How to Skin a Cat

[Lira Dajenn]

[member="Marakai Al'Orren"] hunt suspended in the middle of a stark white room, black chains reaching from the ceiling and wrapping themselves around her wrists, holding her in place and binding the force away from her. Around her ankles were bound similar chains, digging into her flesh and nearly cutting off blood flow. She did not touch the ground, but was instead nearly pulled apart by the two chains holding her up.

The room around her was almost entirely barren. The walls the were pure white, the ceiling and the floor as well. Bright incandescent lighting droned on softly as it lit up the blinding room. The only objects inside of the chamber were two large tables, each covered with white linen.

Atop the linen sat a collection of blades, hooks, scalpels, and a dozen other things that one might find in a strange surgical room. Besides this the room was entirely bare, nothing and no one within except for Mara and the toys.

Suddenly loud audible clicking could be heard, the sound of heels tapping down onto limestone tile. Over and over it resounded in the hall beyond the room. Click, click, click, it went on and on until a soft hissing noise could be heard. One of the white panels straight ahead of Mara moved to the side, shifting into the wall to reveal a beautiful woman dressed entirely in black and red silks, embroidered with deep gold.

There was a smile on her face as she stepped into the room, her swagger aided by the finery that she wore.

The Queen of Rattatak stepped in front of her prisoner, her oh so special victim. This one marked the fiftieth Jedi that she and [member="Evelynn"] had tortured. This one would get something special, they had it all planned out. The cold evil smirk came across her face as she stepped to the side of Mara, waiting as the clicking noise began once again.

 

[Marakai Al'Orren]

'I need space...need time to think...'​

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But it took you weeks to come home from Eriadu, how much more time do you need?​

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'I know I'm holding you back...you don't even train...'​

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That's not fair...I want to be here. It's my choice to make.​

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'You'll believe what you want, but I do love you...'​

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But if you loved me you wouldn't be doing this. You wouldn't be pushing me away.​

Thoughts ran one after another, stark, painful memories still too close to the surface. His words, her anguish, and the things she had wanted to say but couldn't. She lashed out. Wanting him to hurt as much as he was hurting her. The wounds were raw and fresh, the blood welling up and spilling across her heart and mind.

Breathe. She just needed to breathe.

But she couldn't. Couldn't feel anything past the hollow, sonorous agony echoing in her chest that hadn't dulled or eased since the night Sarge had come home. Since the night she'd left the quarters they shared, unable to stand being close to him anymore with the gaping chasm he'd opened up between them.

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'You don't have to go...'​

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Yes I do...because I can't stand not being able to touch you. How am I supposed to stay?​

Bloodshot amber eyes opened slowly at the sound of the door hissing open. Her gaze half lidded, she lifted her head in spite of the pounding that made her vision waver and nausea threaten to overwhelm her. The room was so bright it made her vision worse as she tried to focus on the slender silk clad form sauntering towards her. She couldn't. It hurt too much.

She let her head hang down as the woman stepped to one side, silent, even as Mara tried to move and the reality of her situation began to sink in. Movement was impossible, the ache in her shoulders, wrists, and ankles telling her how tightly she was bound. Even the Force was walled away from her, still there, but tantalizingly out of reach. Her other half, her feline self...she too was unreachable, as if moored in a thick fog that she could not navigate.

There was no fear, not yet. Only the ever present pain she wasn't able to think past.

The clicking began again, drawing her gaze up towards the door, but it stopped at the sight of the pair of tables. Draped in white linen and arrayed with tools and instruments she could barely name. Like a macabre sort of table setting for a fete at the home of a wealthy sadist.

With any luck, Mara thought, closing her eyes and letting her head drop once more, they'd start by excising what was left of her heart.

 

[Louise]

It was a landmark in monstrosity.

Let's take a moment for the fourty-nine before us, the beaten, the broken and the dead, the mostly dead. Very few Jedi escaped the grasp of the Sister Queens of Rattatak with their minds intact, very few escaped period. Perhaps the ones who perished were in fact the lucky ones, the physical and mental baggage of torture is well, it's more than just baggage, it's a pair of neuranium boots, debilitating, immobilising.

So we salute you, all forty-nine for the mirth, the thrill and the sheer satisfaction that you have given your Queens.

Following a piece behind her bond sister was the silent menace. Slow methodical clicking of the heels as Evelynn made that ominous approach, but there wasn't just that neat click click click, no, if one focused their hearing enough they would hear a hiss, perhaps even a slither.

Behind the sickly blonde followed the terrifying presence of the corallus.

Hello.

Her telepathy was a chill, an uncomfortable blizzard pushed into the heads of others to unnerve and disarm, send shivers down the spine. Evelynn came right up to her suspended form, head titled upwards and cruel angular features studying their brand new toy. The venomous constrictor came to rest at the mute's feet, coiling around those spindly legs as if they were home.

How are you feeling?

A sincere question, despite it's frigid tinge.

[member="Nemene Talith"], [member="Marakai Al'Orren"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

While Evelynn began to interrogate their victim Nemene wandered over to one of the tables with torture tools on it. She ignored the snake on the floor, the thing made her skin crawl.

Slowly she wandered over to the table, running soft hands over Obsidian and durasteel blades. She touched them ever so slightly, letting her hand rest on soft white velvet while her sister spoke. With a smile she lifted one of the smaller blades from the white table cloth, a scalpel with a black tipped knife, and Obsidian blade that came to the smallest point possible. She smiled and then let it spin in her palm.

It was not time for cutting yet, but it would be soon.

She placed the scalpel back onto the table, smiling and reaching into a small pouch under her sash. From it she pulled a small wooden box ornately carved with creatures of all sorts. Nemene looked at it longingly almost, then placed it on the table nearest to her victim. She would need these later.

Slowly the Queen of Rattatak regarded their victim again, her eyes holding a sinister glow.
[member="Evelynn"] [member="Marakai Al'Orren"]