Private Saints for Sinners

[Kaila Irons]

Location: Jutrand, Eternalist chapel
Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

Kaila stood before a great mural between the pillars leading up to the Eternalist alter.

Her citrine eyes shone in the dimly lit shrine, cast skywards at the golden masked figure depicted holding up a shining eclipse rendered in the most beautiful Aurodium-leaf, his hands wreathed in black flame accented in red that Kaila remained uncertain if was not paint, but blood.

The shrine which had been erected before this dread mural was different from the others which lined the walls, nestled reverently into their own alcoves. In each a statue stood it's silent vigil in sculpted stone and marble, legendary figures of great renown rendered in solitary. The skeletal mask of Darth Nihilus watching with empty, black eyes, Darth Sideous scheming behind his hood, even Reven had his place, arms crossed as if to be entombed, sabers held in reverse grip, sadly deprived of their brilliant coloration, though even these shadows of ancient legacy commanded respect.

Before this mural however there stood no larger than life statue. Instead a pedestal engraved with ur-kittat long obscured by dust, and on it sat six figures rendered in dark iron and and masked in bronzium, one of the six masks being identical to the dramatically painted figure. The other five wore similarly resplendent yet distinctly different faces of hungering majesty, each smiling up at her with mouths full of blades.

Eternalist clergy and faithful citizens moved quietly around her in dark robes, lighting crimson candles around the other shrines, leaving offerings of gold, blade or bone. Yet all gave the young Darth and the mysterious shrine a wide birth.

It was no place for the citizenry nor simple priests, but those who'd touched the madness of war and lived.

But as a new figure entered the periphery of her heightened senses, she turned her hooded face to behold one who was neither of those things, yet may become so much more in time.

​

 

[Liliane]

Tag: Kaila Irons

The doors to the shrine closed behind her with a sound far too final.

Liliane paused just inside, letting the quiet press in. The air was heavy here, not merely with incense and candle smoke, but with memory, legacy, dread. She had seen the Eternalist sanctums before, in glimpses while delivering parcels or scrubbing stones. But never like this. Never as something other than property.

Her boots — new, yet plain — made the faintest sound on the polished floor. She hated it. A servant would've known how to walk in silence. Would've been part of the background, unseen. She found her hands folding before her instinctively, shoulders drawing inward as her gaze lowered.

But she was not a servant now.

She was free.

The word sat strange on her tongue still, like something foreign, a garment too fine for her skin. And yet, the Empress had given it to her, placed it around her shoulders like a mantle and whispered, stand tall.

Liliane inhaled slowly, scenting burnt wax and old stone, the iron-rich tang of blood long cleaned. Her soot-black cloak shifted as she moved between the statues, each one casting long shadows under flickering crimson flame. Some she recognised by name. Others, only by the chill they left in the air.

And then she saw her.

The woman standing before the mural was not citizen, not priest. Liliane knew the feel of power when it engulfed a room. This one stood still and made the room obey her. Hooded, yet unmistakably Sith. Not someone to disturb.

So Liliane gave her a wide berth, careful, quiet. Her steps slow. She kept her eyes respectfully lowered as she passed behind the woman, though her curiosity itched to look at the mural, and the pedestal before it. Her heart pounded once, hard. She caught her breath.

You are not nothing anymore, she reminded herself. You are what She sees in you.

Liliane straightened, if only slightly. Her fingers loosened at her sides. And with careful reverence, she approached the mural, remaining at a respectful distance from the other woman, as one might near a wild and sleeping beast.

She had come here to learn, even if part of her still wanted to vanish entirely.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

Anathemous gave the newcomer a once over, a single golden eye peering in her shaded hood like a distant star.

Assessing the threat of this cloaked form became easier with each cautious step, which the young Darth deemed to lack the creeping quality of an assassin's light footedness, rather seeming not unlike the timid servants her master had once kept.

And so she paid the figure no mind, turning to ponder once more the secrets of these golden masters.

She wondered if The Empress kept such a mask somewhere secret, or if perhaps there were others like her. If so then she knew one of the remaining five, or certainly a candidate at the very least. She only hoped that Quinn would not succumb to the madness, if they were forced to rely on such powers again.

Her thoughts were dashed by the figure's approach.

"You are no shrine servant, are you." she said, never once turning around to regard her with natural sight.

Her voice was soft, strangely young for a woman of her power and station, even subdued as her signature was. So too was it quiet, the kind of hushed tones spoken by one who'd been taught to be seen and not heard by her betters, despite the distinctly aristocratic dialect with which she spoke.

"You'd have hurried along to your duties or reported to the priest, rather than stop here. Nor are you an assassin, not today at least, else you'd have crept closer by now, a shikkar hidden in loose sleeves."

Finally she turned to turned to examine the girl from over her broad shoulder, her freckled face and golden curls catching what light slivered through stained glass.

Her head would tilt at the sight; a young girl, at least half a decade younger than herself, hair like dried blood, skin pale. Lack of sunlight in the manor, or dark side corruption? The sort of girl who could grow into a fierce grace if given the tools to do so.

"Do you know of them?" she pointed to the mural, and strange idols, red ribbons hanging from her wrists.

"The Dread Masters?"

​

 

[Liliane]

Tag: Kaila Irons

The stranger's voice was soft, restrained, carried with the ease of command not in volume but in precision. Each word spoken like it belonged, placed rather than projected. She didn't need to raise it. The shrine itself seemed to quiet in response. The observations had been sharp. Too sharp. They rang with an accuracy that left Liliane momentarily still, as though standing beneath the gaze of something more than human.

Not a servant. Not an assassin. The stranger hadn't asked, but rather stated.

She didn't flinch. But inside, she turned the words over like blades in her palm, testing each one. Had she walked too heavily? Carried herself too plainly? It was a reminder that here, among Sith, every step was a language, and someone was always listening.

Her eyes remained fixed on the mural. It towered over the shrine, its surface alive with shadows. The figures depicted there were unmistakably Sith Lords, some ancient, others more recent, rendered in sweeping strokes of reverence and dread. She didn't know their names, except for the one whose name and visage was known by all, but something in the way they stood — each one posed as if ready to tear open the sky — told her they were meant to be remembered. The figures on the pedestal, however, were smaller, yet somehow more oppressive.

She did not know of these Masters, and yet she would be remiss to ignore the impression they forced upon the room. They each gave her an increasing sense of unease, the central one, especially. Its presence tugged at her mind, as though it could see her, through its mask, piercing through her being. She didn't understand them, not yet. But something about them felt as if they might, in time, understand her.

The other woman's presence was like a storm held just at bay, aimed solely at her.

"I..."

The word slipped free, unguarded, and she hated it the moment it left her lips. It reverberated far too loudly against the old stone. Her mouth closed. Her expression didn't shift, but her focus narrowed, tightening around the calm she was trying to maintain.

"...do not."

A simple admission, nothing more. But in this place, with that company, even those two words felt like stepping into unknown waters. She inhaled quietly, settling the nerves that threatened to stir.

You are here to learn, not to cower. You are what She sees in you.

She repeated the affirmation as coolly as she could, drawing strength from the icy clarity of her lady; beautiful, perfect, and precise as a scalpel poised above flesh. She remained still, offering nothing further, allowing the space to settle back into its uneasy quietude; the sound of the candles crackling low, the whisper of cloth as robed clergy passed in distant corners, and the masked glares of the mural watching them both.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

She remembered what those days were like, the hesitation.

To be a young apprentice thrust into the inner workings of an empire that was not yet her home, cruelly unaware of a people not yet her own.

The sith smiled, not at all the usual smile of dark lords and ladies, but of silent admission that she understood.

"I am not surprised, The Masters are whispered more than spoken of."

Though her broad shoulders turned to face the girl, Anathemous glanced first upon the stone figures, her gloved hand sweeping towards them as she explained, and only after did she turn to address Liliane as something other than a student made to listen to the enthused stories of a lorekeeper.

"Over 30,000 years ago, The Six were dark scholars and sorcerers in service to the Second Sith Empire. Mysterious, terrifying, they destroyed entire fleets without leaving their meditation chambers, trapping their foes in endless loops of fear and madness."

"But the secret to their success is as inspiring as it is ignored."

She turned to the girl in the same careful but fluid motions with which they had approached. Not out of caution, but so as not to spook the poor thing.

"They studied the Phobis device, a living machine turned even the greatest sith lords' fears against themselves. They were thought impossible to tame nor learn from, better sealed away in the emperor's vaults."

"The Six were dying, losing themselves as it stripped their minds bare."

"But there is a lesson in their survival."

The young Darth crossed her arms over an armored chest, wearing a look of acceptance about her freckled face. She knew the words she'd utter next could be controversial to some sith, they had been since the era of Darth Bane and that rot was still festering in forgotten corners, but it was a lesson she aimed to impart all the same. Especially to these younger Sith, each and every one representing the future, an Era she planned to build in The Princess' favor.

"Alone, every sith who came into contact with the device perished or lost themselves to primal fear, even the cruelest among them. But together The Six formed a powerful force bond, each sharing one another's burden and strength alike, a commune of sacrificial suffering and shared fortitude of the mind. They became nigh inseparable, and they alone wielded this fear to heights once thought impossible."

"For this, they were forever named The Dread Masters."

She turned to regard the mural one last time.

"I believe our Empress may be the last of their scions."

Then her eyes narrowed.

"And perhaps one other."

​

 

[Liliane]

Tag: Kaila Irons

Liliane listened.

She did not interrupt, nor would she have dared to. Not in this place, not with this woman. There was a rhythm to the story, like a ritual. A lesson passed down from one flame to another.

The Dread Masters.

She had not expected a tale of unity. Of six becoming one. Much of the Sith she had imagined were all jagged, solitary things, teeth and blades and sharpened pride. But this was something else. Something colder. Deeper.

The idea of the Phobis device unsettled her. The thought of being stripped bare — seen — by something so relentless sent a chill through her spine. And yet, the Six had survived it. Not by shielding themselves, but by joining. The thought clung to her like fog.

She wasn't sure if it was courage... or surrender.

Then the other woman said it: Our Empress.

Liliane's breath caught. Only for a moment, but it was enough. Her shoulders stiffened, and her eyes flicked sharply to the Darth, then just as quickly away again.

"The Empress?"

The question left her mouth before she could stop it, too sudden, too real. She regretted it immediately.

Her jaw tightened. She brought herself back into check with a quiet inhale, as though freezing the slip in place. Her expression, once unreadable, held the faintest trace of something raw; wonder, perhaps. Or loyalty. Or something deeper.

She turned her gaze back to the pedestal, steady now, as if the statues might help her regain control.

"You speak of them as if they were more than Sith," she said, voice carefully level. "As if they became something else entirely."

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

Anathemous paused a moment.

Something about the way this girl spoke intrigued the ever curious young Darth. And as she turned back, so too did her expression; awe. It reminded Kaila of the way she once looked at The Empress.

"You speak of them as if they were more than Sith," she said, voice carefully level. "As if they became something else entirely."

"Perhaps they did." she afforded herself a thin smile.

"The Eternalist Church teaches us that the mightiest sith go on to become living saints, while the dead may guide us from beyond, and that some speak through these very shrines."

"But it is often forgotten that each were once mortal men."

The robed sith pointed to the other shrines in a sweeping gesture, her voice beginning to fill this corner with a quiet reverence, a wonder not unlike Liliane's.

"Darth Nox ascended from slavery to sit the Dark Council. The Twelve, who founded our creed, were once Jedi exiles. We have created an order in which even those of humble beginnings may one day rise to become Gods of our own pantheon,"

Finally her sweeping hand stopped before Liliane, as if she too numbered among them.

"If they've the will to walk this path to it's end."

Anathemous relaxed some now, leaning back against a nearby pillar, arms crossed. Though the girl's presence in the force did not feel so attuned yet as to threaten or stand out to the young Darth, there was nevertheless something of interest to her. Fate, it seemed, made a habit of crossing her path with such individuals.

"So, at which step of the journey do you stand, I wonder?"

​

 

[Liliane]

Tag: Kaila Irons

Liliane remained still, though her posture shifted ever so slightly, just enough to suggest she had truly heard what was said. The Darth's voice carried weight. Not the cruel arrogance Liliane had expected from a Sith, but something closer to... reverence. It struck her as strange, disarming, even. The Sith were gods and monsters in the stories whispered behind closed doors. But this one spoke of them with awe, love. As she thought about it further, and about the Empress, she supposed... she could understand it.

The sweeping hand lingered, stopping before her as if she were something to be counted among the shrines. Liliane didn't recoil. She didn't move at all.

She wanted to dismiss it. To claim 'nothing', to be 'nothing'. But the words clung to her like wet cloth; 'humble beginnings,' 'rise to become gods,' 'if they've the will.'

They stirred something dangerous. Something she had buried deep, even from herself.

Her jaw set.

"I do not know."

The answer came low, but certain. Her gaze flicked briefly to the sixth mask again. The one that had felt most alive.

"But... I didn't come here by chance."

There was a weight behind those words, though she left them unspoken. The Empress had sent her. Not directly. But in every lesson, every look, every act of faith, Liliane had been pointed toward this path.

"I am here... to learn."

That was all she gave. Nothing more. She wouldn't name her past, wouldn't offer lineage or allegiance, not to someone she did not yet know. But there was no hesitation in the words. No self-pity.

Just the quiet grit of a soul beginning to rise.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

"No, you didn't." the young Darth hummed.

"By your own whims, another's or the will of the Force, all which happens is by design, or by cause and effect in it's wake."

She could see that she had the girl's attention, and though she was no priest, Kaila nevertheless believed it important to introduce these concepts to the younger sithlings wherever possible. They were the future as much as she, and so they must be prepared for the war in which many did not know they were even fighting.

"I am here... to learn."

"It is fortunate then that fate has crossed our paths. Though I am a learner myself, as even the masters will ever be, I've a fondness for teaching you see."

There was a momentary pause as she studied her would be student, trying to determine which lessons to impart now and what use the girl would have for them, and just as importantly, with which she may be trusted.

"I must confess however, I am unused to counseling strangers." she pinched her chin in thought.

"What is your name, and from where do you hail? were you born into this order, or like me have you come from outside the Blackwall and been made sith by other means?"

"What was it like, your life, before today?"

​

 

[Liliane]

Tag: Kaila Irons

Liliane held still, the weight of the question settling into her bones. She didn't like speaking about herself. There was always danger in it, an edge hidden beneath every answer, a trap in every pause. But there was no threat in Kaila's voice, only curiosity, thoughtful and observant. Still, Liliane chose her words with surgical care.

"Liliane," she said at last.

No title, no family. Just the name she had taken and worn like armour.

"I was born here, on Jutrand."

Her tone made it clear there was no pride in that, nor bitterness. It was just fact, of the only reality she'd known. She paused, just long enough to measure what came next.

"My work before this was... varied. An assortment of duties."

It wasn't untrue. She had scrubbed floors, prepared meals, mended clothing, carried burdens, so many burdens. Each one an echo of a life not truly hers. But those details stayed locked behind her ruby gaze.

"Until my Lady brought me into her service."

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and she immediately wished she'd chosen something more vague. My Lady. It wasn't a name, but it was close. And in this place, among Sith, it wouldn't take much more to connect the dots.

Her jaw tightened ever so slightly.

She glanced away, feigning interest in the base of the pedestal, anything to avoid the immediate scrutiny she feared might follow.

"That life is behind me now," she added quickly. Not coldly, but with finality.

She straightened just a little, as if to reclaim the control she had just given away.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

"Hm, so it seems." she said, brows raised some.

"Then perhaps a part of you is ready to learn what I may teach."

Kaila nodded to herself, having taken appraisal of the young sith whom she believed had taken her first steps recently. or perhaps it was more accurate to say she'd ascended from the first level of the pit. But there were still a few to clamber over.

"You keep your cards close to the chest." she hummed understandingly.

"As did I. Among strangers such as myself it is the... correct response. But I have learned paranoia to be a double edged sword which may cost you allies you never knew existed, and so you must learn when to wield it."

Gerwald Lechner had shown her that much, and it had been a life altering lesson.

"I am aware, however, that strangers we remain. For now." she smiled softly, pulling down her hood.

Locks like waving fields of windswept grain spilt over her broad shoulders, parted by her freckled face which seemed too young for one of her standing despite housing eyes which, though curious still, looked as though they'd seen more than they wished. Yet still there was a quiet confidence behind them as they looked to Liliane, both as someone who'd faced what she'd seen regardless, and someone with a cautiously good feeling about the ruby eyed girl.

"I am Anathemous, dark lord of the Sith."

The only name which truly belonged to her, and the only title that may yet outlive her. If Liliane had seen the infamous broadcast then perhaps she knew the name. If not, then she would enjoy this time free of sin's burden awhile longer, a brief reprieve between the many battles to redeem her chosen name.

"I will not pry into whom you serve, and I will pass what knowledge I've carved from the tomb wall and from battlefields. But know this; If your lady is Kainite, I will come to know in my own way, and it will complicate the things we do after today."

A stern but necessary warning, she thought.

​

 

[Liliane]

Tag: Kaila Irons

Liliane watched as the hood came down. The golden hair caught the low shrine light and stirred something faint; a glimmer of memory. She had seen this woman before, though not in person. It was the voice, in truth, that anchored it. From a broadcast some time ago. Not one she had been meant to hear, but she had. Words carried in the quiet corners of the palace, played through echoes in hallways too often swept.

Echnos.

A name, an act, a moment of fire. A face matched now with a presence. Anathemous.

So this was her.

Liliane didn't flinch at the title. Dark Lord. She had heard worse things spoken to her softly in the night. But her eyes did shift — just briefly — to the bronzium masks again. The ones who had also once borne names, and had long since left them behind.

The warning that followed wasn't cruel. It wasn't even unexpected. Just... inevitable. All Sith gave them, sooner or later. Even the kind ones. Especially the kind ones.

But Liliane's path — her Lady — was no Kainite, and whatever storm might come, She would remain beyond the reach of any hand. She met Anathemous' gaze, not with fire, but with still, confident certainty.

"There will be no problem."

The words were quiet, but absolute.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

"Hm."

Her appraisal found no room for argument in that red gaze. Good. the girl would need that in time, and should she grow strong enough, then perhaps she would make a worthy ally in the days in ahead.

"Very good." she nodded. "

"I did not believe there would be, but..." her eyes shifted to the masks in kind "Well, the sword takes time to dull."

Kaila swallowed the last of her hate, clearing her throat before turning to her momentary student.

"What is it you've come to learn then? This is a place of reverence for the ancients and the ways of Eternalism, the chief faith among this Eleventh Sith Empire. Even older however are the ways of Korriban, where our order originated and those dead enshrined here are buried."

"Or perhaps it is the new which interests you?" Kaila questioned, tilting her head.

"The priests here will often supply copies of the Codex Eternal, our holy scriptures on the war against fate. So too however exists a place of cyborgs—The temple of Assimilation—here on Jutrand, where the machine-sith upload and relive the memories of others via implants."

"If you go, do not mind the technobeasts," she stifled a chuckle "Though ghastly they may be, they are there for your protection."

Though Kaila had found their forms discomforting once, she remained blissfully unaware of their true nature, believing them to be mindless, silent droids, more than what they truly were.

​

 

[Liliane]

Tag: Kaila Irons

Liliane considered the question carefully. Once, she would not have been allowed to choose what she learned—or anything at all. Even now, the act of choosing felt precarious, like stepping across a frozen lake, unsure where the cracks lay. But the offer was genuine. Kaila had asked not to test her, but to prepare her.

Her ruby gaze lingered on the masked figures, their frozen smiles, their brutal beauty, their undying strength. They were terrible. They were endless. And they had endured. When she spoke, her voice was low but clear.

"I came to learn what we are and where we come from."

Referring to the Sith as "we" was jarring. The word sat strangely on her tongue, an unfamiliar shape she had not yet earned, or perhaps one that had been forced into her mouth before she was ready. It felt too large, too heavy, like trying to wear a cloak stitched from the ambitions of gods.

And yet, it was true now. Whether she stumbled or stood tall, whether she belonged or merely pretended, she was among them. The thought coiled tightly beneath her composed exterior, a pressure she dared not show.

"It would be prudent," she continued, choosing her words with care. "To understand Eternalism more deeply. To know the principles that guide the Empire, and this... war against fate."

She paused. The idea of a war on fate, as the Darth had called it, struck something deep within her, something raw and long-buried. Fate had never been hers to wield. It had been an iron chain around her throat, a road laid out by the hands of others, each turn forced upon her against her will.

The thought of halting that, of tearing fate from its pedestal, swept through Liliane like a sudden, quiet storm. It stirred embers she hadn’t realized were still alive inside her, igniting a slow, unfamiliar heat beneath her carefully guarded exterior.

She had come to learn. But perhaps, without knowing it, she had also come to claim something. Her breath hitched just slightly at the thought, at that subtle hint of a dream that suddenly stirred.

"The older traditions of Korriban you mention do interest me as well," she added, forcing herself to retain some degree of focus again. "If... the future is to be shaped, it would be wise to understand the roots we grow from."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the distant outline of the Eternalist chapel, where crimson candles still burned and low chants echoed against the ancient stone.

"I shall take a copy of the Codex Eternal before I leave."

It was not a boast or a plea for approval. Just fact, stated with the quiet conviction of someone determined to arm herself with knowledge, piece by piece. Liliane remained still after that, waiting — silent but watchful — to see if her answer pleased or disappointed her unlikely teacher.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

Her eyes dilated in the candle light towards the girl's faint breath.

It wasn't much to go on but for all her reckless antics, Anathemous was nothing if not observant, a warrior trained to act on instinct and body language. Something had resonated with Liliane, or perhaps she'd come to some realization, and that told her enough. The odds that a kindred spirit had wandered her way just went up.

"Oh?" she spoke softly, a little more song to her voice.

"You seek a beginning then, ours, and perhaps your own."

Kaila paused a moment, running a gloved thumb across her chin in thought. Liliane must have been newer to the sith than she originally thought, an acolyte of sorts, but clever enough to have potential. Those were exactly the sorts Quinn Varanin 's empire would need when at last it came to be.

"You are wise to divine our future from the past. This galaxy spirals in an endless cycle of war and peace, then war again. Yet we sith remain one of few constants."

"Come," she gestured to follow, moving to one of the pews.

"I'll not make you stand while I tell stories like an old crone."

Kaila chose empty seating near the Dread Master's srhine where they could hear one another over the impassioned clergy delivering sermons spoken in sharp but not quite guttural High Sith. She sat near the far end, giving Liliane the option to sit as close or far as was comfortable.

"Where to begin..."

Her chin came to rest on a leatherclad fist, elbow leaned against the armrest of the pew while she examined the stained glass window above the alter, depicting yet another set of masked sith lords in obsidian black and red hues.

"Well, I suppose with The Exiles. Their beginnings are as much tied to the Eternalist's crusade as the present."

"Before them, there were only the Jedi, who preached harmony and surrender to the force, until a Hundred-Year Darkness was brought about by those who discovered the Dark Side, the method by which one bends the world around them—not to the will of the force—but to their own."

Her soft voice grew just a little louder as passion for storied history and her vendetta against the force took hold.

"Frightened and ignorant, the Jedi turned upon their brethren and they battled for a hundred years. In the end, the dark jedi were outnumbered and defeated."

"Twelve they were, the first masters of the dark side and leaders of the rebellion. The jedi exiled them to Korriban, thought to be a lifeless wasteland."

"No one yet knew of the red skinned primitives and their kingdom in the desert."

"The Sith, from whom we derive our name and culture."

Kaila let the words hang a moment as one of the faithful passed by, giving Liliane a moment to process all which had been revealed.

"They hailed The Twelve as gods, and called them "Jen'ari", Dark Lords of the Sith."

A smile crept up the corner of her lips.

"Later the empire adopted the use of "Darth" to describe dark lords who were not of the original Jen'ari bloodline, derived from a Rakatan word for those who have conquered death, or perhaps through it. Even in this empire, knights such as myself also take the title just as the masters, as it is indeed through dealing death that we rise."

"As will you, in time." she glanced at Liliane.

​

 

[Liliane]

Tag: Kaila Irons

Liliane sat quietly at the far end of the pew, not too close, not too distant. The offer to sit had been genuine, but she was not naive enough to forget that proximity could invite vulnerability.

She listened.

The soft cadence of the Darth's voice wove through the candle-thick air, carrying names and histories that felt impossibly vast. Yet they weren't cold facts; they were living things, breathing through every word.

The Exiles.
The Hundred-Year Darkness.
The Jen'ari.
The Rakata.

Pieces of a story she had never been allowed to know, now laid bare before her like the bones of an ancient beast.

When Kaila paused — when the smile curled faintly at the word Darth — Liliane caught herself leaning slightly forward, as if drawn in against her will.

Conquering death.
Rising through it.

There was no pretense left in her posture. No feigned disinterest. Only a sharp, simmering focus in her ruby gaze, learning, weighing, wanting.

But it wasn’t ambition that stirred within her.

It was devotion.

Every lesson she absorbed, every step she took toward power, was not for herself. It was for Her, the only one who mattered: the Empress. The one who had pulled her from the dust and given her a future worth breathing for. If Liliane had to become the blade that cut down fate itself, she would. If she had to become death itself to shield her Lady’s reign, she would do so without question... and without mercy.

Liliane didn’t look away when the older woman suggested she, too, would achieve such things she spoke of. Instead, she answered with a small, restrained nod. A quiet acknowledgment.

"If death must be dealt and conquered to rise..."

Her voice was low, deliberate, an oath cloaked in red velvet.

"...then I will learn to wield it. To master it."

There was no boast in her voice. Only certainty. The quiet, cold certainty of someone willing to unmake themselves if it meant fulfilling the only loyalty that mattered.

Loyalty to Her.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Robes
Tag: Liliane

Lilian's interest excited the young Darth.

Clearly her words were not taken as a boring lecture but were having an impact, stoking passions. Passions were something she'd been advised to abandon once, as if she were some deluded jedi who could be hollowed out and made to serve like a droid. Liliane's, whatever they may be, were another beautiful act of defiance against that cosmic order.

She and Kaila were both chaos, a black mark on The Will's field of white.

Forces of primal nature.

"Very good." she cooed, seeing it all in her eyes, in her body language.

"There is an underlying passion in your voice, commitment. It will serve you well on the path ahead."

"Passion is the first tenet of our code, you see, Anathema to Jedi." she smirked, leaning forward on her elbows.

"That is because every driving force which sees us rise begins with passion. Revenge, Ambition, Devotion in all it's forms, none of these things exist without passion."

"And through passion, we gain Strength.
Through strength, we gain Power.
Through power we gain Victory,
Through victory, our chains are broken."

Kaila recited the code in a low, hushed voice, but it nevertheless crackled with the fiery passion she wished to stoke.
Yet the final line of the code never parted from her lips. She believed it would not be through the force that Liliane would break her chains, whatever they may be, but through her own actions.

But what would they be?

"It is important to cling to one's passions even as our masters and the world around us try to shape who we are, for these passions will shape the sith you become much as circumstance. Early in my training I developed a passion for studying the ancient lore and sorceries of the old world, though one could argue necessity saw the development of a passion for bladework."

"Now I wield both." she shrugged.

"Like me you may find yourself becoming a Warwitch, armed with forbidden knowledge and exotic technique. You may instead find yourself dedicated to one craft, a Sorceress perhaps, who enters battle armed solely with mystical powers forgotten by most. Or perhaps a more martial pursuit? An assassin striking unseen to eliminate the empire's enemies abroad, or perhaps guarding the homefront by destroying it's enemies before they ever draw steel."

"Or even a warrior, a bulwark of heavy armor with which to shield your interests from the enemy, or a marauding whirlwind of destruction, both sewing fear in the hearts of those who do not know our imperial truth."

"Which will you become, I wonder?" she said, tilting her head at Liliane.

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