V A I N G L O R Y
AMARA
| Half-Anzati 177.8 cm | 68.04 kg Early Thirties | Pronouns She | Her | |||
| Evil Alignment Lawless Tendencies | Also Known As.. Satev Vesta | |||
| Force Sensitivity Forceful | Skill Ranking Knight | |||
Affiliation
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Proficiencies
| Distinctive Features
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Deficiencies
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Species Abilities
| Regenerative Feeding Through the consumption of "soup" it is possible for Amara to regenerate injuries at a far heightened rate compared to humans. | Hidden Proboscis The method by which Anzati are capable of consuming "soup"; through proboscis-like prehensile appendages located beneath the surface of the skin on either side of her nose. |
| Low-Light Vision Anzati, even the majority of hybrids, have an ability to see in low light conditions. | Weak Hypnosis Amara's words are traced with subtle hints of persuasion and her voice retains an alluring edge, inviting rather than the more controlling trait of pureblooded Anzati. |
Relationships
| Father Darth Prazutis | Mother Braith Achlys | |||
| Half-Sister Adara Raxis | Sister Vesta Zambrano |
FROM THE PAST
A name the galaxy briefly knew belonged to me before it ever belonged to the sister that took it upon herself to make it her own: Vesta was supposed to be my name, my life, but I was born weak and my parents tried again for another - a sister. Dozens of times, even, but never could come up with a sibling that survived live birth like I had, not until they settled on something incredibly close to cloning. Stronger, healthier, my little sister was meant to be everything I couldn't be so they even gave her my name to live a life they thought I'd never get the chance to live for myself.
A pity that the galaxy and her own insecurities conspired against her.
But this is my story, not hers. I was born on Panatha with as many complications as one might expect from two parents that were as close to biologically incompatible as one could get while still being able to produce a child - forced to live unconscious, kept alive by life support, while my parents tried over and over again for a child until it became clear that the natural option wasn't going to work. My mother took matters into her own hands and took genetic material from me to create a strand-cast, a sister, to replace the broken one it was templated from. I won't bore you with the details except that it wasn't until after my sister's suicide that I finally came into this world, nearly forgotten.
This family has been tainted by time and ruined by apathy through necessity brought on by dynastic life, so I can hardly blame my parents for the face-heel-turn from treating me like a memento in a bacta tank to the daughter they'd always wanted when the one they had disappeared. I can't blame her, either, for wanting a life for herself that wasn't predicated on proving she wasn't just a facsimile of the child her parents actually wanted but thought they'd never get. It was difficult, it still is difficult even, to understand what happened and to come to grips with life and all of its unfairness in such a short period of time without a proper upbringing to at least soften the blow through time, but those were the cards I was dealt and I made do with what I could.
So I took a different name, a name of my own choosing, for my own and set out to make a life that was mine.
For as long as I've been able to walk I've lived by the mantra that we should live our lives as if every day could be the last. In a short ten years I've tasted much of what the galaxy has had to offer, from a life of luxury to struggling in the slums of some backwater planet to experience the life of the underworld and back again. With each passing year, however, I slowly came to resemble my parents - and, to some extent, a sister that'd wore a face not quite so dissimilar to my own - and eventually that resemblance became close enough that enough people started to put together the pieces and realize that I wasn't just some random woman wading through a sea of faces.
I returned home as the prodigal daughter, maybe a little dejected that the only people willing to accept me weren't the ones who'd lived through the same pleasures and trials I'd partaken in and endured with them. Coming home meant learning what both of my parents had always wanted to teach to me: boring lectures on the history of our family, the reason they were so entrenched in galactic affairs, and whatever it meant to them to be Sith. My father was ecstatic, my mother overjoyed, but I don't think I'll ever forget what life felt like when I was really free to just be me.
I don't think I'll ever stop trying to, either.
CURRENTLY WRITING - COME BACK SOON
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