Private The Lower Levels

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Darth Anathemous

Virelia went very still.

The violet neon climbed the planes of her mask, caught on the curve of her claws, and for once none of it moved with a predator's ease. Her hand—steady a moment ago—lifted from Kaila's jaw and hovered in empty air, then lowered to her side like she was setting a blade down.

"I thought," she said softly, each word chosen like a lock code, "we could make that word new."

Silence pressed in. The room breathed with her—then didn't.

"I..."

The quiet shape of loss. She set the decanter upright though it was already empty, a needless, tender ritual, and straightened the loosened pauldron on the couch cushion so it wouldn't bite at Kaila's ribs when she stood. The neon washed over her armor, over the couch, over the tear she had already stolen from Kaila's cheek.

"I didn't mean to..." she added, barely above a whisper. "I was trying to help."

Another beat. The mask dipped, a kiss of cool steel placed not to claim, but to bless. When she spoke again, the velvet in her voice held its iron—just quieter.

"Understood."

She stepped back. The room answered the command she didn't voice: locks disarmed, privacy seals set. A rail slid out in the alcove, robes folded in a neat, black drift; a warming tray kindled on the sideboard; the baths far below opened their throat to steam. No one would come. No one would call.

"The complex is yours," Virelia said. "All of it. Eat. Bathe. Sleep. No eyes but the ones you invite."

Her gaze lingered one more heartbeat. There was a bright, aching thing behind the lenses—hope set down, not shattered. She hated this, everything she had worked for thrown to the side because of some bumbling fools in the past who didn't recognise talent when they saw it. She hated how it seemed like Kaila was grouping her up with her past, she hated it all.

She wanted to just tell Kaila that this was how it's going to be. She wanted to grab her by her claws and hold that throat down until she shoved the truth inside, until Virelia's will was made manifest and Kaila was forced to recognise the reality that Virelia was trying to help her.

But, as much as she hated it, tonight was about letting Kaila relax as she deserved, so Virelia made something she would rarely ever do.

A sacrifice.

"You were brave," she murmured. "Thank you."

She turned, the sigils on her armor flowing, and crossed to the side door. At the threshold she paused, not looking back—dominance wrapped, for once, in restraint.

"West wing, two doors down, if you want to talk." she said. "I am sorry."

A breath. The slightest tilt of her head, the most deference Virelia would ever muster on her own.

"Good night, Kaila."

The door whispered open. Violet light sketched her silhouette, then swallowed it. The locks fell into place behind her without a sound, and the fortress—obedient to its mistress even in her absence—kept perfect, respectful silence.

But deep down, Virelia took mental note.

She does not 'give' control. If Kaila wants to unbottle her past? She would do it correctly.

Virelia was hurt.

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Wearing: Armor + Robes
Tag: Darth Virelia

"Serina—" she reached out, but the door had already shut.

Gloved fingers weakly curled around air. And with a shaky sigh, her head fell low again.

This is stupid, she thought. I'm protecting myself. She stumbled to her feet, wine wracking her sense of balance with each step. A beskar gauntlet pinged off the floor, Nightsister wrappings unraveling as it rolled away.

Even gone, Virelia's voice still plagued her mind. It was the only constant in life, she mused.

"I was trying to help."

Exo-muscle tubing was unplugged, spilling a drop of hydraulic fluid in her wake. The sleeve deflated unceremoniously behind her, a mess of nylasteel coils in the shape of a de-boned limb.

"You were brave," she murmured. "Thank you."

Armored boots and synthatex were cast aside as she approached the coat rack, disrobed, all save for gloved fingers which hovered over the hangars while she picked out her sleepwear. Comfortable silk, a nightgown of dark, royal purple.

Virelia's color, of course.

"I am sorry."

"Goddamnit..." she winced.

Kaila walked over to the glass, using it like a mirror while she dressed herself. Those gold, dead eyes stared back at her the whole time. It wasn't Kaila she saw, that soft, sensitive girl she hated so much. It was Anathemous. Cold, bitter, alone... But alive, or surviving at least.

Even if she bled Kaila dry to do so.

They traced one another's cheek, flesh and mirror image.

"...why are we like this..."

“You would find an ally if you would open your eyes wide enough to see it.”

"I will not abandon you."

A pained sigh fogged the glass as she turned away.

In time she found herself at Virelia's door. It opened with a soft hiss, and there she was, standing there in her nightgown and those gloves she always wore for some reason. She idly rubbed her arm, at a loss for words.

But in the end she pushed through her hesitation, and the doorway.

"...I didn't mean to push you away, Serina..."

"Trust is... not a luxury I've ever partaken. It comes slowly to me."

"It's.... It's all so fast, I-"

Golden eyes shone in the dark, and finally, had the courage to meet violet.

"...I'm sorry..."

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Building the thread."

Tags - Darth Anathemous

Virelia had been half-curled on the edge of the low bed, violet neon washing the chamber in midnight wine. The Syntex suit clung like a second skin; black, strict gloves still on, mask set on the nightstand like a sleeping animal, long blonde hair flowing down, almost a marvel considering she kept it all in that helmet. At the hiss of the door she looked up—startled, then still—something bright and pained flaring behind her two eyes before the old poise folded back over her like silk.

She listened. All of it.

The apology. The stumbles. The courage.

For a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath with her. Dominance and disappointment wrestled in quiet; the sorrow of a plan meant to heal that only found a scar. She rose without hurry.

"Kaila," she said at last—soft, and absolute.

She met Kaila in the neon spill, gloved hand lifting to hush the rest of the words with a single touch under her chin. The sure weight of her will returning to its proper place.

"I know," she murmured, a quiet ache threaded through velvet. "You survived them. You are pushing past their shadow, all of the broken trust and betrayal, and you are doing so well." A beat. "I forgive you."

Her thumb swept the last shine of a tear from a freckle. "One day." she added, almost a whisper. "We will get our revenge."

The iron returned, gentle and unyielding. "Listen to me. You didn't push me away. You brought me the truth. That's obedience to reality—and I reward obedience."

She would not let the mood drop any further, she wanted tonight to be fun, so they would have fun.

The ghosts that wanted to ruin it? The past that wanted to tamper with it? The horrors that dare to touch Kaila's mind, someone who was too good for their petty influence?

They would not touch what Serina owned.

She stepped back a half-pace, reclaiming the room with a lift of her hand. The door sealed in a sigh; the faintest ribbon of scent—saffron and smoked starfruit—bloomed from a wall ampoule. On the sideboard, a slender phial of dark sweetness rose into the air like an obedient thought and drifted to her palm. She twisted the cap, let a slow thread of the nectar paint two gloved fingers to the knuckle.

"Tonight, we will have fun," she said, violet gaze steady. "That was the plan, I won't ruin it, so we should get back on track."

She raised the lacquered tips to her own mouth and quickly tasted, preparing for what is to come.

"Close the door," she instructed, though it was already closed. Command for the sake of putting air back in her lungs. "Lock it."

Her chin tipped. Dominance unfurled, warm and inexorable. "Then the Empress will come to her Shadow the proper way." A pause, delicate and merciless.

"On her knees."

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Wearing: Nightgown
Tag: Darth Virelia

It was uncanny, the way she startled from sleep.

Her face shrived clean of confidence, so vulnerable. Kaila had never realized that it was all a mask, that Serina was just protecting herself in kind.

But here she was, making the same face as every soldier she'd seen roused from a foxhole, the same face she made every day she awoke aboard the Malsheem. Kaila's frown was not for herself, not anymore.

When she was taken by the chin, she took her by the hips. Whereas Serina's grip was claiming, her own was accepting.

"I forgive you."

Her eyes seemed gentler now, less worried, as Serina wiped away what remained of her outburst.

Forgiveness and revenge both sounded so sweet coming from her lips, and for the first time, perhaps she could her with both. She watched Serina pull a bottle from deeper in the room, eying it without the usual suspicion. Instead the smile returned at long last, relieved, eager to enjoy the night.

And put the past behind them.

She did as asked, but never took her eyes off Serina's. She leaned back without ever turning, quietly locking the door with a delicate button press. Even the sorceress' command didn't extinguish her smile, rather it thinned into a knowing, only slightly begrudging smirk.

"Oh, fine~" she chuckled softly.

"But this doesn't count as bowing."

​