Rot, Glorious Rot [Kasa Shi]

[Lethia Morow]

The Night - 1988 Deathrock Version

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Lethia had read in her books that the use of the Dark Side was tantalizing - that it was addicting. For some, it was about power - the sensation that you could crush and kill and destroy anything that stood in your way. For others, it was about pleasure - the experience, as she'd read it, was to some even better than the best sex. And still others, like the Witches of Dathomir and some Sith, saw it as a religious experience - as if by tapping into the Darkness, they were brought closer to holiness.

It wasn't like that for Lethia.

On that singular occasion that she had chosen to tap into the Dark Side, it felt wrong. Worms crawled beneath her skin, unseen and immaterial but all too real. The scents of rot and decay filled her nose, the chittering of insects filled her ears. It was unnatural on a fundamental level.

Immoral. Disgusting. Depraved. Shameful.

Euphoric.

Her first experience with the Dark hadn’t been particularly extravagant. She hadn’t killed massive numbers of people. She hadn’t twisted minds and souls to her will. No – she shocked someone. Not even seriously. She was sixteen and stupid and angry, and he had angered her. It wasn’t intentional, what she did, but that didn’t matter. In exchange for that indiscretion, the Dark Side rewarded her, inundated her with the filth and decay and death that she was so infatuated with.

After only two months under the tutelage of [member="Bethany Kismet"] – a wonderful woman, and one of the few people that Lethia called friend – the Padawan had, to her disgust, discovered the truth about herself. She wanted more. More depravity, more disgust. More rot.

She could never tell Miss Kismet. It wasn’t that Lethia wanted to hurt people, of course not. But Bethany wouldn’t understand that. How could she? No one as pure as she possibly could.

Which brought the Padawan to her current situation. Sat in the middle of a necropolis, bodies abound in various stages of decay, was Lethia. It wasn’t much, it wasn’t truly Dark, but such minor indulgence of her proclivities every now and again brought the trouble young woman some measure of peace.

It was a pity that that peace was soon to be interrupted. Lethia so preferred solitude to socialization.

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[member="The Rusted Queen"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

Inhale, exhale...​

​

The aroma of flesh filled Kasa's nostrils and danced playfully on her tongue. Just enough for her to taste what she typically longed for. Death hung in the air of the necropolis, stagnant and salted with the the taste of copper. This is where Kasa needed to be, and with every body that she passed by, it began to feel more and more like a home. Naturally, most people - typically those of the Jedi tradition, would show a strong objection. They respected their dead, but that was a world apart from what Kasa herself would do, even more so the Sith.​

​

These were feeding grounds, and the twisted lady hadn't had a meal in some time. Regular foods or delicacies did not intrigue her appetite, only the scent of carrion and power could ever make her mouth fill with saliva. Her lips parted as she hovered over a fresh corpse, strands of sticky enzymes connecting to her rotten teeth. Kneeling down, Kasa grabbed the arm of the cadaver and began to sink her teeth in. Eyes closed, tongue writhing over the mush after it was chewed up.​

​

A shaky exhale escaped her, eyes rolling into the back of their sockets.​

​

Pleasure, fulfillment, the taste of power not yet completely withered. ​

​

Coagulated blood painted her cheeks as she continued to gorge, bits of sinew and dead nerves hung from her lips until something caught her attention. She wasn't alone. A presence tickled her senses, but there was infallibly something alive inside the necropolis. Who else would be in such a place? ​

​

Allowing the sensual, euphoric pleasure of cannibalism to roll off of her mind, the corpse-eater stepped away from the body and equipped herself with her helmet and readied her lightsaber. A screeching hiss of instability gave way to a dancing crimson blade whose crystal was just as damaged and cracked as its wielder. ​

​

There was only one thing on Kasa's mind now...​

​

Fresh meat... ​

​

[member="Lethia Morow"]

 

[Lethia Morow]

And there it ended.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

Lethia's peace, that is.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

For soon after her third meditative mantra was completed, the Padawan detected something - another presence dancing at the edge of her Senses, amplified as they were by the Force. It approached, slowly but surely - and it was hostile. Strong in the Force, at least compared to the masses - an apprentice in terms of prowess, if Lethia judged correctly. This intruder wouldn't be too hard to detain or fight off.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

And then it hit her, and for the briefest of moments, none of her previous analysis mattered.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

Whoever or whatever it was that was approaching Lethia was dark and twisted, shadowy and depraved. That darkness made her shudder when she touched it, and it wasn't a shudder of fear, no. Rather, it was the sort of shudder that, in more intimate situations, would be accompanied by one's eyes rolling back in their head and unreasonably loud appeals to a deity.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

Not that Lethia had any interest in such things.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

Obviously.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

After a split second, the Padawan cleared her mind once more, and prepared for conflict; she performed meditative rituals meant to sharpen the mind and the reflexes, and to reaffirm a Jedi’s connection to the Force. In all honesty, she would’ve preferred her rifle at her side, but, well, she wasn’t expecting someone to intrude upon her in a crypt.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

Speaking of things Lethia wasn’t expecting; a deranged looking woman with a faulty lightsaber and little bits of flesh hanging from her mouth also fell neatly into that category. The Padawan was ever so slightly confused at first, but in a split second understanding came to her – and a split second after that, bile began to rise up in her throat. Twisted though her proclivities might have been, she still had a limit - and the completely unsafe and filthy nature of cannibalism pushed that act a few hundred miles beyond that limit.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

Fighting back the urge to vomit, the young Padawan took a few steps back whilst the aggressor approached, and spoke – her voice was calm and serene, in stark contrast to the utter terror threatening to seize her mind.

“You know, you really shouldn’t eat that. There are a variety of diseases that can result from ingesting the flesh of sentients."

[SIZE=10.5pt]---[/SIZE]

[member="The Rusted Queen"]