Exposure time, two hours...
It started with a headache. At first it wasn't even noticeable to the Knight, something he'd chalked up to the blazing lights and steady pulse of the moon, especially given the fact that he'd left his usual visor behind. The glaring neon lights of Nar Shaddaa were as unfamiliar as the streets he'd been walking, trying to follow the map the gentleman in the cantina had provided him with. But the steady thrum of pain in his temples had increased as he'd walked, leaving hte Knight standing still for a moment on the bustling city sidewalk, a hand going to his head for the pain.
But the headache had gone away with practice - it was a simple Jedi trick, afterall, one every initiate knew; accepting the pain as the will of the Force, it'd gone away (lessened at least) and the Knight had continued to hunt for the offices of Cartel Security, intent on tracking the locator beacon for the missing Jedi Knight from the enclave's attack that had apparently pinged to the moon.
The nausea that came soon after Molari attributed to the headache since it'd begun pounding in his head again. Again he found himself stopping but this time with a hand on the building's wall as he hunched over, taking a moment to breathe and focus. When the feeling had faded enough that the Knight considered it manageable he'd moved on, unaware that his odd progress was drawing more than one eye.
Finding the offices had eventually been a fruitless hope - although he'd found them, and spoken with the head of Security (or at least someone claiming to be it; the Knight had found himself uncertain of his claims but too focused on his own self to read the possible lies in the Force), they'd been unwilling to hand over landing information.
They'd recommended he stick with Republic territory and take his inquisitive nose out of the Cartel's affairs.
Molari sighed, feeling the edge of another headache coming on as he climbed into his ship; with one hand he dimmed the lighting onboard, fumbling to strip out of his robes and grabbing his visor. With its settings set to slightly dampen the light he massaged the sides of his head, finally heading to the medicine cabinet tucked into his refresher and grabbing something for the pain.
The Smuggler's Moon had not agreed with him, he decided. The lights, the sounds, the press of people, the decadence - how anyone found it appealing was beyond him. If Smith's ship pinged there again Molari knew he'd dog it because the threat of the missing Jedi was too great to ignore but he wondered if maybe he shouldn't eschew the infamous Promenade in favor of sticking to the spaceports and other sectors.
A quick check of his medicine cabinet revealed that he had nothing on hand to combat the nausea that rose up again, the Knight putting a hand to his forehead. No fever though he felt clammy. Somewhat paler than normal though still the same general skintone he'd always sported. He hadn't eaten anything while on Nar, nothing that wasn't normal, but he resolved to give the rations a check to make sure nothing had gone past expiration.
For the first time in years, though, Molari dreamed of his sister. Master Khem had helped him accept the memories and pain as natural and the dreams from his youth had faded. But they were raw again, opening up a once-healed wound for the Knight and dragging every nuance of the memory back up. It wasn't long before the Knight woke up and pulled off his visor, green eyes staring up at the ceiling of his somewhat cramped room and taking a shuddering breath. Another wave of nausea rose, Molari sitting up and hunching over, hands to his head as he steadied himself. He caught snatches of sleep but the memories of his sister weren't the only things that came to creep into his dreaming - flashes of his childhood, of the clan, of the panic of the war tumbling into his mind and leaving him more unsettled on waking than he was comfortable with.
One nearly restless night and Molari found himself sitting in his chair on the deck of the White Star, inputting coordinates for Tython. Once his course was set he reached for his comms unit then stopped, sighing and opting instead of engage his hyperdrive, jetting towards the Jedi planet.
He'd pick up a fresh supply of food, since it seemed his rations had spoiled, and he'd update the Council and Order on his progress (or lack of it) on finding Knight Smith. As his ship fell out of hyperspace near the orbital station above Tython Molari once more dimmed the lighting of his ship, standing up and making his way again to his medicine cabinet and taking something for the pain.
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