Countess of Corellia
WEARING: Black Cherry colored sith robes
WEAPONS: 2x Lightsabers and The Dark Side
TAG:
Xander Blackmoore
|The aftermath of the Kaggath was nothing short of theatrical, laden with unexpected twists and the undercurrents that defined the politics of the Sith Order—a contest for dominance, not just of physical strength but of wills, and of The Force.
A war in which betrayal and ambition wove through every action. Amid the heated and tension-filled contest, she discovered something unexpected: a potential apprentice. Sharp and unyielding, the boy's future was ripe with promise—if he survived long enough to reach it.
She could not deny Xander's perspective on the Kaggath, however. It was a contest that had always been integral to Sith tradition, yet something about its execution left a bitter taste. The pace at which The Sith Order churned through political machinations was dizzying, even to her. Ever since she joined it following the fall of The Maw during Exegol.
It had all moved so swiftly, too swiftly, the game evolving faster than the players could react. Even a civil war that burned as brightly as the flames faded, came and went.
But that was the way of the Sith, wasn't it? There is always a constant pull between lethality and survival, where being cunning means everything and weakness means death.
Even in the lightning speed at which the political intrigue seemed to unfold, there was something fatally poetic about it all—like watching a tragedy where the characters were both the architects and victims of their own creation and designs.
Yet even as she watched the vivid dramatics of the Sith unravel around her, Velda considered all the infighting, and the scheming. There was a certain beauty to all the chaos, to an extent. Too much of it, of course, could prove to be all-consuming. After all, the constant pursuit of power was ever-shifting, never settled.
She shook off the thought as they stepped into the star yacht. Xander was beside her, his presence steady. The fact that he was even there seemed to be enough. Sometimes, she wondered about him and what he was thinking. She could, of course, reach into his mind and sense his feelings.
But she didn't, partly because she enjoyed the mystery of it. And also because there was some level of respect there. Something she extended only on the rarest occasions to other people.
As they moved toward the aft lounge, the hum of the yacht's engines sung a distant melody beneath their feet. She spoke, her voice was smooth and low. “It was quite pleasant when you made an appearance,” she remarked, casting a brief glance over at him. Her steps were slow and deliberate. There was always an element of performance in her actions, as always, an elegant grace.
She reached the lounge beside him, the space wide and lavish, fitted with plush seating and a panoramic view of the stars outside. Making the lounge just a little brighter compared to the rest of the ship as starlight poured through the lounge's viewports. She raised her hand to pull down the hood of her cloak. She rarely, if ever, does that around others. The only times she ever did, seemed to be around Xander. She trusted him.
She then glanced over her shoulder briefly at him as she closed the distance to the viewport. It really was a magnificent view.
She turned to face Xander again.
“You always know when to arrive,” she added, her tone softer, more thoughtful. “You found me quick enough...” She leaned in ever so subtly toward him, feeling rather quietly amused at her own observation. Her brown eyes did not meet his, however. Her gaze instead drifted over his chest, over where his heart was hiding. There was something almost vulnerable in her words, even though cloaked in her usual elegance.
And there, in the quiet expanse of the star yacht, with the galaxy's chaos just beyond the windows, Velda allowed herself to feel a sliver of contentment. An indulgence, but one she permitted, if only for a moment.
