Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Darkness Entwined





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"A new contract."

Tags - Revna Marr Revna Marr

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The Spire had moods of its own, and tonight it was restless.

Darth Virelia walked its violet-lit halls with the ease of one who had long since mastered both the structure and the silence between its walls. Each step came soft and deliberate, a whisper of boots over obsidian stone, the slow rhythm of a predator's heartbeat. Shadows stretched before her like courtiers at attention. The faint hum of the life-support systems harmonized with the low sigh of the violet braziers that lined the corridor, every flame bending ever so slightly toward her as she passed—drawn to their maker.

Her hand brushed the polished basalt of the wall, feeling the pulse that ran through it. The Spire was alive, in its own way. It listened. It remembered. It obeyed. That was why the change struck her so keenly.

At first, it was a breath too shallow, a silence too measured. Then, the faintest echo—out of sync with her own steps. Barely audible. A presence that didn't belong.

She didn't stop.

Instead, her pace slowed just enough to look natural, her head tilting slightly as though admiring the mural etched into the wall beside her—a depiction of Malachor's ancient wars, illuminated by threads of crimson light. The gesture was elegant, unthreatening, almost languid. Yet her senses sharpened to a blade's edge. Through the Force she reached, not outward but inward, drawing the dark into herself until her aura thinned to a whisper. Her presence folded upon itself like silk being drawn through a ring.

The intruder would not sense her coming.

Her lips curved faintly, a private smile, equal parts amusement and promise. How quaint, to imagine someone trespassing here. Did they know whose shadow they had entered? Did they understand what it meant to stand within her dominion—this temple of black glass and nerve-veined steel, where every light, every echo, every breath was tuned to her will?

A flicker of movement ahead. Subtle. Almost artful. Someone was careful. That alone earned a measure of her interest.

Her hand lifted, tracing idle circles in the air, each motion a cipher of control. The shadows around her thickened, pooling like ink across the floor, stretching into the patterns of her thought. She moved among them as if gliding through warm water, her figure half-lit by the Spire's violet glow—every step a choreography of poise and patience. The faint scent of ozone and myrrh followed her, the scent of the storm and the altar both.

She could end this now. A single command through the Spire's systems would flood the corridor with defense drones, or worse. But there was pleasure in the hunt, and curiosity had always been her ruinous vice.

So she stalked, unseen, each motion smooth as liquid sin.

Whoever had dared breach her sanctum would learn soon enough that the Dark Queen did not rush. She savored. She studied. And when the time came to strike, she did so not with haste—but with certainty, with elegance, and with the kind of intimacy that made death feel like a kiss.

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Revna had always been one for adventure…for sneaking off and out of the ever watchful gaze of her Master, who had now become her adopted Father. Though the young woman had grown and matured much over the last couple of years from her first days as an acolyte, she still harbored that spirit of curiosity that drove her to seek knowledge and to unravel mysteries. She was highly attuned to the Force and its cosmic web, having spent much of her days as a maturing Sith tapped into it, to interweave it with her own soul. It was a form of worship to Revna - a way for her to be close to the presence and power of her god.

It was this desire to follow the Force and its whispers, that led her to a planet she’d never been before, one that was just beyond the Blackwall that surrounded the Holy Worlds.

Malachor V.

How and why she’d never come to the place, she wasn’t sure. But she was determined to rectify that, especially in light of what she had become after the death of Darth Strosius.

Malachor was the place of creation for perhaps one of the most infamous Sith Lords of her Order, a being so feared and in possession of enough power to utterly destroy an entire planet - one who was, unfortunately, bound to his hunger: Darth Nihilus.

Revna wondered if there was perhaps something she could glean from Malachor, that would further help her master her own Void-Hunger. It was a constant uphill battle to subdue it enough to live her day to day life - but the more she fed the Void, the more powerful its presence became within her. She silently feared that, one day, she would lose her fight against it…and become another Nihilus for the galaxy - feasting upon the very pulse of cosmic life itself.

It was an ever present temptation.

The Dark Side moved and swirled upon Malachor, a heady concoction that permeated every part of Revna’s being when her ship slipped through the atmosphere and she landed upon its surface, not too far from a blackened spire that rose to pierce the skies above. Wrapped in her sorceress robes, her lightsaber tucked away, Revna stepped from her ship to take in her surroundings. She expanded her senses, taking in everything she could, but it was nearly overwhelming even for her. The echo of death, so much death, still lingered in the shadows, in the air itself. Eyes like twin hot coals touched everything she could see, before they settled upon the spire that jutted so arrogantly into the darkened sky.

Without a word, Revna moved towards the towering structure, drawn to it like a moth to flame. Why…she wasn’t sure, but she aimed to figure that out. Her journey took some time, though she was unhurried. Eventually she reached the spire, and found her way inside. The Dark Side felt different here…alive, in a way. Restless. It made her cautiously wary but piqued her curiosity further.

Someone was here, for sure - though she couldn’t quite sense them yet. That raised a red flag in the back of her mind; her instincts told her that if someone was here, and she couldn’t sense them - then they were hiding their presence purposefully, and had the knowledge and power to do so. Still, she continued to press into the spire, alert but eager to explore - though she wrapped the shadows around her as a form of partial concealment, just in case.

Eventually, she became convinced that she wasn’t alone in this place. She couldn’t see nor truly feel the presence of whoever called these shadowed halls home…but she couldn’t shake the uncanny sensation that she was being watched.

No…not watched.

Hunted.

A faint smile curled on Revna's kohl-kissed lips at the notion. What would her dear Father say when He learned that she had slipped away and found herself in yet another dangerous situation? She could almost hear His irate ranting already, even as she slipped deeper and deeper into the darkened halls of the spire.



 




VVVDHjr.png


"A new contract."

Tags - Revna Marr Revna Marr

LE6AcRs.png

A change in the air. A rhythm out of place. The kind of tremor that only came when someone uninvited set foot where they should not. Darth Virelia followed it like a scent on the wind—soft, deliberate steps gliding through the violet gloom, each motion slow enough to be mistaken for grace rather than the calculated patience of a predator.

And then she felt it.

A pulse — not of fear, but curiosity. Desire. Hunger. It shimmered faintly at the edge of her senses, restrained yet vast. Someone had tried to bury it beneath shadows, to hide themselves from her Spire. Admirable. Futile.

Her smile bloomed like a wound.

"
Such a lovely pulse you have," she murmured to no one in particular, her voice low and silken, drifting through the corridors. "Be careful, little one. Malachor listens. It remembers what it devours."

She let her presence spill outward, slow and intoxicating, like smoke unfurling from a censer. The air thickened with her will. The violet light dimmed until it became a shade of bruised twilight. A faint fragrance—myrrh, lightning, and copper—rose from the walls themselves, her calling card.

When she finally spoke again, the sound came from everywhere and nowhere, a soft, amused echo.
"
You wear the Dark like perfume. Poorly hidden, but exquisite in intent. What are you doing in my house, dear girl?"

She emerged from the gloom as though stepping from a dream—tall, radiant in her own darkness. Her armor caught the glow of the braziers and returned it in muted amethyst; her mask was absent, her face unshadowed. The faintest curl of golden hair fell across one cheek, framing a mouth that smiled too knowingly.

Virelia tilted her head, studying Revna as if inspecting a piece of art that had wandered into her private collection. "You walk well for a trespasser." She circled the younger woman with lazy precision, her boots whispering over obsidian tile. "Most who stray here beg to submit by now. You… intrigue me."

A fingertip traced the air near
Revna's shoulder, close enough for the charge of the Force between them to hum like static. "Did you come chasing ghosts? Or are you one?"

Her tone dripped with teasing reverence—an almost purring fascination. "
This world sings to hunger. You must feel it. How it winds through bone and memory. You could drown in it, if you wished."

She stopped in front of
Revna again, violet eyes bright with mischief and something deeper. "Tell me, little wanderer… are you here to feed, or to be fed upon?"

For a heartbeat, silence. Then a smile that was both invitation and threat.

"
Either way," Virelia murmured, voice a dark caress, "you've already stepped inside the serpent's mouth. And I do so love when the prey comes willingly."

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