinkering. "Always off doing someone else's grunt work. And here we all are, bleeding and dying at the chance."

Ikarus fought back another surge of irritation. Exhaustion aside, did Klemeral really think he would take the bait? This wasn't the first time he'd made little digs at the Empire or its academy. And Ikarus' reputation was on shaky ground as it was. The last thing he needed was to be associated with some cowardly turncoat. Carefully, so as not to agitate his wounds, he rolled onto his side to face the wall, his back to his roommate. Who didn't take the hint.

"Tremel has plenty of apprentices, including his own daughter. I'd bet they'd kill to have the bruises you have right now."

There was a pause in which Ikarus made another attempt at drifting off.

"I hope it's worth it. Seems like they're working you too hard, being a newbie and all. I remember my first week here. Absolute–"

"What do you want?" he snapped, rolling back over then wincing at the tug on his bandages.

Klemeral visibly startled. "Sorry, I didn't mean...It's just..." He cleared his throat. "I know Tremel thinks you're hot stuff, but it hasn't exactly made you popular around here. It wouldn't kill you to make some friends."

That's precisely what it would do. At some point, all of them were going to be fighting each other for the top position. And Ikarus didn't need anyone getting inside his head in the meantime.

"Yeah?" he replied. "And what's your excuse, feeling lonely?"

His roommate's frown deepened and he seemed to lose all interest in whatever he was piecing together, twisting in his chair to face Ikarus again. "Think I'm beginning to see why Vemrin nearly knocked your skull in today. I've a mind to do it myself."

Ikarus tried not to smile at such a tame response. "Vemrin's a coward. It was his minion."

"Don't underestimate him." A shadow fell across Klemeral's face, robbing it of all expression. "He's capable of more than you know."