Private Mirror, Mirror

[Ellie Mors]

E R T R A X

900 ABY​

UNDISCLOSED PRIVATE SPACEPORT​

DUSK​

It was a simple job: purchase an antique on the client's behalf and then meet to exchange the artifact for the service's fee. Most, if not all, of the jobs that involved Amara personally smuggling objects from planet to planet were more or less the same sort as this. The auction had been rather exclusive, something of a rarity even within tighter circles of the black markets that were ran within the inner rim, and it was a small wonder that something like it had sprung up on the Alliance world of Denon - but then, she supposed, it was probably exactly what the rich socialites and their ilk would get up to seeing as they had more credits than sense and not much else to spend it on. Getting into Sith space was much easier than getting out of Alliance space, much less Denon's own air space, but minor complications and a few bribes here and there aside - nothing that stretched very far into the budget that she'd set aside for the job with her coming payment in mind - it had been as easy as she could've wished for.

The small transport shuttle, operated by a droid pilot so that she wouldn't need to be concerned about taking too much time traveling to Ertrax for the agreed upon meeting, was already beginning to set down onto the tarmac in the secluded spaceport. The meeting place in question was little more than a tiny facility that was being loaned out for her use through some connections she had within the Black Sun syndicate, but it was private and would ensure that whatever customs the Sith did have would not catch neither her nor the client in the act. Much of their correspondence had been digital, with a few intermediary messages passed along the way, so Amara hadn't quite known what to expect of whoever it was that should be waiting outside on the landing stretch. What she did know, however, was that it would be the buyer.

The hatch opened and the landing ramp descended without much fanfare, some degree of fog intermingling with the low light from the arrival of nightfall acted to slightly obscure even her own Anzat vision, but she could make out the rough features of Alina Tremiru waiting several meters away from the edge of the ramp. Stepping out into the open air, box containing the prize her client was after tucked under her right arm, Amara waved her free hand to signal the all-clear to the droid - safety measures that were usually set up for situations like this, where a patrol might've arrived ahead of a client, were promptly disabled. "Sorry we couldn't have arranged for a more pleasant arrival time, I wasn't aware of the change in weather until we were already in the system." She said, fully stepping into view as she took a couple strides onto the tarmac. "Not sure what the value of this thing actually is, appraisals aren't really my thing, but it's here and in one single piece." Amara rambled on with a tiny hint of a smile before glancing down at the box tucked under her arm.

"Alina, was it?"

 

[Alina Tremiru]

It was a simple job, and a simple payment. Alina stood within the designated meeting place, idly scrolling through a datapad to go over just how the job had gone. Double, triple check that there weren't any sore rumps that would try to regain what had been taken. Returned, technically. They belonged to her family first, after all. Still, it'd be an annoying hassle if someone did try to come back for it.

"Sorry we couldn't have arranged for a more pleasant arrival time, I wasn't aware of the change in weather until we were already in the system."

Alina didn't look up at first. Instead she smiled, shrugged her shoulders. "It can't be helped, some times. Regardless I get the item, so it doesn't matter so long as it's in one piece, as you said." The voice sounded familiar, somewhat. The time spent in the abyss of her afterlife had only her own voice ringing in her head. But faces, faces she knew. She looked up, keeping the pleasant smile with the full intent of making use of a smuggler who didn't have problems smuggling Sith artifacts in this day and age.
The smile faded immediately.

"Alina, was it?"

The datapad in her hands shattered as she tightened her fists. The action was pure instinct alone. Vesta. That's how she recognized the voice. She was supposed to be dead. As far as she knew the woman just laid down and died on Exegol, abandoning Quinn. Even as Quinn had chased after her. Anger, rage. She had learned how to keep control over all her emotions while fully embracing them, but this?

"Of course, it's you. This is what you've decided to do with your life? A smuggler?"

She wasn't surprised. No, Alina had returned from death, so why couldn't Vesta? This was just her. Back, alive. Living such a peaceful life after hurting Quinn the way she did. It was utterly rage educing. Alina stepped over, cautiously. Vesta was strong. Stronger than her the last she knew. Caution, not blind rage. Not yet.

This new body of Vesta's didn't smell as strong as the last did.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Ellie Mors

 

[Ellie Mors]

Without a Trace​

Just another day, like any other.

The datapad that Alina Tremiru was holding shattered.

It had happened to suddenly that not only was she surprised, Amara hadn't realized what exactly had happened - so caught up in trying to understand what and why, she hadn't really been able to keep up with how suddenly everything was beginning to turn on its head. A question was thrown her way that might as well have been directed at a different person altogether because, lacking context, Amara didn't have any idea what in the stars the woman was talking about, much less why she had abruptly fell into such an angry and rather unreasonable state. Instinctually she stepped back, nearly tripping over herself when she hadn't remembered the ramp was behind her and forgot to account for the change in incline.

"What are you talking about?" She asked in return, trying to look around to see if there had maybe been a second person after all - someone that might've tailed her, that could explain how intimately Alina seemed to think she knew her or of her. Almost her entire waking life had been occupied doing nearly the same thing, and she hadn't spent a childhood to speak of that could've earned her someone's frustration that she would have forgotten about so completely. "Let's be reasonable, you want this don't you?" It was a fair question in her mind, a means to negotiate the woman back into a calmer state of mind and one that hopefully didn't end up with her head being treated like the datapad that had been in Alina's hands just a few moments ago. Certainly she wasn't about to be intimidated into giving away her services for free.. but realistically there wasn't much she could do if that was what this person was after.

"Credits for the antique, that's what we agreed on, right?"

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Fear? Denial?

Alina seethed. Had she truly bought into this lie she told herself? Truly forgotten who she once was? Who she mattered to? Who she hurt? That was the most insulting part of this display. She either didn't remember, or lied. The Sangnir stepped forward. Paused as she saw the girl trip. Vesta, Dark Lord of the Maw, tripped? On an incline? There was no denying the scent. The same blood flowed in their veins. But the Anima within was weaker.

"You faked your death. Made yourself weak to live a life away from what you became." That was the only logical conclusion. She very well might not even remember who she was once, but in Alina's eyes, they were the same person. Anima flared from within the maw that had replaced her heart, flooding her with strength. An act, reality, it didn't matter. Lightning danced around her fingers as she let it loose. A brief flash, a shock that a Dark Lord of the Sith should certainly be able to handle it.

"Stop pretending! You hurt her! That alone is enough reason to rip you apart."

Ellie Mors

 

[Ellie Mors]

silent stranger​

Like ripples spreading across the surface of a pond, shaken into motion by the toss of only the smallest pebble, Amara felt at that moment like she was the smallest grain of sand in the face of what had grown abruptly into the tallest wave. Anger. One feeling that she never allowed herself to feel, to express, was incapable of describing the raw emotion that spread from Alina Tremiru - hysteria manifested in living form. "Who?" She asked, in spite of being so closely related to the woman that this crazed lady seemed so keen to accuse her of being. For all of her paranoia of being discovered as Vesta's sibling, or even just another one of the Zambrano spawn, not ever had the thought that someone would think that she was the late Darth Mori crossed her mind.

She didn't have time to understand, to try to come to a conclusion that might make sense in at least the most reaching way that someone put into such a precarious situation might attempt, because from one moment to the next she couldn't hear - couldn't see - much less think with so much pain coursing through her body, running up and down her spine like fingers covered in shards of glass. It was like she was simultaneously on fire, being crushed, and submerged in freezing water without air to breath all at the same time. Lightning. The understanding of it, the hatred and the anger with all of its spite, was the only thing she could understand as its cackling lengths scarred the nerves that kept her limbs in control and seared the comprehension of just what the raw nature of the dark side was into her brain.

She collapsed after what felt like could have been an eternity but was hardly the passing of mere seconds.

A hoarse, choked, cry was strangled in her throat, the vocal folds she would've used to scream unwilling to obey as fear took over. The woman's shouting was like static, white noise that was too loud for her to bare and too quiet for her to really understand, and the unbridled panic along with the lingering trauma of having electricity overpowering every single neuron in her body forced her to try to get back up again - a physical response to put her in a situation best capable to run away from the danger that had suddenly lorded itself over her. She shook her head, trying to fling away the confusion, only really accomplishing an accidental answer to Alina's demands.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"Weak."

It was a statement of surprise than anything else. No attempt to defend against the blast, no evasion. Not even dampening the pain. She could feel the pain and anguish that had rushed through the woman before her from just a simple shock. The logical part of her mind knew there was no way this was Vesta. And yet, all she felt was unbridled rage as she watched the woman who shared so many similarities desperately try to crawl away.

It no longer mattered. If this was just a stranger, if this was truly Vesta, Alina's fractured mind no longer cared. She stepped forward. Stomped, really, on one of Amara's legs to keep her from further crawling away.

"I spent so long in your shadow. Hiding away in Quinn's estate, hoping to get a scrap of the love she felt for you turned my way. It was so pathetic. But now look at how pathetic you are." The Sangnir reached down to lift the girl up by the back of her neck, as if they were little more than a doll. "How pathetic we both are. I won't kill you, you already made it clear that's what you wanted before. But this will hurt."

Ellie Mors

 

[Ellie Mors]

those who stand for nothing, fall for everything​

Alina Tremiru stated the obvious.

Whether the Sith was surprised or not was besides the point by now, there was nothing Amara could do - nothing she could have done - to defend herself. Every decision she'd made since the moment she had slipped out from the laboratory that had kept her alive, since her sister's heart had wormed its way into her chest to give her that freedom, had been to avoid a life that would've ended up the same as the woman that had taken her name and her family as her own. Her name discarded, family left behind, there was nothing aside from her appearance - a matter of genetics - that linked her to a group as heinous as the Zambrano line, to the artificial sister that'd taken her name as Vesta and then promptly discarded it in favor of some wannabe Sith title.

She crumpled like soft paper into a bawling mess the moment the vampiress pinned her down by her leg.

Half a life spent living, if you even call it that, unconscious and unaware in a bacta tank - the other half trying to build a life for herself that could be independent of the blood money and stolen power her family had amassed for itself. This wasn't like the time she'd been caught off-guard by an angry mobster, nothing she had done put her personally responsible for what was happening to her here, and she felt powerless while Alina subjected her to some monologue about some stranger she didn't know - accused her of something she hadn't done, couldn't have done. It would have been easier at this point if her life would've just been cut short, severed like the logical side of her brain that was refusing to operate now. She felt herself shudder, shake, and shiver at the taunt, at the thought of being left alive.

An uncomfortable warmth encompassed her waist and below as rigid fingers held her up by her throat.

"P-please."

She could only utter a few syllables, protesting was just something that wasn't possible right now, so she choked out one word that sounded just as pathetic as she was being told to her face in the form of a whimper. Amara didn't want to die, but she certainly didn't want to find out what it was the woman had in mind for her either.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"Look at you, finally having good manners."

Alina scoffed, but that wasn't her focus any more. No, she was going to let all of her rage funnel out into something far more.. Constructive. She smiled, an unnaturally cruel smile, as she threw Amara down. Yes, this would be good. "Don't pass out, or I'll be forced to wake you up."

Anima was a peculiar substance. For the Sangnir, it was their lifeblood that kept them fed, sated, able to function. It was the calories they burned, and could burn to do even greater things. Super strength, the dreaded warform. Regeneration. These aspects could even be bestowed onto another without even changing them, if done correctly. Alina spent the next few hours honing that bestowal. Broken bones would mend, only to be broken again. Wounds that should kill would not as she healed them. She kept Amara between that line of life and death to sate her rage. No amount of protests, sobs, or cries could stop her. She would keep her word.

It would hurt.

It only came to an end because Alina's reserves started to run low. Dangerously low, no less. So caught up in the sheer relief of breaking this version of Vesta she'd failed to keep control. Another slice of her palm to let the red anima flow free, to preserve the broken body at her feet, was all she could do now. She almost felt bad. Perhaps she would've, if she didn't feel such catharsis. "You won't die, as promised. Live your pathetic life as the broken person you are, Vesta. And never let me see you again."

Ellie Mors

 

[Ellie Mors]

void​

It was.. funny, almost.. how someone could feel like they'd experienced a deprivation of freedom - a sensation of total helplessness like no other, unrivalled by the most solitary confinement imaginable - only to come face to face with the most terrifying experience of their lives and know that they would never experience anything worse. To know that living over two decades floating in a vat of bacta with no ability to blink, to eat, speak, breath on her own, or even move a single muscle was nothing compared to lying there on the ground, helpless against Alina Tremiru and her psychotic rage. It began with confusion, the same confusion she'd had when the accusations that had been hurled her way suggested that the woman she'd been working for had mistaken her for someone else entirely, which peaked as she was thrown down to the ground with a sharp exhale followed by a groan and a wheeze.

There would never be a power in this life or the next that could take away the memory of the moment she'd started screaming.

It never ended, even when the vocal chords that she used to speak gave out and nothing in her throat could vibrate enough to elicit a sound from her increasingly parched lips, but the first tear into her soft skin and the first sight of her own blood, of what it looked like underneath, and the smell of something raw and visceral being exposed to open air for the first time - for many times afterwards as well. That first shriek, though, was the loudest she'd ever heard her voice go, the highest she'd heard the pitch of it reach, and it was several seconds of misery and absolute fear that scarred her mind far more than any physical one would ever be on her body - of which there were soon to be many.

Shock, fear, turned into, ironically, sympathy, even if only for several moments, that were interspersed throughout a shower of desperation rivalling the shower of red ichor that sprayed every conceivable surface of her skin and dried into a disgusting brown and black stain against the tatters of what had been her clothing and the ground she'd been anchored to. Whoever it had been that had hurt this woman must've treated her as badly or worse than she was being treated now - surely? When the shock had passed, after all, her mind needed a reason to hold onto in order to rationalize why she was being subjected to this horrific torture, even if somewhere deep inside of her there was the knowledge that this was nothing more than a senseless act of violence.

To be cut open, to have everything inside taken out and then pulled back in again by the cruel power of this woman's own body, and then to be suffocated beyond the point of death and unconsciousness yet kept firmly alive and awake by the same healing abilities that slowly stitched her back together again whenever the woman's focus drifted to another, sometimes unexplored, region of her body, was the most grotesque and humiliating experience she ever could have come up with herself - and somehow this vampiress managed to outdo her own nightmares.

-

Amara shook, seized even, with shallow gasps for air as the violence slowly came to a stop. The pain was there, though, and it refused to end even after receiving more of that disgusting anima. Vesta she heard the woman say, hardly aware of what was evening happening at this point but conscious enough to catch her own name, her real name, uttered with utter contempt. "Amara" She wheezed - rejecting the name that would've been given to her if she'd been born less of an invalid - as much to the woman standing over her as it was to remind herself of who she was as she "felt" her psyche break.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Alina paused. Glanced to the broken girl for a brief moment longer. The subtle defiance. It was infuriating. She was so keen on not being Vesta, wasn't she? Fine. Alina took a breath before continuing forward on her way out. She didn't need the artifact. Even with that last bit of defiance, Alina felt far more relieved than she had been in a long, long time. Or short. It was hard to tell time when death had removed it.

"Whatever you say, Vesta."

Then she left, still with a smile on her face. There were more artifacts to go and retrieve after all.

Ellie Mors