Louise
here for your dad
Name: Evelynn
Alias: Beatrice Govan
Rank: Sith Knight
Species: Human
Age: 48, physically 28
Sex: Female
Height: 5' 5”
Weight: 106lbs
Eyes: Green
Hair: Blonde
Skin: Pale
Force Sensitive: Very
[+] For My Birthday, My Parents Got Me Midichlorians - Evelynn is the child of two formidable Sith Lords and has had no choice in inheriting their potential for power. Therefore if she were to focus and hone her genetic gifts there is no doubt that she could become quite powerful in her own right
[+] I Didn't Realise That You Could Be Dignified - No longer a screeching, pain-addicted, hedonistic lunatic Evelynn is now found to be a touch more palatable for the general population. Aware of her own physical weaknesses, she prefers to converse when possible and while she is somewhat prideful, the woman knows when to bite her tongue (so-to-speak) and concede to the authority of others, even if doing so is rather hideous.
[+] Thomas the Eternal Suffering Engine - Pain does not largely bother the woman, instead, granting her a great sense of power within the Force. Although bearing reason in mind, power matters less in the face of debilitating injury and the consequences it entails.
[+/-] An Immortal Zambrano? Ugh, The Worst - Having had The Sith Emperor's Ritual performed upon her, Evelynn is technically immortal, although only against the foe known as time. She is still very capable of being murdered, however. There are drawbacks to such a process steeped so heavily in the Dark Side, a notable one being an increased vulnerability to strong Light Side Force powers.
[+/-] Sold Her Tongue for Magic Beans - In order to procure herself a custom prosthetic limb from Darth Maliphant, Evelynn agreed to give her tongue as the alchemic price. Asides from making eating and drinking a frustrating task, she cannot converse through normal means unless you wish to be bombarded by mangled vowels. She can communicate via telepathy and has now adapted to using a text-to-speech device but both these methods can easily be silenced.
[-] One Bowl of Heaping Internal Conflict, Please - Evelynn is in a strange spot in life. As she strides towards making her own path in the galaxy she finds herself increasingly far removed from her own identity. Drifting further and further from the life of a Sith, she finds herself making unexpected and at often times ridiculous decisions that invite danger and scrutiny.
[-] Didn't Eat Her Porridge – As indicated by her height and weight Evelynn possesses a fragile physical form. Both small and underweight, most of the galaxy could likely beat the woman in terms of physicality and it would not take much effort for most to snap her bones.
[-] Canes are Cool - At present, Evelynn requires a cane as a walking aid, this is a result of being crippled in an attempted assassination. While she no longer requires a wheelchair, she still needs time to rebuild the muscles within her legs.
Evelynn at this moment of time is quite a severe and frail-looking woman who walks with a cane.
She has inherited the sharp features that have been passed down through generations on her mother's side, which gives her natural resting expression a rather harsh look. Her hair is a very light blonde, is also quite thin and sits straight atop her head. More often than not it is tied up so that it remains out of her face but as a result of this, one might spot that her left ear is malformed, almost as if it had been melted somewhat. The woman's complexion is a deathly kind of pale that suggests malady, evidently soaking up the sun is not a priority for her.
This is all combined with her very short stature and small frame. Her uncomfortable thinness suggests that the woman barely eats despite her extremely wealthy background. Lacking the vanity that plagues her paternal family, Evelynn does not mind her malnourished appearance, finding that it often draws discomfort from others, which in the correct circumstance can be used to her advantage.
Despite superior social status in terms of being the daughter of the Sith Emperor, Evelynn dresses quite modestly. Sticking to practical and comfortable everyday wear, usually in black. For those who are aware, the quality of her clothing is superb but beyond eagle-eyed fashion connoisseurs, it all appears to be quite plain.
One thing to note beyond her overall cadaverous appearance is her full-length prosthetic right arm, which is quite difficult to miss given that it is entirely golden. Quite the status symbol, never mind the fact this it is a product of potently wicked alchemy.
A marked improvement here.
In order to be less of a disappointment to her father and to be a more effective Sith, Evelynn's previous glaring flaws of masochism and rampant madness have largely been fixed.
In the place of a raving, pain-obsessed lunatic there now stands quite a cold, calculating and spiteful woman. She comes off as polite, but more often than not this is due to the refined manner in which she speaks and not for what she actually says. Inwardly, Evelynn believes herself to be superior to most others but usually has the wit to keep it to herself in situations with dangerous or superior people, although refreshingly, she is not xenophobic in her supremacy unlike many of her peers and family members.
The obsession with pain that she once held is now a different beast entirely. Evelynn still appreciates and even enjoys the notion of suffering but not to the same reckless and carnal degree as before. Instead, physical suffering is the fuel to her engine and the Sith finds it a greater font of power than the more traditional hate and fear. Her regular composure is thrown out the window in the clutches of great agony with the woman resembling something far more primal and violent.
She does prefer to avoid that, however.
At current, Evelynn is struggling with the concept of a fresh start, her priorities of being a 'more effective Sith' are now effectively defunct and instead, she is more focused upon building a new identity. While the personality of Beatrice Govan is certainly not one made of compassion and love, it is a far sight less cruel than that of her former self.
Sometimes.
It has been a great many years since our shared demise, two decades in fact. It still seems like it happened yesterday and yet at the same time as if it were another era. I have been thinking about you lately. Where are you? Are you upset with me? Are you in the Netherworld? Are you suffering? No, I simply cannot imagine you putting up with such trifles as eternal damnation...and yet, I do not wish to think of your death as permanent.
My father has brought me back to the realm of the living and must concede that things are much different now. Perhaps it is for the best, for without you by my side I could never think of myself as a Queen. I have considered revisiting Rattatak to see what remains of our old dominion. I cannot imagine there is much but rubble after our slaves caught wind of the rebellion, or worse still, father might have had his own designs upon it. He was never your biggest fan, after all. Still, I should not avoid it. Maybe I would find a keepsake, a memory of you that I could treasure in your absence.
I must confess to you that I try to keep you out of my thoughts, not that I wish to but rather out of self-preservation. Could you imagine if I muttered your name before him? I am sure that you would enjoy that but I can only think of the repercussions that I would face. He is Emperor now, I find this to be no surprise as his ambition was always grand, on par with yours, of course.
My memories are not quite complete since my revival. There are a great many people and events that I cannot recall, but I recall you and your cruelty. Do you remember when you slaughtered all of my creatures? Or when you poisoned me to keep me bed-ridden and under your thumb? I was so upset, and even now when I think about those times I find myself just as distraught. You really hurt me. I often wonder if you were the only one that truly understood the way I was, or if you were the one that made me that way. I still do not know. Yet despite that, I still hold this fondness in my heart for you.
And I hate you.
I was always rather confusing like that, was I not?
Well, it is worse now. You know that I held a certain fondness for pain, of course, you do, our bond was such that any harm you suffered was felt through me. It was the key to our intimacy, how we connected so deeply. Since my return, it is all that I crave and it frightens me. Quite often it is the only thing that occupies my thoughts. It is consuming me, and though I try to resist I fear that it is futility. What should I do? Father wishes that I gain redemption in his eyes and that I join the ranks of the Sith Brotherhood and while it is not an appealing prospect perhaps it would be wise to distract myself with such pursuits.
Were you here I know that you would take control of my situation, you would be able to curb these wicked urges. After all, you were always making my decisions for me. It seems silly that I miss that.
Yet needs are not fading, in fact, sometimes they are so strong that I am helpless to resist and often have to be restrained and sedated.
I long to spill crimson and shatter bone.
Even now.
Especially now.
Evie
It is quite ridiculous that I am still writing to you, and were you capable of understanding I would wish for you to know that I do not do it out of any form of fondness or nostalgia. I have won. You are dead, and I am not. My goodness, I truly hope that somewhere out there in the beyond you are aware of this for I am aware of just how furious it would make you. Little Evie gets the last laugh, you simply couldn't make it up.
Father had been monitoring me the entire time since my resurrection and deeply disapproved of my newfound lunacy. I cannot begrudge him for that, as it would be a great waste of resources to bring me back from the Nether only for me to be so useless to him. So, he summoned me and presented me with an ultimatum.
Allow him to cure me of my insanity, or die.
Obviously, I did not choose the latter despite my feeble-mindedness. The process was largely unpleasant and far more scientific than I was prepared for, not to mention that father's apprentice oh-so-thoughtfully decided that this was her moment to assassinate him. This, naturally, did not go so well for her. Best to keep an eye on Darth Morrow, she does seem terribly dramatic, but enough about that wretch, I have no plans to confront her until we are on more even footing.
My prior urges are no more. My meekness, my madness and my masochism have been vanquished and as an added bonus he performed the Sith Emperor's ritual upon me. Immortality? Why Father, you shouldn't have. So much of me has changed that I cannot tell of the apparent drawbacks. Having studied the ritual, it would appear that I am somewhat deafened to certain sensations alongside the constant thrum of pain that now dwells within my blood. To be frank, I barely notice it. Quite the boon, really. Who would have thought that my adaptation to suffering would finally come in useful? I suppose I have you to thank for that., at least in part.
I hope that makes you feel sick. Truly.
There is now a sense of purpose for me, I am to finally become a proper Sith and take my rightful place in Father's Empire. It's quite peculiar, having ambition after a lifetime of such a thing evading me. I do not quite know where to begin, however. There are so many paths available to me now, and it's difficult to discern what I should specialise in if I should specialise in a particular school of training at all. Probably not hand-to-hand combat, although one really should at least be prepared for the scenario.
Regards,
Evelynn Zambrano
---
Dear Nemene,
Another damned complication.
In order to stay true to Father's wishes, I made an attempt to hone my admittedly woeful skills with a lightsaber and was ambushed by some foolish Twi'lek who didn't even have the good manners to converse before diving in for a taste of blood. Did the Jedi always harbour such hatred within their hearts? What is the point of them? Regardless of those who hold delusions of light, this noodle-headed, feeble-brained damned fool lopped my arm off. I thought I was done with losing parts of myself but evidently such is not the case.
That was not the worst of it.
We had a moment. When I laid my hands upon her something changed, I felt her being within my own, it was surreal as if I was an entirely different person for just a brief flash. It was terribly unpleasant. She must have been defective.
However, as a result of this moment when I had the ridiculous oaf strung up and at my mercy, I couldn't do it. I toyed, had a modicum of fun but when I attempted to truly harm the slave-fodder I found myself feeling queasy. Yes, me, Evelynn, The Silent Sister, the woman who once carved her name into the stomach of The Mandalore for giddy kicks!
What will Father say?
What would Father say, rather, for I have no intention of him finding out.
In fact, to the contrary, I shall be avoiding him for a short while. For you see, my dear, I desperately required a new arm and in seeking the very best, I found myself at the doorstep of Darth Maliphant, a known enemy of Daddy Dearest. Why should squabbles amongst Sith get in the way of me receiving the very best? I think even you'd agree with me on that merit.
My new arm is a sight to behold, it is a gilded work of art that contains more power than I ever have held in two lifetimes. Naturally, being a product of Sith Alchemy it was a slight bother to install but I was never known for shying away from suffering now, was I? Pain is and always will be my bread and butter.
Unfortunately, a price had to be paid and once more I am rendered a mute. It is not so bad seeing as I am quite accustomed to such a life. Although, I have no tongue entirely (that must devastate you, darling) and now when I eat and drink I look like a demented baby bird. In a way, the price felt fitting but at the same time I have concerns that I may be falling into old habits. I should be striving to improve, not regress.
Maliphant (who by the way, is a lush and does not like that fact being pointed out to him) recommended that I stop by Darth Adekos for further tutelage. This seems to be the safest option in a bid to lay low and if there was any being out there that knew how to survive then it is him. Safe old hand. I feel that I shall need the help, there are rumours of a war on the horizon. Something about a new order, I'm not entirely sure, I'm sure that I'll find out sooner rather than later.
Regards,
Evelynn Zambrano
---
Dear Nemene,
I think I made a friend today.
Well, a friend might be generous. Would acquaintance suffice? I'm not entirely sure given my stunted emotional growth due to all the loved ones in my life leaving me completely and utterly socially inept. Yes, that means you, and Father and we cannot leave out mother either. How tragic, a grown woman excited about the prospect of having a normal relationship with another person.
Normal might be a stretch.
Vella Forte. She came to my home seeking advice within the Force, something may I remind you that you were also in dire need of. Ah, but it's too late for you, my darling. I don't know what was more surprising, that I aided the woman or that it actually worked. Hopefully, this will be the beginning of a fruitful partnership as she is a distinguished warrior and I could use those skills to fill the void of my own. Not to mention that she seems fairly pleasant to deal with.
Although she did set fire to my home.
I don't even know if that's normal any more. What is normal? What is a friend?
Obviously, I am writing to inform you about this meeting because I know it would irritate you so. I still cannot fathom your possessiveness and your rampant jealousy that in the end ruined everything. Why wouldn't you let me have things like this? Why did I have to be yours and yours only? Well, there is nothing you can do now because as I like to remind you, you are dead and I am not.
There may be a small problem with said new friend (acquaintance?). In helping her get in touch with her own inner truth and desire I may have created a deserter amongst the Sith. I still haven't seen Father since before I lost my arm and if he knew about this it really would be certain death for me.
This is why I'm going to do something productive, I've arranged a 'charity dinner' in order to gather funds for this upcoming war with the New Imperial Order. That will be certain to get me back into the good books. Show that I am committed to both him and the Sith.
I will not fail this time.
Regards,
Evelynn Zambrano
---
Nemene,
I'm tired of being this way.
Why is failure my only option?
Why am I like this?
Why did he bring me back?
Evelynn
---
Nemene,
As you may have been able to tell due to my last correspondence, there have been complications.
An attempt was made on my life after that 'charity dinner' I had informed you about in a prior letter. An assassination call courtesy of the New Imperial Order. I hadn't anticipated them striking out so soon. I am a damned fool. Why me? Why would they want me? What worth am I to them?! I'm nothing more than a surname, a statement of intent! The Zambrano name is a curse, an ill-omen that thwarts my every move.
They crippled me, Nemene.
When the assassin, a loathsome Chiss brute failed to leave a gaping hole in my head she opted to destroy me in a more personal manner. I really tried this time but she had me at a disadvantage, I was in a damned dressing gown! It wasn't fair! I adapted, tried to be oh-so-clever and even managed to wound the beast but it wasn't enough.
It never is.
She broke my back over her knee. Like I was nothing! Like I was a mere child! I wish she had finished the job but that would have been too easy, it would have been a bloody mercy and I don't deserve mercy. No, she decided to capture me instead, handed me off to some part-time butchers who saw fit to fuse my spine back together like it was broken scrap metal.
My legs are worthless now, and I was presented to their high command in a wheelchair and a muzzle.
A muzzle, Nemene.
---
Nemene,
These days I often imagine that your rotten, mangled soul is somewhere deep in the Netherworld laughing at me, mocking me for my continued string of failures in trying to do anything right. You were always so cruel and even with your tongue, you knew exactly how to wound me.
The only reason I still draw breath is to spite you.
If it weren't for you then I truly believe that I would have ended this miserable existence by now.
I was surplus to requirement within the hands of the New Imperial Order (I cannot fault them, I am worthless to their cause) and thus I am free. Ha. Free? That is quite possibly the greatest joke that the galaxy has ever told.
No, I am not free. I am destitute, without a credit to my name and trapped in this forsaken chair. Now the common people look down on me with pity in their eyes. I can read their thoughts upon their wretched faces. Poor thing. I sit there, helpless, fantasising about slaughtering them all. I don't think my heart has ever been filled with this much hate.
All I feel is anger.
I do not doubt that I could act on my venom, I could eviscerate the masses that grant me their big, sad eyes but do you know what that would do, my sweet? It would draw attention. I cannot ever return home now, my death is almost certain and so I have been forced to assume a new identity. I wheel around, pretending to be 'Beatrice Govan' and use a datapad to talk. The very picture of the tragic cripple, utterly reliant on technology.
Pathetic.
I was a Queen, and now I'm playing small mind tricks to get pocket change, so some greasy mongrel serving street food can ignore me because my chair isn't tall enough.
Perhaps it is time to accept that my fate shall always be a humiliating one, it might make things easier.
Evelynn
---
Dearest, darling love of my ruinous life and fiery hellbeast, Nemene,
I am drunk. Wine is truly the Dark Lord of the Sith's invention.
Today I met a man, a really annoying, vague and handsome man. He bought me the wine, and the ice cream. I can't remember what it was called. A vienna? I don't care. He asked me out for dinner after my tragic self caught his eye. Thank the Force that Barbara is always karking late.
She's an idiot but she's certainly risen in my estimations.
Anyway, we finished dinner and I went home and brought MORE WINE. You never let me have that much wine.
But guess what, Nemeney-poo?
This man.
Lots of love,
Evie-wevie puddin an pie
PS. It came to me now! It's called a vienetta!
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