Private Dark Hearts

[Darth Virelia]

"A contract of blood and sin."

Tags - Aaliyah

The air itself felt hollow. No insects, no birds, no distant hum of living things. Just silence and the faint, metallic taste of something old. Something that should have been dust centuries ago but wasn't.

Darth Virelia stepped through the ashen canopy, her boots sinking into the spongy ground where roots had once been veins. Her cloak dragged through grey mud, streaked faintly with what looked like rust but wasn't. The jungle clung to her armor as though reluctant to let her pass, the last remnants of a world that remembered fear.

She paused at the edge of a clearing.

There, half-swallowed by the earth, rose the temple — a monolith of dark stone carved into a shape that refused to obey symmetry. The angles bent wrong, folding inward as if trying to contain something. Vines coiled along the stone like veins, brittle and black. Faded sigils traced the surface in dried ochre, not paint. Writing that was not Sith, nor Rakatan, but something older and hungrier.

She tilted her head, studying it in silence. "You were buried for a reason," she murmured.

The words came out soft, thoughtful — a whisper meant for the temple more than herself. Her voice echoed faintly, caught and returned by the stone as though the structure had been waiting to be spoken to again.

Virelia reached out through the Force. A low, pulsing thrum trumpeted in response, sick and rhythmic, like the heartbeat of something sleeping beneath the soil. It made the ground tremble just enough to notice, then stilled.

"Alive," she said quietly. "Or loudly pretending."

With a faint gesture, the outer door, a massive slab of blood-dark basalt — split along a seam she hadn't seen before. Air rushed out, thick and wet, as if exhaled from lungs that hadn't breathed in a thousand years. The scent hit her: copper, incense, and rot, preserved perfectly by the dark.

She stepped inside.

The corridor beyond was narrow, the ceiling pressing down like a throat. Light from her armor's faint violet tracery slid along the walls, revealing ancient murals — scenes of bodies carved open in ritual precision, blood flowing into bowls, faces lifted in ecstasy and horror. The artistry was delicate, reverent. A kind of worship.

Something dripped from the ceiling. A single drop landed on her gauntlet — black, thicker than blood. It moved against gravity, crawling slightly before stilling.

The air trembled once more, and far beneath her feet, she felt the echo of a pulse — slow, steady, waiting.

She smiled faintly, just once.

"Let's see what dreams in your dark, old heart."

 

[Aaliyah]

A sharp hiss accompanied a dark figure as it stopped at the end of the ramp. Electric lavender eyes slid over the forgotten landscape. It was so... peaceful.

A low chuckle shook her shoulders before she reached over to her right without looking and cradled the jaw of one of her servants. "See that I am not disturbed. And have something delectable ready when I return." Aaliyah caressed their cheek.

Just as suddenly as her affectionate touch graced their flesh, it fell away as their owner began to float up into the air. Her platform boots might do well to keep the muck from her thigh-high latex wear, but that didn't mean Aaliyah saw any reason to indulge the world's filth.

The darkness sung to her. It hungered. Black lips parted. The air kissed the bared fangs as Aaliyah sailed over the tree tops far easily than creatures bound to their inevitable graves. This place held promise. Secrets hidden away that might bolster her number. Short and long-lived alike served her for much the same reason a woman had short and long-term goals. She used whatever was of use, and few creatures could resist her charms -- those that did did not resist long once their blood was emptied on the ground.

Mired in the surface of the world was the place of refuge. Dilapidated from disuse; or perhaps merely neglected from an undying creature obsessed with their work. Aaliyah didn't care either way. Its secrets were hers to behold and to command even if its owner languished in some fetid existence.

She plunged down into the entrance without hesitation. Her descent was arrested only to admire a mural or two her lavender eyes discerned in the unlit narrows. Their story did not interest her, only information that may be of some import deeper within. They had been eager to document their purpose here.

Darth Virelia would feel a presence soaring toward her from behind. A growing dread. Then a brief burst of wind, and the faint sensation of a large, leathery wing as it bear in the confined space. Yet, not a visual sign of whatever had nearly set upon her.

"Saa," a sigh mixed with a hiss rouse from behind Virelia whether she'd turned around or refused to respond to the sense of danger as it had grown nearer. Impossibly long and sharp nails extended toward the woman from several feet away; they slowly mimed caressing the woman's neck. "The things I would do to you if you weren't in that armor." Well, bite Virelia, really, but it was more tantalizing if people thought there was a full list and not just one very lasting impression.

"What brings something saccharine here? Only danger lies within." Strange. Aaliyah didn't get the sense this one was lost or a foolish scholar spelunking in ancient temples. Her outfit was pleasing to the eye, even if it hid what the sanguine could only imagine was supple flesh and savory blood. Perhaps Virelia would think the same of the leather corset Aaliyah wore with its loincloth, and mid-bicep long latex gloves. It was not nearly so concealing, but then what did something like her have to fear?

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"A contract of blood and sin."

Tags - Aaliyah

The voice slid across the dark like silk dragged over a blade.

Virelia did not turn. Not immediately. She let the sensation bloom — that faint brush of imagined nails along her throat, that whisper of predation behind her. The hunger was real; she could feel it in the Force, a pulsing, ancient thirst that pressed against her armor as though testing its seams. It was… intimate.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, unhurried, the kind of tone that made others lean in without realizing they had.
"Is that what you are?" she murmured. "Danger, dressed in charm and teeth?"

The faint violet of her armor's tracery brightened as she pivoted, a slow, elegant movement that suggested control rather than caution. The air around her pulsed once, reacting to her will — not a shield, but an announcement. The Dark Side gathered like perfume, dense, heady, sweet.

Aaliyah stood revealed, and Virelia's eyes slid over her like a caress. She took her in piece by piece: the latex sheen, the curve of leather and skin, the faint wet shimmer at the corner of a fang. Then her gaze returned to the Sangnir's eyes, lingering there, deliberate.

"You wear the Dark beautifully," Virelia said. "It suits you… though I suspect you let it wear you instead."

She stepped closer. One, then another, her boots soundless on the temple floor. The Force shifted with her — slow, rhythmic, predatory. By the time she stopped, the distance between them was barely the length of a breath.

Her voice dipped lower, velvet and venom both.
"Do you always introduce yourself by imagining how you'd touch what you can't yet reach?"

A faint hum passed through the air — the echo of restrained power, a purr disguised as threat. Her hand lifted, not in defense but in invitation, fingertips tracing the edge of Aaliyah's extended claws without ever quite making contact. A promise of contact withheld.

"I could let you try," she whispered. "You'd find the armor less of a barrier than you think. It opens for those I permit. And closes… on those I don't."

"I came because this place called to me," she continued, tone returning to something almost conversational, though the air itself trembled. "It has the taste of something forgotten. Something that still dreams of blood." Her eyes lingered on the Sangnir's lips. "And perhaps, something that dreams of you."

Then, with that same faint, knowing smile, she leaned in — not enough to touch, just enough for her voice to graze the air between them.

"Tell me, beautiful monster," she purred, "what do you desire?"

 

[Aaliyah]

Aaliyah smiled whilst her eyes glowed in the dark. The woman was certainly self-assured. What a casual turn. A sultry voice that beckoned someone nearer if only to hear every word. What a delight to see someone that practiced the Art of Seduction so thoroughly. A throaty laugh followed Virelia's question whether Aaliyah was the danger she'd spoken of. Where would the fun in answering too quickly?

The chuckle turned into open laughter with her fangs on display. "Wear it? Oh, no, I am the darkness. Perhaps, someday, you might grow to become one with it yourself." The two women visually inspected one another openly and without restraint. There was no doubt that Virelia would be an absolute delight to devour. And there was the strong possibility she might even be worth keeping around for more than a single, mortal lifetime. A Sangnir always had to keep their eyes open for good company. Servants came and went so quickly in only a handful of decades; could you really get to know a person in such a short period of time?

As Virelia drew close, the woman that continued to float in midair stared at her unblinking. Such a bold, arrogant woman to step up to someone as powerful as herself. It was quite entertaining. Who didn't love seeing abject terror on someone's face with the Knowing of certain death reflected in their eyes? But, now and again, there came a time when well-wrapped impudence tasted just right. Style. Poise. It wasn't desperate flailing, but control and command. This one had character.

With the question put between them, Aaliyah slowly leaned forward. Her voice was nary a breath between them with her lips along the side of the woman's head, "I usually pin them to the wall and bury my fangs into their neck. Should I start again?" Shame her mask was in place; it was so enjoyable to tickle the little hairs of the ear with the softest of utterances. What should have been clear even nearly inaudible was the mirth in the Sangnir's voice rather than ire or boredom. If Virelia wanted a 'proper' introduction Aaliyah would be happy to tear that armor clean off and expose her throat.

She withdrew her head slowly. Lavender eyes regarded the way Virelia nearly, but not quite made contact. Another chuckle followed suit. Yes, quite the tease. Aaliyah liked all the ways the woman sought to mold and shape the Sangnir's will to match that of her own. Incredibly arrogant, but that was what made it so enjoyable.

Virelia sought to turn the tables in leaning in in turn, which Aaliyah continued to float in place to humor. "To watch my enemies drown in their own blood. Oh," a little hike of excitement, "but first, to turn them into creatures that will rip their loved ones limb from limb with their own hands. That is best, do you not agree? To make them suffer first. Death can come too quickly to those most deserving, and I desire nothing but the worst for all of them."

"You're right," Aaliyah straightened up, slightly taller from the way she floated above the floor, "this place has been denied blood too long, and it belongs to one of my own." A long nail pressed against the side of her mouth for a moment while those bright eyes gazed down upon Virelia. "Shall we go together? You might find the lost research even more captivating than I. And--" the woman stopped talking abruptly. A coy smile surfaced. "No, I do not want to ruin the surprise. Sometimes we monsters have to live vicariously through exquisite creatures like yourself."

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"A contract of blood and sin."

Tags - Aaliyah

Virelia's laughter was quiet — the kind that started not in the throat but somewhere deeper, somewhere that trembled with dark amusement and promise. It rolled through the narrow hall like smoke, soft, violet, warm.

"Oh," she breathed, "you are delightful."

Her hand rose — slow, deliberate, palm turned upward — and the air shimmered. Dust lifted from the stone floor, spiraling lazily in the invisible current between them. It caught the faint light from her armor and refracted it into violet shards that played across Aaliyah's skin. "You speak of suffering like an artist speaks of paint," she continued, voice low and velvet-smooth. "Of course you do. All beautiful predators crave creation. You just choose your canvases with teeth instead of brushes."

Virelia drifted closer again, closing the breath of distance between them until their reflections met — pale and dark, mirror and shadow — in the faint shine of her visor. "You see blood," she whispered, "and think of dominance. I see it, and think of potential. The perfect medium. The one thing that remembers what it once was." Her words coiled through the air like perfume, each syllable a gentle intrusion. "If your kind knew how to write with it rather than drink it, you could remake the galaxy."

Her hand hovered near Aaliyah's throat, not touching — just a ghost of a gesture that traced the line of her pulse with the pressure of intent alone. The Force trembled around it, electric and warm, like static waiting to ignite.

"Tell me, Aaliyah," she murmured, "when you feed… do you ever taste what they dream?"

A small pause, a tilt of her head — an almost tender curiosity. "Do you feel their hopes dissolve on your tongue? Their fears curl like smoke in your chest? Or have you been doing it too long to notice anymore?"

Her tone softened, darkly intimate. "I could show you how to savor more than blood. There are ways to drink the memory of a soul, to let it burn through you like fine wine. To make it part of you, forever whispering. Would you like that?"

The air between them grew heavier, charged. The temple itself seemed to lean closer, listening.

She smiled then — a slow, exquisite curve of her lips beneath the mask. "You and I are not so different. You consume to destroy; I consume to transform. The difference is… I always finish what I begin."

Her fingers finally grazed Aaliyah's chin — just once, impossibly soft. It was not affection. It was an invitation. "Come," she said, her voice wrapping around the Sangnir like silk and sin. "Show me your temple. Let's see whose hunger it answers first."

She turned then, violet light spilling from her armor to paint the murals anew, and as she stepped deeper into the dark, her final words lingered like a command whispered into a dream:

"Stay close, beautiful thing. You might find yourself changed before you realize you've given permission."

 

[Aaliyah]

A deep chuckle rumbled within the Sangnir. "More than teeth, My Love." She didn't interrupt to clarify what she meant, as Virelia boldly sought to control their conversation. Such a domineering creature. Fearless even.

Aaliyah spread a smile across her black lips while her bright eyes glowed in the darkness that sought to envelop them both. The glow of Virelia's armor was all that kept the abyss at bay. There was the impertinence again. A confidence born of some used to ruling over others. Persuading them to her cause, or crushing them beneath her heel. If she had fangs, Aaliyah would think Virelia were a rival Lord of Sangnir.

"The dreams and hopes of the weak has long since become as water, Child of the Dark. I only notice when I rip them from creatures that refuse the inevitable to the very end. Those of power and purpose; something worth fighting for that gives them strength uncharacteristic of kine. Only they might be a vintage worth remembering." A slight lift of the chin as if to cast aspirations to Virelia's question followed. "Is that what you're offering? Vitae worth savoring?" A curious offer, but one that might be of interest depending on the quality of the offerings.

As soon as Virelia touched her flesh, both of Aaliyah's hands snapped up; all ten of her fingers pointed in toward both sides of the woman's head only millimeters away from grazing the construct behind which she concealed her features. The long points of her nails were as daggers but a heartbeat away from skewering the woman where she stood. Those black pillows slowly parted to reveal a fang-filled grin. "Be very, very careful, my beautiful temptress," Aaliyah whispered. Virelia might be skilled, but a creature as old as Aaliyah had a pride that reflected her age.

With a silent sigh, the talons slowly drew back and fell away from Virelia's head.

One hand drew back to lay a lone finger along the side of Aaliyah's lips as Virelia sought to move deeper into the temple. The floating woman slowly turned in the air without moving a muscle to track the Dark Lady with lavender eyes. "If you aren't careful, my intrigue in your abilities may have me haunting your steps." Black lips curled upward at the thought. It would be interesting to see if her arrogance was deserved -- if she'd amassed some manner of power base.

Aaliyah floated after the other woman. "How much experimentation have you done with blood magic? The creation of unnatural creatures of insatible appetites. Elevation of the flesh to levels before believed possible."

There would be a large ritual chamber, and a smaller research hall with materials and journals. It would be a delightful find to uncover what had survived years of neglect. And then what she expected to be some form of creation that lingered; something maddened with hunger and desire. A delightful opportunity to learn about the woman.

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"A contract of blood and sin."

Tags - Aaliyah

Virelia did not flinch when the claws framed her head. She did not so much as blink. The Sangnir's breath ghosted across her mask, her power coiling close — and yet the Dark Lady only smiled beneath the armor. The faintest tilt of her head, as though amused by the proximity of danger rather than threatened by it.

"Careful?" she murmured, the word dripping from her tongue like perfume. "My dear creature… care is for those who still believe in loss."

When Aaliyah withdrew, Virelia stepped into the space she left behind. Her voice followed like a whisper in the bloodstream, soft and predatory. "You speak of vintages. But I've tasted something finer than blood." She reached up, tracing her fingers slowly along the air where the Sangnir's talons had hovered. "Power aged by defiance. Spirit distilled through agony. The essence that remains when desire survives death itself."

She looked up at Aaliyah, her violet eyes burning like twin stars through the darkness. "That is what I drink. Conviction."

As they moved deeper into the temple, Virelia's steps became slower, deliberate. The murals along the walls flickered with faint light in her passing — as though they remembered what she was. Her voice softened, becoming almost academic, yet steeped in corruption.

"Blood magic?" she repeated, tasting the words. "A crude term for something exquisite. Yes… I've walked the edge of that art. Not the petty carving of sigils or sacrificial chants, but the true method — the transmutation of will into living matter. Flesh rewritten by belief."

Her hand brushed the wall, and the ancient sigils shivered faintly beneath her touch. "The body," she continued, "is an obedient servant when you teach it language. Every cell can be made to sing the same hymn. Every nerve can be re-tuned to crave the song of its mistress."

She turned to Aaliyah then, her tone turning sultry, coaxing — the kind of voice that had lured generals, killers, and saints alike into ruin. "Imagine it. A form that never tires. Skin that remembers every touch it ever desired. A heart that beats in rhythm with the will of another — not through love or compassion, but through rapture."

Virelia stepped close enough that the Sangnir's glow painted her armor in lavender. "You feed on what dies," she whispered. "I cultivate what endures. Perhaps that's why you're drawn to me."

A soft pulse rippled through the Force — like the deep, slow thrum of a heartbeat far beneath them. It echoed faintly in the air, mingling with the scent of blood and dust. "This place knows it too," Virelia added. "Something here was made to hunger… but it was not finished."