I Want to be More Like You

[Darth Ophidia]

Breath reverberated through the room with her exhale. She opened her eyes, dark eyelids giving way among ashen skin to reveal her burning irises. She had awoken from meditation, or was it perhaps a dream, or a vision? She did not quite know. Her eyes glided over the dark room, lit only by candles that cast flickering shadows on the stone walls. The scent of the burnt candles and warm stone filled the air like a perfume that whispered sweet words of home.

Sand shifted under her form as she leaned over and snatched a silken robe from the sandy floor, shook it, and slipped it on. Strong, shapely legs pushed her up to her full height. Her hands slipped out of the end-sleeves of the robe; one ashen grey, one black like ink with a swirling texture to its skin. The silk lining caressed her upper arms and swallowed up the arcing lightning-scar that dominated her back and upper arms, leaving only the branch that reached up over the back of her head.

She had other scars as well, many of them at this point. Some were faded old lines from her days before the Sith, she hardly paid them any heed. One was a broad cut down the side of her right shoulder where she was first cut with a lightsabre. On her chin, a patch of scarred skin attested to an old duel where a Jedi nearly took her head off. She had dark bruises from where the rocks had nearly crushed her on Lujo. In her palms, she could feel the calluses from her blades and the aching corruption of the dark side of the Force. Though she fared much better than some, she was far from untouched by its wear and tear.

Her eyes peered over the candle-lit form of herself as it was swallowed up in the silken robe. Beneath the scars were lean, rippling muscle, pulsing blood and organs. Some less vital organs had long since seized to work, she knew when she touched her abdomen that there would never be new life inside her. To many, this infertility would be shame, sadness, even despair. To Darth Ophidia, Saiah, Tikzha, Maica Pec, whoever she was, it was a sweet relief.

Her life was dedicated to death.

This day, she took a crucial step towards that dedication. She closed the silk robe and pulled the belt taut around her slender waist. Staring at the doors before her, she placed one bare foot before the other on the sandy floor.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Sand crunched beneath the soles of her feet, clung to the pale skin and climbed the crevices between her toes like little mountaineers. With each step she took, the candles extinguished themselves in a puff of silent smoke. The smoke, it trailed behind her, adopting the slithering form of her patron in the darkness that now clung to her scarred back and silken robe. She could hear it whisper to the shadow of her mind, sweet encouragement, and leaving seeds of violence in intangible kisses at the nape of her neck where the scar from Contruum split into fingers to grasp the socket of her skull. She had married once, but it was not the groom by her side she had taken to be her lover, it was violence. She loved none other. Though robes fluttered behind her, her soul was clad in sticky, red blood.

Once she was just outside of arm's reach from the tall double doors that had once sealed her in, she exhaled a focused plume of air. Without a twitch of a finger, the doors cracked open with a chorus of creaking metal and falling dust, brilliant light stabbed through the gap and pierced her eyes painfully. Yet, she pressed on undaunted. The pupils of her eyes narrowed to grant her vision. Behind her, the darkness swallowed her chamber like the maw of a great Sarlacc. The floor shifted from sand to cold, hard stone.

"My- Milady! We are not yet done, you must rest before the operation!"

She could almost feel the wind of his breath from metres away. Her left hand swished up, a black finger extending in a hushing gesture. The bright light of the laboratorium truly brought out the texture of her arm. In her palm, her skin seemed to open like a blossom. Out poked a white shout, then a pair of red eyes. The white serpent coiled back and slithered past her extended finger and onto her arm. It climbed over the skin and silk until it finally could crest around the Sith Lord's neck. Ophidia's hand fell back to her side; her chin turned to the right and she placed a kiss on the head of the white serpent.

"Nagajj, mia carullo."

Ophidia and the Nagajj turned their eyes to the physician in perfect unison. They could feel the shudder of fear travel through his body, the bile rising up the back of his throat, and the admiration of the strange and wonderful things the Sith were capable of, all conflict for his body. His eyes turned down as Ophidia half closed her eyes.

"Doctor... Sven, yes?"

She inhaled through her nostrils and moistened her top lip, revealing the split end of her tongue.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"... Yes."

The serpent's face turned to the right, away from Sven the physician. Its purple tongue darted out of its mouth as it arced its body tall upon the shoulders of Darth Ophidia. Its cruel eyes stared at an intern, a Chiss, who held onto a datapad tightly and bit her lip. Fear leaked from her body like a sweet perfume and the Nagajj begun swaying back and forth. Its unblinking stare fixed on the female intern. She could also sense a tension rising in Sven as the serpent's gaze lingered on the beautiful, blue skinned creature. Chiss always did well, they were very devoted to their tasks.

"How much more time do you need, Sven? I grow impatient."

Her fingers curled and the intern skidded closer to her on stiff legs, letting out a subdued squeak and hiding her face behind the datapad. The Nagajj swiftly swooped down and curled around her shoulders in an embrace before turning its gaze upon Sven. Ophidia could feel her shuddering, hear her ragged breath. The burning eyes of the Rattataki turned to the female Chiss.

"I- I need another day at the least, and with full staff! Milady, I still do not quite understand the purpose of all this, but if you are doing what I expect you are, then I implore you to reconsi-."

Once more her left hand darted up, her finger making a clear hushing gesture against Sven. His words cut off immediately as he had long since understood the dire consequences of dealing with such a fickle caste as the Sith. Their methods were strange, unpredictable, even mad at times. Yet, their successes were undeniable. From there, the extended finger turned deliberately towards the Chiss.

"A day, you say. At the least. I wonder what this one thinks. Is she valuable to you? Clever, I bet."

Darth Ophidia traced a black fingernail down the girl's forehead, and the datapad clattered to the floor. Red eyes stared into nothingness and her jaw clenched; beads of sweat were pumped out of the blue skin as the Sith invaded the beautiful mind of the Chiss intern. She didn't fight much, and soon stood slack-jawed, practically drooling. Ophidia was careful in her intrusion, making sure she did not break anything.

"Oh yes, very clever, and very sweet. No doubt a talent, even among her own."

"Yes, Milady. Very talented, my best intern. She is priceless, a prodigy, even."

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Ophidia's finger traced back and forth as she browsed through the girl's memories. She could see a boy, holding hands. She could see dreams of a bright future for the Chiss, and she saw grievance and loss of family. The blue girl drew short, rapid breaths as Ophidia pried into the deeper, darker portions of her consciousness. She could see the fear that gripped her soul and the most shameful moments of her thus short life, before suddenly removing her finger and her influence from the girl entirely.

"Twenty four standard hours. I want spectacular results, Doctor."

The Chiss intern stood completely stiff, a hue of paleness coming over her skin as her lip quivered and eyes blinked feverishly. If it was not for the Nagajj's support, the girl would likely have fallen to the floor. Only when it seemed she could stand on her own did the white serpent double back and rest on its maker's shoulder. Ophidia traced a finger over the Nagajj's head, caressing its white scales as she stepped past Sven and his intern and left them to their work.

"Do not disappoint me."

Sven breathed a sigh of relief and dabbed his forehead with a cloth before pulling his intern in for a hug. He had once had his mind probed as well, and in remembrance of the misery he could only begin to offer some mild comfort. Sven needed her, or he would never get the breakthrough the Sith required him to make. He had come to care for the chiss like a daughter of the mind, a prodigy.

"Come, we have work to do."

Darth Ophidia clasped her hands behind her back as she strode through the lab. Wherever she cast her eyes, others turned their glance down. They way she carried herself as near regal. Her bald head and stern expression sat atop a slender neck that made her seem just a little taller. Her back was straight, promising a strength of character. Yet the sway of her hips and fluidity of her motion proved that she was not rigid. Her walk was like that of a predator, and all around her were prey.

Her saunter brought her past the main labs and into a refrigerated area. In her light clothing, she could feel the sting of the cold on her skin. Had she hair, then it would be standing in high in an attempt to warm her. However, she did not. The Rattataki simply bore the pain, embraced it and made it her own. Her quiet footfalls carried her to a collection of capsules. She wiped her hand over one of the fogged glass viewports and gazed into the frozen face beneath.

 

[Nan'eth'illa]

Cold, still, kept floating in suspension between life and death. Her wakefulness suspended. Yet, deep in the slumber there was a consciousness longing to burst back into the galaxy. She, barely present, had slept, slumbered completely encased in the solitude of her snug chamber. In her slumber, the Chiss had nearly forgotten herself, nearly lost her self awareness. Then she felt something: There was a presence, hot and cold at once - familiar yet alien. She wanted to shiver and she wanted to reach.

Csen'ai?

Had she remembered her eyes, then she would open them. All she knew in this state of suspension was the subtle presence of the Force. With the presence now standing before her, the Force rippled like the ocean under a heavenly lash. Deep down in her dormant core, she felt a desire, a need to take, to claim, to own.

Her form lay still; skin cold and blue, slender, young and ripe with toned muscle and a face familiar to the one gazing through the transparisteel. The similarity was uncanny despite their very different genetic origins. Had this been why she was chosen? The chamber gave a beep of alarm as the frozen consciousness strayed too far from her self and threatened to detach and bring the body into out of its fragile balance. In reaction, an airborne sedative was pumped through the tubes and into her flesh; liquid sleep.

The storm abated, or did it simply grow distant? She could not tell. The slumber took her once again. She forgot.