Private Shiraya's Embrace

[Darth Anathemous]

Tag: Jael Amnen

Another wince. softer this time, controlled.

The pain was greater than last time, but she expected it. The priestess' humming, and the strange vibrations in the water, against her skin, it gave her a new sensation to focus on.

"Speak to me of this garden. What do you plant? Did you have someone in your life that taught you how to garden?"

Still, she swallowed.

"It's uhm... it's just me, and my young student."

"There was no one to teach me. I suppose I just kept trying till something grew." her voice was small.

She took a sharp breath, trying not to think about why that was. Instead, revisiting the question.

"Plantlife from Dathomir, mostly. Hwotha berries for tea, Hydraatis for glyphs."

"Are few are just for looking at, I suppose."

​

 

[Jael Amnen]

Her hands continued their ministrations. Her actions a dance of precision, and experience. Jael would work up a painful knot to a head, and then with subtle grace release the tension. Some had described the feeling as transportive.

"You and your student," she said, voice a constant song, "there is no just about having one by your side."

She hushed the Sith with a deep breath out. It was a motherly, gentle but commanding silencing. She could hear the pain in the Anathemous' voice. Her pain was her power, as was true of most Sith. The Priestess would not minimise. She could not, without minimising the woman herself.

The learning to make the garden grow was the point of the garden, as much as the fruit of it. Anathemous likely already knew this, but she was clearly not communicating this. Instead, she was releasing her angst. The Priestess smiled.

"You have an affinity for the Witches' world?" She asked, probing with her sweet words. Again, there was no condemnation, just the gentle tug through the Force of a mind trained to elicit a desire to share.

Darth Anathemous​

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Tag: Jael Amnen

Her shoulder twitched slightly. though still pained, her reactions were becoming gentler, more relieved.

"I suppose-" shushed by the priestess.

Normally she'd have been upset that one below her station would shush her like a child, but... The more the priestess spoke, the more she felt this was not the place to concern herself with image and career. This was no Sith temple, and Jael was not trying to command her, just... relax her.

"hm." she hummed in understanding.

"You have an affinity for the Witches' world?"

"I do." she said with a sigh that was both relieved and contemplative, "Always have."

"I've felt a connection, ever since I first set foot in the jungle. Primal, natural... undisturbed."

A pause, like she still wasn't sure how much to safe. If it was safe...



"It may have been my homeworld, once."

"I am unsure."

​

 

[Jael Amnen]

Her fingers worked with patience, coaxing calm. Where knots lingered, she did not force them to yield. Instead, she circled them, loosening, waiting for the muscle itself to remember how to unclench. Her voice was the persisted to not insist or demand - despite its clear commanding presence.

“You say you have always felt that primal bond to Dathomir. Perhaps it is less a matter of certainty, and more one of truth felt within. An instinct. You have roots there, whether or not you can name them.”

Her hand traced lightly down the Sith’s arm, brushing the ringed scars with quiet reverence, as if they were inscriptions worthy of study. “Scars…gardens…students. These are the things that mark us as living, not as weapons alone. You are so much more than you think you are, Anathemous.”

She leaned closer, her lips near Anathemous’ ear, words breathed as though they were a confidence shared only with the moon and the pool.

“Tell me of your student. Not as a commander speaks of a subordinate, but as a gardener speaks of the seed they tend. What strength do you see growing in them? What do you wish to see bloom?”

The water lapped softly against their shoulders, stirred by Jael’s rhythm. She hummed again, low and resonant, the tone vibrating faintly through the water. She did not look at Anathemous now, her silver gaze turned upward toward the veiled moon. A silent prayer uttered to the Mother, for grace and peace to this dear child of the night.

Darth Anathemous​

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Tag: Jael Amnen

Water lapped higher across her shoulders as the sith leaned back, no longer hunched.

"Roots." she chuckled lightly "Such a Dathomiri way to say it."

She smiled a little, it felt... nice to hear someone else say it, validate her instincts. Still that gentle touch made her shiver, as soft hands caressed scars that had not known kindness in so long. At first she reached a hand to stop her but... no, there was no use in her shame here, under the care of that priestess.

Instead she ran those blackened fingers through her curls.

Jael spoke of what made one a living being then, about how she was more than she thought. Her eyes sank to the pool below, staring back at her in the calm water, in juxtaposition with that molten gaze.

Feared. lethal. respected. Is this not what she wanted to be? what she was?

Another shiver, warm breath against her ear, cooling the water which dripped from her hair and into her freckled cheeks. Unusual as it was, Kaila allowed her eyes to close, blocking out she dark silhouette from sight.

“Tell me of your student. Not as a commander speaks of a subordinate, but as a gardener speaks of the seed they tend. What strength do you see growing in them? What do you wish to see bloom?”

"I uhm..."

How was she supposed to speak of Tamsin Starfall as more than a subordinate, when it might reveal their secret?

"Well, she's... tenacious, a survivor. Saved her from slavers on Tatooine, and she's been saving me ever since."

She hunched her shoulders again, arms crossed in the water.

"She has so much potential, but so much doubt. I... I wish I could teach her to overcome it."

"And maybe approach figures of authority with more caution..." she sighed.

"Maybe she gets it from me, I don't know. We're remarkably similar, we're like... she's like..."

The sith's lips twisted into words never born, breaths catching.

Then a pained sigh.

"She's special."

​

 

[Jael Amnen]

Her hands stilled for a moment at Anathemous’ confession. Silver eyes softened, her lips curving into something that was neither pity nor triumph. Jael was learning much about Anathemous.

“Special,” she echoed the word as if it were sacred, “that you can see it in her, even when she cannot see it herself...this tells me you are not only warrior, but guardian. She reflects you, even in her doubts. And in time, she will mirror your strength as well.”

Her touch slid from shoulder to collarbone, guiding Anathemous with a patient firmness, coaxing her to lean back into her embrace. The water swayed around them, moonlight broken into ripples across their skin.

“Lean into me. Rest. Even a blade must return to its sheath, if only for a night. Let me carry the weight, if only for this brief respite beneath the stars.”

She drew the Sith close, her arms enveloping her. Then Jael began to sing, a lullaby in a tongue older than Naboo, one said to come before even the Old Republic. The syllables were soft, lilting, carrying the cadence of wind through trees and waves against stone:

“Veyra shal enthor, lyrae o shira, thal moren veyth, eira selunath…”

The words were not translated, but their meaning was carried in the warmth of her tone, the gentle vibration of her chest against Anathemous’ back. The song was a prayer of rest, a hymn to the Mother and of earnestly offered peace.

Above them, the moon slipped free of its cloudy veil, bathing the pool in it's soft light.

"Hush. Dear one. Rest in the Mother's arms."

Darth Anathemous​

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Tag: Jael Amnen

Golden eyes looked back at her, over broad shoulders.

"I guess it's too big a secret to keep," she said, with regret and acceptance both.

"The role I play for my sister."

It was obvious, she supposed, and so she relaxed into the priestess' touch, unburdening herself of the secret she kept from an entire empire. Her head found it's way to the crook of Jael's neck while she sang, one hand laid gently over hers. The sith almost wanted to laugh at the irony, that she felt more at peace in this moment than with most she'd loved.

"Hush. Dear one. Rest in the Mother's arms."

Slowly, even under clear moonlight, her eyes began to drift shut.

She nuzzled her freckled cheek into Jael, a relieved sigh passing through her lips.





"...thank you, Jael..."

​