Administrator

Tag:

Wearing: Red
Location: The Land of Nod
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The transition was silent.
She looked up from an old tome that she had read a dozen times in the archives of the Malsheem and half expected to see

It was always so quiet here.
She stood at the edges of the library, a sanctuary, of her own making. Delicate fingers brushed the shelves that were lined with priceless artifacts and ancient volumes and she could feel the ambiance convalesce around her. Guiding. The fact that this was the mental construct where she felt the most at home was a testament to her constant quest for knowledge. Understanding. Her mind could have drawn the beauty of Eshan or even the gravitationally ravaged wreckage of Malachor V but in the moment, it chose this. Only, this. A library.
Eyes of burnished gold took in light that was soft and serene, filtering almost gently, through high transparisteel windows. Those same eyes held back a myriad of emotions while she followed the steady drip-drop of water falling somewhere in the distance. Snow-white hair flowed neatly in her wake like a silken banner, contrasting suddenly, sharply, with the very deep red of her attire. As she wandered through the labyrinth-like stacks the scene kept subtly altering.
Eventually, the Malsheem Archives faded into the background, and the seemingly young woman found herself standing on the edge of a dark ritual site. It was a place of power.
A place of pain.
The air was thick with the leftover miasma that had once burned through it and the ground was etched with ancient runes. Stained, by stale, wretched blood. In the center of the macabre dais stood a white-haired man with long ceremonial robes. It was from before. From…Moments before. It hurt her to see him this way. To see her husband. The man she loved, knowing, that he had transformed that evening into something unfathomable. Not living. Not quite dead. But by most standards…He was a monster.
Of course—The Sith Emperor had to be a monster. Only...The sentiment wasn't typically so literal.
Srina approached the still form of Maliphant, Rhysiôn Talon, with endless grace. As if it did not bother her. As if she did not care. His frozen features mirrored her own in a haunting beauty, but they were twisted by the corruption that had begun to consume him. She could hear the sepulchral chanting in the distance to bring about a transition that her beloved had been a fool to think he might be able to control. Destroying the Worm Emperor and ending his silent reign…Their goals had aligned completely.
But she had never imagined that it would be this way… That Maliphant would become the Corpse King.
Though her expression remained still as stone, emotionless, and empty of all things…Her heart ached at the sight of the man she loved so completely. The man who had been her partner, her confidant, the father of her children, who was now a creature of the night. This version of him, ever so handsome, so smug and ambitious was the embodiment of her deepest sorrow and regret. She could recall with crystalline clarity the moment he'd been taken from her. Not by true death, no, but an even crueler fate, transformed into something she could scarcely recognize during a ritual gone awry.
The Jedi in their attempt to thwart some great evil from rising had, in fact, only created a greater one. Where once there might have been calculation and control there was only chaos and uncertainty. They were akin to children in her eyes, ignorant, and meddling with affairs in which the cure was far worse than the disease.

This nightmare.
For which she seemed doomed and damned to relive her failure. She might have floated back to her library were it not for the fact that something new caught her attention. The fraying edges of a third world that didn't belong to Odavessa or the Malsheem. A light. It wasn't painful nor overwhelming for her to look at but it was far brighter than the rest of the ritual room. Srina sensed the second presence before she saw her. It was impossible not to feel something crashing in on her world.
The intrusion was an unwelcome reminder that she had yet to fulfill her duty to render the being responsible for Maliphant's fate unto dust. It lit a spark in her breast that she had thought time had long since quelled. Srina had thought herself beyond such things. Beyond anger. Beyond fury. But it was there burning star-bright whether she wanted it or not. She drew away from the former-form of her husband with deliberate movements that were a blend of exquisite grace and lethal precision. Not a breath, not a moment, was wasted. Everything in equal measure.
Save the storm, the inferno, that was slowly crawling out of her throat like the fingers of some vengeful deity that had no other way to pass through this realm. The water stopped dripping.
Her eyes dipped to her hands, coated, in the life-blood of the one being that lived eternally within her. She watched the still-warm liquid fall to the floor.
The sound…It had never been water at all.
Dreams were such fickle things.
"Show yourself."
The command filled the ritual chamber with a cold snap while her fury focused into a blade that cut through the surreal nature of the vision-walk like a saber through rock. They had no weapons. Certainly, nothing could bring the retribution she craved—But her fury, so potent that it was almost touchable, was incapable of being denied. The little queen would accept it.
Embrace it.
Lest the presence of this Jedi begin the crusade of all bloody crusades.