She wanted nothing more than to hear he is pleased with her handiwork, yet she also expected he might be. She is a stickler for perfection in all things in her charge. Her Astral spirit stood before his beautiful armor and studied it while she laid passed out from sheer exhaustion after her intense work on it. She always remembered what needed tweaking, when she awoke. She did not quit until the job was finished, lest she suffer herself for shoddy magick! Not going to happen.
The ghosts of his world spoke to her soul nonstop since he raised her to life in his spirit. She felt connected to him, to this place and to the nostalgia revealed through the whispers of her minions, the demons she knew, and those which belonged specifically to him. She had not counted on that at all. Oh how terrible. The misandrist is at war with her inner voice yet again, like always. But there was nothing not to like. He wasn't smothering. He wasn't boring. He wasn't distracted. She doesn't really mind the opportunity to hate
herself for showing up and staying…
So many answers to the questions coming in now where before she knew of no one she could ask about regarding the Force as the Sith see it to be. There were books, but nothing ancient like these, nothing as personal, as detailed. She would meditate for the answers, and now how quickly ideas flooded her mind. The information needed context to make sense. She dwelled only partly present at his side, her thoughts actively involved within two existences, possibly three. Her concentration divided, coinciding in simultaneous conversation with those presented of the ethereal plane, with her prize first and foremost, she did not miss the turning of his gaze. On any given day her concentration is so divided, only not so erratically involved in the reception of information from the spirit world.
She thought him tender as he delved in the flip side of wildness, as submissive to her taking the reigns as much as he was forceful to draw them away, playful and then commanding all rolled into one. He left no moment flow to her expectation. Instead she found him exciting, and she found out of it all honest trust had indeed formed, his
Dark Transfer was only the beginning. He's an enigma.
Nestled within such a pure state of the Darkside, Pom felt no insanity beyond one's control but a security she hadn’t even imagined. She came here to help him at his request and instead found herself accepted by him, a woman from Dathomir who saw herself as no different than the rest. Her beauty is not one faulted widely by foreign cultures, but her presentation certainly happens to be one of particular taste. She is keen to cause a fright for sport. Knowing her galactic shortcomings, in turn, she marveled at the freedom
Darth Carnifex
granted her into existence, even if he did clearly and most equally benefit from what havoc he generated. Perhaps all it comes down to is that she highly available to be at the right place at the right time to fulfill his requests. And oh how she vowed to ever be available in the future as well! She would go so far as to curse herself that she should not miss his call.
Of all the people across the vast galaxy who could have reached out and spoke to her one on one about the galactic situation, it is the Sith Emperor who reached out to befriended her people! With individual pacts across the galaxy, he is her utmost favorite. Pom could not understand how any one of the Nightsisters feared this Sith who fantastically fashioned himself within raw darkness. Her own world feels so similar. But if it got them to honor the terms of his treaty, then she figured it for the best. Fear makes people fall in line.
She glided after him in his long strides, eager to do anything he wished. There was always so much to take in and he took time to incorporate many things into his day. How different he lived than the witch toiling over the cauldron, counting the seconds and every pinch of her ingredients lest she fail miserably at her task, or suffer an explosion.
When he entered the library she stood at his table. The pages turned automatically as a few books levitated simultaneously. He asked her his question and she momentarily cocked her head, deciphering the whispers she received. She smiled broadly, not knowing whether or not what was just revealed to her by the spirit world is what her Emperor wishes to discuss, but she sure finds it fascinating.
"He is the amazing one who cheated death. Possibly the first…at cloning?" she wondered. Such things never passed over her desk on Dathomir. The Books of the Sith too sacred to be snatched away to ghostly libraries across the galaxy.
She practically stood on her tiptoes waiting to hear what else he intends to teach her!