Private Professional Contracting

[Darth Virelia]

"Blast from the past."

Tags - Evangel

Virelia did not rise when the word slipped from Evangel's lips. Mistress. The sound of it was sweeter than any oath, more intoxicating than the richest wine. She lingered there, savoring the tremor in the Mandalorian's voice, the way the syllables shuddered through the space between them like a pulse begging to be claimed.

Her claws traced lazy circles against the exposed join of armor at Evangel's throat. Each motion promised both ruin and rapture. She pressed just enough to remind her prey that death was but a flick away, yet withheld the final cut with cruel restraint. "Good," she breathed, her voice low, sultry, thick with velvet satisfaction. "You learn quickly."

She shifted her weight, grinding her hips into Evangel's body, every inch of movement lewd and deliberate. "Do you feel it? The calm in the storm?" she whispered, violet eyes burning like amethysts held to fire. "That is what obedience gives you. The hunger remains, yes—but I give it shape. Purpose."

Her other hand slid up along the Mandalorian's helm, caressing its faceless curve like a lover's cheek. "Coin never understood you. The others could not. But I do." Her claws pressed harder, then eased, a rhythm as intimate as a heartbeat.

Virelia leaned closer, her lips nearly brushing the edge of the visor, voice dropping to a hushed, licentious murmur. "I will not promise you gentleness. I will not promise you safety. What I promise is truth: that you belong here, beneath me, with my claws at your throat and my will in your veins. You will never again have to ask yourself who you are, or why you kill. You will kill because I command it. And you will live because I allow it."

She lingered there, silent save for the heat of her breath, letting the weight of her words sink like chains forged of velvet and iron. Then, at last, she whispered one more word, quiet as silk sliding over steel:

"Mine."

 

[Evangel]

It was familiar territory. Darth Virelia demanded obedience. Subservience. She continued to lay atop the Sith Spawn and made no effort to remove herself with no instruction given. It hurt to lay so still. So silent. To not be given purpose in that moment, but it was her will and so it brought pride to obey. There was nothing to learn; Evangel already understood what a Lady of the Sith -- former or present -- demanded of those that served. She understood and embraced it once more.

The way Virelia moved, the way she spoke said more than her words, but all she said was for Evangel to remain still. To obey. "Command me, Mistress. I am yours." The storm of howling voices had calmed, but the stillness ached. Surely the Dark Lady wanted something. Why had Evangel been brought here? There must be something someone of her power and authority desired. All she had to do was say it. Say it! "Your will is mine. Your desires my own."

Were the words not enough? What was enough? What would sate Virelia's unstated command? Evangel knew the etiquette. but knew precious little of Darth Virelia herself. What she wanted. Who she hated. How could she carry out her will laying on the floor? But if that is what she wanted... if denying Evangel was what brought her pleasure, then she would suffer in silence. As she had before. It was exquisite suffering.

"Help me understand."

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Blast from the past."

Tags - Evangel

Virelia lingered atop her prize a moment longer, savoring the ache in the Mandalorian's stillness, the way her body strained with unspent hunger. Every tremor in Evangel's muscles was music to her, every ragged breath another verse in the hymn of domination. But when the mercenary whispered help me understand, Virelia smiled behind her mask, a slow curl of lips that dripped with cruelty and indulgence alike.

"Good," she murmured, claws tightening just once at the woman's throat, punctuating her pleasure with a sting. "You beg to understand. You ache to be told what I desire."

And then, with deliberate grace, Virelia uncoiled herself from Evangel's body. She rose slowly, hips sliding over armor, claws dragging along pauldrons and chestplate as she stood. The withdrawal was as obscene as the pinning had been intimate; every inch of contact was deliberate, as though she were peeling herself away from something she already owned.

Virelia stepped back just enough that the mercenary could rise if she dared. Her six-eyed mask tilted downward, violet eyes glimmering through the narrow slits with hunger unmasked. She raised her claws before her face, flexing them so the chamber light caught on their sharpened curves.

"Understand this, Mandalorian," she said, voice deep and licentious, vulgar in its intimacy. "I do not need coin. I do not need another blade-for-hire to add to the pile of forgettable names. I chose you. I called you here because I saw the fracture inside you, the hunger eating you alive. And I knew…" her voice dropped to a whisper, sultry as silk sliding across bare skin, "…that hunger could be shaped into something exquisite."

Her claws lowered, pointing toward Evangel's chest as though to pierce it without touching. "You want purpose? I will feed you prey until you drown in their screams. You want belonging? You will kneel here and know every breath you take is mine. You want to be used? I will use you until there is nothing left but blood, sweat, and obedience."

She laughed, low and decadent. "And when you falter, when the chaos in you rears up, I will not banish it. I will not 'heal' you. I will drag you down into it and teach you how to wield it as your truest blade."

Virelia paced a slow circle, the hem of her cape brushing stone, her voice curling like smoke. "You were made you into a killer. I will make you into a weapon. Not just thrown, not just wielded, but sharpened to a single truth—that you exist to satisfy me. My commands. My appetites. My wars."

She paused behind Evangel, claws hovering just above the woman's helm, so close that the faint hum of energy in them brushed the Mandalorian's senses. "Do you know why I pressed you down, why I kept you gasping in silence? Because you are too used to noise. To chaos. To the endless gnawing of your own thoughts. I wanted you to feel the leash before you begged for it."

Then she stepped back into Evangel's view, head tilted, stance regal and obscene. "So stand, Evangel. Stand and show me you are ready to be mine. You asked to understand? Then understand this—your body, your hunger, your violence, your life itself… all of it now belongs to me. You will kill because I demand it. You will live because I allow it. And you will obey because nothing else in the galaxy will ever make you feel this alive."

Her claws flexed again, the sound sharp and hungry in the silence. "Now… rise."

 

[Evangel]

Command me, Mistress. Hold me. Love me. I wor--

Shut up.

Virelia had shifted the dynamics of the struggle, but one persisted within the Sith Spawn she fawned over in that moment. Instead of an insistent desire to maim, kill, and destroy it became a war between extremes. Between subservience and domination. Naturally, before such a magnificent and glori-- before a Lady of the Sith Evangel had to behave... properly.

It was difficult not to want to grovel before her. To beg for her affection. And to also not want to rip her mask off and gouge out her eyes for the ceaseless sexual assault of their bodies -- their armor -- as it was rubbed together. Two minds with the controlling consciousness caught between them. She could feel the surprising strength of the personality that desired nothing more than to hear Darth Virelia's every word. Was it...?

Evangel could probably replicate Force Domination having experienced it, but there was a catch. She could mimic any ability she experienced, but just because she could channel did not mean she understood it. Much like someone exposed to Sith Lightning might be able to recreate it, but not necessarily with half as much effectiveness as the original caster. Experience and training played a part in utilizing abilities; things Evangel did not possess. Darth Virelia would undoubtedly have defenses against being commanded. Little did Evangel know it also required mental weakness that Virelia high off her own success would certainly lack. In either case, the Mandalorian had insufficient means of utilizing the power effectively.

Unlike Force Push (or Crush as Evangel had told the tale), which was far easier to use with limited experience.

The helmet shifted at the light stab Virelia had given Evangel. Her breath caught at the ceaseless physical domination the Lady held over her in that moment. It was humiliating. It was rapturous. She hated it. She wanted more of it. And Evangel couldn't deny this struggle had a certain structure to it compared to the cold, isolated rage of murder alone in which she'd arrived on Malachor. It didn't feel like being punched in the head over and over again, but in being pulled at from two different directions. But how to make sure neither side won?

It wasn't until Darth Virelia said 'kneel here' that the Mandalorian pushed herself up to do just that. Just because it hadn't been a deliberate command didn't mean she couldn't take it as one. Even the side of herself consumed with adoration jumped at the chance to get closer again. It was frantic at no longer being pressed up against the figure that command it. Evangel hated that simpering aspect of her psyche.

At least Virelia would never need to worry about Evangel lacking for hatred and anger. Though the Sith Spawn nature had made certain of that a more meaningful, directed source would provide a great deal of power.

LEASH M--

Evangel knelt perfectly still, hand on her knee, as Virelia stood behind her with her constant effects to emotionally dominate her new servant. She wasn't wrong, but the madness had merely... adapted to her efforts. It was not as distracting as before, but it was far too... malleable. Not that the Dark Lady would find that undesireable. Evangel, however, would not turn into a drooling puppet pawing at her feet! So, Evangel stamped down on the slavering self.

It stilled under Evangel's heel as Variela came back into view.

Admittedly, despite the zeal of the subservient self, Evangel didn't find what Darth Virelia had to say... unpleasant. It was very Sith or Dark Lady of her to say. Entirely normal. She already knew generally what to expect. The Dark Lady was probably mostly saying it for her own benefit. Because she enjoyed it. Because Evangel wasn't trying to interrupt and deny her the pleasure of being the one in command. Only, she was in command, so there was nothing to object to.

At her explicit command, this time, Evangel rose to her full height again. "Mistress, I await your commands." Equally needless for her to say, but her Mistress would want to hear it all the same. Of course, she awaited commands -- with bated breath even. But what else was there to say? Plenty, but no leave had been given to say it, and Virelia might have plans for her new servant.

Meanwhile, the hunter within watched. Studied. Evangel and Virelia were right, there was structure and form now to the madness. Instead of a crazed, frantic desire to butcher it patiently bided its time for the prey to let down its guard.

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Blast from the past."

Tags - Evangel

Virelia watched her rise, violet eyes gleaming like gems pulled from a furnace. The Mandalorian obeyed without hesitation now, and that obedience sang to her—sweeter than any hymn, more intoxicating than any drug. She let the silence stretch, savoring the sight of Evangel kneeling, then standing again at her word. The balance between storm and leash was fragile, trembling, but hers to command.

Her claws slid back into their housings with a slow, deliberate hiss, though her hands flexed as if aching for more. She paced before Evangel, every sway of her hips a calculated obscenity, every movement dripping with possession. "Good," she purred, her voice velvet soaked in venom. "You kneel when I whisper, you rise when I demand. You are beginning to understand what it means to be mine."

She stopped, mask tilted, eyes drinking in the faceless helm. "But obedience alone is not enough. Any fool with a chain can drag a hound. I want more. I want a weapon that kills when I say, and only when I say. A shadow that walks where I cannot, a tongue that whispers my will into ears that would never hear me otherwise."

Her hand rose, fingers gliding along Evangel's helm as though it were her cheek, lewd in its gentleness. "You will be that shadow, Evangel. My agent within the Mandalorian Empire. They will see a mercenary, a warrior, a sister of iron. They will not see me. You will serve there, watching, listening, bleeding when I command it. Every contract, every alliance, every enemy—you will weigh them, and you will carry my word back to me. Do you understand? You will wear their colors, but your soul belongs to me."

Her voice thickened, darker, hungrier. She stepped closer, claws brushing the Mandalorian's side as if claiming the body beneath the armor. "And more than that… I will forge a guard. A personal guard. Mandalorian women, each handpicked, each trained to serve not only as warriors but as ornaments of my will. They will be my shield, my teeth, my adornment in battle. And you—" her tone dropped into a husky growl "—you will be their captain. Their mistress beneath me, ensuring their loyalty never strays, their blades never dull."

She circled Evangel, every step predatory, every glance licentious. "You will command them in my name. You will mold them into a reflection of yourself: disciplined, ravenous, obedient. And when they look at you, they will see not only their leader, but the proof that surrender to me brings purpose."

Virelia stopped behind Evangel, her voice a whisper at the Mandalorian's ear, hot and obscene. "You will be the first of them, the example. The pet who became captain. The beast who found a leash worth loving. The others will follow because you will show them how." Her hand slid down along Evangel's arm, claws scraping softly against the beskar gauntlet. "Serve me, and I will give you prey enough to drown your hunger. I will give you sisters to command, a throne to kneel before, and a purpose so sharp it will bleed you every day you live."

Her laughter came low, vulgar in its promise. "Disobey me… and I will tear you apart piece by piece, and then rebuild you into something worse than obedient. You will not like what I make of you then."

She stepped back into Evangel's line of sight, head tilting with wicked elegance. "So, Evangel—my pet, my blade, my storm—do you accept these gifts? Will you serve me in shadow, and lead my guard in my name?"

Her eyes burned brighter, daring, demanding. "Or will you crawl back into the emptiness you came from?"

 

[Evangel]

Evangel stood still as Virelia preened and strutted about her domain. Despite the domineering, arrogant attitude Evangel actually looked forward to what the Dark Lady had in mind for her. There was a heat that blossomed in her chest and spread out to her limbs as she stood there. Not a carnal heat; an enveloping warmth of belonging to Virelia. She was hers, and Virelia saw great use in Evangel. The Dark Lady enjoyed physical obscenity, but Evangel found solace in the perverse toxicity of the woman that lay claim to the Mandalorian's very right to breathe.

It felt right.

It wasn't right according to her Mandalorian instructor and those she'd confided in to fit in with society, but it was. Sith Spawn were not beautiful creatures. They weren't porcelain dolls or buxom ladies. Normally. Her Master had managed to create one that genuinely passed for Human. Physically. Mentally and emotionally were another matter. An absolute disaster hidden behind a veneer of eye candy.

Obedience wasn't enough? Evangel wanted to know what was, and Virelia gladly delivered. After all, what good was a servant that didn't know their Master's will? How could they serve given no direction? And toward that end Evangel would become darkness itself for the Dark Lady. She paid rapt attention to every word Virelia said; the voices were quelled and curious what would be asked of them, and were not disapponted in her scope or her depravity. It was so much easier being a monster than trying to be "normal," wasn't it? Even if Evangel would have to keep the mask on to continue passing as "one of them."

Evangel's hands rose a fraction of an inch before they stopped. Not to push Virelia away, but with the thought to embrace her; but the Dark Lady hadn't bid them to do so. Despite keeping firm reigns on the simpering side of her self, Virelia was an embodiment of desire; only a fool wouldn't have noticed by this point. But that was the trap. Goad, goad, and goad some more until someone broke an unstated rule.

"Freedom is a lie. There is only obedience. Through obedience, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my Mistresses' will is done. I am yours. Command me and it will be done." Whatever it took to keep Virelia happy. To keep her close with those hungry, possessive eyes. If the Dark Lady was happy, Evangel was happy. If she was enraged, Evangel was enraged. "All will kneel before you."

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Blast from the past."

Tags - Evangel

Virelia stood in stillness as Evangel's vow spilled into the chamber, words steeped in the Sith's perverse liturgy. The Mandalorian's declaration was obedient, but more than that—hungry, desperate, trembling at the edge of desire. The Dark Lady's lips curled beneath her mask, violet eyes glowing with satisfaction that bordered on carnal. She had pressed, pressed, pressed—and the storm had bent.

Her clawed hand reached behind her cape, slow and deliberate. The sound of leather sliding over steel echoed in the silence. When her arm came forward again, she held in her grip a strip of supple, darkened hide. A collar, thick and reinforced, the inside lined with faint sigils etched in silver thread. From its ring hung a leash—chain links blackened and sleek, swaying in her hand like a serpent eager to coil.

"Essential," she murmured, the single word low and vulgar, dripping with authority. She raised the collar high enough that Evangel could see every detail, every rune, every promise. The chain clinked as she let it dangle, the sound obscene in its simplicity.

Virelia did not move closer. Instead, she let the leash swing lazily, a pendulum of humiliation and belonging both. She tilted her head, mask gleaming, and her silence pressed heavier than any speech could. Her breathing was audible, slow, measured, seductive in its patience. She wanted Evangel to ache for the word, to ache for the gesture.

"Put it on," she whispered finally. Her tone was licentious, sultry, the syllables sliding like silk soaked in venom. "If you would be mine, truly mine, you will bind yourself. My hands will not force you. You will choose the leash, and all that comes with it."

She stepped a half-pace nearer, the leash swinging still, her body poised like a predator who has already won the kill. "Do it," she hissed, softer this time, almost tender in its cruelty. "Show me you know where you belong. Around your throat, snug, where my claws can always find you."

Her eyes narrowed, glittering, burning. "Or refuse. Remain standing there, pretending that your words are enough. Pretending that loyalty is obedience when it is not yet proven."

Virelia let the leash fall loose from her hand, the chain pooling against the stone floor with a metallic sigh. The collar remained in her palm, extended toward Evangel. She leaned forward, mask inches from the Mandalorian's faceless helm, voice low and vulgar. "Collared, you will learn what training truly means. How to kneel, how to fight, how to kill, how to please. Every strike you make, every breath you take, will be mine. You will not lift a finger without the leash whispering my name in your bones."

She tilted her head, almost mockingly affectionate. "You said all will kneel before me. Then kneel first. Seal your vow. Take it."

And then she said nothing more. She let the silence press down again, let the leash gleam on the floor between them, let the collar rest in her open palm like a gift, like a curse. The decision was left to Evangel, though the weight of inevitability pressed as heavily as the Rift outside.

 

[Evangel]

The golden visor shifted to where Virelia's hand had gone only to watch as a collar slipped out from behind the armored Dark Lady. Was that necessary, she asked herself? Why did her Mistress not understand her adoration? Hadn't Evangel said everything she wanted to hear? Done everything she'd commanded without hesitation or creative interpretation? But it was necessary because Darth Virelia desired it. And so, Evangel accepted it would please her Mistress and that was enough.

What was a collar before the terrors she was prepared to commit in Virelia's name? The other woman could literally step on her head pressed against the floor and Evangel would beg for her to do it again with the other foot. Her place was wherever the Dark Lady wanted, how ever she wanted it, when ever it was wanted. Every act would be taken with the hope it would lead to rewards by her Mistress in any form. The only real agony would be being denied her touch, her affection, her notice.

Her breathing had grown uneven. Evangel's heart pounded in her chest. Her lips trembled within her helmet. Blood and death and horrors too terrible to recount had been replaced with a need to be embraced by the Dark Lady before her. To be accepted. Truly accepted without her obedience questioned. Tell her what needed to be done for this cold, lifeless agony of separation to be slain, she wanted to shout.

And tell her Virelia did. At length. Too long. So long!

At last the Dark Lady's command was given and Evangel simultaneously reached out toward the collar with both hands, and collapsed to her knees before Virelia. The helmet tilted back to stare up at her as her fingers closed about the collar, and sought to brush themselves against her Mistress's wrists and hands. "I am yours."

Was it impertinent to try to draw Virelia's hands to her helmet along with the collar? Evangel wanted to feel her touch. The helmet was in the way, but she had thought to caress cold steel before why not again? The collar slipped from Virelia's grasp regardless of her reaction to such efforts. "Accept this worthless one, Mistress," Evangel brought the collar up to her throat breathlessly. "Teach her to be nothing but an instrument of your will. Envelop her in your darkness." She would secure the collar as Virelia commanded and await further instruction. The voices were quiet, but Evangel felt as though the madness only grew with every moment; but it was not such a bad thing to be mad. Not when she supplicated herself before such majesty.

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Blast from the past."

Tags - Evangel

Virelia did not reach down to steady Evangel's trembling hands as the collar was drawn up and clasped around her throat. She let the woman do it herself, savoring the way the Mandalorian's breath hitched, the uneven rhythm of her chest as the sigiled leather sealed into place. It was more than leather and chain now—it was proof, visible and obscene, that Evangel belonged to her.

"Good," Virelia purred, the word long, dripping, drawn out like a tongue across bare flesh. "You have chosen."

Then she moved, slow and deliberate, stepping forward until the heel of her boot hovered above the bowed helm. She paused only long enough for Evangel to feel the weight of inevitability, and then she brought it down. The sharp edge of obsidian-plated armor pressed against the golden visor, grinding the Mandalorian's head back against the stone floor. The sound of it was exquisite—steel against steel, submission forced into place by her touch.

"You kneel, you collar yourself, you whisper that you are mine," Virelia said, her voice low, licentious, every syllable vibrating with ownership. She pressed harder, grinding her heel slowly over the mask as if testing whether the beskar would crack beneath her weight. "Now I will see if you can serve as beautifully as you beg."

Her claws flexed at her side as she leaned down, her tone turning cruel and vulgar. "Your first task, pet, will not be to grovel at my feet, much as you ache to. No. You will hunt for me. You will prove that this collar is not just decoration but an oath carved into your flesh."

The boot remained pinned, forcing Evangel to look up at her through the pressure. Virelia's mask tilted, violet eyes blazing. "There is an enclave. Ancient. Abandoned. Jedi filth squatted in it centuries ago, and though the Order has long since scurried into their graves, the place remains. Hidden. Forgotten. Within Mandalorian space."

Her heel ground harder, the chain of the leash jingling softly with the motion. "I want it. Whatever secrets linger in its stone, whatever relics they abandoned in their cowardice—it belongs to me now. And you, my precious beast, will be the one to fetch it for me."

She leaned lower, voice a hiss, obscene and intimate. "You will go to your people, draped in their colors, but your heart chained here." The claws of one hand rose, lightly dragging against the chain attached to the collar, the scrape promising both pleasure and pain. "You will make certain that my Dark Court can enter and leave without a whisper of detection. No alarms. No eyes. No tales told. You will scout the enclave, measure every entry, every watchful gaze, every shadow. And then you will bring me its secrets, gift-wrapped in silence."

Virelia's laughter rolled out, decadent and cruel. "Do this, and I will reward you with blood and belonging. Fail me, and the collar will tighten until your precious storm chokes itself to death."

She ground her heel once more against Evangel's helm, savoring the obscene domination of the moment, before finally lifting it away. The leash swung idly from her claws, glittering in the chamber light. "Do you understand, pet?" she asked, voice velvet and venom. "Your first hunt will not be for a body to bleed, but for a place to deliver into my grasp. Bring me this enclave, and I will know my investment in you was not misplaced."

Her eyes glowed brighter through the mask, daring, demanding. "Now. Speak. Tell me whose will you serve."

 

[Evangel]

"Mistress," Evangel sighed beneath her feet. The helmet could resist her physical force with ease; there was no risk at all of injury. A hand reached up toward the Dark Lady that loomed over her as if beseeching the woman for mercy. Virelia continued to be consumed in the moment; the tone of voice, her cadence, the domineering, arrogant, and lewd choice of words all spoke of her endless enjoyment. Evangel couldn't say she was experiencing as much fun in the same way, but if Virelia was happy then so was she.

As Virelia spoke, Evangel lay prostrated before her. Hands fallen to either side, she groaned quietly for the other woman's benefit as though in agony.

It was true, Virelia demanded far more or to greater extent than her former Master. She was domineering. Sadistic. All things Evangel understood. She wanted-- she demanded control. To see her pet writhe under her love. Feeding it would only make her hungry for more, but denying Virelia would only have Evangel locked away out of her sight. It was the deadly game of those consumed by a need to dominate all those before their eyes; it really did feel like she'd finally come home. At least part of herself.

"I serve only you, Great Mistress. Queen of the Endless Night. Voice of the Abyss. Ruler of the Dark Court." Evangel reached up to caress the sides of Virelia's calve muscle of the foot that stood so firmly on her faceplate. "Your will be done."

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Blast from the past."

Tags - Evangel

Virelia lingered with her boot pressing down, savoring the way Evangel's groan echoed in the stone chamber, the way the Mandalorian's hand dared to caress her calf like a worshipper touching the altar of their god. It was vulgar. It was perfect.

She tilted her head, violet eyes burning brighter, the mask a gleaming insectile void above her pet's submission. Her laughter was soft, licentious, the sound of a woman utterly satisfied by the spectacle laid before her. "Queen of the Endless Night…" she purred, mocking and indulgent at once. "You do flatter obscenely, my pet. Perhaps you do understand me after all."

Her boot ground once more into the visor, not in punishment but in emphasis, a delicious reminder of ownership. Then she drew it back, slow, letting Evangel's face breathe free of its weight. The leash rattled as Virelia crouched low, claws dragging along the collar, tugging it just enough to make the leather bite at the Mandalorian's throat.

"You obey," she whispered, voice husky, dripping with venom and promise alike. "You kneel. You call me mistress. You offer yourself utterly. All of this pleases me. And a mistress who is pleased…" Her claws trailed down the chain, slipping over Evangel's chestplate like a lover's hand, "…is sometimes inclined to reward her pet."

Her tone dipped into a growl, lewd and commanding. "So tell me, Mandalorian. What is it you crave in return for this obedience? Is it blood? Flesh? The heat of a body beneath your spear? Or is it simpler?" She leaned closer, the mask nearly kissing the golden visor, her voice a velvet hiss. "Do you want my touch, my mouth, my approval? Speak, pet. Confess your hunger. If I am to reward you…" her claws tightened on the chain, pulling her closer, "…I must know how best to break you with it."

 

[Evangel]

The low groan was cut off with the jerk of the collar at Virelia's hand. The absence of her abusive, domineering foot on Evangel's helm was all the more painful. At least the Dark Lady herself drew nearer once more, which made up for the moment of separation. More, she suddenly brought up the thought of a reward. A momentous change from the constant effort to emotionally and mentally wear her down until every thought was consumed with how to best serve Virelia.

"I will kill anyone you command. Set fire to whatever world offends. Annihilate any star that thinks it shines brighter than you, Mistress," Evangel replied breathlessly as Darth Virelia eliminated the space between them. Blood and murder were always welcome for a blood-thirsty Sith Spawn. How could you go wrong trying to sate the insatiable? But was that a reward?

"But, I," the words paused just for a second, "I desire your touch, Mistress. Your look. To hear your voice. To never be parted from you. My life would be hollow if not for you." Just the way Virelia held her collar now with their masks so close together was relieving. The way she paid so rapt attention to her pet brought new purpose and satisfaction to her ravenous and mad life. If only the woman would take her wherever she went.

Perhaps... perhaps, if Virelia meant-- no, she always meant what she said, even if it contradicted something she'd said before. So, as Captain of her Guard then wouldn't Evangel need to be by her side always? That was its own reward. It pained her to think there would be tasks -- like the one she was just given -- that would keep them apart.

There was danger in embracing a mad creature that fought so hard to keep from butchering the masses. Such passions could be turned elsewhere and be just as deadly. Anyone that thought to separate them would certainly be at risk of life and limb. Virelia was her's just as much as she was Virelia's.

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Blast from the past."

Tags - Evangel

Virelia's laughter slid out low and decadent, vibrating through the space between them like a purr wrapped in barbed wire. Her claws tugged the collar tighter, forcing the leather to bite against Evangel's throat until every breath was a reminder of who owned it. "Ah… listen to you," she crooned, licentious and cruel. "So quick to burn the stars themselves for me. So desperate to prove that your hunger is mine to command."

She tilted her head, mask nearly brushing the golden visor, violet eyes blazing. "Blood, fire, murder—yes, yes, I will feed you all of that. But this?" She gave the leash a sudden, sharp jerk that drew Evangel closer, almost choking. "This is what you truly crave. My touch. My gaze. My voice dripping into your ears like poison."

Her claws raked down the chain with deliberate obscenity, dragging over the Mandalorian's chestplate, as if caressing a lover's skin through steel. "Pathetic. Glorious. You want me to keep you close, to never be parted. To hear me whisper filth into your mind until there's nothing left of you but my will." She chuckled, the sound vulgar, hungry. "And you call that a reward."

Her boot slid forward again, pressing against Evangel's knee, forcing it deeper into the stone. "You'll have it, pet. My touch. My attention. My leash wound so tightly around your throat you'll never escape it again." She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, obscene and commanding. "But understand this—if you want me always at your side, you'll bleed twice as much for me. You'll kill twice as deep. You'll carry my shadow everywhere until the galaxy forgets you even had a name."

Her claws hooked beneath the collar, tugging once more. "And when you beg for more… I'll decide if you've earned it, understood?"

 

[Evangel]

Evangel didn't deny what Virelia said. The need to hunt hadn't waned, but the need to obey had gotten twisted along with it once more. Perhaps stronger this time with the Dark Lady's constant feeding. Endless command that did not fail to disappoint. Even now, with the Mandalorian having been the one to stoke the fires this time, Virelia firmly jerked on the collar in a way that brought meaning to Evangel's lifeless world.

"Kill my weaknesses, Mistress," her voice lightly strained by the tight grasp the woman held on the collar. There were uses for poison. It could be a cure all its own with the right dosage.

"Yes," the word was breathed as a chorus to the delighted scorn Virelia lay upon her captive. Let Her will become part of Evangel. Let her know every bit about the woman so they might be as one. No one would be able to separate them. There was iron still within the humbled creature before the Dark Lady; an unyielding purity of being that could not be bent or broken. A focus that would slice open the heavens given the opportunity.

And Virelia agreed. Evangel grinned behind the faceplate of the helmet. "My suffering will be for your glory. My pain for your pleasure. I want it all, Mistress." There was a brief paused before the zeal and need in her voice gave way to a barely audible, "Please." After all, she was at the mercy of Virelia's whim. Though with the fanaticism within already stoked, it would be difficult for Virelia to shake loose Evangel even if the Dark lady thought to banish her.

Darth Virelia​