Iymril stood over a cadaver, a corpse they’d created through their alchemical experimentation. The wretched thing was a slave and had been taken from Zygerria for an excavation task. There had been an accident, twenty dead, these three had been among them. All three were slaves, all three female Tieflings.
They all laid bare, cold, and still on slabs before Iymril. Each of their bodies were in various stages of mutation, the corruption of the dark side evident on their twisted features. Iymril was so close to a breakthrough they could feel it.
However, there was a disruption to their research. Every time they looked into the faces of the dead women, their faces were replaced with Zira’s. Her smile on their lips. Her small laugh escaping from desiccated lungs. The way she lounged while watching movies. The way she leaned into them.
The feeling of her weight next to them in bed.
All lies.
Iymril’s ears pinned themself back without needing thought. Their lip curled into a snarl at the intrusive thoughts. At the unbidden desires. They were disgusted by their own inability to control themself. To remain detached. She was a slave, a thing, nothing more nothing less. But Iymril knew, thet wanted her more each day.
_/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\_
She was awake.
Iymril didn’t bother to face the sealed tank. The source of their weakness. The reason why they were an imperfect Sith. Hate and regret mixed together in their heart. They’d cared for her once. They loved her once. Revulsion rolled through Iymril at that realization. Love. Care. Words for lesser beings. Emotions for crude creatures. But not them. Not Iymril. Not true Sith.
I hate you.
The thought came unbidden to their mind.
You are the reason I am weak. Why I crave her touch. Why I hunger for her affection. Why I desire a slave.
They knew it was a lie, they didn’t hate her. They never hated her. She had once been the Ayyr in their lungs. She had been their purpose for life. They grieved for so long now. But where there was once pain in their heart for her loss, there was a void. Where once there were Twilek slaves on their table, now there were Tieflings.
I am incomplete because of you! And because I can’t have you, I will make her mine instead.
Iymril’s eyes narrowed at those words. Disgust caused the metal casing to tremble. How badly they wanted Zira to be theirs. Then steel crumpled like a piece of paper before being shorn clean from the circular tank. For the first time in years Iymril turned and gazed at her face.
Those greyed eyes once so full of life. Her emaciated lekku floated behind the countless wires that ran into her skull. Her angular features gaunt with time. The liquid she floated in cloudy and green with age. Iymril’s eyes sank no lower than her face. They couldn’t, for the rest of her wasn’t the woman they remembered.
They had been so young. They had been so inexperienced. They’d tried make her perfect again, to make her what they remembered. They’d failed. Floating before them was the head of the woman they once loved, the rest of her? A twisted creature beyond recognition.
Hairline fissures appeared in the glass as fresh agonies rippled through them. The scent of preservative filled the room as filthy fluid leaked through the cracks.
I won’t fail like I did with you. I will make her perfect in every way. They promised. I will make her eternal. I will make her mine forever. Iym continued. And if I cannot? Iymril’s golden gaze hardened. The fluid ignited. Then she will burn in the fires of my hate.
The Force screamed as the creature that had once been Ayyr finally faded from existence. Iymril was alone with the sound of a flatlined tone. They stewed in their thoughts. In a realization that they despised deeper than anything.
They wanted Zira as more than a slave. They wanted her as a woman. They wanted her as a partner.
@Sreeya
Last edited: