Private You've Goth Something I Want

[Vella Forte]

Panatha // Canthar // Minimalistic, onyx house
Beatrice Govan
We appreciate Power ​

After cashing in her last reward for a notoriously useful slicer, Vella had to track down a new target. Without a dossier in hand, or orders from above, she'd elected to make it a hunt for personal growth. With plenty of time to spend on the mend and getting her knee to look like it was supposed to, she used her time to commune with the only individual she had any concern for. She'd sought guidance from the goddess herself. It was difficult to reach the ashen-haired deity, and Vella took that as scorn on herself. Her prowess over The Force was nothing particularly impressive, and the goddess only favoured true destruction. As haughty and violent as the gothic Vahla was, she had no teacher in The Force. Ancient texts and observation could only take her so far.

The black eyes of the Goddess had searched her, and found her unworthy. She needed something truly revolutionary to grow and restore herself as viable in that abyssal gaze.

_______________

The air felt just as hot and wet in the city, as it did in the jungle. It made Vella draw her cowl closer around her head as she navigated through the city of stone. She'd stopped a few times to confirm her direction was still true. She'd purposely tried to land as near as possible to her final destination, but the landing pads were organized to be a fair distance from any of the residential areas -- and she wasn't on good enough terms to just land on someone's personal landing strip.

The ambitious lust for improvement brought her up the stairway and to the stretching, dark doorway of the Emperor's Child. So many of his kin had denounced him, but this one..this one hadn't. Records proved she also seemed to know some neat tricks; like immortality.

Cheating death was a move that The Goddess would look to favourably.

A gloved hand lifted to rap on the door. Knock knock.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

The room was silent.

Her mind was loud.

In the sanctity of her own abode, Evelynn Zambrano sat and stared. Posture both straight and stiff, the pride of any finishing school, as emerald eyes poured over the physical book sat in her own golden right hand.

It was a diary, her own diary.

When one is lost, sometimes it is best to confront the past before looking to the future. Rather recently the Apprentice had been queried time and time again about purpose. Her own purpose, namely. It was a query that she could not yet answer, and that was a source of moderate frustration. Newfound ambition was altogether quite useless without an overarching goal.

Study. Train. Elevate herself to heights beyond her former status as both a Queen and a Sith Sorceress.

But to what heights? And to what purpose? Unflinching loyalty to her Father and his Empire? No, there had to be more than that.

The etchings of past's madness laid before her seemed to offer little in the form of inspiration, the ink baring nothing but pain-afflicted lunacy. Pale brows furrowed somewhat, a slight sneer of disgust creeping upon gaunt features as she considered the monstrosity that she used to be.

Even still, that creature too held purpose, even if it was of the most base and gluttonous variety. Pain and pleasure. Perhaps the mad little wretch was light years beyond the rest of the galaxy, ignoring greater ambitions for the sake of self-satisfa-

The room was no longer silent, as a pair of knocks interrupted all mental flow that Evelynn held, causing her sneer to shift to moderate annoyance. This was her private space, and no guests were anticipated. The haughty part of her oft-fragmented mind took great offence to such an intrusion.

However, a patient curiosity overwhelmed such egotistical thoughts.

Striding into the entrance hallway, her gaze scanned the security camera feed that sat upon the wall next to the door. Not a face that the woman recognised. Interesting. Her visitor held all the correct hallmarks of a fellow Sith, but why? An assassin, perhaps? No, she could not possibly be wanted in that capacity, for she hadn't done anything in this lifetime to warrant such treatment.

The door opened, and the woman that knocked would be greeted by the sight of what was perhaps, the most frail-looking Sith in the entire Empire. Diminutive, gaunt and of ghastly complexion, her expression held an inquisitive confidence that sat in direct contrast with the rest of her form.

Yes? May I help you?

The woman would find a frigid voice creeping into her mind, telepathy, but for all of its coldness, it was still impeccably polite.

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

Panatha // Canthar // Minimalistic, onyx house
Beatrice Govan ​

Instinctively, the inquisitor tensed when the door opened. The unusually petite person on the other side seemed to be swallowed up by the sheer size of the rest of the house - and it wasn't anything remarkable in and of itself. She had been expecting a servant or something, but the poise of the woman before her was communicative enough that this was not someone of the help.

Blood drenched gaze surveyed a quick appraisal of the woman, and she was remiss to admit she hadn't actually looked into the physique of the former Master Queen - such a weak vessel that conducted prowess over The Force was certainly impressive. Unassuming. She paused for half a heartbeat on the golden claw, and her lip twitched. Whatever had caused that?

Then her mind chilled. The voice in her head not from her own thoughts - and yet the woman across from her never moved her lips. This was that horrible shuttle all over again, but this time there was ample oxygen and no need for life support.

She looked perplexed for a minute - only because she was trying to figure out why the woman spoke to her inaudibly. Should she do so in kind?

"I hope so." Vella started, and then decided it was awkward to only hear her own voice. With the pause in her sentence, she searched out a way to establish a two-way-communication system. The woman's mind was generous, a small receptive area that she could penetrate; while the rest remained sealed behind closed doors. You must be Evelynn Zambrano. I've heard of your mastery with The Force.

Vella paused, keeping rigid with her hands behind her back as was expected when addressing any member of the Royal family. I was hoping you could impart a lesson or two. Usually, she'd be more reserved with her introductions; but that horrible rejection from the black eyes of her goddess willed her to get more of a move on. She decided she should probably drop to a knee or something.

She dipped her head, staying standing but lowering her eyes with mild humility. As was custom. I'm an Inquisitor of The Empire, ultimately at your service Master Zambrano.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

She blinked before suddenly cringing at the voice that appeared within her own head. Oh, so this is how it felt, it had been some time since telepathy of another had been inflicted upon her. How unpleasant. The shoe was truly on the other foot.

Emerald eyes appraised the woman before her, her gaze moving steadily from head to toe as the Inquisitor gave her reasons for being at her doorstep. The humility was strange, if not a refreshing change of pace from dealing with the arrogant masters who treated the Emperor's daughter as if she were helpless prey. She wouldn't be forgetting so easily.

All in due time.

There is no need to bow and you may speak normally, Evelynn responded with a dismissive wave of her golden hand, wishing to selfishly keep any and all voices out of her own mind, I do not possess a tongue, you see.

A curious matter, and one that she would not elaborate on any further for the time being.

Your approach flatters, the Sith continued with a tilt of the head, her gaze now fixed upon the Inquisitor's own. Green pouring into red as if it were Sithmas Day. You are aware that I have not yet returned to full strength since my resurrection, yes?

Two decades trapped in the Netherworld was a rather draining process for the spirit. Ah, yes. A Queen and a Sith Sorceress in the past, but now a mere Apprentice. At least in practice. No memories had been lost, the knowledge was there but the ability had simply atrophied. It would take time to get back to that pinnacle once again.

I can explain. I can instruct. However, I cannot show you, at least not at this current juncture.

Her telepathic voice held tones that were very matter-of-fact, showing a distinct lack of emotions regarding her current more lowly status of power. Nothing but cold composure, matching the expression that still sat upon her gaunt visage.

If you find that agreeable, then yes, I will impart a lesson or two, Inquisitor.

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

Vella only nodded in understanding when Beatrice Govan permitted her to continue speaking the normal way. Or -- the Inquisitor's definition of normal, anyway. She supposed parameters of normalcy were fluid from person to person - the galaxy was a strange place.

Then she said she didn't have a tongue. Her pale face did well not to flinch, though she absently tucked her tongue tongue against the roof of her mouth in passing assurance that hers was still in tact. The only betrayal to the obscene suggestion of not having the strongest muscle in the human body was her body tightening in offence. She did well not to slip into anything less uniformed as the former queen appraised her and brought her up to speed on the current situation. Not full strength? Uh oh.

Nevertheless, the sunpoor woman seemed open to instruct to the best of her ability. Vella nodded, though the idea of going through lessons with a voice in her head was less than ideal. Why didn't she have a tongue?!

"Most agreeable and generous. Thank you, Lady Evelynn

Perhaps I can be of use to you, beyond just a student in favour." She offered, inclining her head at the suggestion. A trade - that would sweeten the deal and make it harder to pass up. And it would be on her terms. The idea of someone who had a golden hand and a missing tongue driving the bargain seemed dangerous - there was no way she was just going to say I'm indebted to you. Danger!

"I'm a worthy duelist. And there are whispers on the horizon that protection may be needed in the future."

Civil war tended to draw blood, no matter which side you were on. And this was a Zambrano. Did she like her dad?

Gesturing vaguely to the home beyond the white woman, Vella seemed to be making the request to come in beyond the doorstep.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

My, wasn't that a refreshing change of pace? No need to have minds lingering upon the matter of who owes who what and why with a favour being offered straight out of the gate. Unfortunately, the Inquisitor's notion of protection only served as a reminder that life was going to get somewhat more...complicated. The polite smile faded into a slight frown, brow creasing at the very notion of what this civil war could bring.

Indeed, and I've grown quite attached to living this time around, she replied, her disgruntled expression fading just as quickly as it came and being replaced by a coy smirk, very well, I accept your offer, Inquisitor. Do come in.

On the surface, it all seemed so cut and dry. Simplistic even. This woman would serve to protect her and in return, Evelynn would grant her knowledge. However, underneath the surface, there was more at play. Even on their best days, Sith were not ones to be taken at face value. Trust was not a tenant of their code. Who was to say that in that exact moment that there were no schemes afoot?

As the blonde Sith turned her back upon the Knight to return to her study there was a small expectation for a crimson blade to impale her from behind.

Such thinking was necessary for survival.

May I have your name, Inquisitor? The Emperor's daughter inquired as she continued to walk, fully expecting the other woman to be following behind.

The Sith Knight would notice that the décor of her home was sparse, nothing existed in her space unless it held function. There was no distraction here, no unnecessary luxury. Black accented with gold was the favoured colour scheme of any furniture that was actually required, serving to remind anybody who cared to look that while her space was bare, it was not poor.

The study was no exception. An imposing and full geometrical bookcase. A few chairs. A table holding that still open diary, its pages spattered with dried crimson.

Tell me about yourself, if you would be so kind.

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

The door closed behind her and Vella took stock of her new surroundings. The home was a sharp contrast to the city she'd just crossed through. It didn't seem to dwell in aesthetics of the past - only present a spartan approach of tasteful necessity. The space was so bare, that it made it seem larger than it was. And Beatrice Govan smaller than she was.

The diminutive hostess prodded for her name, and she figured that if they were going to be training together - or sharing services - it was a fair enough request. The pale heiress didn't have such a luxury of hiding behind falsehoods - her story was documented and name known. Vella's training had caused her to be guarded. Her name typically didn't serve any purpose in exchanges. Who she worked for was identity enough for many, so she realized that her not giving her name at the fore hadn't even been intentional. She'd just introduced herself as her role, and typically that was enough. Hum. Something to consider at a later date, perhaps. Maybe that's why the black eyes of the goddess had looked at her with such disapproval. She was a hunter for the empire - she needed to grow into something more monumental and noteworthy.

"Vella Forte." She answered, finally, pausing in the study. The spines of several titles faced them, all squished together. Vella idly wondered if Evelynn had actually read everything here, and if she had, how much of it she'd retained.

What was there to tell about herself? This fell like a job interview. Her strengths, weaknesses..a full personal SWOT analysis needed to be shared.

"I'm an Inquisitor of the empire, primary proficiency in investigation and bladework." She cracked a crooked grin. "I haven't lost a duel yet." She'd drawn -- to that wretched Warlock because he used words at refused to fight.

"I'm here to expand on my prowess in The Force. I have ambitions to find worthiness in the Goddess of Vahl. To become one of her chosen warriors." she admitted. "Darth Isolda level power. I have no teacher."

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Vella, a name that rolled well off the tongue. More's the pity. She seemed to be a competent type, confident in her abilities which was always a desirable quality in a protector. Most importantly the woman did not seem to be a lunatic, at least on the surface.

You never really knew with Sith, after all.

You know what you want, Evelynn commented as she closed the pages of madness from prying eyes as she retook her seat, I am truly envious, finding purpose is half the battle.

Her golden prosthetic gestured for the Inquisitor to take a seat, the black furnishings of her home might have been bare but they at least looked comfortable. The Emperor's daughter might have been the very definition of icy discomfort as a person, but that didn't make her a terrible host. On the contrary, she was very polite when given mutual respect.

What drives you, Vella?

An important question.

I mean this, of course, in terms of emotion. Is it anger? Or perhaps fear? A pause, her smile turning carnivorous. Pain?

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

There was no reaction from the pale woman in black, who acquiesced to her hostess' gesture and plunked down in the seat that was meant for her. She was surprised at it's welcoming plushness. The aesthetic was harsh, but this was quite soft indeed.

Things evolved beyond compliments to her fortitude of self knowing. Typical Sith interview. Her indoctrination had been not so different. The exposure to similar adjectives to parse how you feel, and then harness that, was not unfamiliar. Her first response would have been worthiness, but that wasn't an emotion.

She scrunched her brows in concentration, the tattoo on her forehead wrinkling in kind. Her mind was pitching into every scenario she'd ever felt the need to prove herself. To succeed. Power was an emotion, how did she get there? She hated her opponents. Why? They made her angry - when they were better than her, she was angry at herself. When they were worse, she was angry at their pathetic attempts.

"Anger." She concluded.

"Anger that I'm not where I should be in the goddess' eyes, that others have the audacity to oppose me. I'm angry that The Vahl haven't risen up to where they should in The Empire. That we're all separate."

The last part of her sentence came out as a hiss.

She hadn't noticed, until she stopped speaking, but her fingernails had clenched into the chair's armrest, leaving little crescents indented in the fabric.

Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Anger.

Evelynn leaned forward in her chair as the woman spoke, silently observing the inquisitor both physically and within the Force. She wasn't here to judge why Vella Forte felt such emotion, but rather how she felt it.

A small crescendo, that venom slithering into her tone, the way her fingers dug into the chair without thought. She had it within her grasp, all she had to do was take it.

That's it, right there.

Smirking now, pretences of silent politeness vanishing now that they would be getting more personally acquainted. It might have seemed as if the Emperor's daughter expression mocked the very reason for the Inquisitor's rage, but it was not so. Raw emotion was just far too delicious not to enjoy in the flesh.

You need to take those thoughts, that feeling and use them, Evelynn began, frigid tones melting away to reveal a zeal beneath as she remained leaning forward upon her chair, hands gripping her knees, obsess over them, breathe them, torment yourself with them.

Live them.

She softened, forcing herself to lean back before getting too carried away with the very notion of getting, well, carried away.

Until you can control them and it flows through you in a constant, like blood.

A pause, reeling back into sanity somewhat.

I realise that this sounds terribly self-destructive, and it is, the blonde began once more offering an expression that was more sympathetic than anything, that is the nature of the Dark Side, after all, and it will consume you if you let it. You're not a novice, you already know this.

Always nice to come with a health warning, however.

But if you wish to be more connected with your Goddess then these extremes are entirely necessary.

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

When that destructive tendency started to bubble within, there was a sort of clouding that took over the outskirts of her mind's eye. So when Beatrice Govan 's voice penetrated her thoughts in the heat of the moment, when she was seeking the root of why she was angry, it felt wildly inappropriate. Like Evelynn was trying to breathe through her and bring something out; to pump her lungs on Vella's behalf.

This was invasive, if not helpful. Something about the way the frail woman's creeping whisper seemed to encircle the emotion of rage within her mind separated it from the clunkiness that was the rest of her brain. It was like highlighting a primal tenacity and packaging it up separately so Vella could eye and appreciate it herself. She'd never seen her anger before. She'd only felt it.

Her new would-be Master suggested she take those thoughts and obsess, adopt, and use them. How could she, when her anger was so tightly curled up? That's how she'd been taught. Destruction at arm's length -- but here, the Zambrano daughter was suggesting she inject that obliterative intent straight into her veins. To fill herself up as if she was fuelled by rage, rather than the basic operations of muscle and blood.

"What?" She hissed, accidentally using her outside voice while Evelynn remained in her head.

Then she was lured with the promise of drawing closer to the goddess. Yes, yes. She needed to be there for her -- to restore her to the former glory her nation had once known.

I can see it. It's tightly knotted. How do I..spread it?

Did that make sense? Could she literally just...think her way to imbuing herself with that hatred?

 

[Beatrice Govan]

That hiss brought a satisfied grin to the malnourished face of the woman as Evelynn revelled in the reactionary response of the Inquisitor. It was quite delicious, and it would be fed to become so much more.

A pity that she found her composure again.

You have encountered those who represent their dark masters before, yes? The truest fanatics that speak and see for their deities? Evelynn began, her golden fingers thrumming upon the armrest of her chair, more often than not they are afflicted by lunacy, and why? Because they give in to their passions entirely, beyond reason and instinct.

Finally the woman shifted, choosing to stand as her matter-of-fact tones prickled through Vella Forte's mind and she approached, her explanation continuing.

It is tightly knotted because that is how you have been trained because that is what is right and optimal in a Sith. Your passions, your hatred spurs you on in a duel, I imagine and it allows you to go farther and leads you to victory.

The Emperor's daughter wasn't a terribly imposing sight, small, frail and severe and yet she stood before the still-seated Inquisitor with a wicked confidence that seemed so starkly contrasting.

Divinity is not optimal.

The grin remained, more teeth creeping into view.

Divinity is madness, and you must betray your mind, body and soul to reach it until you are nothing but your passions. It is only natural that you instinctually resist, it is for the sake of your own well being. What you seek, however, requires such senseless destruction of one's self for that is what makes the perfect vessel, Vella.

As Evelynn's instruction went on that pragmatic tone in her telepathic voice shifted, growing ever more eager and passionate as she continued. Her hands were laced together in front of her, golden claw gripping pallid flesh with deliberate intensity, her emerald stare never leaving Vella's crimson eyes.

I understand that these things are not tangible and are quite wicked to grasp in concept. However, different methods of instruction work for different people and so would you prefer it if showed you instead?

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

Transfixed with the leering woman, Vella's hardened stare never wavered from Beatrice Govan . Of course she'd gone through some scenarios and plausibilities before knocking on that door, but she hadn't anticipated delving in so deeply so quickly. The way the Sith spoke was entrancing, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was literally in her head or if it was what she was saying or...both.

The daughter of Emperor Zambrano was blurring and stirring the truths and lies that she'd been bred on, confusing the thoughts in her head that one was the other and one way was superior and it wasn't the one she thought it was. It was almost dizzying trying to keep track of the self indulgence her new Master was coaxing.

Was she not supposed to trust herself anymore? Give into lust? Go completely under?

Destruction. That was a trigger word. Internal revolt in order to truly understand the goddess' intent and earn favour.

She hadn't noticed how ragged her breath was. Like she'd been running. How? She'd only been sitting here and listening.

Parting her lips to speak, her mouth felt dry. What was going on? Show her? Of course, but, couldn't the woman no longer display her power? Isn't that what she had said?

Knowing better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, she nodded tentatively "Please show me."

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Embrace.

I only apologise that I am not as strong as I once was, Evelynn assured as her edges of her grim were tugged down into a more regretful expression, hands still clasped in front of her small form, this would have been far easier.

No less fun, however.

Close your eyes, Vella, the Emperor's daughter instructed plainly, see me, feel me through the Force.

When the woman obliged she would sense Evelynn Zambrano's modest aura. There was power there, albeit a still fledgeling one. A sense of frigid malice. Small thrums of pain reverberating over her entire being. Were in Inquisitor capable of looking deeper, that aforementioned lunacy lurked in her depths. Shackled, as it should be, no longer conducive to new ambitions. Couldn't hurt to let the madness free for the sake of demonstration. Or could it...?

Hatred is not my passion. I prefer pain.

The moment that the last word hit the woman's mind Evelynn's golden hand wrenched forward with a sudden ferocity, the fleshy appendage of her left hand that it was holding being bent back backwards with a horrific snap of her wrist.

P a I N.

A thro A t y gASp. AurA EXPLO D ED. brok e n bONe s fo r bROkEN g I r l. painispleasure. N o. NO. nonon o noYESyessyES YEsyes! PAINISPOWER. C L aW gr ip pED tiGhtER. WRENCHING. CR U SH ING. M e t a c a r p a l s SNAPPeD innn hA r mon I o us CHor uS.

KEEP

YOUR

EYES

CLOSED.

VELLA FORTE.


O p e nnn MAW. GASPiNG. iampain. G O L DE N GOD TwI StiNg nO W. bRO KEN BoNESgrindD!


bRo ken GIRL



Cr r r RrrunchING! Sym PHon y of painpleasurepowerpurpose. UNTAP P ED. IT iS I n BLOOD. IT is IN ME. S T R E N G TH. Em BRACed. O N ENESSSS. DO YOU FEEL IT, VELLA FORTE? j aW CLEncHinG. o r AnG E spEckKS mARR IN G em e ralds of IN HER itance. AMIGOODENOUGHFATHER?


i
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i
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e

L E t GO.

GO ldEn ClAW REla sea D it's GRIP upO n BRoken fl ESH, t he tonguElesS woMAn gASpiNG as shE so ught ThE reins of Sanity. ebb anD FLOW. The TorreNt of p o wer began to lesseN as EvelynN stumbled BackwArds, hisssing at the damagE she had inflICted upon hersel f and tripPing over uncoordiNat ed feet. The woman's chest heaveD as she la y upon her back, star ing at the stark ceil ing. Wrist and hand burninG still. Eyes wild and wide, the flecks of oran ge fading now as control, and more importantly sanity was wrestled baCk.

DO...do you understand now?

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

She obeyed Beatrice Govan 's instruction and closed her eyes. That knotted black ball in her peripheral remained, but she honed in to focus on the other Sith's presence. In The Force, she was significantly bigger than in real life.

Pain? Vella supposed there was a certain satisfaction in inflicting pain on someone she hated. That duel with the stupid Mandalorian on Kelada had been pretty satisfying; but it wasn't enough to get lost in. How could pain----

What. The. Kark.
​

Her third eye snapped open, shocked, intrigued, mortified, and enticed. Her real-life jaw dropped, grip tightening on the arms of her chair while she was taken for a ride into the terrible world of Evelynn Zambrano. Her heels snapped against the seat so she may lean forward just that little bit further.

Her hand was the god? It was what brought the pain. Did that make sense? If she wanted to hate, she had to get that destructive vision from her god.

Something tickled in her throat. Did she want to throw up? Cough? The senses of her physical self melted away and she was completely absorbed in the lunacy that exhibited before her, nay, all around her. The permeating pleasure and licentious addiction wrapped all around them until it was impossible to ignore. There was nothing beyond Evelynn's all consuming obsession. Keep your eyes closed! She couldn't look away! Did she understand? Yes!

Did she want to do that? NOT REALLY.

Did she need to do that? Probably.

"Yes." She answered simply, eyes fluttering open to look at the frail lady sprawled on the floor. One hand wretched, the other glinting in the light that poured in from the nearest window. Her own chest shuddered with breaths that were too heavy for all the not moving she was doing. Her lips drew into a thin line.

"I have to find something I hate, truly, and focus on that as a trigger. Like your uh.." this lady was really wild "you breaking your hand."

Did she do this a lot? Did she even want protection, or did she want people to break her bones?

"The Jedi." She confirmed. "I hate them. I know that. All Vahl do. They took...everything from us and we've still not been able to restore it. Every time we try to light the fire back to it's former glory, we're smouldered."

She paused. "Like that?"

Everything she'd hated before had been in the moment. It changed with whatever she was fighting. Any opponent she hated. There wasn't an omnipresent disgust that she could turn on and off with a snap of her fingers.

​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

A grimace as her attentions were brought to the mangled state of her hand and wrist rather than the very likely horrified woman before her. Good grief. What a mess. PaiN that would have incapacitated a lesser being thrummed through the broken bon es and twisted flesh, still feeding her infernal engine but now tightly under Evelynn's hard-learned control.

I'd...I'd imagine so, the frail woman replied as she sat up, hissing between her teeth as she further surveyed the damage with that same pained expression, hatred does not drive me in the same way but rest... assured I shall help you explore it.

She returned to her feet awkwardly, that heady intoxication still lingering in a glorious hangover. An issue within itself, it felt like ecstasy to give in to that raw sensation. Clawing reason and identity back was the most difficult trial of all in these matters. How many fledgling Sith lost themselves to their passions over millennia and become wretched husks of madness? Too many.

Evelynn Dorn had been no exception.

As I am sure you are well aware, this is not something that you will learn in a day, the Emperor's daughter began, signaling for Vella to follow her through her home to another room, the Jedi may very well be the trigger that ignites your hatred.

Stark homes. Stark walls. Not-so-stark woman.

Or perhaps not. There may be something deeper.

The petite creature lead the Inquisitor through the wealthy simplicity of her home and to a room of a more ominous presence. The torture chamber. White ceiling, white walls, white tile floors with a slight indent in the center of the room where grate sat. As they entered the lights burst into terribly harsh light, the kind that revealed every pore and minute detail upon flesh.

You will have to educate me further on your kind, the knowledge will aid me in understanding better. I do apologise for not being so familiar.

An upright interrogation table sat as the focal point, positioned above the grate and lining the walls were long white, metal tables. They held every toy a sadist could desire. From the most basic of torture implements to the most elaborate. Restraints designed for every species imaginable. A mesmerising collection of brightly coloured vials organised in a satisfying gradient.

In any case, discussing it will aid us greatly, as we'll need to delve quite deeply into the matter of your feelings.

In the corner hovered an IT-O interrogation droid, a tragic necessity given the woman's recent turbulent encounter with an arm-lopping, petulant twi'lek git.

They were not here for nefarious reasons, of course, for the tables opposite the tools of malice sat an array of medical supplies which Evelynn swept over to, looking over every sterilised tool as she sought what her mangled hand required. It seemed strange to have so many artifacts of healing in such a room of ill-purpose but her guests were only allowed to expire when she deemed it so. Ah, yes, there, the bone-knitter.

However before the matter of repairing her broken hand and wrist there was something more pressing to deal with. She turned to Vella, holding up the horribly disfigured limb before the Inquisitor with a perfectly serious countenance.

I mean not to question your faith, Inquisitor Forte but are you sure that you want to go down this path? It is an incredibly dangerous pursuit, as you can see. Twisted fingers. Contorted hand. Bone protruding from wrist. Crimson. Were I to have lost control back in the study then it is very likely that I would have massacred myself with this arm, and I doubt that there would have been any stopping that.

Not a slight against the woman's own ability, but more a compliment of her alchemical arm that would have greatly enhanced the madness-induced power that had coursed within her.

While the rewards that can be reaped are divine beyond reason the risk is just as great. I personally have experienced the terrible cost of fully embracing such passions, losing my mind, my will and eventually my own life in the process. Yes, I have found control now, but really, how many of us are fortunate enough for a second chance at living?

Expression turned softer, sympathetic as in that moment there was a glimpse of her enigmatic yet considerate mother rather than the uncaring ruthlessness of her father. There were not many Sith that cared for the consequence in the destruction of others.

The torture chamber around them really contrasted with the moment.

If you wish to proceed then I will gladly do all that is in my power to help you find what you seek, however, if you are having second thoughts then I will bear no judgement.

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

Taking a moment to look at the dents she'd left in the chair, Vella obediently followed her hostess to whatever she had in store. As intoxicated as Beatrice Govan was from her experience, Vella was equally so intrigued. And alarmed. She could see the sense in becoming senseless, but it went against everything she'd been trained to know and manifest as a weapon. A soldier. An assassin. A hunter. Those adjectives were her purpose; what she did for The Empire.

Perhaps that had been a mistake. Putting The Empire's needs before the goddess' -- they were not a double helix.

A hand lifted to cover her eyes instinctively when the harsh lights flickered on. When her eyes adjusted to the transition, she surveyed the room with apprehension. This was not what she had expected.

"I'm a Vahla." The inquisitor said, though she didn't take time to look at Evelynn. She was too busy drinking in all the trinkets that were on display and wondering what remained to be seen. She had a terrible feeling that she'd be seeing it sometime soon. "There are fewer of us in the galaxy than I'd like. Which is probably why you're not familiar. As a people, we haven't collected together to restore back to our former glory, before we were, generations ago, dashed apart by Jedi Knights." It was a brief history, but based on the leading suggestion of the blonde Sith, there'd be ample opportunity for more shared background.

The voice in her mind appeared again. It's explanation was as sincere as it was surprising, and the dark-haired Vahla turned to look curiously at the painlusting mistress. There was no betrayal in her expression. The fork in the road she offered was true and generous.

The display in the study had truly been horrifying -- but the idea of divine power was too tantalizing to turn a blind eye to.

"I'm having second thoughts." Vella admitted, in an uncharacteristic display of candidness. Typically she was more shrewd than this. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was the desperation of feeling so close to potential, but it being so far, and so beyond the typical psyche she was used to "But they're not going to stop me. That would be a waste of both our time." She lowered her head again, humbly, "If you would, let's proceed."

 

[Beatrice Govan]

A nod of understanding, second thoughts were perfectly normal and were the Inquisitor not to have them then perhaps she might have been too fanatical for such a destructive undertaking. It might not have seemed that way upon the surface, but there was still a need for sentient reason and logic. How else could one wrest back control and save themselves from the madness?

Very well, it is important to be sure.

So peculiar. There weren't a great many Sith in this galaxy that Evelynn would have granted such a stark warning to. Her conscience could have happily condemned a thousand minds to realms of blubbering lunacy, leaving husks of fellow Sith in her wake.

It wasn't compassion, no.

It was respect.

Vella Forte could have slain Evelynn Zambrano if she so wished, and they were likely both aware of such a stark fact. Yet the Inquisitor did not show it, she didn't devolve into the predatory and superior Sith archetype that so many of their peers fell into. No attempts to menace, gloat or otherwise boast dominance at the cost of the frail woman's own dignity and it was appreciated with mutual respect.

Firstly, we must explore your mind, your feelings, Evelynn began, turning away from the bone-knitter for the time being and towards the interrogation table, her prosthetic hand fiddling with the controls and tilting the table until it was horizontal, and to do that, I am going to drug you.

Blunt honesty.

If we are to find the root of your hatred, then we must delve deep. There may be hidden truths within you, truths that may have been repressed by the Empire's training and conditioning. A small frown, her telepathic words sounding overly critical of her father's institution. Of course, the Sith were trained to hate the Jedi, they would have likely heavily emphasised her cult's downfall in her initiation but what if there was something more, beyond that? Altering your state of mind with potent hallucinogens will help. It will likely be rather unpleasant, but you are perfectly safe in my care.

She gestured to the table, suggesting for the woman to make herself comfortable.

I will require you to be restrained, however, lest you attack me in delirium. I do hope you understand.

Vella Forte

 

[Vella Forte]

The unceremonious, monotone delivery of I'm going to drug you prompted a surprised blink.

Was this because she couldn't open her mind to the full capacity in the study? Her hatred was stuck in a little ball? An unwitting response would be more pure, she supposed, especially since she had been groomed since her childhood. She didn't speak outright, only nodded along to the voice inside her head and followed the gestured trajectory of where to sit.

Of course it was the ominous chair in the centre of the stark white room. Experimentation was not a foreign concept to the Vahla. The Empire was rampant with rooms similar to this one, but she'd never been on the inside of them..that she could remember anyway.

With no small out of apprehension, her body tightened as she slowly walked to where she was supposed to be strapped in. With a shrug of her shoulders, she dropped her outer coat and let it fall to the base of the chair before swinging her legs over and sitting for a moment in contemplation. Obediently, conditioned to be, she reached down to clasp in her ankles. Restraints were a good measure of protection, but every barrier could be eliminated with enough will power.

"I understand.

Have you done this before? Anything I should intentionally avoid doing?"

To say she wasn't starting to be somewhat fearful of herself, and what could potentially be hidden, would be a lie.

Beatrice Govan

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Not to willing participants, no, she confessed plainly as her prosthetic hand finished off securing the restraints around Vella's mid-section, wrists and neck, so this is rather unfamiliar territory, Evelynn paused, eyebrows knitting in calculated consideration before offering the best advice she could muster, relax and embrace it, do not attempt to fight it.

She swept over to the more ominous table, a datapad sat there amongst the various tools of torture, its mundane nature clashing heavily with the macabre nature of everything else surrounding it. Golden fingers tapped away upon the screen absent-mindedly.

What you will experience will be uncomfortable, frightening even. Fighting it will only make it worse and you are not here to suffer. You are here to discover.

“IT-O, black hole, high dosage,” came a robotic voice from the datapad, a necessary evil until the woman found a way to convey telepathy to droids. With the command the sleek, black orb burst into life, hovering over to the collection of vials to retrieve the correct hallucinogen. As it followed its command, Evelynn turned back to face the Inquisitor.

Oh, do keep your mind open for me, it would be helpful for me to share in your experience through the Force.

Which lead to a different matter entirely.

Were you a Jedi in my clutches you would be collared with your ability to touch to Force snuffed out. Now, obviously, that won't do for our purpose, the Emperor's daughter continued conversationally, as she crossed the room once more, returning to the medical table and yes, the bone-knitter, you may be physically restrained, but that will not prevent you from lashing out with the Force. You may even break free, or harm me in the process.

The interrogation droid hovered over to the side of Vella's head and unceremoniously plunged its drug injector into the woman's neck, its ominous red light shining upon the cultist's face. With proceedings officially begun Evelynn began to set about the task of repairing her mangled hand. A thoroughly painful process without anaesthetic, but one that only garnered a slight snarl from the petite woman.

Do not fret about that prospect, I am a tough old cookie, as they say.

Vella Forte