varakaar.

        “ Trial ?” She’d laugh if blood hadn’t taken up the space in her lungs reserved for breathe —- eyes flutter, & a cough rattles her frame ; painting the side of his face , & upper chest, in red. 

         Nightsisters didn’t stand before a judge, nor a jury. All the eyes upon them were that of Executioners. She was the last ( the last ) THE LAST of her breed and she would not die keening & crying and pleading for mercy. She would fight until his bones were ash and her claws sifted through them. Amora’s eyes flash with this hellfire founded on the primal drive to SURVIVE.

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          “I’ll speak as much as pleases me. She pulls back sharply; splinters of metal burrow into her skin & sparks fly in all directions ; l i g h t n i n g ravages the restraints and sends her backwards, writhing like a wounded beast.  Panting , her attempts to stand remain thwarted , weakness betrays her & so much of her energy has gone into resistance, that they failed her now in her moment of peace.

Touch me again —- & I won’t just kill you, i will rip the hope from the back of your mind and feast upon it. I will hunt down any face i see in your dreams and i will make them the last thing you see, crying, burning PLEADING. ”

               A DEEP ANIMAL snarl tears free from Anakin’s throat, && he instinctively drops a hand from her wrist to smear the red speckling his cheek. The blood makes him look like a beast, stained in the gory remnants of a meal. Its scent, ruddy && moreish, twists nausea through his stomach. 

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     ❝ Big talk from the woman on the floor. ❞ He says, a deep unkindness hidden in the timbre of his voice. Anakin lifts the weight of one foot on the Night Sister’s collar bone, sharply increasing the pressure when she expands upon her threat. ❝ Threaten me again && I’ll bring you back to Coruscant in pieces. ❞ Anakin’s control frays under another upthrust of impatience. He’d relish in breaking her bones, in hearing cry for mercy instead of slinging her cruel words. 

              Cold rage stabs under his sternum, the soft haze of adrenaline slowly lifting && baring his nerves to a grinding, heedless irritation. He pulls her standing again in an impressive display of strength. The blood on his face dries into sticky brown-black spots, && he can feel it pull at the downy hair near his temple when he swallows. Another mild irritation that mounts like the press of fingers around his throat. 

     ❝ Let’s go. ❞

 
independent & private roleplay blog for anakin skywalker/darth vader of all star wars media. written by scout. || est. feb 2016.