astramajestic.

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               he is death in pretty wrapping paper, and she’s tyranny. they still sleep though, and she’d woken from some sort of half-dream before he’d arrived. she’s still dressed in the white of her nightgown, her posture close to relaxed as she leans back across her throne. the death star will solidify the little of their reign   ( her reign )   that’s still question. when his voice dips, she looks at him for the first time, pausing to run her fingers along the flesh of his cheek as PRAISE. like ALL of them, he’s her servant first, praise and PUNISHMENT are to be given whenever appropriate.

             “why even make such a BOLD lie?”           she mumbles more to herself. standing from where she sits   ( an imperial guard, dressed all in red shuffles, but they don’t move. if she’s not safe with her CONSORT by her side, there is no where in the empire she is. )   to stand above beside the rebel.            “do you think so little of the empire that we wouldn’t recognize the INSIGNIA on your jacket?”            she turns more to vader then, and offers him the hits of a smile. her light has been perverted, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t THERE, that it can’t show through her cemented over cracks.

            she rarely allows shows of blatant emotion but she kisses him on the lips, then the chin, before she pulls away.            “you did well, my love.”

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               VADER EMITS A delighted little snarl at her praise, turning into the gentle caress of her fingers on his cheek like a plant reaching for the sun. Devastating eyes spill into shades of orange, irises ridged red as a wound. His place is beside her && below her, as loyal as the anonymous bodies he marches in black && white lines through the streets. 

               In her hands the Empress holds the Force’s own, a man who could raze cities with the twitch of his fingers willingly kneeling at her feet. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, && that much is obvious from the baleful shadow that now stands in the place of the once noble Padme Amidala. The woman who ushered Anakin Skywalker into the burning foundations of a new world. 

               The prisoner lifts his head, eyes still rolling from the blunt force impact of Vader’s boot against his temple. His laugh is a dry, scraping thing. ❝ Maybe I jus’ like the way it looks. ❞ An Imperial guard’s force pike sparks to life at the man’s side, waiting for their Empress’s command to jam it into his kidney. ❝ No offense, yer Majesty, but if I was wit’ the Rebellion, why in stars’ name would I tell y’anything? Yer jus’ gonna kill me anyways. Filthy traitor. ❞ The man spat, earning him a backhanded slap across the cheek. 

     ❝ Watch your tone when addressing the Empress! ❞ Vader roars from his place beside the throne, anger vibrating through his voice && into the air. 

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