Seraphina Shel'tah
Kinky Darth Pinky
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGCsyshUU-A
"One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them."
Planet: PanathaLocation: Vain Hollow Citadel
Time: Morning
The smell of the palace was acrid, pungent, pervasive. It was something the Twi'lek could hardly get used to. This place, as magnificent as it was, simply left the woman feeling as if life itself was being snuffed out, replaced by the weight of dead air beneath a smothering coffin. She rarely slept well, as indicated by the heavy dark rims beneath her gentle green eyes, though as of late had seemingly begun to harden and darken into a twisted hue of growing disdain for the world around her and the lack of order this untamed galaxy stumbled about within. The woman scoffed, feeling the tension in her mind rising once more. Lately she had found herself becoming short of patience and heavy on temper each and every time she found herself disappointed or hindered.
Sure, the shackles that once bound her person no longer adorned her hands, yet they were still ever present in her mind, bogged down by incomplete memories, a lasting impression of torture, and an ever growing desire for vengeance. The collar around her neck was a firm reminder of the danger she continued to pose to those around her. Her uncertainty and cloudiness of her own mind kept the woman at risk of potentially harming [member="Darth Vornskr"] and others.
Seraphina's indoctrination into the Sith had been slow at best, and at worst, painful. A number of scars decorated her once flawless form, traveling everywhere from shoulder to back, legs, and arms. Restless nights followed longer days. Relearning that which was never truly known save for false memories was a daunting task, a task made monumentally larger by her own stubbornness to follow through to perfection.
While inside the woman was standing on the precipice of collapse, outwards she projected a composed, determined, and strong willed fighter with limitless ability and insurmountable fears. Perhaps a remnant of her old Jedi life still imbued deep in her core. Sera had come into a bit of a daily routine, finding herself sitting in a cross-legged fashion in the center of the largest of the citadel's gardens under deep meditation. It was the one and only place that anyone could hope to escape the smell of death and decay that permeated throughout the rustic combination of stone and durasteel that comprised the Zambrano palace. Rarely did anyone ever bother her here. The lesser servants were forbidden from deviating from their daily duties, and those above them typically found more interesting things to busy themselves with than to bother with such trivial things such as flowers. The Twi'lek however found her center, her balance here. Meditation, and even acting as the keeper of said garden kept her sanity in check and even gave her the bit of happiness needed to anchor herself to the ground and drive out the demons that ached to escape her soul.