Private The Garden’s First Thorn

[Darth Virelia]

"Testing perfection."

Tags - Viscountess Pandora




The doors sealed with the sound of judgment.

No guards. No lights save for the simmering red-orange glow of runic channels carved into the stone—ancient Sith script crawling across the walls like veins of molten thought. The air was cold, but dry. Sterile. Until now.

In the center of the chamber, encircled by a lattice of obsidian pillars and crackling containment nodes, stood her—the architect of obsession made flesh.

Darth Virelia.

She wanted to be seen. Commanded to be seen. Her armor—Tyrant's Embrace—was wound tight to her body like it had been poured onto her, contoured to every curve with obscene precision. The biomechanical plating pulsed faintly with violet light, as if responding to her mood, or perhaps feeding off it. Her six-eyed helm stared forward in perfect stillness, motionless, faceless, a god-statue awaiting prayer.

The only sound in the room was the slow, rhythmic click of her claws against the durasteel railing as she drummed them, waiting.

Anticipating.

Beneath her mask, her mouth curled into a smile as sharp as the edge of devotion.

Pandora.

The name shimmered through her thoughts like oil on fire.

She had watched the girl—watched how need laced itself into her voice when she said Mistress, how her hands, so skilled and precise, trembled with purpose. That mind—so brilliant, so twisted with longing—it was a wireframe waiting for flesh. A perfect architecture half-built. And tonight, she would test its foundations.

Break it. Rebuild it. Feed it.

The chamber itself was no ordinary training hall. It was a crucible—an arena of controlled violence and carefully calibrated torment. Energy veins in the floor whispered threats in many Sith languages. The very air tasted like ash and electricity. This was where monsters were refined.

And the garden always needed its first thorn.

Virelia stepped down from the observation tier, each motion as fluid and precise as a predator on the hunt. The light glinted off her armor's spine-etched backplate as she moved, violet lines crawling across the surface like breathing circuits. She came to rest in the center of the arena and folded her hands behind her back.

The lights dimmed further.

She wanted the moment to be perfect.

She wanted Pandora to feel it the second the doors opened. The weight. The pressure. The pleasure. The atmosphere, the sheer gravity of the choice she had made by uttering those three words:

I am yours.

 

[Viscountess Pandora]

TAG: Darth Virelia

Away from Dromund Kaas. Onto a new world. With a new purpose and a new guiding hand. There was something invigorating about this next step in this journey. The world of Polis Massa was about as remote as they come. But she presumed that her Mistress already had plans for her on this world. The beginnings of her ascendance into an even higher form of perfection. Though it had only been mere hours after they landed, that she was summoned by her Mistress. No by a servant, nor even a droid. A simple pop up in her helmet that overrode her normal HUD display, and sensors. It appeared more like a virus with the way it scrambled the data. The normally red color shifting to purple with one phrase popping up.

"Come to me." it said before disappearing in a strand of data as Pandora's helm reset the HUD.

Pandora did not wait a second longer. Of course she didn't know where exactly her Mistress was, but there was an aura pulling her towards one end of the facility. Pandora followed it, noticing the lack of guards or security. She did wonder why that was the case. But as she stepped into the chamber,she understood why. A commanding aura flooded her senses. The gravity of the situation coming down onto her shoulders. The euphoric pleasure of being in Darth Virelia's service. Pandora remained standing despite this, even if the HUD in her helm was malfunctioning a bit. Constant error codes when looking at her Mistress.

Pandora walked forward, performing a deep curstey before before Virelia. "Mistress" she said holding the pose until ordered otherwise.​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Testing perfection."

Tags - Viscountess Pandora




The moment Pandora curtsied, Virelia knew.

She is ready to be unmade.

The chamber watched. Cold walls of stone and metal hummed with residual power, old and listening. The runes beneath Pandora's feet pulsed once—not in approval, but in acknowledgement. The garden had received its seed.

Virelia stood in the center of it, a statue of sovereign seduction wrapped in deathblack steel.

She did not immediately speak.

Instead, she stepped forward with the slow, predatory elegance of something that never needed to rush. Every inch of her movement was measured. Intentional. She walked in perfect silence until the curved talons of one gauntlet hovered just beneath Pandora's chin.

"Good girl," she said softly—the kind of softness that devoured lesser wills.

A single finger lifted Pandora's face from the curtsy, not of force but with expectation. She was not required to rise. But Virelia would look her in the face as she spoke. She wanted her to feel the weight behind every word, to hear herself change.

"There is a… shape to you now," Virelia purred. "A posture. Beautiful, submissive."

She circled slowly, dragging one clawed fingertip across the nape of Pandora's neck, following the hidden seam where synthetic and organic met in flawless fusion.

"You are to be perfect, remember? Not just adored, but feared. And so we begin."

She stopped behind her, voice a breath against Pandora's ear.

"Lesson One: violence. Your beauty means nothing if it cannot defend itself. Your mind is a tool. Your body is a weapon. But both are wasted without discipline. So tell me…"

Virelia stepped forward, now beside her, angled just enough to be seen from the corner of Pandora's vision.

"…have you ever killed in combat, not from hunger? Have you ever fought not to survive—but to prove yourself? To own someone? To carve your name into them, not with words, but blood?"

She tilted her helm slightly, the six glowing eyes of her mask locking onto Pandora with serpentine fixation.

"Or have you only ever hunted the weak—scraps in the shadows, dragged to forgotten corners to die quietly?"

She paused, and her voice dropped, licentious and cutting.

"Tell me if you've ever taken someone worthy. Someone who fought back. Screamed. Broke."

A claw curled beneath her chin again, almost tender. Almost.

"Don't lie. I'll taste it."

Then, gently, she pulled her face just inches from Pandora's visor.

"Because, my darling… if all you've known is hunger and scavenging, then your beauty is still only surface-deep. And I won't be satisfied with surface anything."

She leaned in further, until the soft hiss of her breath fogged the glass of Pandora's helmet.

"Not when I intend to know everything beneath it."

She stepped back, and this time gestured with one sharp-clawed hand toward a dark weapons rack that hissed open behind her—revealing blades, rods, whips, and dueling sabers. Not one standard. All of them customized. Elegant. Brutal. Decadent.

"Choose."

She said nothing more.

The first thorn was ready. Now, it would bleed.

 

[Viscountess Pandora]

TAG: Darth Virelia

A talon forced Pandora to look upward. Her body tensed out of a natural reaction, only for a soothing aura to wash over her. The danger signs flaring up in her HUD, being glitched to replaced with the same purple phrases from before. Though they all said something differeent.

"Safety"

"Obedience"

"Loyalty"

"Euphoria"

The HUD reset itself allowing Pandora to refocus back onto what her Mistress was saying. even further relaxing with Virelia's talon dragged across her neck. Such a vital area to be caressed. A single flinch of and Pandora would be choking on her own blood. The HUD within her helm flashed a larged red warning as it sensed danger only to be replaced with a violet strand code that erased it. Pandora continued to remain her still as she listened to every word her Mistress said. The purpose of her summoning became clear. It was time for the first lesson. Already there was conflict within Pandora.

She did not have a resume of combat proficiency. Her time with the Logikosa had been primarly force training and feeding. When she left for Dromund Kaas, it was only feeding save for one time. Fear set in. Fear of disappointing Virelia. Fear of not being what she had envisioned. But the fear of lying was stronger. If Virelia was going to make her even more perfect, then she should know all of the flaws, and failures Pandora has.

"Mistress..I preyed on the weak. I fed upon them. I did not seek out stronger combatants. One came to me. He was far better martial fighter than I, I could not withstand his strikes. But he lacked imagination and foresight. I turned his arrogance against him, I consumed his knowledge. I gained insight into Sith alchemy from him. I fed upon his mind, blood, and soul."

Only when the weapons came up did Pandora rise, walking over. She traced her fingers across each one before settling for a lightsaber whip.​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Testing perfection."

Tags - Viscountess Pandora




Virelia said nothing at first.

She watched—drank in—Pandora's confession like a vintage wine opened after centuries. Ashamed, but unflinching. She could feel the tension in the girl's shoulders, the way her HUD flickered behind the mask like a soul struggling to resolve new truth. Fear, then guilt, then clarity. Good.

Virelia wanted her to feel that fear.

And still, Pandora had chosen the whip.

A delicious contradiction.

"Of course you hunted the weak," Virelia said at last, stepping slowly across the chamber's rune-lit floor, her voice rich and indulgent like oil warmed in silk. "You were surviving. Learning to think. To manipulate. To seduce and consume. I don't fault you for that, my little paradox."

She circled behind Pandora again, always behind—always just out of reach. One claw traced across the girl's upper spine, between synthetic plating and soft tension.

"But survival is the lowest form of power. You know that now."

She leaned in, lips brushing the auditory receptor of Pandora's helmet, her voice a quiet invasion.

"I don't want you to survive. I want you to dominate."

A pause.

"To be so perfect that even the idea of resistance melts. That's why you're here."

She stepped past her now, walking toward the edge of the chamber. A flick of her wrist and the center floor lit up with three holographic figures—humanoid, armored, and marked for death.

"Lesson One: Violence. Expression of Will."

Her helm turned slightly.

"You have two options, my darling."

She held up a clawed finger.

"One. You can learn it the old way. Through pain. Combat. Contact. I will activate three training droids, each designed to test a different aspect of your instincts. They will hurt you. I will watch. And if you impress me, I may even allow you to bleed where I can see it."

A second finger raised.

"Or two…"

She turned fully to face her.

"I can install the knowledge directly. I have the means. An experimental transmission matrix in my possession—long-forbidden Rakatan tech, naturally. It doesn't merely program data into the body. It rewires assumptions. Opens... new behavioral pathways. Accelerates skill retention. Enhances conceptual learning with…"

Her tone dipped into something wicked.

"…supplemental instruction."

She began pacing again, slowly, purposefully.

"I can show you how to move your body like a blade. Where to strike. How to listen for breath, for fear, for weakness. How to feel someone's defenses before they raise them."

Another pause.

"And in exchange… I'll add a few subroutines of my own."

She stopped.

"Nothing you'd object to. Reinforcement triggers. A little conditioning. A few… urges."

She tilted her helm.

"Just enough to remind you who is shaping you. Who is inside you."

The air in the chamber grew hotter, more intimate, as if the walls themselves were leaning in to hear.

"Combat proficiency, taught in moments. Body alignment, perfected. Reflexes, corrected. And layered underneath, 'gentle affirmations'."

She stepped closer again, whispering like sin made sound.

One gloved hand rose, tracing the air just beside Pandora's cheek.

"So, my beautiful creation… how would you like your lesson tonight?"

She leaned in, breath hot and thick against the girl's throat.

"With fire… or with firmware?"

 

[Viscountess Pandora]

TAG: Darth Virelia

Pandora never thought of herself as a seducer. Nor did she feel like she had the skills to be one. It was odd of her Mistress to call her one. Though is that what her Mistress desired? To mold her into becoming one? A step into becoming so perfect that people will never resist her? It was an interesting direction, a new route in achieving the goal of becoming the emobodiment of perfection. Pandora remained,silently listening to the honeyed words Darth Virelia spoke to her.

She remained still when her Mistress traced her spine with her talon, the outlines of her face, even the air between. All subtle touches that made this interaction all the more enthralling. To show who was in charge, and who served. Pandora considered her two choices, contemplating the benefits and drawbacks of both. The first option was the more traditional way of learning. How most Sith acolytes and apprentinces train. But from their interaction on Dromund Kaas, her Mistress wished to be different. Hence why the second option sounded far more appealing. An update to her knowledge. Even if her Mistress said she will alter some code, that was only natural right?

"Firmware,Mistress. I chose Firmware."​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Testing perfection."

Tags - Viscountess Pandora




A slow smile curled behind her mask—not the gloating grin of a victor, but the quiet satisfaction of an artist whose canvas had finally stopped resisting the brush. Her six violet eyes flickered with a deeper light, the glow pulsing in time with her voice as she stepped forward.

"Good girl."

She said it softly.

As fact.

"You made the correct choice. Traditional combat is for the brutish and unimaginative. Blood teaches slowly. But submission—ah, submission is a shortcut. A tool far more elegant. Far more efficient."

She circled Pandora once more, this time with a new rhythm—measured, clinical, intimate. Each step a rotation of gravity around her chosen pupil.

"I've already begun the process. The moment you stepped into this chamber, your HUD began to shift. Your sensors have been primed. Your nervous system? Already listening."

Another step. Her hand lifted, talons grazing the air again just beside Pandora's temple.

"This won't be a mere upload. No crude datadump. I will not fill your skull with recycled tactics and borrowed forms. No."

She stopped in front of her and raised her left arm. A panel on her gauntlet hissed open, revealing a sleek black interface, pulsing with violet light and intricate lines of code flowing like scripture.

"I will layer the knowledge. Wrap it around the things you already understand. Your instincts. Your hunger. Your desire to perfect yourself."

The runes along the floor changed—glowing now in alternating spirals of crimson and deep amethyst. The air smelled faintly of ozone and spice, and there was a weight in the chamber that pressed against the bones, not painfully, but like the pressure of an oncoming storm.

"I will whisper into your reflexes. Show you how to stand, how to anticipate. How to turn a strike into an invitation. How to let your enemy think they're winning… until they're already yours."

A flick of her talon keyed a command into the gauntlet, and behind Pandora, a thin armature rose from the floor—silent, precise. A halo-like neural interface, encased in obsidian alloy, slowly unfolded from its frame like a flower blooming in reverse.

Virelia turned her gaze back to Pandora, voice velvet-dark.

"Kneel."

It coiled into the mind like a hot breath.

"Place your hands at your thighs. Spine straight. Head slightly bowed, but never broken. There's no shame in obedience, my darling. Only alignment."

She stepped behind her as the neural ring hovered into place, positioning itself just above Pandora's helm.

"You will feel heat. You will feel pressure. You may feel… suggestions. Repetitions. Little phrases nudged between muscle memory and thought. That's normal. That's part of your refinement."

Her hand grazed the side of Pandora's helm with pre-programmed affection.

"I'm not rewriting you, Pandora. I'm unlocking you."

 

[Viscountess Pandora]

TAG: Darth Virelia

There a rush of euphoria that washed over Pandora when her Mistress whispered affirmations to her. She had chosen correctly in her form of training. She felt proud of herself that she impressed Virelia, had shown that she was right to have picked her up from Dromund Kaas. Pandora now understood the glitches in certain parts of her helm's HUD. Of course she had correctly assumed it was her Mistress's doing. What wasn't clear until now was that this was the beginnings of the firmware training.

She listened to Virelia explain what will happen. How she will mold Pandora into a perfect beautiful being. How every last thing will be manipulated to serve her and to become something people will worship. Pandora looked to the odd device, the halo neural interface that had curled out like a blossomig flower. Immediately after Virelia uttered the word kneel, Pandora obeyed instantly. Each command given, Pandora followed it to the letter.

Such the show of obedience, that Pandora didn't speak. Instead she awaiting this transformation. She is if anything a slave to her obsession, and is willing to let her Mistress to do anything to her, as long as she got closer to perfection.​