Private The Weight of Judgement.

[Serina Calis]

The Weight of Judgement.
Location: Coruscant
Objective: Punish the Failed Agent
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Asaiah Celwik

"How, oh how I must punish those who I deem, 'wasteful.' "​

The air in the underbelly of Coruscant was thick with the scent of oil and metal, laced with the distant hum of speeders weaving through neon-lit canyons. The lower levels were a place of shadowed justice, where the law was written in whispers and blood. Serina Calis stood in the heart of it, wrapped in her flowing black robe, her golden hair concealed beneath a deep hood.

She had chosen this place for a reason. A lesson was about to be taught.

A lone figure knelt before her, bound at the wrists with faintly glowing restraints. A man who had spoken too freely, promised too much, and delivered too little. The kind of man who believed himself untouchable in a world that only rewarded power. His voice was hoarse from pleading, but Serina merely watched him, her expression one of serene detachment.

"You don't understand," he gasped. "I didn't—"

A sharp motion of her hand cut him off. Not through the Force, not with a weapon—just a simple, effortless gesture of command. The silence that followed was absolute.

"Do you know what I despise most about men like you?" she asked, her voice smooth, melodic, dangerously soft. "It isn't your ambition. It isn't even your treachery. It's your lack of conviction."

The man swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he struggled against the cuffs. "I swear, I—"

Serina stepped closer, the tip of her boot tapping gently against the duracrete floor. "You swore a great many things," she murmured. "And yet here we are."

She circled him, slow, methodical, her presence a cold weight pressing against his very soul. Behind her, in the darkness of the alley, figures watched. Silent. Waiting. The world had forgotten them, the kind of people who knew the true meaning of justice—the kind who had been molded by suffering, sharpened into blades by a life that had no mercy.

Serina had come here for one of them. Someone who had spent a lifetime hunting those who broke the rules. Someone who understood punishment. Someone who, with the right guidance, could be turned into something greater.

The man before her was inconsequential. His fate had been decided long before he had even entered this place. He was not the lesson—he was merely the tool by which the lesson would be learned.

Serina knelt, leveling her gaze with his. There was no anger in her eyes. No hatred. Only patience. Only certainty.

"Justice," she whispered, "is a matter of perspective."

She did not need to say more. She was not here to pass judgment herself. That honor belonged to another.

Somewhere in the shadows, someone was watching.

Serina smiled.

This was only the beginning.

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Coruscant
Tag: Serina Calis ​

Almost silently, Asaiah hopped down from above. She had been watching this situation from the shadows. The girl had been itching to get to work. Get to her questioning. After all, judgement needed a fair process. You had to find out as much information as you could. Only then could you figure out true judgement. She wasn't entirely sure what had been going on. This man had been caught lying apparently. The girl pulled out a journal from her pocket for a moment as she stepped over towards the man.

"Hello, hello. I'm your judgement for the day. Let me see here. From what I've heard, you are accused of one count of not keeping a deal. Punishment is removal of tongue. One count of treachery, depending on how it happened could mean removal of legs or hands."

She checked off various boxes in her journal, frowning for a moment as Asaiah was checking over the man in front of her. He definitely seemed like a filthy evildoer. Not like that sweet woman who had confronted him. At that, the girl clapped her hands together, a slightly demented grin growing across her face as her foot lashed out at the man to kick the side of his legs and send him tumbling to the ground.

"Need to make sure you stick around. Can't risk you escaping."

In the blink of an eye, Asaiah had a hammer in one hand and a set of nails between her fingers in the other. Then she went to work making sure that the man would "stick around", slamming the nails into the man's knees. A gleeful grin spreading across her face with each impact. Whacking in a nail and then flipping the hammer into the air to catch it before slamming another nail in. It was a show for Asaiah. She was having as much fun as she could with this. And once she was sure he wouldn't able to run, Asaiah dropped down onto her rear, pulling out her journal.

"Alright. I have some questions. Stop screaming. I need these answers. Okay. So. What deals have you made and how have you broken them? How were you a traitor? Did you run away from something? Did you do something wrong? If you lie to me, I'll remove a tooth for each lie."

And so she waited for her answers, her golden eyes almost burning holes into the man as she stared. Not letting her gaze move for a second.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Weight of Judgement.
Location: Coruscant
Objective: Punish the Failed Agent
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Asaiah Celwik

"How, oh how I must punish those who I deem, 'wasteful.' "​

For a brief moment, Serina merely watched, golden brows lifting ever so slightly beneath the shadow of her hood.

This was unexpected.

The girl had moved with a dancer's grace, swift and silent, descending from the shadows like some vengeful specter. She was young—far too young to wear that grin, to wield a hammer with such casual delight, to punctuate her words with the rhythmic crack of iron meeting flesh.

Yet there she was, administering her own warped version of justice as if it were the most natural thing in the galaxy.

Serina inhaled slowly, a lazy, almost amused smile curving her lips. Her gaze traced the movement of the hammer, the way the girl toyed with it, flipping it in the air with the ease of long-practiced skill. Interesting. The man on the ground wailed, writhing, the pain radiating from his shattered knees rendering him half-mad with agony. He tried to speak, but all that escaped was a strangled sob.

Serina tilted her head. Then, as if the entire scene were nothing more than a mildly amusing curiosity, she stepped forward, her heeled boots clicking lightly against the duracrete.

"My, my," she purred, her voice silk-wrapped steel, "and who might you be?"

She did not reach for a weapon. Did not threaten, did not sneer. No, Serina merely crouched beside the trembling man, her gloved fingers brushing lightly against his shoulder—mockingly gentle.

"You certainly made quite the entrance." She gestured at the man, whose body was twitching violently from the trauma. "And such dedication to the process."

Her eyes flicked to the girl's journal, lingering on the methodical checkboxes she had marked with the cold precision of a bureaucrat. As if this were just another tally in an endless record of judgment.

Fascinating.

Serina let out a breathy chuckle, resting her chin on the back of her hand as she studied the strange little judge.

"I must admit," she murmured, "I was not expecting to have company tonight. But… I do find it rather delightful when fate brings forth surprises."

She reached out, as if to pluck the journal from the girl's grasp, but did not take it—merely traced a single gloved finger along its worn surface. "So diligent. So thorough."

Her gaze lifted, golden eyes gleaming beneath the dim glow of the alley's neon light. There was something distinctly dangerous about the way she smiled.

"Tell me, little judge… what happens when someone like you breaks a rule?"

A test. A whisper of challenge beneath the sweetness of her tone.

Because Serina already knew—this one would be fun.

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Coruscant
Tag: Serina Calis ​

Asaiah blinked to herself as she heard the voice from behind her. It wasn't the voice she had been expecting. She wanted the man in front of her to start replying but he was still writhing in pain. The girl sighed to herself and started to "gently" slap him in the face, with a few quiet whispers of "shut up and talk, shut up and talk." It was technically a paradox in a way. How was the man meant to shut up but also talk? But that was a logical argument. Asaiah didn't think of things in a logical way. At least...not with common logic.

"I am this man's judge, jury and potentially executioner. I do what the justice service won't actually do, and that's bring justice to those who break the rules."

She kept herself crouched down, her arms resting against her knees as her eyes didn't leave the man for a moment. Even as Serina crouched herself down next to him, Asaiah's eyes didn't move. Didn't budge as she stared at him, judging him in her mind. Silence was always a possible answer to her questions. Of course it wasn't a positive answer to her questions, as her fingers curled for a moment. Her mind going to her sword for a moment. No. It was too early to enact that kind of justice. He needed to answer for everything.

However as Serina brought her hand over towards the journal, Asaiah tensed for a moment. Finally breaking her focus from the man to look at the woman in front of her, where Asaiah just tilted her head. Asaiah's eyes staring back at Serina as the woman's question finally processed in her mind. Perhaps Serina expected Asaiah to have some kind of breakdown over that question. realising the hypocrisy of her own beliefs but instead Asaiah shrugged her shoulders

"It's simple. It is like when someone says if you kill a murderer, the amount of murders in the Galaxy stay the same. That's why I kill more than one. I must enact more judgement on people. I do not do this because I want to...Actually, wait a moment."

With that, for seemingly no reason Asaiah's fist swung into the man's stomach, knocking the wind out of him for a moment before the girl turned her attention back to her journal, flipping to the back where she'd seemingly add a tally mark to a series of them on the page.

"That was a lie. I do want to do this. I enjoy it. But that is not the main reason. It is my punishment. Death would be too simple for me."

 

[Serina Calis]

The Weight of Judgement.
Location: Coruscant
Objective: Punish the Failed Agent
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Asaiah Celwik

"How, oh how I must punish those who I deem, 'wasteful.' "​

Serina's smile didn't falter—if anything, it deepened into something silkier, more indulgent. She watched the girl with the air of a connoisseur watching an artist at work. Not just any artist. A prodigy. A bloody little maestro composing her own symphony of agony in some forgotten alleyway, hammer and nails her instruments, justice her muse.

She said nothing for a time.

Not when the man choked on his own breath.
Not when Asaiah's fist sunk into his gut.
Not even when the girl, with unsettling casualness, added another tally to her journal like it was a grocery list.

Serina simply observed—with the same measured patience of a spider watching a struggling fly. Her posture remained regal even at a crouch, her hands resting effortlessly atop one another as she leaned just slightly closer to Asaiah, savoring every word the girl uttered. There was such honesty in it. Raw and unfiltered. A kind of clarity that only came from fractured minds too pure to understand how broken they were.

And Serina adored it.

"You punish yourself by punishing others," she murmured, as if reciting poetry. "You tell yourself it's penance, but oh, how sweet the sin tastes in your mouth, doesn't it?"

Her voice was a slow cadence, a seductive rhythm, the purr of velvet gliding across skin. Her eyes studied Asaiah not like one might study a threat, but a rare and treasured specimen. Something fascinating. Something useful.

"But it's not punishment, darling. Not really." She leaned in just a hair closer, her gloved finger brushing one of the blood-streaked nails embedded in the man's leg. "It's pleasure dressed up as principle. And why not? Why shouldn't justice be pleasurable? Why shouldn't pain make you smile? If the galaxy ignored the screams, why shouldn't someone finally listen to them?"

Serina let the silence linger again. She was never one to rush the moment.

"You know," she said lightly, voice almost teasing, "I was prepared to cut off this man's tongue myself. He lied to me—sold information to someone he shouldn't have. Nearly cost me a rather delicate operation. He broke the rules, my rules. And I do so hate when people do that."

Her smile turned sharp, foxlike. "But then you appeared. Like a little flame dancing in the darkness. And I thought…" Her tone dipped into a low purr. "Why extinguish it? Why not let it burn a while longer?"

She shifted her weight, turning so she faced Asaiah more directly. Their proximity was intimate now, their silhouettes lit by the faint flickering of neon signs above. Serina's voice softened, almost confidential.

"You fascinate me. Not just your work—though that is… exquisite. But the structure of it. The ritual. The certainty." Her gaze dropped to the blood-stained journal. "You've built a religion out of consequence. Made yourself both priestess and executioner. How rare."

She extended a hand—not to touch, not quite yet—but to gesture, open-palmed, toward the broken man lying between them.

"Do you ever wonder if you're the only sane one left, little judge?" Serina whispered. "Because I do. All the time."

She rose, slow and elegant, the hem of her robe brushing the floor like a shadow. Then she turned her back to Asaiah—not in dismissal, but in trust, a dangerous gesture in a world of blades and betrayal. As if saying: You won't strike me. You won't stop the one person who understands what you are.

"You may continue," she said without looking over her shoulder, her voice returning to that smooth professionalism. "But make it memorable."

She walked a few paces forward, where a column of old ferrocrete jutted from the alley wall. There, she leaned lightly against it, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded neatly before her.

"I want to see how you finish this judgment," Serina called back, golden eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "And whether you'll make him understand the rules… before the end."

She didn't just want to watch Asaiah work.

She wanted to see how deep the madness ran.

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Coruscant
Tag: Serina Calis ​

"I was prepared to cut off this man's tongue myself. He lied to me—sold information to someone he shouldn't have.

Almost immediately, with a quick flash of metal, the sword at Asaiah's back was unsheathed. In the blink of an eye, a slash echoed through the sky before screams of pain escaped from the man's mouth...alongside his tongue. With a flick of her other hand, Asaiah pulled out a small vial before using the Force to pull at the specks of blood on her sword to clean it, squinting to herself. It was harder when it wasn't from a flowing source but she was able to pull the blood off her sword and transferred it into the vial which she simply capped off and stored for experimentation later. All of that without a single expression passing her face as she then sheathed the blade.

Perhaps she should have pried more. Find more information before deeming the man guilty. But the woman in front of her had said as much and Asaiah had no reason to disbelieve the woman. The woman who was staring directly at her, just causing Asaiah to tilt her head to the side. Was there something wrong? Was there something on Asaiah's face? She gently wiped her thumb against her face to check for dirt, indirectly staining the bridge of her nose with blood before looking down at her hand. Nope. Everything seemed to be fine. Nothing was on her face.

"...Pain isn't something to smile for. Pain hurts those who don't deserve it, whilst those who do get away with it. Those with money or power get away with causing pain. It does not bother them. It does not affect them. It affects me. It's why I have to do this. Because I am not them. I am me."

It was a belief that Asaiah had for so long that she believed in. When in reality...She did enjoy this. It might not make her smile in the moment, but when she was back at her base, plotting her next move, the memories brought her such joy. Joy at the idea of making the Galaxy a better place...even if she was making it much worse. But she'd never think about that. Never realise it.

Though...Serina had made Asaiah doubt. Not in if she was doing the right thing. Not if these people were innocent. No. Instead Asaiah doubted that she was purely a murderer now. An executioner. Was she a Priestess? She didn't attempt to spread her beliefs...Well, there was that time on Ukatis where she rescued those children...but she doubted they'd walk the same path as her. Very few people had the strength to walk the path that Asaiah was walking. At least in her eyes. Her manic eyes as they turned back towards the man, whilst Serina walked away to the side.

Asaiah didn't even realise it was a sign of trust for Serina to turn her back on the girl. After all, the thought to strike Serina never crossed her mind. Asaiah only attacked the evil, the criminals, the scum of the Galaxy. In her eyes, Serina was Good. An upstanding citizen. Innocent. Asaiah turned her attention back towards the man, flipping through her journal with a small frown facing her face as if she had just realised something.

"...With the removal of thy tongue, thou can no longer answer for thou's other crimes. That does not set thy free of thy's sins.. But thy punishment shall be reduced. First, for lying for monetary value, all valuables shall be taken from thy person. Secondly, thy shall remain in ownership of thy's limbs...Though they shall be broken."

Even as the man flailed against Asaiah and tried to stop the girl, she swiftly ruffled her hands through his pockets, pulling out any form of valuables she could. Mostly Credit Chits, but at the finding of some data shards, Asaiah tossed them in the direction of Serina. They were of no value to the girl. With that, she then followed on the second part of the judgement.

She then turned her back towards the man and made her way over towards Serina. With the wounds she had inflicted on the man, if he didn't get to any form of clinic, it was likely he'd die from them. But that was not her problem. She had done her job. Well. Not yet as she lifted her journal up again, looking at the top of the page before her eyes, filled with manic joy and glee, glanced over towards Serina. Even with the joy in her eyes, Asaiah's face didn't make any chance of expression.

"What was his name? It must be recorded."

Was his name. Past tense. It was clear that she knew, or at least expected what his ultimate fate was going to be.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Weight of Judgement.
Location: Coruscant
Objective: Punish the Failed Agent
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Asaiah Celwik

"How, oh how I must punish those who I deem, 'wasteful.' "​

Serina caught the data shards without even looking. Her hand rose, as if on instinct, and the slim, metallic slivers landed delicately in her palm. She turned them over idly, her eyes not on the shards, but on the girl now approaching her with measured, blood-slicked steps.

She tucked the data away into her robes without ceremony. She would review them later.

Her gaze returned to Asaiah—and this time, Serina took her in fully. The young woman was painted in streaks of red, splashed with truth, carrying herself with the poise of a holy executioner and the cracked psyche of a shattered child. There was nothing uncertain in her movements. There was no hesitation. And yet, Serina saw it. The smallest seed of doubt, not in her mission… but in her self.

It was beautiful.

Serina's smile curled slowly into something deliciously serpentine. Not a grin. Not a sneer. But something poised between indulgence and hunger, as though she were savoring a taste that lingered on the edge of her tongue.

When Asaiah asked her question—"What was his name?"—Serina did not answer immediately. She turned slightly, enough to face the girl again, hands folded lightly before her. The moment swelled with quiet gravity, filled only by the distant sounds of the city, the leaking groans of the half-dead man, and the electric hum of lights overhead.

Then, she spoke.

"His name was Varin Tellus," Serina said softly, each syllable wrapped in silk and thorns. "A broker of secrets. A man who profited from silence and treachery alike. He once bartered the location of a refugee vessel for two crates of spice and a Senator's favor. Every soul on that ship died screaming in vacuum."

She paused.

"I suppose it's rather fitting, then," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "that he should leave this world silent as well."

Her golden eyes burned into Asaiah, not as one staring down at a subordinate, but as one artist studying another's canvas. Her voice dropped just slightly, velvet-draped steel sliding beneath the skin.

"You did not ask if he was guilty. You asked for his name. That tells me more about you than your hammer ever could."

She stepped forward, just one step, enough to shrink the space between them. There was no threat in her posture. Only presence. The kind that filled the lungs of lesser beings with uncertainty. But not this one.

No, Asaiah didn't flinch.

"Is that why you carry the journal?" Serina asked, voice smooth and slow. "To make them real? Names. Crimes. Consequences. So you don't forget. So the galaxy doesn't forget."

She reached forward, fingers gentle, and if Asaiah allowed it, Serina would touch the journal with reverence, not theft. A priestess offering respect to another's scripture.

"You think yourself a judge. A servant of a truth no one else will uphold." Her lips curled upward, not mocking, not kind. Something in between. "But you are not merely enacting justice, Asaiah Celwik."

Her voice dipped lower.

"You are building a pantheon. With every act, every punishment… you are naming sins. Shaping laws. Writing a doctrine not just in ink, but in blood."

She circled slowly behind Asaiah, never brushing, never quite close enough to touch—but her presence followed, coiled around like perfume and shadow.

"And tell me…" Her voice nearly a whisper now, "what kind of god do you intend to become, when your book is full?"

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Coruscant
Tag: Serina Calis


She simply wrote down the man's name in her journal. The extra information was useless to her. Was she meant to feel pity for the refugees? They were gone. Of course, she had gotten justice for them but that wasn't what was important to her. It was her own personal justice Asaiah focused on. In a way, her own personal satisfaction. Yet her face would never betray that. Only her eyes. The spark inside of them that enjoyed what she did. The beauty she found in the actions she did.

"An innocent man wouldn't have begged in the way that he did. I will say, a more fitting end for him would have been for me to pierce his lungs. For him to suffocate in silence, unable to take in a breath."

Any joy that might have been in her voice was gone in this moment. She was monotone. Her job had been done. Normally that would mean she left straight away. Yet she was still here. Serina was intriguing compared to the people that Asaiah had met. There was no hostility yet Asaiah could sense there was some kind of strength in the woman in front of her. She could feel a strange sense of...similiarity she could feel between herself and the woman.

"It is my book of Justice. I keep records of crimes. Punishments. Those who have committed them. Alongside to keep a record of the blood I have collected."

It would help once she was able to get a laboratory to work in...Of course, she could also use some more education in Biology. She only had a basic understanding. But in her eyes, there must have been something in people's blood that made them do the things they did. That was what she wanted to figure out. There was an allure she felt for blood, ever since she found out how...unique her ability to manipulate the liquid of life was.

Asaiah was not opposed to the woman touching the journal, though she kept a firm grip on the pages. There was nothing wrong with letting someone look. But it was her's. No-one else would be allowed to use her book without her permission. It was more precious to her than her sword. Her hammer. She could replace those, but she wouldn't be able to replace the book. The amount of knowledge in it. Come to think of it...She couldn't even remember how long she had been doing this for now...

A frown graced her face as she looked up at Serina. Compared to Serina, Asaiah was quite small. But normally her personality made up for it. Normally she was louder than life, running through the streets or through the trees. Climbing and jumping all over the place, but all of her energy and attention was purely focused on Serina. Even if she was physically smaller than Serina, Asaiah did not let it bother her. She kept her eyes on Serina's, unflinching. Unafraid. Some people might have crumbled under Serina's gaze, or let her words lure them into some kind of spider's web...but Asaiah did not crumble, nor did she follow the words to their source fully.
​

"And tell me…" Her voice nearly a whisper now, "what kind of god do you intend to become, when your book is full?"

An expression passed over Asaiah's face that. It was unclear what it was. Confusion? Thoughtfulness? Surprise? Perhaps a mix of all three? The idea of her becoming a God was...nigh unbelievable. Gods didn't do anything in the Galaxy. People had to take the power into their own hands, but as Asaiah stared down at her blood stained hands...There were thoughts in her mind. Actual thoughts. Not just about taking lives, or about experiments but about who she was...And when she spoke, there was...uncertainty.

"...Justice?...Vengeance?...Blood?... Punishment?..."

It was almost like she was asking for an answer. Each one fit in her a way. Justice and Vengeance were two sides of the same coin after all. And with both of those came Punishment. And with Punishment came Blood. Could she rule over all of them? It was a thought that she had never had before. Asaiah was ready to spend her life doing this. Just taking out "petty" criminals...but maybe she could do something better.​

 

[Serina Calis]

The Weight of Judgement.
Location: Coruscant
Objective: Punish the Failed Agent
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Asaiah Celwik

"How, oh how I must punish those who I deem, 'wasteful.' "​

Serina stood perfectly still.

Her silhouette was bathed in soft, dying light as a flickering sign above cast rhythmic shadows across her face. Her blue eyes remained fixed on Asaiah—not blinking, not moving—just watching. Listening. Every breath Asaiah took, every syllable she uttered, was a note in a symphony Serina had conducted a thousand times. But this one? This composition was different.

This girl wasn't some broken blade to be reforged. She was already sharp—frighteningly so. But Serina could feel it now, just beneath the skin: Asaiah's purpose was beginning to stretch against its own limitations.

And Serina? Serina was the voice that would help her break through them.

She took a step forward, quiet, deliberate. No longer merely a shadow in the alley—but an inevitability.

"Not a god of justice," she said, gently, almost kindly. "Justice is blind. Justice hesitates. It begs for fairness."

She reached out—not to touch Asaiah's face, but to slowly, lightly press two fingers beneath the girl's chin. Not forceful, not possessive. Just lifting. Just guiding. Eyes meeting eyes.

"No… you are not blind. You see everything. You weigh it. You record it. You shape it." A soft smile curled on Serina's lips, something private and poisonous. "That is not justice. That is dominion."

She let her fingers trail away, respectful of the girl's boundaries but deliberate enough to leave the impression of warmth where they had been. Her voice never rose. She didn't need it to. Each word was designed to slide into Asaiah's thoughts like a needle—threading through identity, stitching new patterns in silence.

"You ask what kind of god you are becoming?" she continued, stepping once more into Asaiah's orbit, orbiting her like a star burning just out of reach. "Not one of peace. Not one of mercy. You are a god of blood. Of ledger. Of consequence." Her voice dropped again to a whisper, breathy and rich. "You are the final line in every chapter no one else dares to write."

She circled behind her now, slowly—like a predator, or a lover, or something that transcended both. The words came like silk against skin, smooth and sinful.

"Justice is a word for those too afraid to name what they really want. It's what they tell themselves when they wish they had your strength. But vengeance? Punishment? That's truth. And truth doesn't need permission."

She stopped at Asaiah's side. Her tone grew professional now. Almost... surgical.

"You keep blood. You collect it, name it, store it. You wish to understand it. You believe—perhaps without realizing it—that the secret to what people are lies inside it." Her voice tilted into admiration. "You may be right."

She reached into her robe again and produced something small: a sleek, vial-like capsule filled with a viscous black-red fluid that shimmered in the dim light. She offered it, open-palmed, like a gift.

"From someone whose crimes were so unspeakable I will not honor them with words. Their blood is... unique. Unstable. Mutated. But it burns when wielded correctly. Perhaps you can find the reason why."

There it was. The first taste. Not a command. Not a bribe. Just a gift. Just recognition.

"You believe you are alone in your purpose," she said softly. "But there are others who see as you do. Who are waiting for someone strong enough to name the sins that have no name. Who want to walk a path shaped by truth, not law. They are... scattered. Lost. But with the right hand to guide them..."

She tilted her head, golden hair glinting as she studied Asaiah once more.

"They would follow a goddess of blood. They would worship her."

Then, her expression changed, just slightly—her voice wrapped itself in silk and steel again, professional once more, as if the moment of intimacy had been part of a carefully curated performance. Yet it was still real. That was the brilliance of it.

"You needn't decide anything tonight. You have work to do. Blood to spill. Questions to ask. But when your journal is full, when your lab is built, when your doctrine is ready to be shared…" She stepped back, her silhouette returning to the dark.

"...I'll be waiting. Not to lead you."

A faint smile.

"But to see how far you rise."

The taste of godhood had been offered. And Serina knew the girl would thirst for more.

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Coruscant
Tag: Serina Calis


When was the last time that Asaiah had let someone get this close to her? At least in a non-hostile manner like this. That wasn't what was important to her though. It was Serina's words that were important to her as Asaiah tried to take them in as much as she could. She thought she had figured out her purpose already, but it appeared there was a second path available to her. One where she could be worshipped...For her to be more than just a criminal. A murderer. She could be a Priestess of her own religion. Her own belief system. She'd have to re-word it perhaps...Keep her original journal to herself, whilst working on a Book for others to follow...

"True Justice doesn't hesitate. The "Justice System" put in place is filled with people who can't do their jobs. I have the strength to grant Justice for those who are hurt. It is not my vengeance I am granting."

Her vengeance had been achieved a long time ago anyway. When she killed her parents. The idea of them wanting to abandon her to the Jedi had been the final nail in the coffin for her parents. That was confirmation to her that her parents had been evil. And if they had wanted to send her to the Jedi...Well, that must have meant the Jedi were also evil. Asaiah belonged to no-one but herself. She was not a Jedi...and she didn't even know much about the Sith enough to consider herself one of them or not.

Asaiah's thoughts were broken when she felt a pair of fingers on her chin. Blinking for a moment as an expression crossed across her face. A expression of confusion. What was Serina doing? Asaiah's eyes stared directly at Serina...Perhaps through the woman, as Asaiah's mind was going through dozens of thoughts at once. Did Asaiah have dominion over people? She had not left many people alive in her journey. Did those she had spared worship her? did they hate her? Were they afraid of her? More importantly, did they believe in Asaiah's lessons? What she had taught them?...

Yet another expression flashed across Asaiah's face at the offer of the blood vial. An expression of pure glee as Asaiah's hand shot out to take the vial, swiftly but delicately to slide away for storage. Once again listening to Serina's words but this time as Asaiah spoke, her voice had an edge of glee inside of it. A manic enjoyment almost.

"You say their blood is mutated. What if it's a case that everyone's blood is mutated? I have never encountered someone with the exact same blood. Perhaps there is a reason for that. Perhaps the only thing that ties people together isn't blood but their nature to lie...To blind themselves...Perhaps that is in their blood."

Her eyes glanced up towards Serina for a moment, narrowing as she gazed at the woman in front of her. Was it a gaze of admiration? Curiosity? Who knows.

"...I've noted that none of the blood I've collected has more than base similarities to my own. Perhaps yours would be different."

Because in a way, Asaiah saw in Serina...A kindred spirit in a way. Serina didn't seem to walk the same path as Asaiah but to Asaiah, she seemed to believe in the same duty as Asaiah did. That made her a...reliable associate. She didn't know what a friend was, so she wouldn't use that word. No. It was unthinkable.

Now her mind went to the thoughts of having people in the Galaxy worship her...To want to listen to her every word. it was a seflish desire but Asaiah had been so selfless in her journeys. Her body carried the scars of battles against dozens of criminals and evildoers. Was it so wrong for her to finally have a selfish wish? A selfish desire of her own? No. She deserved it.

"...I will need to find a place to build my laboratory. Somewhere safe and secure. Only the best will do..."

At this point, Asaiah was mumbling to herself, rubbing her chin in thought as Serina went back into the dark. Meanwhile Asaiah stood in the light somewhat, her eyes sparkling with a dark joy. She was a Star. Not one of light however. Asaiah was a Dark Star, bright and burning inside of her but she did not release any of that Light. No. She was just going to pull people in. That was her duty now.​

 

[Serina Calis]

The Weight of Judgement.
Location: Coruscant
Objective: Punish the Failed Agent
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Asaiah Celwik

"How, oh how I must punish those who I deem, 'wasteful.' "​

A few meters into the shadows, Serina paused.

She hadn't expected Asaiah to speak again—at least, not to her. The girl had all the makings of a self-contained storm. A dark orbit with no need for moons. But the moment she heard that tone—that mix of manic joy, curiosity, and quiet self-realization—Serina knew she was no longer observing a fire.

She was feeding it.

She turned—slowly. Letting the movement draw attention. Her silhouette slipped back into the light just enough to catch the amber-gold gleam in her eyes. She didn't step forward again. Not yet. That would be too much. Too soon. Instead, she stood still, and let her voice pour forward like velvet smoke.

"You believe blood is the key," she said, "and you're not wrong."

Her hands, clasped behind her back, unfolded with care. One of them gestured in the air, almost as if conducting invisible strings. Her words were precise, drawn-out, each one laced with sin and science in equal measure.

"Blood holds the record of choices made. Of pain endured. Of darkness inherited. It whispers of ancestry, of weakness, of lust, of rage. It carries memories far older than we are." Her head tilted slightly, golden strands of hair cascading like spun firelight. "You say you've never encountered blood like yours…"

A small, licentious smile curved at her lips. It was dark, indulgent, and knowing.

"…Then you would adore mine."

She stepped forward, slowly this time, her presence once more filling the space between them—but softer now. Closer. Not like a stormcloud looming, but like perfume curling around the neck. Serina's voice dipped lower. Private.

"My blood is ancient. Tainted. Unnatural. Not Sith. Not Jedi. It is something… older. Born from a moment of death and betrayal. You speak of mutation—mine is pure corrosion. There is nothing in me that remembers innocence. No marrow that dreams of light. Only the darkness that claimed me… and what rose from it."

She slowly extended her gloved hand. No vial this time. No container. Just the gesture. The offer.

"If you ever wish to study it… you need only ask."

The words were simple, but beneath them hummed a symphony of temptation. Serina didn't offer her blood to anyone. She never allowed herself to be examined. But this was a seed, planted carefully. Because Serina understood Asaiah now:

It wasn't power the girl wanted. It was understanding. Control through knowledge. Order through anatomy. Dominion through biology.

And Serina had long since turned her own corruption into a kind of science.

She circled again, this time tighter, her voice brushing Asaiah's ear like a whisper meant for dreams.

"You need a laboratory. A temple of sterile steel. A shrine to discipline and pain. Not a hidden alley. Not a sewer. A sanctum." Her voice was lower now, almost reverent. "And one day, you'll need acolytes. Hands to assist you. Eyes to see what you miss. Tongues to spread your creed."

A pause. Then her voice slid across the edge of blasphemy.

"A church of blood."

She stopped behind Asaiah again, just within breath's reach, and whispered with barely veiled hunger:

"Build it, and they will come. The wounded, the angry, the broken... they already believe in you. They just don't know your name yet."

Serina's hand hovered near Asaiah's shoulder but never touched. There was no need to press skin to skin. The air itself was charged.

"Do not run from selfishness, Asaiah. You've paid in scars. You've earned the right to demand something beautiful for yourself. You are not just an executioner. You are not just a vessel of punishment."

Another step forward. Serina turned slightly, letting her voice trail like a silk ribbon between them.

"You are the beginning of a doctrine."

Then she vanished again. No final glance. No farewell.

Just the scent of her presence lingering in the air, and the echo of her promise:

"When you're ready to taste the truth in my veins... you'll know where to find me."

And somewhere, far away, the hollow where her heart once beat stirred with anticipation—its occupant whispering yes with a mouth made of shadow and memory.