Altair felt sick to his stomach. He had expected a lot of things, but finding Vahliri blind and mutilated the way she was nearly broke him. He had to be the rock, he couldn’t let her see him crack. So he took her in his arms and he became Grand Marshal again, that unwavering boulder that always held fast through Tempest. He was forged into this through years of mistakes, survival, battles and brutality. The sight of the woman he loved being in this state would have sent him on a rampage across the galaxy, but he knew putting her back together was priority.
The tiefling had a set of armor for space where he may be recognized, so he donned a different helmet to make it less obvious who he was. He entered Thule airspace, doing what he could to keep her hooked up to the facilities aboard his ship with droids tending to her immediate needs.
Once on Thule, he had her transferred to a private medical bay that only she had access to. Unfortunately they couldn’t keep things entirely secret. A well known surgeon was called at once to tend to Vahliri. Altair would keep his identity hidden and simply snap the doctor’s neck if he asked too many questions. He kept a mask around the lower hemisphere of Vahliri’s face to protect her identity if possible.
For now, they had to wait to see what could be done about her condition. Altair held her hand, his mind racing. He tried to ignore the fact that Vahliri felt weaker not just from her injuries but in the Force as well. Altair wouldn’t mention anything about it. For now he was just here for her, as steadfast as always.
@Altaris @JoeWing