[ Padme knows she is lucky to have escaped a crash of this magnitude with nothing but a bleeding wound at the side of her head and a twisted ankle; in fact, what worries her more is that she has no recollection of ever ending up on the ship, of the crash. Of any of it.
She dabs at the wound gingerly, determined to be on her feet as soon as she can, to help, to speak to the other survivors, gather information -- her first instinct is to try and contact the Jedi Council, the Republic... but neither of those would offer any help, now, not when one no longer exists and the other has turned into something that makes her feel sick every time she thinks of it. But one thing is certain: they need help.
Her thoughts scatter at the sound of another voice, quiet and calm, and she turns to look up at a young man. Humanoid and yet not, she thinks, glancing at his hand-- a changeling, perhaps? She breathes out and summons a small smile. ]
Thank you for the offer... but I'm alright. Head wounds always look worse than they are.
no subject
She dabs at the wound gingerly, determined to be on her feet as soon as she can, to help, to speak to the other survivors, gather information -- her first instinct is to try and contact the Jedi Council, the Republic... but neither of those would offer any help, now, not when one no longer exists and the other has turned into something that makes her feel sick every time she thinks of it. But one thing is certain: they need help.
Her thoughts scatter at the sound of another voice, quiet and calm, and she turns to look up at a young man. Humanoid and yet not, she thinks, glancing at his hand-- a changeling, perhaps? She breathes out and summons a small smile. ]
Thank you for the offer... but I'm alright. Head wounds always look worse than they are.