As any who had known her for long could tell you, Darth Imperia had a flair for the dramatic and tastes that ran towards the ludicrously expensive. Her home was a castle fit for hundreds, every room lavish and ornately decorated. Her robes (made only from the finest silks) were extravagantly embroidered, her jewelry crafted of the most precious metals and gems, and her servants hand-picked for attractiveness and skill. She was a Knight of the Sith, after all. She had a right to indulge herself. And yet tonight, this was not the case. Imperia’s robes were simple black silk, her jewelry modest silver – and there was not a servant to be seen. Because tonight was special. Tonight, under the light of the moon, in a grove surrounded by shadow, the Knight had a confession to make.
She was in love.
It wasn’t an emotion she was used to experiencing; she had felt the love of a child for her parents, and an owner for her pets. But romantic love? She’d faked it before, certainly. She’d warped other people into feeling it for her, to suit her own ends. She knew the chemical process behind it, the physiological effects it had upon those struck by it. But to actually experience it was something utterly alien to Imperia; she’d thought her capacity for that sort of sentiment had withered away, ripped from her as payment for her power in the Dark Side. And yet - whenever she had nothing to plan, no schemes to enact, no slaves to amuse her and no opponents to crush, the former Jedi dominated her thoughts. Only for Aria had Imperia ever been truly altruistic, and it was only Aria that could be said to have Imperia’s total trust.
Imperia was in love, and she had to tell Aria.
So she did what felt right, what felt natural.
She set up a picnic.
In the midst of a Dark Side Nexus.
Perhaps it was a bit unorthodox, but being surrounded by the Dark Side imbued within Imperia not just strength and power, but also confidence. She could not afford to lose her nerve, not with something so utterly important on the line. Only when so submerged in the Darkness did Imperia ever feel at home, and so in the Darkness was where she would make her play. As for the picnic itself, it was simple, but obviously put together with thought. A jet-black blanket laid beneath the shade of a tree, a bottle of wine, vintage 800ABY, a pair of delicate crystal glasses, and a variety of traditional ‘picnic foods.’
Aria would arrive soon enough – she had never failed to do so before, not when it was something truly important. And this was exceptionally so – the Knight had poured her withered, tainted soul into the occasion.
She just hoped it was enough.
---
[member="Aria Vale"]
She was in love.
It wasn’t an emotion she was used to experiencing; she had felt the love of a child for her parents, and an owner for her pets. But romantic love? She’d faked it before, certainly. She’d warped other people into feeling it for her, to suit her own ends. She knew the chemical process behind it, the physiological effects it had upon those struck by it. But to actually experience it was something utterly alien to Imperia; she’d thought her capacity for that sort of sentiment had withered away, ripped from her as payment for her power in the Dark Side. And yet - whenever she had nothing to plan, no schemes to enact, no slaves to amuse her and no opponents to crush, the former Jedi dominated her thoughts. Only for Aria had Imperia ever been truly altruistic, and it was only Aria that could be said to have Imperia’s total trust.
Imperia was in love, and she had to tell Aria.
So she did what felt right, what felt natural.
She set up a picnic.
In the midst of a Dark Side Nexus.
Perhaps it was a bit unorthodox, but being surrounded by the Dark Side imbued within Imperia not just strength and power, but also confidence. She could not afford to lose her nerve, not with something so utterly important on the line. Only when so submerged in the Darkness did Imperia ever feel at home, and so in the Darkness was where she would make her play. As for the picnic itself, it was simple, but obviously put together with thought. A jet-black blanket laid beneath the shade of a tree, a bottle of wine, vintage 800ABY, a pair of delicate crystal glasses, and a variety of traditional ‘picnic foods.’
Aria would arrive soon enough – she had never failed to do so before, not when it was something truly important. And this was exceptionally so – the Knight had poured her withered, tainted soul into the occasion.
She just hoped it was enough.
---
[member="Aria Vale"]
