Private Poor Unfortunate Souls

[Wrenarias]

As Evelynn started to snap the fingers on Wrenarias' hand, the twi'lek's back arched and another wretched scream tore its way from deep in her chest. Pain had always been her constant companion, whether it was emotional trauma or physical abuse didn't matter. There were only a handful of moments in her life that she'd been without it.

It seemed fitting that she'd meet her end just as she'd always lived.

The universe would never let Wren go quietly in the night, no, it needed to make her suffer more each day.

Her throat was already hoarse from her cries. The broken gasps of strained breath filled the room. She could tell that Evelynn was experimenting, testing to see what she could feel through this strange new link between them.

Wren didn't know what had happened, but she understood. The bridge forged when Evelynn forced it open seemed to be permanent. Normally, such a thing would have faded away the moment physical contact was broken.

Pain did not deter the Sith. Wren could feel that much.

There was another aspect of the bridge that Evelynn was still entirely unaware of though. She wondered if she had the strength to test it, but she waited. If she played her cards too quickly there was no chance in hell of an escape.

Patience, kid. She heard Marcus' voice whisper in her mind.

"Patience." She murmured weakly.

Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

In truth, the first broken finger was enough indication of their bond born of suffering, but in such tests, one had to be thorough, the added malice was merely a bonus. At least in theory, and while there was a certain emotional satisfaction in snapping the digits of the stubborn beast the lack of physical pleasure was a grand concern.

Pain, after all, was her true companion. It was the constant. Pain had dismantled her soul, only to reforge it into something new. Once avoided and endured became cherished and craved. Upon others. Upon self. Pain was a gift, it was pleasure and it was power. Names and faces changed, those who took and those who gave but pain was always there.

A friend.

A lover.

Had this bond taken that away from her? The consideration of such was terrifying. What was she without pain?

Back to the table, and to the next tool which was inexplicably a blaster. Not particularly Sith-like, or holding the same kind of threat that one would expect from some of the more vicious-looking implements laid before her but it held a certain purpose.

It spoke.

Patience?

Was the creature delirious? Making threats? Biding her time? Just when it seemed as if the alien couldn't be any more frustrating it had found a way. Her lower jaw jutted forth in response, eyes rolling beneath hooded lids.

“Yes, you're trying mine,” the Sith responded dryly, double-checking the blaster's setting before standing before the prisoner once more. Aiming the weapon at its knee, Evelynn once more let the moment stew, her stare not leaving the alien's face as if she was searching for something.

Then in one smooth movement, the blonde took the blaster, pointed it at the side of her own neck and fired. Unfortunately for her test subject, this was not a lethal shot. The blaster had been set to what was known as slow burn, minimal damage but excruciating pain. It was wonderful to consider how many times you would have to shoot a soul on this setting before they actually perished.

A sharp intake of breath was Evelynn's offered reaction as no ill-will interrupted her sense of demented serenity. Suffering had not yet been torn from her completely. Despite this revelation, her gaze had not moved, wishing to see if pain was shared in equal measure.

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

Wren watched Evelynn with half-lidded eyes. Her hand was screaming in pain, throbbing from the wrist down.

At first, she thought the woman was about to shoot her in the knee. It wouldn't have been the first time that she'd taken a blaster bolt to her knee; but she knew how painful that particular injury was. When the shot never came though, she was surprised. As the sith turned the blaster on herself, however, Wren's eyes widened in realization at what she was trying to do.

That was the only warning she had before she felt the phantom jolt through her throat.

It wasn't as pronounced as her own physical pain, but the link was definitely there... and she realized that it went both ways.

Her head slumped forward and another low groan slipped from her mouth. She didn't say any words, but it was evident that she'd felt the shot to Evelynn's throat.

Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Splendid!

Evelynn's eyes lit up with sheer delight as she observed the alien's reaction to the Sith's own suffering, a sickening smile spreading from ear-to-ear. So it did work both ways. This revelation unleashed entirely new avenues for potential torture, like living voodoo dolls, except one was far more willing to hurt than the other.

“You know,” she began, voice distinctively chirpier than prior as she observed the sullen hung head of her prisoner, “this could have been a far less painful process were you only open to discussion.”

It wouldn't have been.

“I only wish to realise the effects of this bond we share, it seems somewhat important, no?”

I'll make you beg for the end.

Once again, the table as the blaster was retired, having performed admirably in its unorthodox duty. With her back to the pitiful wretch, her eyes surveyed what her next option could be, emeralds hovering over the collection of vials with pre-prepared syringes all begging to pierce flesh and inflict malicious ailments.

“I'd like for you to know that I am not unkind,” Evelynn continued, considerably perkier than she had been just minutes prior, “this must be quite unpleasant for you,” the translucent violet syringe was chosen, after careful deliberation, the Sith happy to talk into the void as she had been doing this entire time.

“So I shall grant you relief,” she said, offering the politest smile that she could muster despite the fact that it didn't sit quite right upon her face, “you will find that I can be quite reasonable.”

Moving back over to the wretch, Evelynn wasted little time in awkwardly plunging the syringe into her prisoner's neck and releasing the contents into its bloodstream. The swiftness of the one-handed procedure went against the way that the Sith had dragged everything out so far.

“This will help with the pain.”

It wouldn't.

It was a potent hallucinogenic.

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

To no one's surprise in the room, whatever had been in the vial did not, in fact, help with the pain. Wren hissed as the liquid seared into her system, leaving a trail of blazing fire in it's wake.

She groaned in pain, her head killing faintly from side to side.

The world shifted, but the agony of broken bones and a mangled tongue remained the same.

Her eyes opened and she found herself tied down in a medical bay. She could see Evelynn in front of her, but the woman's face was all wrong. It was a void with teeth, laughing at her with cold green eyes.

Green.

The same color as Kelina's skin.

Then, she watched in horror as Evelynn's form morphed into the Mirialan right in front of her eyes.

Her old mentor smirked condescendingly and grabbed her by the jaw. "How pathetic. To think I trained you."

The phantom shifted again, turning into a figure Wren had not thought of in nearly a decade. Her mother.

"Don't look at me like that. You don't know the sacrifices I've made!" She shrieked in Wren's mind.

"How dare you judge ME?!" She reached out to grab Wren's throat, but vanished in a haze of smoke.

Wren hated the color green, she realized.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Regrettably, Evelynn Zambrano was no empath, so the hallucinogenic drugs offered little to her in terms of insight. It was merely a spot of cruelty as a touch of light entertainment. Low effort but high reward and without instantaneous nausea that had been afflicting her so far.

Standing before the alien she merely observed, willing to let whatever personal demons and horrors unfold within its psyche untampered. The Sith got the sense that it was rather unpleasant, these types of drugs always took benefit from grim atmosphere and harmful headspace, benefits in terms of torture, that is.

It gave the Sith a moment to consider just exactly what she wanted out of this. To make the creature suffer, of course, that was only natural after it had made such a bold attempt on her life and mutilated her in the process but there was more than that.

Killing the alien was out of the question, death and Force bonds were not ideal bedfellows and while Evelynn was happy to endure most varieties of suffering, that was not one of them.

What she needed, was the one thing she was unable to garner so far. Information. She didn't know anything about the little reprobate. Not even a name! All she had to go on was assumptions. It had a lightsaber, so that suggested a Jedi but its penchant for outright murder suggested anything but. Its species combined with such a tragic long-suffering aura suggested a former slave but still, not confirmed by word.

Perhaps rampant hallucination would help ease her tongue (or perhaps actual pain relief, but that was the last resort).

The gloved hand returned, this time wielding no great terror as she lightly grasped the creature's chin, gently lifting its head in what seemed like a tender gesture, the Sith's index finger lightly stroking the alien's cheek.

“Tell me who you are and I promise that I will numb the pain."

Of course, there was a distinct possibility that she appeared to her prisoner in the form of some kind of netherbeast. Which would be less than ideal for this tactic.

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

The delicate caress of her cheek reminded her of someone. One of the only people who'd treated her well in her life. It wasn't Marcus, the tender touch was too soft to belong to his rough hands. When she opened her eyes to look up at whoever stood in front of her, she saw Dorian.

While they'd never crossed the line into lovers, she'd been happy with him. It'd been like an extended dream, a brief reprieve from the misery of her life. Then, of course, it was taken from her. Sadavir stole her away from a potential life of happiness and peace. He'd pay for the transgression with his life... but Wren sacrificed her chance at normalcy in the process.

It was how she ended up in the fight with the Sith.

Why was Dorian asking her who she was? Why wasn't he making the pain stop?

A darkness crept into her mind. A familiar sorrow that plagued her every step in life. He wasn't helping, because like everyone else... he'd abandoned her. As soon as her situation became too inconvenient, she was gone. He'd done so in a rather roundabout way, as he'd given her the gunship... but she never heard from him again.

Wren, like always, was alone.

Evelynn would feel the fear die back. The pain normalized as Wren surrendered to the cruel reality of her existence. This was how things had always been for her, and always would be. It was replaced by a familiar sorrow.

She shook her head and then started to laugh.

"Oh fuck off. You know who I am, Dorian." She growled, struggling to speak through the deep wound in her tongue.


Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

“Of course,” she replied softly, pulling away her hand after one last gentle stroke.

Of course, her thoughts echoed, inner voice a toxic seethe of frustration. Her lips slowly pulled into a frown as Evelynn realised that not only had she mutilated the alien's mouth so that talking was difficult, she'd placed her into a state where successful interrogation was based upon the dice roll of illusion.

Suddenly it was quite obvious as to why the Empire had people to perform these types of cross-examinations. It took finesse, technique and planning.

Back to the table, the drawing board so-to-speak and as the Apprentice pondered over the ominous collection of tools she considered where to go from here. Did she give up? Enact the rest of her vengeance and then just keep the bothersome twit in a cage for the rest of eternity? It wasn't permitted to die, after all, so could she just keep it?

No.

“I do.”

Even if this was a failure in action it had to be taken as a learning experience. A short burst of air left the woman's nose as if the creature's laughter had been contagious. It was funny. Evelynn couldn't count the number of people she had tortured in two lifetimes and yet here she was struggling with it.

It had always been for pleasure before, to share the hidden divinity that came with pain. There was no structure to it, just brilliant malevolence in an ever-building crescendo.

A new syringe. This time a genuine local anaesthetic.

“This will sting a little,” Zambrano warned in soft-spoken tones as she approached again trying to come up with a new line of inquiry on the stop as she plunged the syringe into the underside of the twi'lek's chin, “you won't be able to feel your tongue soon, so try not to bite it, okay?”

A small pause as the syringe was put back upon the table before she returned to her guest to let this act of hallucinated tenderness continue, the Sith's thumb softly wiping blood and spittle off of the woman's bottom lip.

“Who did this to you? Tell me what happened?”

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

Wren's eyes slowly blinked as the new dose of medication was administered. Tenderness coming from Dorian wasn't unexpected, but it stung in a different way. It was bittersweet.

Shaking her head, the twi'lek glanced around the room where she was being held and then turned her gaze back to the man in front of her.

When she'd first met him, the entire spark that caused him to take an interest in her, was the inadvertent bridge that briefly formed when he touched her. She'd glimpsed something within him, a slumbering beast with golden eyes.

She never told him about what she'd seen.

That she knew there was something more to him. That he was hiding some part of himself from the world.

Looking at him now, strapped down to a strange chair, her mouth mangled and hand broken... She realized that he suspected she'd known all along.

It was probably why he'd kept her so close and as soon as he saw a way to be rid of her, he's taken it. Never to speak to her again.

So... Why was he here now?

When she started to speak, her tongue felt like a heavy brick in her mouth. It was quite difficult to move properly, but at least it didn't hurt.

"Doesn't matter. None of it does." She mumbled, swallowing hard as she tilted her head back against the chair.

Another tool. He never really cared.

When Evelynn moved back into her field of vision, the sith looked like her usual gaunt self. A phantom in a dream.

Wren smirked sedately at her.

"Ah, there you are." She chuckled again and shook her head. "Just like all the rest. What is it you wanted to talk about? Music?"

 

[Beatrice Govan]

As the words 'doesn't matter' left the twi'lek's mouth Evelynn's lips drew into a long thin line, the alien's hallucination-based melancholy coming at exactly the worst time. The Sith didn't even know who Dorian was, but already she detested him.

She had to walk away, not be looking at the prisoner lest the hallucination morphed alongside her irritated features. A sigh, both long and dramatic escaped the Zambrano's mouth as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Avenues for conversation were being closed off one-by-one, leaving little option left bar mindless retribution.

It would make her feel better in theory, but then again that little monster had seemed to have stolen her ability to enjoy such pleasures too.

Evelynn turned, only to be confronted by a smirk. She could have screamed and only managed to prevent herself from doing so by actually biting her tongue (which, unfortunately, the twi'lek wouldn't have felt). As much as the Apprentice wished to appear cool and calculated it was futility in the face of their bond, the Sith's irritation was just as open as her guest's apparent despondency.

“No, not music,” she seethed quietly, staring daggers at the bound woman, “I want to talk about you.”

The Emperor's daughter kept her distance this time, fearing that if she stood close enough to the wretch that her remaining hand would find its way around her throat.

“About who you are, why you tried to murder me and most importantly, what you've done to me.”

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

It made sense that Evelynn would want to know that. To be fair, a random twi'lek had shown up, tried to kill her, and then caused some sort of... explosion in the Force. Wren would have had questions too.

Still.

The sith had stabbed her in the mouth and broken her hand. As far as Wren was concerned, they were pretty much even.

"Surprised Dorian didn't tell you." She mused, still incoherently detached due to the drugs in her system. Talking was difficult, requiring her to focus an extraordinary amount to move her tongue correctly.

"Or that you didn't recognize me. The.. what were they calling me on the news?" She chuckled softly, her head lolling to one side. "The... banshee? Or something stupid like that. I think, at one point, I saw an article that tried uh.. Hightown Huntress. Ridiculous."

Her eyes slowly blinked, blue flickers of light dancing around the room like fairies. It would have been pretty, if her hand hadn't hurt so bad.

"Was there for the slaves... you just.. happened to be there. Bonus s'all." She slurred, her eyes following one of the twirling lights.

"I told you to let go." She mused, dropping her head against the back of the chair, closing her eyes. "I don't know."

Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

By the Force, the twi'lek could actually communicate, it was enough to be a cause for celebration. Evidently, the green-skinned woman was still a touch loopy but it would simply have to be endured, this was still progress after all.

The Sith had to concede that her knowledge of current affairs was lacking, having been far too consumed with her own methods of training. Although Evelynn simply nodded, as if she was aware of the Hightown Huntress instead of embracing the humility of not knowing something. Pride, even working its way into the nuances of life.

The Sith Apprentice considered piping up as her suspicions of the twi'lek's role as slave liberator seemed to hold true, almost wanting to suggest to her captive that perhaps greater impact would be had if she went after the slavers themselves, instead of the consumers of slaves. However there were more pressing matters to be discussed first, rampant murder could always be mused upon later.

“But you do know.”

Maybe not the entire picture, but at least more than what she was letting on.

“You wouldn't have told me to let go otherwise,” Evelynn continued, moving to fold her arms across her chest before realising that it was terribly awkward and placing them by her side instead, “and this bond that you have created troubles me.”

She frowned, eyeing the alien with careful deliberation as she closed her eyes.

“And as much as I enjoy the notion of sharing suffering with you, you seem to be the sort that endures mortal peril on a frequent basis, and I do not have the time, nor the patience to be concerned about your well-being in fear of what it will do to mine.”

Not to mention the robbery of her pleasure in the pain of others, that was the real point of contention. It as if a part of her identity had been stolen. She wanted it back.

“How do we sever this connection?”

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

Again, the sith asked a perfectly sensible question. One that Wren was wondering the answer to herself. She'd never had something like this happen--or at least, not where the other person survived.

Her expression turned sour, glancing off the side. She saw Marcus watching her from the corner with his arms crossed over his broad chest, casually leaning against the wall.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled in a soft voice when their eyes met.

The Marcus phantom shrugged a shoulder in his usual way, offering his familiar crooked smirk in response.

She cleared her throat and looked back to Evelynn, blood running past her lips when she started to speak.

"I don't have the slightest idea." She eyed the ever morphing Sith with disdain, sensing the strange aura of death that surrounded her, even through the force collar. "You could try walking out the airlock. That might work."

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Evelynn chose to believe that the twi'lek's apology was directed at her, despite the fact that the green-skinned woman was not looking in her direction. At the very least she was owed such an apology because while they might have been even in her prisoner's mind, they were far from it in the Sith's.

Just as it seemed like they were getting somewhere, a brick wall of insolence was hit. A single eyebrow leapt in response to the woman's airlock comments. It seemed as though she had forgotten where exactly she was.

Perhaps it was time for a reminder.

“Hilarious,” Evelynn commented dryly as she returned to the table of tools, picking up the bloodied scalpel once more, “I think I'll decline on that one if you don't mind.”

It seemed as if any and all viable information on their Force bond had been garnered, with the twi'lek either being rather oblivious and admirably devious. It no longer mattered. She didn't know how to sever the connection and neither did the Sith. More could be learned through vigorous and unpleasant testing. It wasn't like the alien was going anywhere.

“Do you have a name?” the Emperor's daughter asked, her voice full of wicked mirth as she came round the side of the twi'lek, “Since we'll be spending quite a long time together, perhaps it would be proper to get better acquainted.”

A pause, as she considered the still-organic lekku upon the woman's head.

“I am Evelynn Zambrano,” she announced, the tip of the blade being poised upon the sensitive green appendage, “not that you'll soon forget.”

After all, it was hard to forget when somebody's name was etched into your flesh.

The tip of the scalpel had just barely cut into the external organ before it hit. A sudden rush of unease, as if something horrific would happen upon committing such an act of cruelty. The feeling lurched, like turbulence in her stomach that rose up to her mouth, forcing Evelynn to swallow as it watered in response.

The Apprentice tried to stay the course, surviving hand shaking as the first shallow cut was made but it became too much. She reeled away behind the prisoner and out of her sight, dropping the surgical tool as she dry-heaved in response to the unpleasant stimuli.

“What...have you done to me?!"

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

Even in her drugged state, a guttural fear grabbed hold of Wren as Evelynn returned with the scalpel and pressed the keen blade to her lek. It was like having someone slowly cut into her fingertips, in terms of sensation. She was afraid of how far the Sith would go as she started to cut into her soft flesh, a pained cry escaping the lithe twi'lek.

But before the agony was too much, Evelynn jerked back and shouted at her in frustration.

Blood trickled down the lek from the small incision left by the blade. Delicate as the cut was, it was still quite painful. Wren sucked in a sharp breath and held it for several seconds, only exhaling once Evelynn had turned away from her entirely.

She blinked when Evelynn started to dry-heave, her brow furrowed with confusion.

Her first instinct was to throw out another taunt, something about not having the stomach for torture; but she thought better of it. She didn't see the point in goading the woman into mutilating her tchun.

A strange sense of satisfaction flickered in her chest, but it dissipated as quickly as it arose.

"At a guess? You stole a part of my... essence when you forced the Bridge open." Wren muttered, resting her head back against the chair with a pained sigh. Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Hell, Thinking hurt. Everything hurt.

Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

To the twi'lek her reaction might have seemed overly dramatic as if being physically unable to commit atrocities was the worst possible thing in the world. It was beyond the mere ill-will that gave discomfort and robbed pleasure as first suspected but a sensation that actively prevented such precious cruelty.

As the retching subsided, her composure unravelled.

The twi'lek's offered reasoning only furthered the outrage, its accusatory nature suggesting that it was her fault. You stole. You forced. The Sith screamed, and in one-handed fury rounded upon the table, sweeping the torture implements onto the floor with reckless abandon and a loud clatter.

“You blame me?!”

Another sweep, vials and syringes crashing to the floor and shattering alongside any notion of calculated dignity.

“I wanted to talk!” Evelynn hissed, spinning quickly upon her heel before marching towards the captive, “You were trying to kill me! You cut off my arm! Why would I have heeded your warning?! Why would I have let go?!”

A gloved finger forced itself into the hole in her chin and pulled so that the twi'lek would be forced to look at her. A small mercy that the area was still likely numb. Her stare was livid, eyes wide and wild as fury consumed her. What was she without cruelty? She held no power beyond that, not a warrior, a sorceress nor an alchemist. Without the means to enact suffering Evelynn Zambrano was nothing but a name.

“IT'S YOUR FAULT!”

Primal rage boiled over as lips drew back to reveal teeth that longed to tear out her troublesome throat but even the thought of doing so caused her stomach to lurch and gave way to that unsettling feeling at the back of her mind.

The Sith had to force herself to step back, withdrawing her finger and turning away from the source of a whole realm of new problems in her second life. Storming away with continued violent petulance, Evelynn went towards the door to the interrogation chamber and opened it.

“You. Here.”

In came a basic member of the Crownguard, who had been stationed outside the room for the entire ordeal. An accusatory finger pointed towards the twi'lek as the woman's face both sneered and seethed.

“Beat her,” Evelynn ordered with vindictive authority, “and get me a name.”

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

The coherent portion of the twi'lek's mind wondered why the Sith was so insistent on getting her name out of her. Was it simply because she'd refused to say it in the first place? Evelynn certainly seemed vindictive and petty enough for that alone to be the case. Not that it mattered now. Wren knew from the start that this wasn't going to end well for her.

She could feel the cruelty of the woman writhing within her chest, clawing for a way out.

Evelynn loved pain. She worshiped it. Reveled in the agony of it all.

There was so much worse to come, Wren knew that. The guard knew that. Evelynn knew that.

Wren's eyes followed the crown guard as he slowly paced around in front of her. His fingers flexed menacingly, she heard the creak of his leather gloves as they strained beneath the armor. He stood in front of her, staring back at her throat the thin visor of his grey helmet.

His balled fist whipped out with startling speed and slammed into Wren's face with enough force behind it to send her reeling in the chair. Her head snapped to the side, blood splattering across the room from the impact. The man had struck her hard enough that her teeth cut into the inside of her cheek, adding to the blood that already filled her mouth.

He didn't say a word, simply pulled his arm back and pummeled the woman without relent. There was a callousness in his assault. It wasn't anything personal, he'd been given an order, and simply following through with the direction. Not any different than going to get a cup of coffee.

When Wren didn't offer up the name in a timely enough fashion, the guard changed his tactics. Her face bloodied and bruised, bottom lip split and a black eye already to take form, Wren blinked as she wetly gasped for breath.

"Name." He stated. It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

It took Wren a moment to force her tongue to move, the mangled muscle entirely uninterested in doing as she willed it to. "Wren." She croaked out, spitting another glob of blood onto the floor.

The guard had grabbed her organic left lek, tchun, and he raised his gaze back to Evelynn with a questioning tilt of his head.

Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

If she couldn't partake, then she would watch and see if some semblance of enjoyment could be salvaged from the horrendous affair. At the very least, seeing the twi'lek on the receiving end of clinical beating would hopefully bring back a sense of calm and decorum.

The chair was dragged across the metal floor, a noise that was capable of making teeth shiver ringing out as the woman's weaker arm somewhat struggled with the heavy furniture.

Had to get a better view.

Once sat and perfectly comfortable, Evelynn leaned back, both observing and relishing the first round of the assault. Her face. Good. Was that the first target of the guard because it made things easier if the prisoner was less recognisable as a valid sentient being? It would have been worth pondering was it not for the rampant sense of satisfaction that slowly began to dampen the flames of ire.

It helped that Zambrano herself could feel each and every delicious blow. The heat and pain crawling over her own face with not a shred of damage shown. It soothed her soul like only suffering could.

Finally, through the power of brutal efficiency, a name was given.

Wren.

“Continue,” Evelynn nodded to the guard as she cleared away stray hairs from her brow that had freed themselves in her rampage, “all that I demand is that she does not die.”

Gradually a smile that fast turned into a smirk returned to the Sith Apprentice's face as she witnessed the retribution with all the pleasures it granted. It would seem as if she was only afflicted by the cruelty of her own hand. Important to know, and, oh, there was so much more to learn.

“You did this to yourself,” Evelynn simpered as if she hadn't had an absolute temper tantrum moments before, “things could have been more pleasant for you if you had cooperated when first asked.”

Dubious.

“They can still become more pleasant.”

Very dubious.

“After all, you shall be remaining in my custody until we find a way to sever this bond, or until you succumb to the ravages of time,” the Sith continued, quite aware that the twi'lek was likely not listening as the guard continued to make an example out of her, “which leaves you with the choice of how you want to spend the rest of your life. You can still be Wren, and live in the safety and comfort a palace, enjoying a life that you have only ever dreamed of.”

With slight caveats, naturally.

“Or you can be nothing more than a mere slave. My slave. The choice, of course, is entirely yours.”

Wrenarias

 

[Wrenarias]

The beating that followed was brutally efficient. Impassive as ever, the guard delivered blow after blow to the bound twi'lek. Each impact caused her to wrench horridly on her already broken wrist.

He used his grip on her lek to keep her head up, twisting the sensitive organ painfully in his grasp while his other arm slammed into her abdomen -- with enough force behind each strike to crack bone. Drawing any breath became excruciating, each consequent inhale worse than the previous as another rib was broken.

She could hear Evelynn taunting her in the background, but the words might as well have been in a different language.

The only thing she did hear was: MY s l a v e.

no...

A small part of her whispered in protest, gradually garnering strength and determination.

No.

Another powerful punch struck her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. The hallucinogenic still lingered in her mind, coloring her perceptions of the world. In an instant, the guard beating her to a pulp was not just some nameless crown guard. He was every single bastard that he kept her down in life, that had thought him better than her, that he owned her. The grey helmet that obscured his features made it easy for his face to rapidly shift from one visage to the next.

NO!

There was a part of Wrenarias that she kept buried deep in the recesses of her mind. Hidden away from the world, both for her own protection... and for theirs. Normally, it frightened even her. When she lost control, other people always paid the price. But locked here in this room, there wasn't anyone that didn't deserve such a fate.

The collar clamped around her throat might have dampened Wren's ability to draw on the Force around her, but it did little to stop her from dredging up the power from within. Searing heat burned in her chest as she opened her eyes, staring up at the visor before her. The man was pulling his hand back to strike her again.

"No." She whispered.

Had the guard not grabbed hold of her lek, she would have been utterly defenseless. Her greatest advantage was that no one in the room really understood the extent of Wren's abilities, not even herself. She could feel the flicker of fear and confusion in the guard's mind and his hold started to release, but it was entirely too late for him. Before he could pull back or let go, her lek wrapped around his wrist, securing him in place.

Under normal circumstances, Wren's bridge acted more as a suggestion. The recipient would only experience the emotions that crossed the connection, retaining their own cognition.

But this was something else.

The heat within her erupted, pouring into the man through their physical connection. Her will dominated his own in a single heartbeat. His consciousness was obliterated as her own scorched through the synapses of his entire existence. He wasn't just controlled, who he was as an individual was erased. His every thought, memory, experience consumed by the fire.

They wouldn't be lost, however, Wren would gain the knowledge he once held.

It always shocked Wren how easy it was to destroy a person. Normally, she was left feeling sick and disgusted with herself. But now... some twisted part of her reveled in the depravity of annihilating a man's identity. She felt empowered. The entire exchange lasted mere seconds, but by the time it was finished, the guard absently reached to deactivate Wren's restraints.

He then slowly turned towards Evelynn, still seated nearby on her chair and positioned himself in between Wrenarias and the Sith. Two simple words repeating over and over in his mind, the only thought he was still capable of -- Kill. Her.

Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

It wasn't the same.

There was still a sick satisfaction drawn from observation, as the guard switched to the twi'lek's torso but it was one garnered from smugness in victory, not from the delight of pure suffering. Was this how it was to be? Merely a spectator in games of cruelty? No, no they would fix this. They had all the time in the world to find a way.

Finding an appropriately accomplished Sith Sorcerer would be the first bet, as much as the thought of seeking external aid pained her. Make that option a back-up. She would study Force bonds on her own accord first.

Too consumed by her own considerations and enjoyment of the scene before her Evelynn didn't notice the initial shift between them. A hidden strength, blossoming through grim adversity.

It was only when the woman's presence in the Force ruptured, to the extent that even Zambrano could feel it through their damped connection that she even was aware that something was wrong and by then it was far too late.

He had released her from the chair.

“What!? You...”

Evelynn couldn't help but interrupt herself with a laugh. It was a disjointed cackle comprised of one part shock, one part fear and one part excitement. Absolutely fascinating! What had she done to him? It was no simple mind-trick, not with that surge in the Force that even the slaving collar couldn't stand up to. What wasted potential. What a Sith she could have been.

“...are full of surprises.”

Never say never.

“This is the sort of thing I would have liked to discuss, you know,” she said, her voice strangely delighted before more pressing issues took over. The guard shambled towards her like some brutish creation taking its very first steps forcing the Sith to swiftly draw the ornate dagger sheathed in her boot as it came for her.

He seemed more animal than man.

Where was his mind?

Did it hurt?

In what was a rather peculiar method of self-defence Evelynn remained in her chair, letting the husk of a guard collide with her in its stooping momentum, tipping the seat and both of them backwards with it.

Shirk.

Taking advantage of the creature's unthinking state the Sith merely had to sit and point the knife exactly where she thought his neck would be as they clashed. If it had been the correct moment for such consideration then Evelynn might have complimented herself on such quick thinking in a dangerous situation. In reality, she was more irritated by the fact that there was now a heavy, bleeding corpse atop her as her prisoner was likely escaping.

“I'm breaking your ankles next time,” she muttered under her breath, as she attempted to roll the armoured body off of her own considerably frailer from.

Wrenarias