Because I'm a plant.
Sirella Valkner didn’t care for people. On her list of friends she had only a few, [member="Spencer Jacobs"], and [member="Ashin Varanin"], numbering among them. Although once she mastered Rave and taken a bit of a shine to the girl in her younger years she didn’t know the now older version that seemed to infest the universe. Of her twenty two children she had maintained contact marginally with one and even then she had sent the poor guileless boy adrift some time ago. He had his sister and aunty Ashin and Spencer to help him should the need arise. She was sure of that, although in truth she gave the matter little thought. The boy despite all external reckoning could take care of himself.
Why? Why was she here. She disliked people, showed contempt for men, and knew of the inferiority of meat. And yet she had been asked, and was now here. Her ship, the Botany Bay, stood on station. Formerly an ithorian herdship it now served as her personal garden of the Sith Lord. Sirella stretched out on her leafy lounger groaning a bit as the sun shone on her skin. She was in a good position where the rays from the systems could reach her.
Visitors, a rare sight on the sight, would be met without fanfare. She did not meet guests. Instead there would be a simple path marked by strobing lights leading them to her. In order to get to her they would need to go through hallways overgrown with roots and vines and arrive at a veritable jungle. Penetrating the thick growth to arrive at the center, a clearing with garden of softer, smaller plants. Flowers, and bushes and berries.
Leaving the path meant death. Sirella considered the young man who had been her newest servant. He had displeased [member="Darth Vornskr"] and been sent to ‘learn’ from her. All he’s learned was how to serve her. Mind addled he had gone to get her a drink of water and wandered into the thick of the jungle thinking to take a short cut. Sirella found his body a day later strangled by vines. Good compost. It was a shame though, he was a handsome piece of meat.
“Boy,” she called to another servant. He wore the traditional attire of Botany Bay, which is to say not much. “I have a sudden urge for a drink. Would you care to give me something?”
The youth resisted her command for a second. “Please?” her voice oozed of sensuality, “My throat is so dry.”
That’s all it took sometimes, for her to reassert control. Still she’d need to watch that one. “And you, fan me.”
[member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"]
[member="Raoh Logarius"]
Why? Why was she here. She disliked people, showed contempt for men, and knew of the inferiority of meat. And yet she had been asked, and was now here. Her ship, the Botany Bay, stood on station. Formerly an ithorian herdship it now served as her personal garden of the Sith Lord. Sirella stretched out on her leafy lounger groaning a bit as the sun shone on her skin. She was in a good position where the rays from the systems could reach her.
Visitors, a rare sight on the sight, would be met without fanfare. She did not meet guests. Instead there would be a simple path marked by strobing lights leading them to her. In order to get to her they would need to go through hallways overgrown with roots and vines and arrive at a veritable jungle. Penetrating the thick growth to arrive at the center, a clearing with garden of softer, smaller plants. Flowers, and bushes and berries.
Leaving the path meant death. Sirella considered the young man who had been her newest servant. He had displeased [member="Darth Vornskr"] and been sent to ‘learn’ from her. All he’s learned was how to serve her. Mind addled he had gone to get her a drink of water and wandered into the thick of the jungle thinking to take a short cut. Sirella found his body a day later strangled by vines. Good compost. It was a shame though, he was a handsome piece of meat.
“Boy,” she called to another servant. He wore the traditional attire of Botany Bay, which is to say not much. “I have a sudden urge for a drink. Would you care to give me something?”
The youth resisted her command for a second. “Please?” her voice oozed of sensuality, “My throat is so dry.”
That’s all it took sometimes, for her to reassert control. Still she’d need to watch that one. “And you, fan me.”
[member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"]
[member="Raoh Logarius"]
