Private What Is Purpose

[Alina Tremiru]

Ambition was folly.

It was a lesson hard learned, hard fought for, hard sacrificed for. If the Force had chosen, she wasn't among them. Every avenue, every plan, every interaction, she never measured up to it. She was always too many steps ahead of herself, leading her to stumble and fall time and time again. A Powerbase? Gone to the winds, her people assimilated or just slaughtered behind her back. Strength? She had it in spades, but even her ascension meant nothing in the face of those the Force favored. Love?

That probably stung the most. Even now she wasn't over her feelings for Quinn Varanin . A woman she waited for years for like a loyal dog, only to be cast aside for the new hounds chasing at her heels. To think she lowered her self pride so much. Her expression soured before she idly reached out to pluck up one of a few bodies laid out around her. Perhaps that was where her folly truly began, letting herself get tangled in relationships that were doomed from the get go.

A wet crunch sounded as she crushed the man's throat, idly distilling the crimson into the glass she'd been sipping from. Noble blood had an odd purity to it. They were so adamant about it, but the reality was they just had better health care. Anyone could have this pure of blood if they weren't begging for scraps on the side of a street. The lifeless corpse was tossed aside as she leaned back in her chair, sipping.

The others were too drunk to even react to one of their own's deaths. Perhaps in the morning there'd be some kind of scandal, but she was too tired, too jaded, to care. All she wanted was a night of drinking, and perhaps she'd forget enough to at least look forward to another day in her cursed body.

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"A long time..."

Tags - Alina Tremiru

The glass had not yet touched her lips when she noticed. A ripple—no, a fracture—had passed through the indulgent haze of her hall. The laughter of the sycophants, the low music, the tangle of intoxicated limbs and voices—all of it bent subtly toward the violence that had just occurred. But the tremor did not linger. Her guests were too well-trained, or too lost in themselves, to risk noticing. They feared her more than scandal, and so they kept their eyes averted.

Darth Virelia did not.

She sat at the head of the feast, her throne draped in shadow and violet light. A predator, content to let her prey cavort in delusion until the moment it suited her to remind them who owned the room. Her gaze found the woman across the floor, glass in hand, blood swirling in place of wine. A gesture like that could be crude in lesser hands—loud, desperate, a scream for attention. But not here. Not with her.

It was the silence that drew Virelia. Silence was the true test of power. Yet Virelia saw. She always saw.

She rose, unhurried, the rustle of silk against armor cutting cleaner through the room than any blade. The path between them opened without command; the crowd simply knew. They shrank back, the air thickening as her presence pressed into their lungs. When she reached the woman, she did not speak immediately. She studied her instead, like a connoisseur weighing whether the vintage in her glass was worth savoring—or breaking.

Familiar.

She lowered herself into the seat opposite, violet eyes alight, and lifted her own glass in a deliberate mirror. "You chose my hall for your actions," she said, her voice velvet over steel. "Curious. So brazen."

Her smile was subtle, predatory, almost respectful. "I find I like that."

A sip, slow. "Your silence speaks more eloquently than most of their speeches. I wonder…" her gaze lingered, heavy and knowing, "what do you truly desire?"

The question hung, licentious and cutting, an invitation and a blade at once.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

There was no response at first. Not because Alina was ignoring the only person sober enough to speak her way, but because she herself was just as out of it. It wasn't drunk, she couldn't enjoy the sensation of alcohol or even spice as she had in her youth so many, many years ago.

But it was close enough. Something to relax, let go completely, in. She tipped up her drink, idly taking another sip before her eyes focused on the movement of someone upright. Someone speaking to her.

".. Desire? I desire nothing these days." She hummed softly. Or was it more of a grumble? The glass lowered as red stained her lips, her glowing eyes dull. "Immortality has it's ups and downs. It must be good for you, though, Chosen. Have you been killed again recently, or has this power I smell in your blood finally yours?"

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"A long time..."

Tags - Alina Tremiru

Virelia let the corner of her mouth curve, a smile neither warm nor cruel but weighted with memory. She leaned forward, violet eyes catching the light as though they themselves drank it.

"So," she murmured, voice smooth as silk drawn over glass, "even immortality has dulled for you. That explains the taste." Her gaze lingered on the red staining Alina's lips, deliberate, almost reverent. "It is strange, to sit across from the same woman who nearly ended me when I was still nothing more than a pretender clawing at shadows."

She did not bristle at the mention of 'Chosen.' Instead, she let it slide into her like a title reclaimed, savoring it. "I have remembered you far longer than I ever remembered those who thought themselves masters. I never caught your name. But your touch upon my body lingers."

Her glass tipped languidly. "As for death—ah, yes. I've courted it. I've slit its throat. And I've bound it tighter with every return. The blood you smell is not borrowed. It is mine. Paid for. Perfected."

Her smile sharpened. "Tell me, then—have you come here to finish what you started?"