Private It's Time To Cook

[Darth Virelia]

"Genius Minds."

Tags - Vakhari Lutris

Malachor V hummed like a wounded animal, a subsonic ache that lived in stone and marrow. Lightning bled sideways across a slate-green sky, crawling the edges of shattered spires and collapsed temples like a memory that refused to die. The air tasted of iron and old engines. Far below the jagged horizon, the obsidian plains were veined with fault-glow—hairline fractures that pulsed, faint and patient, as if the planet still remembered the Mass Shadow's hand and wanted it back.

Virelia stood at the lip of a partially excavated amphitheater, a black ellipse bitten into the bedrock. Tyrant's Embrace rippled and settled with each breath: liquid obsidian frozen into ridged geometry, an exosculpted dominion made manifest. Six narrow, violet eyes burned on her helm's smooth faceplate, shifting with that uncanny, insect-precise awareness that spooked lesser minds and thrilled the dangerous ones. A hood of matte synthcloth draped over the helm and shoulders—mourning garb for a galaxy she intended to rule. At her sternum, the crystalline node beat a slow pulse of amaranth light. The runic filigree spidering outward answered in kind, glyphs breathing with her, quiet as a threat.

Wind crawled the amphitheater's edge. Her cape answered—layered synthweave whispering as its hidden tendrils flexed, testing the air like patient vipers before subsiding. She did not move for a long while. Malachor spoke in tremors; she listened in stillness.

The last time she had stood in a space with Vakhari, there had been heat enough to warp metal and chemical. Furnaces roared; alchemical kilns sobbed sparks; the ritual array drank blood and gave back geometry. Vakhari's hands—clever, unapologetic—had drawn lattices across diagrams that bent language to need. Where engineers stalled on tolerances, she wrote new tolerances. Where sorcerers demanded omen and obedience, she demanded proof—then extracted it with a laugh like a scalpel's glint. Together, they had made something obscene and beautiful: the Tyrant's Embrace, a grammar of control hammered into armor.

A line of glowlights winked alive along the amphitheater's inner ring, responding to her thought. Construction servitors paused, aware enough to be afraid. The ring would become a dais, the dais a court, the court a gravity well for ambition. Let them come and burn. Let them bring genius or die for lack of it.

The planet growled. Out beyond the broken teeth of the skyline, a ship shaped like an accusation slid from the cloud-deck, matte-black shadow against bruised green.

She let anticipation touch her. Briefly. A curl of pleasure at the coming of a mind that made good trouble. Virelia admired the ruthless generosity of Vakhari's craft: not a maker of trinkets, but of leverage. The galaxy had too many fools. It needed authors.

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Darth Virelia

As to be expected, she had of course arrived on time... A little earlier than expected in fact. Not that she was in a major rush to sit about in a place such as this, not the most comforting of spots... The history and enriched darkness about this place wasn't what discomforted the young Lutris, nothing like that. It was, in fact, the air. Dry, the ground nothing but arid wastes.

Her eyes spot Virelia as she made her way down into the carved out amphitheater, ever the melodramatic. Where there was desire, chaos followed closely behind. It would just so happen that today chaos was a mildly uncomfortable doctor of short stature.

"There you are!"

Vakhari smiles while waving to Virelia, almost tripping and sliding down the hill.

"No cozy office? Throne room? Air conditioning perhaps?"

She tucks away her discomfort with simple jokes, not really caring if Virelia found them amusing or not.

"Soooooo what do you need?"

There hadn't been much information given, but that was to be expected. What idiot sends all the details over the net?

Glancing around she doesn't see any equipment, no cages or tanks for subjects. Just- Well nothing really. ​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Genius Minds."

Tags - Vakhari Lutris

Virelia's helm tilted, six violet eyes narrowing with amusement. The cape settled, dust obeying like a well-trained pet. She knows that Vakhari enjoys things to be simple and direct, so Virelia goes straight to the point.

"Start with you," she said. "Not me. What are your goals now—your feral ones. If I take the brakes off, what do you build first, what do you break, and who do you intend to become while doing it?"

She descended the last step, close enough for Vakhari to see the pulse at her sternum. "Answer that, and I'll show you the keys."

A beat. The mask's eyes flicked toward the empty ring and back.

"The office is being born," she added, deadpan. "Throne room is a hole with ambition. Air conditioning arrives when the ducts stop trying to murder the installers. Facilities are under construction, below and west—labs, drydocks, containment, an amphitheater that serves as both court and firing range depending on the verdict. You came early; I approve. Early is where the decisions live."

Her gaze walked Vakhari, respectful, clinical, a little hungry. "You've always been honest with metal. I want you honest with me. Tell me the project you've never pitched because it sounds like heresy in a grant meeting. The line you refuse to cross only because the budget line didn't exist. I can fix both."

She turned her head, listening to the subsonic thrum of Malachor like a cat to a wall. "The Dark Court needs an author of outcomes, not a museum of caution. You'll have a wing—your design, not mine. Blank writs. Sovereign access to materials that whisper, scream, and occasionally bite. Docks for anything you dream up to fly. Ethics? What ethics?." A slant of humor. "By which I mean: if it's beautiful and it works, I don't care what it is."

The helm leaned in, conspiratorial, voice lower. "I could say 'kneel and swear,' but I prefer you on your feet with dirty hands."

She straightened. "So. Goals. Plans. Give me the shape of your hunger. Then I'll feed it."

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Darth Virelia

So this was why they were all the way out here, isolated from pretty much every living thing, every set of eyes and ears be they organic or otherwise... This was a common practice, form a sense of comfort with your target, build rapport. If they get comfortable enough they will spill out all their dirty little sins on a silver platter. Used by law enforcement and even by the young Lutris herself, her typical chipper attitude and soft smile put in the work. All to hide what she really was, a monster.

We all have to make hard choices, she took it upon herself to make the hardest choice for everyone.

"I can't say that so far any of my pitched projects have ever been deemed heresy, or that credits have ever been a problem."

It wasn't as if she didn't have grand ambitions, her creations had continued to serve their purpose.

"People often get lost in the grand finale, forgetting about everything that comes before. This is more than true about us who create, I focus more on getting reliable tools in capable hands. While I do love massive projects focused on a custom order, I also love crafting something I know will find its way into many hands. And as it goes around, as people find satisfaction in this tool... They learn who made it."

It was clear she wanted others to use her creations, but the girl seemed less than interested in credits.

"Not that I would say no to another lab to work at however, people always need more tools their disposal, I know you understand."

Her sweet and soft persona hid what these words really meant, Vakhari knew how she was viewed in the eyes of Virelia. Calling the young Lutris genius, while honied she had zero doubts that at least was truthful. Afterall, if she didn't think Vakhari a genius of her craft then why come all the way out here to pitch this idea? Why make attempts at cracking the shell hiding who Vakhari really was? ​

"Answer that, and I'll show you the keys."

To which she did answer, the words twisted in both truth and lies. Intentionally kept vague, giving a simple answer wouldn't align. Behind simplicity there was always something more, her answer would make a mind think, and that is the key. You make them think, but on your own terms. Vakhari had played the cards, kept the appearance of just an enthusiastic crafter with a hidden side... She hid that she wanted to be galaxy renowned for her crafts.

This was a conclusion Vakhari predicted Virelia to come up with, something that had that inkling of truth to it, something that would satisfy and soothe.

"It has been a moment since I saw you last, I would hope that armor has been satisfactory?"

She perks her head up, taking a glance at the thing she helped create.
​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Genius Minds."

Tags - Vakhari Lutris

The six violet eyes on Virelia's helm slid toward the younger woman, glimmering like lanterns under water. A faint laugh, low and dry, carried out through the vocoder.

"Satisfactory?" She tipped her head down, fingers brushing her breastplate where the violet core pulsed. "Vakhari, this isn't satisfactory. This is obscene. People write sermons about less. You don't make tools—you make sins that happen to function."

Her tone was sharp but not unkind; there was a gleam of respect beneath the mask.

She stepped closer, dust trailing her cape like obedient smoke. "You say tools, repetition, many hands. But the way you say it tells me the truth. 'Forgetting everything that comes before?' You want your signature carried galaxy-wide, burned into the knuckles of soldiers and the spines of ships. You want people to ask who made this?" A pause, almost teasing. "That's hunger I can respect."

She turned slightly, gesturing toward the barren stone amphitheater. "This is temporary discomfort. Beneath us—labs are rising, docks taking shape. A crucible, not a mausoleum. You'll have benches, furnaces, cages that hold more than flesh. You'll have room enough to be honest with your appetite. Early days. Ugly, but alive."

Her helm tilted again, voice lowering, almost conspiratorial. "I don't pay in credits. I pay in use. Your creations will be valued and used here."

A beat, then she chuckled softly, the sound edged with velvet mockery. "And yes, there will be air conditioning. Eventually. Assuming the ducts stop devouring the crew."

She let that hang, then folded her arms, clawed gauntlets clicking faintly. "So—keep the façade if it amuses you. Chipper mask, soft smile, monster behind it. It suits you. But don't waste my time pretending the only thing you want is reliable tools. You want renown. You want your work in every hand worth a damn."

She angled her head toward the armor again, almost indulgent. "You gave me inevitability. Now tell me what inevitability you want carved with your name on it."

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Darth Virelia ​

"Satisfactory?" She tipped her head down, fingers brushing her breastplate where the violet core pulsed. "Vakhari, this isn't satisfactory. This is obscene. People write sermons about less. You don't make tools—you make sins that happen to function."

After that whole spiel was over, Vakhari would raise a finger, smile in tow.

"I make perfection, my goal for perfection equals the satisfaction of my client."

The woman explained that the air ducts were causing an issue, was it some animal? Tech gone wild? Whatever it was, she was confused why they didn't just rip it out. She always made her creations obey, she was a master of these things was she not?

"A façade? Not enough gloom and moodiness?"

Just because someone thought they saw through it all, doesn't mean they got to the end of the page.

"I wouldn't say no to my name being known for perfect tools, more people speaking my name the more people come to me to ask for creations, the more I get to craft."

And the more death she got to sow without ever getting dirt on her hands.

"I would imagine you wish to show me the work being done? Or do we plan to stay here? I am at the very least intrigued."


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