C O N V E N I E N C E
Queen of Darkness
Z O R Y A
In her state of weakness, Zorya had clandestinely returned to Onderon, her homeworld. The exiled Sith Master stood silently in the penumbral gloom of a cantina in the Western Square of Onderon. The air was thick with the musky aroma of alien brews and the hum of whispered exchanges between beings from the four corners of the galaxy. The ambient noise was occasionally punctuated by raucous laughter or the clinking of credits exchanging hands.
Her ensemble was a combination of fabrics that hinted at a galaxy of cultures, simultaneously revealing nothing. She draped herself in an enigmatic shroud of deep blue-black, a fabric so light and ethereal that it played tricks with the eye; shimmering when it caught the faintest light, then disappearing into the shadows as if woven from the very fabric of the night.
Her scarred left hand, a lingering mark to the tempestuous flames of betrayal, was concealed beneath a polished onyx glove, etched with ancient Sith symbols that seemed to undulate and shift like a serpent waiting to strike. Over her silver dreads, she wore a hood that cast her countenance into an enigmatic shadow, only allowing the crimson fire of her eyes to break through.
Every sense was on high alert. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the vicinity for potential threats, while her ears picked up the merest hint of a whisper that seemed out of place. Her skin tingled, feeling the very vibrations of the floor, alert to the approach of anyone. The rich scents of exotic spices mixed with the pungent aroma of sweat.
In her heart, a tempest of emotions brewed. Fury for those who betrayed her, determination to regain her position, and a deep-seated longing for the garrulous chatter of O'bog, the ever-defiant Ximpi who had always been her voice. Zorya had been a beacon for the Sith Order, a guiding star that shone brighter than any other. And now, every pulse of her heart cried out for vengeance.
As she waited, she contemplated the fragile line between power and vulnerability. The Sith Academy on Umbara had been her magnum opus, a phoenix rising from the ashes under her guidance. But now, its very existence threatened to be its downfall. Darth Tempest and her followers had foolishly believed they could betray her without consequence. They were gravely mistaken. It was Zorya's creation to mold, but it was also hers to annihilate.
@Remileah
.
Her ensemble was a combination of fabrics that hinted at a galaxy of cultures, simultaneously revealing nothing. She draped herself in an enigmatic shroud of deep blue-black, a fabric so light and ethereal that it played tricks with the eye; shimmering when it caught the faintest light, then disappearing into the shadows as if woven from the very fabric of the night.
Her scarred left hand, a lingering mark to the tempestuous flames of betrayal, was concealed beneath a polished onyx glove, etched with ancient Sith symbols that seemed to undulate and shift like a serpent waiting to strike. Over her silver dreads, she wore a hood that cast her countenance into an enigmatic shadow, only allowing the crimson fire of her eyes to break through.
Every sense was on high alert. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the vicinity for potential threats, while her ears picked up the merest hint of a whisper that seemed out of place. Her skin tingled, feeling the very vibrations of the floor, alert to the approach of anyone. The rich scents of exotic spices mixed with the pungent aroma of sweat.
In her heart, a tempest of emotions brewed. Fury for those who betrayed her, determination to regain her position, and a deep-seated longing for the garrulous chatter of O'bog, the ever-defiant Ximpi who had always been her voice. Zorya had been a beacon for the Sith Order, a guiding star that shone brighter than any other. And now, every pulse of her heart cried out for vengeance.
As she waited, she contemplated the fragile line between power and vulnerability. The Sith Academy on Umbara had been her magnum opus, a phoenix rising from the ashes under her guidance. But now, its very existence threatened to be its downfall. Darth Tempest and her followers had foolishly believed they could betray her without consequence. They were gravely mistaken. It was Zorya's creation to mold, but it was also hers to annihilate.
@Remileah
.