Seraphina Shel'tah
Kinky Darth Pinky
Satyijau'ira? Dialect she did not understand. She didn't like that. She didn't like that at all. If that were some secretive language that beheld only a few scholars she was hesitant to learn of who they were. His proclamation of the word was brought upon with a mildly concerning stare of the Twi'lek. It was as if he had achieved some other great victory by attempting to rename his prisoner. Her lekku twisted and contorted, a rather insulting gesture to those who understood the native language, something she was certain the foolish Sith Lord did not understand. It would bring a mild sense of satisfaction to her, though she would maintain her composure. Her voice returned to her normal tone, a slight hint of defiance behind her words.
"My name is important. Call me otherwise, but my name is Seraphina. I will not forsake it, and you cannot take that away from me."
There was one thing she would refuse to give away, and that was her identity instilled in her at birth by her parents. The one thing she truly cherished was her family. Servant, slave, or not, she would not give him the satisfaction of stripping her of both name and person. Her eyes averted from the Sith Lord to the chamber they were in. She hadn't recognized it, so they must have been on another level. Judging by the architecture it seemed like a sublevel from where they had fought one another within the prison. Her mind was too a gift, one that, unlike the Force, could not be tampered with by Ixetal Cilona. She would remember each and every corridor, pathway, chamber, and cell she was brought to and through. Marking a mental map of each sector for when the time came to escape this hell that [member="Darth Vornskr"] had enslaved her to.
"My name is important. Call me otherwise, but my name is Seraphina. I will not forsake it, and you cannot take that away from me."
There was one thing she would refuse to give away, and that was her identity instilled in her at birth by her parents. The one thing she truly cherished was her family. Servant, slave, or not, she would not give him the satisfaction of stripping her of both name and person. Her eyes averted from the Sith Lord to the chamber they were in. She hadn't recognized it, so they must have been on another level. Judging by the architecture it seemed like a sublevel from where they had fought one another within the prison. Her mind was too a gift, one that, unlike the Force, could not be tampered with by Ixetal Cilona. She would remember each and every corridor, pathway, chamber, and cell she was brought to and through. Marking a mental map of each sector for when the time came to escape this hell that [member="Darth Vornskr"] had enslaved her to.