Private Goths in the Sun

[Beatrice Govan]

Coruscant.

It had everything.

From the mundane to the exotic, if one was looking for something then the social epicentre of the galaxy was usually the first port of call. Nothing too innocent or depraved here. Peel back the normality of the high street and retail wonderland of the surface and reveal the realms of vice and death that lay beneath. It didn't matter who held the planet in an ever-temporary grasp, Coruscant always had what you needed.

In this case, a limb.

After a troublesome encounter with a certain green twi'lek, Evelynn Zambrano found herself lacking something. Namely her right hand and forearm. There were worse things to lose, your mind, your will, both hands even but it was still a rather bothersome inconvenience.

Cybernetics had been the first port of call, ultimately a waste of time. Most replacements worth having for a Sith's purpose did not bear in mind the physical strength of an emaciated creature such as herself. Too heavy and cumbersome to be of any immediate use to her cadaverous frame.

Surely it would not have been so out of the question for one of the Sith Emperor's daughters to have something suitable custom-made? It was, indeed, an option but in the very same breath it was an option that required confession in failure, how unfit for duty would she have seemed to come crawling home having already lost a limb?

Out of the question.

The last remaining option bar learning to live with the handicap delved into the arcane. Alchemy. A modicum of careful prodding was required, vague inquiries tossed into Coruscant's abyss seeking those outside of her father's circle that could deal with such a predicament.

Eventually, she had it. A Sith not associated with the Empire and a place to meet, a penthouse suite in a jarringly tall tower.

Prideful urgings were discarded as she ascended the tower in the decadent elevator with Evelynn having chosen to dress somewhat modestly for the appointment. Nobility in black. Bare bones with no frills, capes or anything that seemed. It very much lacked the grandiose drama that often accompanied the name Zambrano.

Her slight frame and blonde hair seemed to blend into the very décor of black marble and gold, something that might have been found amusing were she not forced to come here due to her own incompetence. The stump of her right arm was left uncovered and by her side as the remaining skeletal left hand rapped on the door with clipped polite tones.

Knock knock knock.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The door opened without means, but noone was there to greet her. Evelynn would be free to walk into the Penthouse - unaccosted by maids, guards, or even a cleaning robot. Large and beautiful, the room was an immaculate display of wealth she likely hadn’t seen since her time at her Father’s palace; yet this was far denser in terms of worth. Black marble floors reflected everything from below, and the various furniture pieces matches minimalistically.​

​

All around her was the room of a Sith with influence, but the man that walked around the corner pouring himself a drink was hardly anything but a Sith. Black, wavy hair that was tied into a ponytail behind his head, and stark blue eyes that wandered up Evelynn’s form, only to be confused by her face, her presence. For a moment, he shook his head, stopped pouring his drink, and glanced to a distant wall -​

​

“What the-”, he began, but was quickly cut off.​

​

“Suprise! I brought a guest!”, Cybele, the AI of the IGBC spoke up with a waif like chortle. Dorian, the banker before her, grimaced as he glanced back.​

​

“You realize you brought a Zambrano, don’t you?”, he said as though Evelynn weren’t even in the room.​

​

“I do. Enjoy!”, the AI mocked back.​

​

Dorian seemed to scowl as he looked back to the girl, downing what parts of his drink he poured and setting them down on the table. When he looked back, his hair began to fade - his face changed and malformed, and his eyes lost that blue shade for the more direct golden corruption they were known for. Before her was Darth Maliphant by the time he reached her, alabaster hair and full of spiteful resentment.​

​

He glared down at the girl as he crossed his arms;​

​

“What do you want?”, he said with a slight annoyance, before glancing to her missing hand.​

​

“Need a hand?”, he mused. A good pun. Somehow, he hoped Cybele was recording - he’d play that back for himself later.​

​

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Severe features flashed with annoyance as the door opened on its own accord without anybody to greet her. Quite a feat to be so ominous and yet so rude at the same time. Alas, the self-opening door was going to be the only invitation offered to enter, so it would have to be taken.

At least the grandiosity of the décor made the penthouse apartment feel like home, even if she held a lot more spartan tendencies than her father.

Then she encountered man, and it was not the man the Sith Apprentice had been expecting. Oh, it was going to be one of those days? How wonderful. Just what she had hoped for in this venture, for her temper to be tested. Wasn't that just grand?

This was proven to be true as instead of finally being greeted, the man decided to argue with his artificial intelligence as if she weren't even in the room. She, the daughter of the damned Sith Emperor! This didn't happen very often and was reflected by the truly outraged and dumbfounded way her face sat in observation of it all.

Mercifully, Evelynn had the wit not to just suddenly explode into an indignant mess right there and then, although the temptation was great. A good thing too, as the apparent complete twit shifted before her very eyes, parting with the mundane and resembling the Sith that she had in fact come here to see and gosh, didn't he look just as irritated.

What a fantastic way to begin affairs.

“Well, yes, actually,” she responded stiffly before having to bite her tongue and relegate snide words to the realm of thoughts.

I was under the impression that you were aware of this.

“I was rather hoping that your considerable alchemical talents could be utilised in crafting a new limb,” she responded, peering up at him with a lofted eyebrow, a certain amount of bile gathering in her throat as she attempted to keep things polite, “I am here simply on my own behalf, regardless of any quarrel held with my family.”

It really wasn't a helpful surname to carry around at times.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Maliphant furrowed his brow, seeming more disgusted than intrigued by her presence. Even her words, forced as they were - dripping with artificial sugar - he gave nothing to her. A few strands of alabaster hair fell in his face as he got a little closer to her, suddenly sniffing at the air -​

​

“A Zambrano has a distinct smell.”, he whispered, keeping his face just an inch from hers.​

​

“I never did much care for it.”​

​

Sighing, he took a step back and moved to grab another drink - pouring and downing it before Evelynn had a chance to respond. His head shook, and he took a moment to consider what he’d do next - possibly for a moment, Evelynn’s life hung in the balance. And yet, he didn’t strike her down, simply turned and squinted;​

​

“So you came to one of the most wanted men in your father’s Empire, for what? An arm?”, he said with a big disbelief.​

​

“Not to report me back to your ‘Empire’?”​

​

He groaned.​

​

“Honestly, I should just kill you now and be done with this.”​

​

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Keeping an impassive expression while he apparently sniffed her distinct odour turned out to be one of the more difficult trials of the day thus far. Brow demanded to furrow, and lip to curl as her personal space was so rudely invaded, even an urge to step backwards had to be smothered as the woman stood her ground in the face of such annoyance.

Was this going to be worth the hassle? Perhaps clunky cybernetics had been the best option all along, it would have bypassed the blows to the ego and the suspicion cast from squabbling Sith affairs.

Now he was talking about killing her. How wonderful.

“By the Force,” Evelynn finally responded in exclamation, eyes widened in sheer exasperation as she failed to wrestle with demure composure, “I'll off myself if you keep this up.”

It turns out being meek did have its advantages, you generally knew when to speak and how to do it respectfully. Such a trait would have been handy in this situation, stroke ego and pacify paranoia. Alas, she'd opened her mouth now.

“Ah yes, father. I have so much to report,” she continued with a very false politeness, "Darth Maliphant sits in his apartment and binge drinks. How fascinating!”

A scoff, before the sharp tirade continued against far better judgement. He could very easily murder her in an instant, but composure was difficult in such a trying environment and well, at least she knew what was awaiting her in the Netherworld.

“Despite what you may believe, I do not lop parts of myself off in the name of Sith espionage,” no, there were far more pleasurable reasons to do that, “I have come to you at great risk to myself because you are immeasurably talented in your craft. Force forbid, if my Father knew that I was here then he would likely kill me himself.”

Holding up the stump, Evelynn gave it a small and irritated wave, reiterating the very reason she was stood here in the face of her own second mortality.

“So yes. An arm.”

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Evelynn spoke unbeholden to her manners, and Maliphant glanced to watch her rant. She spoke with a mix of emotion, even some reason - but the tone she had taken was of poor choice. As her words went off, Maliphant offered no emotion back; yet he put his glass down with care, reached into his pocket…​

​

As Evelynn finished the word ‘Arm’, she’d find a hand on the back of her neck - cradling her cheek as a thumb stroked across it; but against the other side of her neck, the hilt of a lightsaber began to place a heavy imprint into that soft flesh. Before she could even react, Maliphant had not only drawn a lightsaber, but closed the distance to her, and now looked over her expression with an odd mixture of predatory hunger, and seething anger.​

​

His voice came slow, quiet, nigh on a whisper that dripped with harsh venom;​

​

“Walking into the Lion’s Den, with such a tongue?”, he said as his grip tightened on the nape of her neck.​

​

“My, how brave of you, Lamb.”, his hot breath was rolling across her skin, and with it came that overwhelming pressure of the Force - in its form, he reeked of Dark Side corruption. His lips curled into a smile, cruel as it was -​

​

“Apologize, and I will consider what you ask of me.”​

​

“I’ll even put it on - instead of beating you to death for your hubris.”​

​

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

There it was, regret in all of its instantaneous glory.

One hand a tender caress while the other played executioner. Second death a mere press of a button away. Breath caught in her throat with features frozen in the moment as if one errant movement would be the bitter end. Oh, the fragility of life.

Once upon a time and an apology would have been stammered out before it had even been demanded, his malicious presence enough to instil complete terror in her core.

A time not so long ago and she would have begged for such punishment with blatant disregard for mortality. It would have been a truly disgusting spectacle to witness, with all sense of pride shed upon the ground, no wish deeper than to see her own crimson spilled alongside it.

Pleasure in pain.

Even now the concept held a muted desire in her soul and it seemed as if the slightest flicker of a smile made attempt to creep upon her lip.

“Very well.”

Mercifully for all parties neither of those ridiculous and pitiful girls were Evelynn Zambrano any longer. No, she held her pride now and like so many Sith before her had to be prepared to pay for her arrogance. Even if such humbling experiences were excruciating.

“I apologise for my brazen insolence,” the Apprentice said rather tersely, her face cast in expressionless stone and the words turning to acidic bile in her mouth, “and I would greatly appreciate what assistance you could grant me.”

The self-disgust was almost too much to bear, shame burning at the forefront of her mind as she inwardly vowed to terrorise a lesser being at the next available opportunity.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

For a few moments, Maliphant simply stared at her. His expression was cold and calloused, judgemental in its apathy for her life - and the molten golden eyes of a Sith stared deeper, sharper than Evelynn would perhaps hope. There was a danger in them unlike most Sith, that iconic predatory expression that Maliphant had become known for.​

​

A final stroke of his thumb across her cheek, a momentary jerk of her head to remind her who was in control, and he let go - though he kept the Lightsaber pointed at her as he took a step back. How long had it been since he’d had to put on that ‘display’? Maliphant was an identity, and a terrifying one when he needed it to be;​

​

But it felt more unnatural now than ever.​

​

The Sith gave a slight scowl as he turned back, resting the lightsaber back in its place in his pocket; and he finally spoke as he found a seat, though notably didn’t offer her one.​

​

“Then tell me, who cut off your arm?”​

​

For a moment, in their embrace, he had felt something familiar. A shock of a soul he was familiar with, had helped to throw off the path of the Jedi; a certain Twi’lek he had appreciate, if only for a short time. Despite his familiarity with it, Maliphant didn’t betray his curiosity past that expressionless, almost lazy gaze at her.​

​

“And what would you have this arm do for you?”, he asked again with a cocked brow.​

​

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

The long pause. A certified classic often employed by Sith with the express purpose of drawing out whatever malice was the flavour of the moment. In this case, it was her humiliation that was spread thin as the man let her apology linger in the air far longer than was necessary.

Well, that and the threat of death.

The Apprentice did not look him in the eye as the charade continued, keeping everything perfectly frozen as his dominant carnivorous presence bared down upon her muted cadaver of a soul. Was avoiding eye contact meek enough for his approval or disrespectful enough for his ire? No doubt whichever she chose, it would have been wrong, the price to pay for belonging to the wrong bloodline.

After the Sith Lord was satisfied with his superiority they could actually continue with some form of purpose.

“A twi'lek with some strong feelings regarding slavery.”

Should have been enough, it was the who and the why and that was as much as Evelynn wished to divulge. Crowing about a suffering-fuelled Force bond to a malicious Sith Lord didn't feel particularly wise and while perhaps Darth Maliphant would have been a font of wisdom on the very subject his evident distaste for her existence doubted any helpfulness on his part.

For the briefest of moments the Emperor's daughter pondered about dearest Wrenarias, the green-skinned twit had been shot recently. Evelynn knew. She had felt it too.

“I...”

Blink.

Don't have a clue.

Oh. Not now. The woman hadn't budged from where he had left her, stare set in the very same place as to prevent any further derision and forced apologies but it would all be for nought if she didn't have some kind of coherent answer to give. She could already hear a venom-laced response in the silence of her hesitation and lack of knowledge.

“...don't know, I have no expertise in this realm. What can you make it do?”

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Anything, Lamb.”, he said with a sudden annoyance.​

​

Maliphant rested his drink on the table and motioned her forward - whether willingly or not. The Force would enforce his will, and when she stood next to him, he would untie the end of the sleeve used to cover her severed arm, and pull back the fabric to get a glance at it himself. As he seemed to size it up, he glanced back up to her -​

​

“So you came to one of the best alchemists in the galaxy…”, he said as his hands ran across the remains of the limb, feeling the sinew beneath the skin.​

​

“... for an arm, and you have no idea what you want it to do.”, Maliphant said with a sigh, seeming to surrender himself to the ignorance of a child.​

​

“Don’t the Sith have alchemists that could make this? I hear that… Darth Raaf, or whatever her name is - is the right regular. Would that have not been preferable?”​

​

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Thus the indignities continued, as she was summoned towards him like some hapless puppet in need of repair. Not inaccurate, but it was still a feeling that made the woman wish to turn inside out and spontaneously combust.

Pride really was folly.

Jaw became terse, highlighting the gaunt shadows of her anaemic face as the alchemist chided her further. If patience was a virtue, was in improper of a Sith to value it? Regardless of such questions, the once-dead woman searched her pit of soul for just a mere scrap the illusive virtu-

“No.”

It was a constipated answer.

“I assure you that I am considered quite useless amongst the Sith,” Evelynn stated with that severe jaw still set in granite, “and so I hold little desire to show face and prove their expectations correct,” if you can't beat them, then apparently you join them in berating yourself, “and this does not even factor the retribution at my Father's hands for continuing to be such a failure despite being 'fixed'.”

Her tones were clipped and matter-of-fact despite the fact that they stung a little to be said out loud. It was too vulnerable and it filled her mouth with metaphorical kind of bile, but before Darth Maliphant could pull out his tiny violin to mock any further, she continued.

“This life of purpose and ambition, I must admit, is wholly unfamiliar to me and as much as it pains me to require aid, you are the best and I want the best.”

As if she were prematurely hiding from his no-doubt acidic response the woman snapped her eyes shut and let loose an exhale born of pure frustration.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Of that, I have no doubt.”, Maliphant refused to argue her self depreciation.​

​

If she couldn’t have pride in herself, then why should he? For that matter, even if she did have pride in herself, wasn’t it his duty to undermine her to inflate his? So was the way of the Sith, a constant game of posturing - a shame Evelynn hadn’t learned that yet.​

​

At the mention of ambition, however, Maliphant subsided. He let go of her arm, and leaned back in his chair - crossing his legs as he glanced back up to her; as though studying something she couldn’t notice. His golden eyes danced across her emaciated features, before he signed it with a heavy exhale;​

​

“At least you understand that much.”, he mused to himself. Ambition was a good trait, even if it was done out of spite.​

​

“Fine. Then how do you intend to pay me?”​

​

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

With the verbal self-flagellation over, the matter at hand could be returned to. He could be content in her proclaimed impotence and she could scream inside of a cupboard later on to save some kind of emotional face.

“I cannot imagine that you have much use for credits,” Evelynn replied, indicating to the majesty of the room around them with her remaining hand, “but if you prefer conventional payment then that I can manage.”

The word 'however' seemed to linger in the room without even being spoken, and this was evident by the sudden grim turn her lips took. A frown in anticipation.

“If not, then you will have to name your price. What is it exactly that you want?” the Apprentice asked, her emerald eyes finally shifting to meet his corrupted gaze, “Please be realistic, I cannot promise you that I will slit my sleeping father's throat in exchange for this arm.”

It would be a waste of his considerable talents if she were to perish right after.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“You’d be correct.”, Wyatt offered with a coy smile.​

​

And yet, she wouldn’t name a price. She danced between ‘slitting her father’s throat’ and just trying to acquiesce to what he wanted; but that wasn’t good enough. Maliphant didn’t work for his prices, he worked for theirs. With that same predatory smile, he stood and wrapped his hands around either side of her neck;​

​

Though it was gentle, either bracing her face to look up to him;​

​

“It isn’t about what I want, Lamb.”, he offered in a tone that dripped of molten silver.​

​

“It’s about what you’re willing to part with.”, Maliphant spoke with that mixture of sultry inclinations, and a dangerous predatory nature that seemed more akin to kill her than kiss her. His grip tightened for a moment before he reiterated himself;​

​

“Pick. Your. Price.”​

​

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

There was something distantly comforting about his hands around her throat. A tender touch willing to turn violent at a moment's notice, its haunting familiarity stirring memories both bitter and cherished. Just to feel you s q u e e z e.

Oh, there it is.

Hedonistic memories of a girl that no longer was were pushed back to their deserved abyss as the Lamb stared back at the Lion, considering the cost that would be so appropriate. It didn't summon fear, not in the way that it should have, in fact, she almost appreciated the beauty in the exchange. Lose something to gain something. With such a price you'd never be complete. A nefarious cycle.

Evelynn Zambrano knew what she would part with.

A smile was offered, perfectly placid on its own but with the way she stared at her carnivore it was wonderfully deliberate.

“Then I offer you my tongue.”

It was one of the first things the alchemist had commented on, after all.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Maliphant smiled, glanced over Evelynn’s features, and laughed - slow though, as though each guffaw was considered and thought. He tapped her face lightly with his fingers, then let go;​

​

“Then its your tongue I’ll take.”, he offered, finding his seat once more.​

​

“Go, make yourself at home in the guest room. Tonight, we’ll begin the process of acclimating you to the strains the alchemic prosthetic will take.”, he offered with a tap of his finger to his jaw.​

​

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

“Wonderful,” Evelynn replied softly, offering the alchemist a brief nod before departing immediately in search of the guest room. There was little use in milling around now that there was agreement lest his hands appear upon her throat once more.

She had her own preparations to make.

Life without a tongue was not something oft volunteered for. It was usually reserved as an ironic punishment to those that were found flirting with the truth or spreading the wrong propaganda. A brutal practise served only to make a succinct point.

You talk too much.

Perhaps the cruel and unusual punishment needed to be doled out more often. Wouldn't it solve so many problems? Rid the world of so many useless voices that screamed into the abyss, blabbering about the insignificant nature of their lives, as if they mattered. Nervous jabber that filled the void in perfectly good silence. Wouldn't it be so much better if they didn't have a voice? So pleasant. So peaceful.

You'd prefer that, no?

Evelynn Dorn had already lived the life of the voiceless, the girl of a past life having had her vocal cords sliced out at her father's request. She had a stutter and it was deemed as a bothersome weakness. Cruel, perhaps, but not entirely without worth. Talking was troublesome, after all. It lead to spilt secrets and absolute arrogance, it had almost gotten her killed on this very day. Force forbid that the Jedi ever learn to stop talking, however, they might have gotten something done.

Besides, she had learned telepathy once before and she would do it again, like slipping into an old glove and so as she waited for the evening to come, the Sith Apprentice sat within the guest room and got reacquainted with her inner-voice.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

A waif’s cybernetic tones greeted Evelynn from the wall, greeting the Sith with an odd uplifting experssion;​

​

“Good evening, Evelynn. Darth Maliphant has requested our presence in the back of the building - in the Sith Meditation Chamber.”, and along the floor a set of lights began to flash in the direction she was supposed to go.​

​

When she got there, a large obsidian block moved aside; driven by no mechanical force, but The Force itself. Inside, Maliphant stood - dawning loose fitting black pants that tighten at the calf; and tucked into them was a loose fitting black shirt, rolled up to his elbows as he worked a mortar and pestle. His electrum gaze moved to her for a moment, and a ringed finger motioned to the table in the center of the room - Black and infinite as the door that moved aside a moment before.​

​

The room was covered in glowing red Sith symbols, a conduit for the Dark Side energies that even a non force user could sense - as thick as miasmic as it was. Maliphant’s voice came quiet, far less lustful than it was before - but it carried authority now, one that the Sith Lord deserved for his efforts.​

​

“Strip. Lay on the table.”, he offered as he removed his rings and began a slow walk towards the table with the black liquid in his mortar.​

​

When she did so, he would use his finger to paint lines across her body - with an intrinsic set of lines moving towards what remained of her arm. The alchemic solution seemed to pull the heat from her body, making the already cold room ever colder - driving a chill up her spine as he walked around her to; as though to make sure all the lines were where they needed to be.​

​

A second later, Maliphant wandered off, only to come back with a Cybernetic Hand; golden, but one that wouldn’t articulate. It was stiff, one solid piece of electrum that one couldn’t deny had worth, but no practical use. Maliphant rested it against her the skin of her arm; and glanced over the nude woman before looking into her eyes, an idle hand brushing stray hairs from her head.​

​

“Are you ready?”​

​

Beatrice Govan​

​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Having been guided by the surprisingly upbeat (if not a touch rebellious) AI system to the foreboding chamber, Evelynn couldn't quite help but take a moment to marvel at the alchemist's set up. The deep thrumming omen of the room itself reverberating in her own quickening heartbeat. It crawled upon her skin like probing fingers and made the air around her seem thick and suffocating.

But despite what seemed like unpleasantness, there was something oddly comforting about it, like a sense of home.

There were little protests to his orders as the Apprentice awkwardly shed her clothing with one hand. This was his realm, after all, to not listen would be an exercise in absolute foolishness and in truth Evelynn's nudity made her no less vulnerable than she already was in his hands.

It was a macabre sight as she lay there being marked for ceremony, the black lines accompanied by such a frail form, the protrusion of bone from sallow flesh displaying sickening physical frailty that screamed afflicted. As the heat left her form, one might have considered Evelynn a corpse, body crying out for warmth in their preparations.

The arm itself was an admirable sight, it's golden temperament befitting for one of supposed status. She actually even liked it on appearance alone, praying that its function would be worth the loss of her tongue.

“Yes,” came the appropriately serious response as she looked to him, emeralds filled with both dreading anticipation and wicked determination.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Maliphant’s eyes looked at her more like a slab of meat - even something more plastic than person. In those golden eyes reflection, she wasn’t a person; more a canvas for his experimentation, and that was exactly what he would do. His only acknowledgement was a slight ‘Hmm’ before the Sith Lord moved to rest a hand on her head.​

​

In a wave, she would feel his power press through her skull - and just as quickly, she would be immobilized. Her muscles would not react to movements, and even her lungs began to stop; or at least, they felt like they had. She didn’t however, pass out, only able to move her eyes about to watch him - Maliphant resting both hands on the table as he lowered his face a touch closer to hers;​

​

“For this to work, you cannot move; so I put you under a spell.”, he said with a dead pan expression.​

​

“And yet - for the limb to know you, to know your darkness…”, Maliphant idled as he got a touch closer, as though having to get a closer look into her eyes.​

​

“... It has to know your pain.”​

​

In a rush, she would feel it - Maliphant had cut what remained of her arm free of its joint, and blood began to pool across the table. Despite all the adrenaline no doubt rushing through her nervous system, nothing would react, and Maliphant took on a vaguely cruel grin - dipping his finger in her blood and bringing it to his lips.​

​

“Try and enjoy yourself, Evelynn… This won’t be over soon.”​

​

And it wouldn’t.​

​

Beatrice Govan​