Private The Lower Levels

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Beneath Rakata Prime, the jungle swallowed the ruins in heat and silence. The back entrance to Virelia's fortress was nothing grand — and that was its genius.

A jagged stone ridge, half-hidden by vines and moss, rose before them. With a gesture, the rock face shivered, seams sliding apart to reveal a narrow black passage yawning inward. The air that spilled from it was cool, scented faintly of ozone and something older — like rain on ancient circuitry.

Virelia stepped in first, violet eyes aglow beneath her mask, every motion a lure. "The front gates are for ceremony," she murmured, voice like velvet and steel. "This is for those I choose to bring past the façade." The way she said those I choose carried weight — the weight of rarity.

The corridor narrowed, walls of blackstone inlaid with pulsing green filigree that mirrored the circuitry webbing her Tyrant's Embrace. The light slid over her armor in serpentine patterns, making the darksteel look alive. She trailed one claw over the wall, and in answer, hidden mechanisms stirred. The floor beneath their feet shifted — not with crude lifts or rails, but with the smooth inevitability of a planet turning. They descended.

"Everything here is mine," she said, not as boast but as fact. "I built it for comfort, decadence, control. Nothing within these walls happens without my will." Her head tilted slightly, a slow glance backward, as though gauging how the weight of her words settled. "You'll see."

The corridor opened onto a landing where Rakatan architecture met her own design. Arches of alien stone curved above, etched with unreadable runes. Between them, panels of transparisteel revealed long drops into cavernous halls lit by warm amber light. The air was rich — spiced, faintly perfumed — and the distant sound of running water whispered under the hush of the fortress.

Virelia led the way along a bridge of blacksteel latticed with more of that faint green glow. She did not rush; each step was calculated, allowing her presence to fill the space. "The upper levels are for living," she explained. "The lower ones…" A pause, deliberate. "…are for other pleasures."

They reached a door of polished obsidian. Her hand touched the surface, and it rippled away like water disturbed by a fingertip, opening into her private halls.

The space beyond was nothing like the oppressive ruin outside. Smooth marble floors, deep carpets, low couches piled with silks in shades of crimson and gold. Heat radiated gently from unseen sources, perfectly calibrated to comfort. The scent here was headier — richer wine, incense smoldering in carved brass burners. Every surface gleamed, every line of architecture bent subtly toward indulgence.

Virelia moved deeper inside, trailing a claw along the back of a couch as she passed, glancing over her shoulder with the ghost of a smile under her mask. "Here, the jungle cannot reach you. The galaxy cannot intrude. Everything is at your fingertips — everything. A fortress is not only a weapon, my dear…" Her tone lowered, becoming molten. "…it is a promise."

She stopped before a vast wall of glass that revealed an underground garden beyond — phosphorescent flora swaying in still air, streams curling around mossy stones. Somewhere in the distance, pale-winged creatures flitted between blossoms. "It is the promise that you are seen, that you are rewarded..." The faintest turn of her head, enough for those violet eyes to catch the light. "…for all your hard work and desire."

Her hand lifted, beckoning toward the lounge. "Sit. I'll see to the wine. You've earned something decadent." The pause that followed was suggestive in every way she meant it to be. "And I want you comfortable before we discuss… your accommodations."

The door slid shut behind them with the whisper of a lock sealing into place.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

"Everything here is mine," she said, not as boast but as fact. "I built it for comfort, decadence, control. Nothing within these walls happens without my will."

"Your very own Echnos." she hinted at the similarities in what they represented to their respective occupants.

But as they descended, Kaila soon realized this was a step above what she'd built for herself. Echnos was a marvel of practicality, she fed an entire war machine, held the Sith economy by the throat and squeezed whatever she wanted from it. But it was cold, uncomfortable.

She looked at the warm, cushioned room like a stray that didn't know how to accept food.

Kaila stopped beside her, seemingly mesmerized by the flora behind glass. She put her gloved hand to the window, staring too long not to mean something.

"It is the promise that you are seen, that you are rewarded..." The faintest turn of her head, enough for those violet eyes to catch the light. "…for all your hard work and desire."

Slowly she peeled her eyes from the window, lips pursed in thought.

A glance was spared the beckoning hand, then the lounge, as she turned. When she sat it was almost thunderous if not for the cushions, her weight inhuman even for one so armored as she, the origins unknown to many. She glanced at her wide pauldrons, feeling overdressed for the setting. But as she reclined, aching muscles swallowed by velvet, the young Darth groaned softly.

She needed this.

"You've been busy." she murmured after a time.

"This must've taken time, and a fortune. I would've thought you'd move all your operations to Polis Massa, but..."

"Hmh." oh it was clever though.

And it reminded her of something the emperor had once advised.

"Perhaps I should build a secondary HQ as well. Away from all the industry and poisoned air of Echnos."

She sighed almost wistfully.

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

The sound of her groan was sweeter to Virelia than any hymn the galaxy had ever offered. The cushions drank Kaila's weight, swallowed her steel, softened her edges in a way battle never could. For a moment, Virelia only stood there — mask tilted, eyes gleaming faintly through the glass lenses. Watching. Drinking her in like the first taste of rare wine.

She crossed the space with that slow, predatory glide that was uniquely hers, claws brushing idly along the back of the couch as though the silks themselves bowed to her touch.

When she reached Kaila, she did not sit beside her. She claimed the space, easing down onto the cushions like they were her throne and Kaila her tribute. One hand drifted, languid, over the curve of Kaila's armored shoulder, the claws faint against the darksteel but unmistakable.

"You build systems," she murmured, voice low enough that it seemed to hum against Kaila's skin. "I build desires." Her fingers curled inwards, a lazy scrape down from pauldron to bicep, not threatening — but unmistakably hers.

The mask turned, violet light catching in the green of the Rakatan circuitry that pulsed through the walls. "Polis Massa has its purpose. This—" she gestured faintly with a flick of her clawed hand, the silks, the wine, the warmth, the garden glowing beyond the glass "—is indulgence. Decadence. A place for hunger to be fed, and fed again, until it is more than hunger."

Her head tilted, a slow smirk audible in her tone. "Don't pretend you don't need that, my Empress."

Then she leaned, not all at once, but inch by inch — until her mask brushed against Kaila's temple, the faintest press of cold steel. The claws at her arm traced higher, until they cradled her jaw, forcing her to meet the unblinking, glowing eyes hidden behind that mask.

Her other hand had already wandered, trailing over the heavy ridges of armor until it found the faint divide at Kaila's waist, the only hint of softness between her plates. Virelia pressed there, testing, teasing — a licentious smile audible in every slow word.

Her breath continued to ghost over Kaila's ear, making her feel Virelia's desire for a minute. Comfortable. Warm.

Hot.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by breath, the sound of distant water and the muffled glow of the forge below. Virelia pulled back only enough to let Kaila breathe — Her mask hovered inches from her lips, her claws framing her jaw.

"You're overdressed," she said at last, playful, lewd, velvet over steel. The suggestion was shameless, licentious, yet undeniably dominant. "But I suppose it's fitting. You always do arrive ready for war." A pause, savoring. "Even when what's in front of you… is not war."

Her thumb slid back across Kaila's lower lip, the faintest drag. "Our rule, you said. Then let's make sure it feels like more than a plan. Let it feel like everything."

She sat back lazily into the cushions, one arm draping possessively over Kaila's shoulder, the other already reaching with a lazy gesture toward the wine decanter. A glass floated from its tray, filling itself with a heady crimson vintage, and landed smoothly in her free hand.

She lifted it in offering. The rim of the glass brushed against Kaila's lip. "Drink," she said simply, command wrapped in velvet.

Her mask tilted, voice lowering to a husky, licentious purr. "Because tonight, my Empress, you don't need to fight. You desire to enjoy."

The fortress seemed to hum in agreement, the Rakatan circuitry in the walls pulsing in rhythm with her words. Virelia let the silence stretch again, heavy with promise. Her hand at Kaila's shoulder tightened, claws resting there like chains disguised as comfort.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

"Don't pretend you don't need that, my Empress."

"No, I... I know." she confessed.

It was in her voice even, fatigue. Not just from her earlier battle, but the endless war so few saw, and even fewer understood. Then it happened again, that cold kiss of metal that perhaps only the former Mandalorian could understand, as tired gold met violet. She had Kaila by the jaw, claws and all, but she wouldn't fight anymore.

She closed her eyes, and they sat in silence for a time. All but the softest groan when claws pressed gently into the soft space between armored plates.

"You're overdressed,"

"Hmh." her lips curled faintly.

"You did send your pet warmachine to fight me."

"Not exactly a compelling argument against my bad habits, is it?"

Still, she leaned into the sorceress' touch, resting her head of silken gold against the arm draped around her shoulders. She was slow to trust... but the young Darth had begun to realize she was in no danger here, not immediate, at least.

"Drink," she said simply, command wrapped in velvet.

Eyes flicked open, half lidded, first on the glass as it was pressed to her lips and then on Virelia as while she sipped. It tasted like a good vintage, although what exactly was lost on the warrior. This soft decadence, this comfort, was not her game, and perhaps that is why the spider played it so effectively.

But of course Anathemous was still Anathemous, always fighting, even without a war.

"You keep calling me that... Empress."

Another tired sip.

"Is that what you call all the girls you bring down here?"

And another.

"The wine is royal quality, I'll give you that."

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Virelia let the glass linger at Kaila's lips a little longer than was necessary, tilting it just so, ensuring that the wine kissed her mouth before she withdrew it with feline slowness. Her mask turned toward her, violet eyes aglow with that slow, predatory hunger.

"Pets…" The word slipped out as though it were something delicious on her tongue. Her claws tightened at Kaila's shoulder — not cruelly, but firmly enough that she could feel the power behind it, a reminder of who held her. "I adore them. People. Droids. Beasts. They all have their uses. They all need… guidance."

The mask tilted, lips just behind the cold metal so that her voice purred against Kaila's skin, husky and licentious. "A pet is not lesser because it serves. It is precious because it is chosen. I pour myself into my pets — and they grow, thrive, shine brighter than they ever did alone. That's the difference between me and the rest of our kind: I don't discard what I use. I cultivate it."

The words dripped like honey, and then softened, surprising in their gentleness. "But you…" A claw slid from her shoulder to her jaw, tilting her chin again until golden eyes had no choice but to meet hers. "Empress. And no—" her voice hushed, almost conspiratorial, "…I've never called anyone else that. Every name I give is one that has been earned."

The silence stretched. Virelia let it linger, let the weight of that admission settle in Kaila's chest before she followed it with a smile audible in her voice. "And you earned yours the moment you stopped pretending you didn't want it, when you accepted your desires."

She shifted, slow and deliberate, pressing the glass into Kaila's hand and freeing her own. Both claws now framed Kaila's face, sliding across her cheeks, dragging faintly down her throat. The gesture was tender — until it wasn't. Until one hand closed around her jaw with unyielding dominance, tilting her head back against the cushions.

The mask dipped close, hidden lips brushing the edge of Kaila's ear through cold steel. "So don't ask me what I call the others," she whispered, low, velvet and filthy, "Unless you want to hear some very, very, debauched words."

Her thumb dragged over Kaila's lower lip, smearing the faint trace of wine still clinging there. She leaned back just enough to drink in the sight of her — armored, weary, yet melting slowly into velvet comfort. Then she brought that same thumb to her own mask, tracing it like a kiss.

"You taste expensive," she purred. "I think I'll keep you."

And with that, she moved her hand to the glass, taking it from her and pressed it back into Kaila's lips — a command, the wine suddenly another chain. "Drink, my Empress. I want to watch your lips stain red."

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

Kaila's smug defiance was quickly laid to rest.

She'd feared becoming her old self again; a placid guarddog. His bloodhound, her guard-dog after... It was her nature, she supposed, the Mando'ad in her that she hated. The part of Kaila that Anathemous hated.

But what Virelia was describing it sounded... different.

And it was not even her plan for her.

"Empress. And no—" her voice hushed, almost conspiratorial, "…I've never called anyone else that. Every name I give is one that has been earned."

Wash she truly the only one?

Her lips pursed.

It was the first time she considered that perhaps Virelia was telling the truth, that maybe the spider saw more than a tool in those six eyes. It reminded her of something from long ago...

"I will not abandon you."

She needn't say anything. The way her eyes seemed to glisten in the candle light, the way her breath shook at Virelia's touch, it said all she needed to know. The half-witch winced as her head was pushed into the cushion, lips quivering, watching the spider inch closer in the corner of her eye.

This was not an act of pain.

"So don't ask me what I call the others," she whispered, low, velvet and filthy, "Unless you want to hear some very, very, debauched words."

"And, if I do?" she managed, barely more than a whisper.

Her lips twitched into a smirk. Virelia wiped it clean, wine and all. Dark brows furrowed, she wondered how on earth the sorceress could taste it, smeared on that mask.

"You taste expensive," she purred. "I think I'll keep you."

"Hmh."

The smile returned, or it's ghost, at least. 'keep' had a... lovely ring to it.

"It wasn't always so. Outer rim whiskey, a cheap cigarra from a muddied rucksack..."

Soon the wineglass was pressed to her lips again, greedily forced down her throat as the young Darth tilted her head back. She'd drink the whole glass dry if Virelia wished.

Even if it were unbecoming of an Empress...

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Virelia tipped the glass again, the rim sealing to Kaila's mouth with deliberate care. "All of it." she murmured, velvet-edged command. "Now."

Her claws framed Kaila's jaw as she drank, the pressure firm enough to hold her there, to feel every swallow against her palm. Virelia watched the line of her throat work, watched the last garnet slick vanish, and only then did she release—slowly, like letting a leash slide through her fingers.

"Good girl."

The praise landed like a brand: soft, wicked, inarguable. She plucked the emptied glass from Kaila's hand without looking, sent it drifting away on a lazy curl of will. Another decanter rose from the tray, hovering just beyond reach, the wine's dark perfume unfurling between them.

Virelia didn't pour another, not yet.

Instead she pressed the cool plane of her mask to Kaila's cheek, a kiss of tempered steel. One hand slid down, unhurried, over gorget and strap and the vulnerable space between plates, settling with possessive certainty at her waist. The other stayed at her throat, an elegant collar of claws and gentleness, feeling the pulse that quickened under her touch.

"You didn't deserve that trash," she purred, amused, indulgent, referencing what Kaila had told her earlier. "Your beauty should be rewarded with only the best, my Empress."

A flick of her wrist brought the decanter closer, close enough to taunt, to scent, to promise. "This place," she breathed, "feeds that."

She leaned back an inch, enough to bring Kaila into full view—armor and weariness, defiance already softened to need. Virelia's thumb traced the hollow at her throat, then the curve of her lower lip, reclaiming the last stain of red as though it also belonged to her.

"You are so greedy, good." she said, playful and cruel in equal measure. "And I do so love when you make it easy for me."

The decanter tipped—one rich drop trembling at its mouth—then steadied again, just out of reach. Her voice dropped to a husk. "More is yours."

A beat.

"You know what to do..."

A lesson wrapped in silk.

The circuitry in the walls hummed in time with her words; the couches seemed to sink a fraction deeper, welcoming, conspiring. Virelia's hand at Kaila's waist tightened, the smallest claiming squeeze. Her other hand slid from her throat to her chin and tilted, guiding her gaze to those violet lenses. The world narrowed to command and answer.

"Go on," she coaxed, a smile warm as sin. "Use your voice. Earn your indulgence."

The decanter drifted closer, the wine catching amber light like liquid night. Virelia hovered it over the waiting glass above Kaila's lap, the barest tilt ready to spill with a word.

Her touch gentled at Kaila's waist, a reward promised before it was won, the first sigh of surrender already stroked into being by voice alone. "Let's have some fun," she added, low and laughing, decadent and kind in the same breath. "My Empress."

She paused there—patient, merciless, generous—holding pleasure just beyond reach, letting surrender bloom sweet in the asking.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

Kaila practically gasped for air.

"Good girl."

"Hrmh..." she growled, wiping the wine on her sleeve, staining coiled exo-muscle which whirred with every movement.

Oh she felt ridiculous now, having gunked up her power armor. She was dressed the part of a conqueror, but felt conquered in every sense of the word. The hand around her throat was painfully gentle, but claiming nonetheless. Yet she felt powerless to stop it, because now her two baser instincts were at war with one another.

To flee, or to give in so utterly.

The warrior panted softly, arms spread over the back of the couch while she looked up at Virelia like it was hard to see anything else. The hovering decanter was spared a cursory glance.

Gods, she thought, I'm going to be so frakking drunk.

"You are so greedy, good."

"...starved, more like..." she muttered.

Kaila could not rightly say if she were sinking or the furniture. Perhaps the wine was already getting to her, despite her well trained liver. It didn't matter, Virelia couldn't have her looking anywhere but up at her, taking her by the chin again.

"Go on," she coaxed, a smile warm as sin. "Use your voice. Earn your indulgence."

"oh..." she sighed, or whined perhaps.

She loved that laugh, and she hated it, all at once. It was victorious and indulgent, sweetly sadistic.

And Kaila hardly had any fight left in her.

"don't make me say it..."

She shook her head, just barely.

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Virelia's laugh was velvet and teeth. "Oh, little starved thing."

The decanter tilted—one glossy, dark bead swelling at its lip. She held Kaila's chin steady, thumb resting at the hinge of her jaw, owning the line of her breath.

"Don't make you say it?" A sultry tsk. "I'll make you savor it."

The drop fell.

Not into the glass—onto Kaila's lower lip. A ruby kiss. Virelia watched it tremble, then curl down, following it with the slow hunger of a storm about to break.

Another tilt. Another drop. Slower. Crueler. The glass hovered just out of mercy's reach.

"You're so greedy," she purred, hand at Kaila's waist tightening, "and I adore that. But I adore manners more."

A third drop. It slid over Kaila's lip, down the proud line of her throat, disappearing beneath armor. Virelia's mask lingered there like a promise. The room seemed to sink with them, decadent gravity pulling everything toward surrender.

"Use your voice," she breathed, warm and wicked. The decanter lowered a hair, stopped. "Claim what you want."

Her claws flexed, gentle collar, gentle chain. "Say it."

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

Her lip twitched as the first drop fell.

Then again.

The words Virelia wanted, they were not words she'd spoken in so many years. Not for anyone. It was all in her eyes, the way they looked up at her, the way her brows knit just slightly.

Like something was being taken from her.

She couldn't even plead for mercy, because that was exactly what she would not say.

Yet it was the only way forward.

"Claim what you want." Her claws flexed, gentle collar, gentle chain. "Say it."

She swallowed in her grasp, head tilting back as the drop trickled down her exposed throat.

And with an almost pained sigh...















"...please..."

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Virelia stilled, savoring the bruise-soft word as if it were the first fruit of a conquered garden.

"Good."

The decanter lowered, forgetting the glass entirely. Her free hand stayed at Kaila's jaw, thumb under the hinge, angling her just so. "Open."

When Kaila obeyed, Virelia poured—careful, merciful, cruel. Not too fast, not too slow. A velvet stream of garnet slipped past Kaila's lips, and Virelia felt every swallow through the gentle collar of her claws. She kept the rhythm perfect: sip, breathe, swallow—again—until the body remembered pleasure as obedience.

"Hold." A pause to let air touch that wine-bright mouth. "More."

She tipped again. The fortress hummed with it, circuitry pulsing in violet heartbeat-lines along the walls. A deliberate spill escaped—one ribbon sliding over Kaila's lower lip, painting her chin, a second path glistening down the proud column of her throat. Virelia tracked both with a predator's attention and let them go. For now.

"Beautiful."

The last of the decanter sighed out. Virelia lifted it away, empty, and set it drifting. Her other hand never left Kaila's face. She watched the dazed focus, the parted lips, the obedient rise and fall of breath—and rewarded it. A kiss of mask to temple. A possessive squeeze at the waist.

"Breathe."

Then the indulgence turned wicked. Two claws traced the trails she had spilled—gathering the wine from Kaila's chin and throat with obscene patience until their tips were wet and dark. She brought them up between them, glistening.

"Clean. All of it." The praise came warm as sin. "No waste."

No more words. Only the offering—an order dressed as a gift.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

Well, she wasn't about to let Virelia dump wine all over her.

And supposedly this evening was about little more than relaxing, finally.

So... she did as asked, let the wine flow. They worked together like a well oiled machine, they'd have made a mess otherwise. She was already feeling it by the time they emptied the decanter, all but two drops.

Virelia left her panting, vision fuzzy around the edges, blood hot, then cooled by alien metal and claws down her neck. It was getting harder to focus on any one sensation, and certainly all thoughts save for here and now were fleeting, forgotten things. Whatever was in these bottles, it was stronger than she'd expected. And richer, sweeter.

"Clean. All of it." The praise came warm as sin. "No waste."

Kaila glanced at those claws suspiciously, then at Virelia.

"...bloody hell, Serina..."

She knew where this was going, that was the worst part of it.

"...no. more... wine, after this..."

Then with a grunt, she leaned forward the slightest bit, pressing her lips to those claws.

And glared at Virelia the entire time.

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Virelia didn't flinch under the glare; she luxuriated in it.

She held steady, letting Kaila seal her mouth around the first claw, watching that stubborn look burn hotter each time velvet lips moved over polished steel. The wine made everything shine—her claws, Kaila's tongue, the soft bruise-gloss on her mouth. Virelia angled her wrist minutely, guiding the pace, the depth, the retreat. One finger at a time. No hurry. No escape.

"Mm."

Just that—low, approving. Her other hand rested at Kaila's throat, a gentle collar that felt like ownership, thumb counting each swallow against the quickening pulse. The fortress answered with a hush of distant water; the circuitry in the walls throbbed a quiet, decadent violet. Virelia leaned in, mask near enough that the cool of it brushed Kaila's flushed cheek with each breath.

She let the first claw slide free—slow, savoring—then offered the next, glistening. The rhythm turned hypnotic: press, hold, withdraw. The smallest curl of her finger invited Kaila to follow, to take, to prove she had learned the lesson of indulgence. Virelia drank the sight of her—armor undone by comfort, ferocity distilled into obedience—like a second bottle.

"Good."

Barely a whisper, but it rolled through like poured heat. Virelia traced the last escaped ribbon of wine from Kaila's chin with a single talon, then paused at her lower lip, drawing it open with the faintest pressure. "All of it," she reminded, playful as sin. Kaila's mouth welcomed the claw back in; Virelia rewarded the compliance with a slow stroke of her thumb along the tendon of her neck.

The last shine vanished. Virelia lifted her hand, inspecting the now-clean steel as if admiring a polished blade—then turned her palm and touched the back of her knuckles to Kaila's mouth, a silent little tap that felt like patting a favorite hound that had finally chosen the heel command for herself.

"Beautiful."

The word came warm, indulgent. She let her hand fall to Kaila's jaw and framed her face again, tilting until those tired, golden eyes were captive to violet. The room seemed to sink another breath—cushions deeper, air softer, the garden beyond glass a dream meant for later. Here, now, was the only altar that mattered: the line of Kaila's throat under Virelia's thumb and the taste of victory that wasn't battle at all.

Virelia lingered, savoring the quiet ruin she'd made of the evening's defenses, then gave her next order like a caress.

"Thank me."

Just velvet certainty that she would be obeyed. Her claws flexed, the gentlest squeeze at Kaila's jaw, and Virelia tipped her head, mask almost touching, inviting the word to climb out of Kaila's chest and onto her tongue.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

Despite her near-lethal glare, Kaila relaxed into the rhythm.

And soaked up each little praise, even if gave her freckled skin a more lively color.

Her gaze settled into something less than defiant, lazily following that spider-like visage as Virelia closed in with the quiet intensity of exactly that. And Kaila, she no longer cared. Despite the nature of surrender, it felt... good, to be looked at again. To be someone's here and now.

"Thank me."

". . ." the glare returned, half lidded, one brow raised.

"Mh. fine..."

Gloved fingers ran through gold curls, then settled weakly around the sorceress' wrist.

"Thank you, for the wine, Serina." she hummed tiredly.

"...you frakking fiend..." added with a begrudging smirk.

"Although, I can't help noticing..."

Her words were becoming slower, gentle, despite her nature, as the wine invaded her senses. Enough that she drew little circles with her thumb against Virelia's gauntlet.

"...that I am proper smashed... and you, you've stolen but a drop."

"Oh, and this armor-" she winced, pauldron catching the backrest.

"I feel like such a mess."

She managed an awkward chuckle.

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Virelia savored the gratitude like a rare spice, eyes half-lidded behind the mask. The word thrummed through her palm where it cupped Kaila's jaw, through the couch, through the slow pulse of the circuitry in the walls.

"Mm." A pleased hum. "Good manners."

Her thumb traced the soft glaze the wine had left on Kaila's lower lip, claiming it as hers a second time. "You're welcome," she murmured—then, with a lazy, possessive warmth, "Mine."

The "fiend" made her laugh—low, delighted, sinful. "I'll wear it, but I prefer devil." She leaned in, mask almost brushing Kaila's nose. "Fits beautifully."

Kaila's fingers circled her wrist. Virelia turned her hand and let the grip settle where she wanted it, guiding without force, shaping without a fight. "There," she coaxed. "Hold your anchor."

At the complaint of armor catching, Virelia's attention dipped, amused and tender all at once. "Mess?" The silk of her voice sharpened to a purr. "No. Spoils." A flick of her claws and invisible catches gave, pauldron latches whispering apart. The couch subtly reshaped itself beneath Kaila at Virelia's will, rising where weight needed cradling, sinking where the steel bit. The stain on exo-muscle vanished under a slow sweep of her fingertips—wine wicked away into her glove like the room itself had decided to clean its Empress.

"Better."

Kaila's thumb drew circles against gauntlet; Virelia stilled to feel each one, then indulged her with a languid press of palm to throat—gentle collar, steadying metronome. "Proper smashed," she echoed, faint smile audible. "Just as intended."

"And me?" The mask tipped, violet bright. "I drink differently." The words glided down, intimate and smug. "I sip you. Your breath. Your voice. Your thank you." A beat. "I'm quite intoxicated."

She teased a curl of gold behind Kaila's ear, nails grazing scalp just enough to send a shiver. "Two drops for me," she conceded, playful. "The rest—all yours." The empty decanter clicked softly down on the tray as if bowing to the verdict.

Virelia sat back without moving away, one arm draping along the couch behind Kaila like a bar in a cage made of comfort, the other smoothing the edge where armor yielded to skin. "Look at you," she breathed, pride warm as incense. "Ferocity, fed. Hunger, kept. Thankful."

She let the word glow between them, basking in the way it colored Kaila's freckles, the unguarded softness it woke. "You are just so beautiful." she stated, voice gone low and silken. "And we are going to corrupt this galaxy, together..."

The mask dipped, a kiss of cool metal at Kaila's temple. "For now," she went on, gentling the command until it felt like a gift, "breathe. Sink." Her claws combed lazily through gold, soothing the last tension from jaw and neck. "Let me hold the world steady while you stop pretending you have to."

"You are not a mess," she said, decisive. "You are my beautiful ruin."

She lingered in that, letting silence applaud. Then, with a playful little sigh, "And if the couch suffers your armor again, I'll just buy another one." A tilt of her head. "Or make you break it properly."

Her hand tightened, affectionate and absolute. "Thank you, my Empress," she echoed softly—relishing the symmetry. "For obeying. For enjoying." A final, wicked lilt: "For being mine."

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

Virelia guided her hand, firmly gripping her waist.

Perhaps Kaila—that part which required an anchor—was also feeling a little possessive.

It was in her nature, that hunger, for something that could never truly be her own. But in this moment, belly full of wine, veins with fire and thoughts... all hers... She could pretend.

Soon Kaila found her pauldrons loose, darksteel fell aside, ribbons emblazoned with Dathomiri sigils fluttering as the armor rolled away. The seating adjusted with such gentle care that the warrior hardly noticed when it began laying her down peacefully.

"You are just so beautiful." she stated, voice gone low and silken. "And we are going to corrupt this galaxy, together..."

Together. A soft whine drowned in the back of her wine laden throat.

It was the one word denied by her... ever independent, to the very end. It was supposed to be their mission, their empire. And it was all over her face, the way she looked at Serina as though no one had ever said those words to her before.

In this drunken stupor, she forgot to suppress the tear.

"Let me hold the world steady while you stop pretending you have to."

Then and there, as though being laid to rest, she finally gave in. Broad shoulders loosened and inhibitions eroded as she sank into velvet. She closed her eyes, soaked in that metallic kiss through her skin, and when she opened them again, she was on her back, looking up at Virelia.

"Thank you, my Empress," she echoed softly—relishing the symmetry. "For obeying. For enjoying." A final, wicked lilt: "For being mine."

"Will you..." she swallowed. It was still hard to say that word.

Her hand traveled up the sorceress' arm, taking but the gentlest hold of her sleeve.

"...will you join your Empress, down here..."

"...my Shadow?"

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Virelia caught the tremor of that word and the tear together—thumb sweeping it away, claiming it the way she claimed everything that touched her Empress.

"Manners," she breathed, amused and warm, tilting Kaila's chin until violet swallowed gold. "You were doing so well."

Her glove turned, letting Kaila's fingers keep their anchor at her waist. The other hand drifted down, slow as incense, settling at the hollow of her throat—a collar made of gentleness and certainties.

"You ask beautifully," she praised, voice a velvet purr that curled around the ribs. "But you know I prefer a different address."

A beat. The smile in her tone sharpened, playful, lewd. "Shorter. Older. All edges and promise." She ghosted the syllables against Kaila's ear without giving them, a hush that felt like a kiss withheld. "The one that tastes like obedience on the tongue."

The couch sank another breath; ribbons fluttered; the garden's phosphorescence painted them both in quiet violet fire. Virelia's mask hovered a finger's width above Kaila's mouth, denying and gifting at once.

"Try again," she coaxed, soft as sin. "Pretty. Polite."

She let the kindness show—dangerous, decadent—by pressing the barest kiss of tempered steel to Kaila's cheek. Then she drew back just enough to watch the wanting bloom, the way surrender made her more radiant, not less.

"And because you asked at all…" Her laugh was low and delighted. "A hint."

Her thumb traced the line of Kaila's lower lip, then tapped it—one, two—like a metronome for good behavior. "It begins where 'mistily' begins," she murmured, "and ends where 'kiss' does."

Virelia shifted, a slow prowl that brought her knee to the cushion beside Kaila's hip, her free hand bracing above, body a canopy of darksteel and silk. Not yet touching; everywhere present. The fortress hummed approval.

"Use your manners," she said, gentler still. "Give me the words I like."

Her claws flexed in time with Kaila's pulse, a promise disguised as patience. "And I will join you," she added, voice dropping to a molten whisper, "the way shadows always do—over, under, around. Until you forget where you end."

A pause long enough to feel owned by.

"And I begin."

Virelia's head tipped, indulgent, wickedly fond. "You'll find I'm very generous," she teased, "when I'm addressed properly."

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

Her entire demeanor slowly changed.

Brows knit in confusion, then in anger, as she drunkenly processed what Virelia was after.

That word. Why did it have to be that word? Kaila's lips twisted bitterly under Virelia's thumb, even as she loomed over the blonde like a lover. Oh, but she knew Virelia wouldn't give it up.

"Why... agh-"

Gloved fingers dragged down her face, obscuring it from view. Her body language was no longer relaxed and lounging.

"Just the once." she relented "For today, and no other reason."

Even the force seemed to ripple in dark anticipation.

"Mi-" she growled.

And exhaled sharply. Her fingers parted, just enough to glare up at her with one golden eye, burning brighter than before. The word felt vile on her tongue, sick, in her stomach.

"Mistress-" she barely managed.

She hissed into her hands, clawing at her scalp.

There was more anger and bitter resentment in that word than anything she'd ever said to Virelia. Whatever the source, it was personal, deep rooted. She pushed, as though she might sit upright, stopping only so as not to throw the woman off, even if she considered it. Kaila had no more intention of sinking back into that couch tonight.

"Now get off me so I can change out of this cursed armor." her growl was muffled behind her glove.

Then, more softly;

"...please."

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Kaila Irons

Virelia caught the word like a jewel, turned it in her palm, and smiled.

"There," she murmured, stroking the tremor from Kaila's jaw with her thumb. "That was power. You took a word you hate and made it serve us. You bent your own throat, your body and your mind to your will—and to mine. Beautiful."

Violet neon breathed along the ribs of the room, casting her in witchlight. She kissed the tear away with the cool of her mask and let the praise settle, warm and thorough. "You please me when you fight," she added, voice low as silk slipping. "But you thrill me when you choose. That was a choice. And I am very, very pleased."

At Kaila's softened "please," Virelia's weight lifted—reward given exactly as asked. The couch rose an inch to help her sit without strain; buckles and catches finished loosening under Virelia's lazy flick of will, then stilled. She did not touch a single plate further.

"Good manners," she purred, straightening to her full, predatory grace. "And good instincts."

She turned, the violet lattice across her armor flowing like a live sigil as she moved. "Your armor cradle is through that alcove—right side. The seals will recognize you; the rig will clean and dress your plates. You practically have access to any clothing you desire." A playful lilt. "No matter how sinful."

She paused, looking down at her from the edge of the couch, violet eyes vivid behind the mask. "When you are ready, come to the 5th Baths. Follow the neon seam in the floor—two arches, left turn, third door with the obsidian inlay. Knock once, then enter."

Her claws combed through gold one last time, gentling the last sparks of anger into heat. "And hear me," she said, tone satin-wrapped steel. "That word did not make you small. It made me happy. It made you mine. Both are glorious things."

A wicked, affectionate smile curved in her voice. "Mistress sounds so powerful on your tongue, Empress. Continue to defy your instincts, continue to defy your past, defy everyone that has done you wrong and own that word to spite them."

"They made you hate that word. They tried to take our words from us. Never let them win."

It was oddly supportive.

She stepped back, unhurried, already turning toward a side door veiled in violet haze. "I'll change as well," she promised. "Don't dawdle. Every minute you make me wait, is a minute we aren't having fun together."

The mask dipped—one last cool kiss to her temple, a benediction and a claim.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

Kaila sat up the moment she was able, wine and emotion pounding in her skull.

Fingers threaded through her own hair, curled inward at the edge of her seat, all while Virelia consoled her. The more she spoke the more Kaila realized she didn't want to be angry with her, she just was. But she couldn't for the life of her figure out what the girl's game was.

And when she finished, Kaila finally uttered the words she couldn't get out of her head.

"...do you have any idea what this is like for me...?" she muttered without looking up.

"...do you know how many people I've called, master? mistress? lover?"


"...do you know how many of them have betrayed me...?"

When she finally looked up, silent tears streaked her face.

"All. of. them."

But she couldn't hold that scowl for long.

Breath hissed from her lungs as she clawed at the remaining armor, robes falling aside.

"And I'm supposed to—what—hand you that sort of power on a silver platter?"

"A power that has only ever hurt me?"

She tried to blot the tears on her sleeve, but the exo-muscle did little more than scratch. Her armor against the world bit into her soft skin much as any assassin's blade. There really was no winning, no matter how she protected herself.

"I'm not calling you that, Serina."

Her cuirass clattered to the floor, ringing with finality.

"I swore I would never call anyone Master again. that word doesn't serve me."

"It serves you. Only you."

​