Languid Elagabalus of the Tombs [Evelynn]

[Darth Carnifex]

​

Hidden Clone Sanctuary
Dromund Kaas

Buried deep beneath the terraformed surface of Dromund Kaas was a hidden compound, stretching out for dozens of square kilometers in every direction. The Emperor of the Sith, Darth Carnifex, had secretly built this facility during the Empire's take-over of the planet from the remaining Resurgent Sith and Silver Jedi. Completely unknown to all except for the Emperor's closest advisors, this secret sanctuary was filled with the most impressive and advanced cloning technology and incubation creches. There, the Sith Emperor furthered his own understanding of genetic manipulation and the cloning of beings from the smallest amount of base material.

And today was to be his crowning achievement.

Years ago, his daughter Evelynn had been killed during a slave revolt on the planet Rattatak. She had been torn limb from limb, her remains scattered to the desert dunes before the Emperor could retrieve her. But after years of diligent searching, his servants had at last uncovered something that would prove most advantageous in his personal schemes.

A femur, weathered by sun and sand.

That bone now sat suspended in sterilized fluid, a small titanium needle injected deep into the bone to siphon away the precious crystallized marrow. The data was being analyzed as the Emperor loomed over the scientists that hastily attempted to make sense of the amalgamation of numbers that rolled across the holo-screens. Sweat slicked their brow, their backs hunched from innumerable hours of coding and research under the Emperor's back-breaking gaze.

Failure meant death.

"Supreme Excellency, we believe we've isolated the genome. We're preparing the incubation chamber for gestation."

"You had best be right, Doctor. I will judge the veracity of your promises just as I had judged your predecessors'."

The thinly veiled threat was more than enough. The hour of judgement was near, it's approach heralded by the peeling of every hour.

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Death was like a dream.

Like those wicked dreams where you tried with all your power to do something. You threw a punch but it moved through the air in slow-motion, bogged down in hazy molasses, both ineffectual and weak. Where your speeder was about to crash and when you took the controls to swerve and brake it did absolutely nothing and time grew to a gradual halt as you helplessly careened into death. Like trying to jump across a small gap only to find that you were weighed down by some unseen force and even a simple leap was fruitless.

Where you were weak, where you were helpless, where you were just almost but it was never quite enough.

No, death was not like a dream, death was a nightmare.

The benefit of the living was that soon after you would wake, perhaps with a heavy sheen of sweat across the brow but safe in the knowledge that it wasn't really happening. Maybe such dreams were reflections upon inner-fears and doubts but the living at least had the room to conquer such thoughts.

The dead, not so much.

You see, aside from that there was nothing. No stage for a scene to be set, a solitary darkness that spread for eternity. No sound to be heard, no sound to be had. There would be no screams because there was no form to give it any life. In the black mass there was no identity, no memory, no time, no, all there seemed to be was the fading scraps of former consciousness. It couldn't think, it only suffered like in those nightmares before.

For those who still walked among the living those dreams were at least tangible. There was a person to punch, something to crash into, a place to fall into the abyss. This was just the bare echo of a feeling, like the fading heartbeat of a dying rat. It was a feeling of almost.

It's right there in front of you. Can't you see it?

Not without eyes.

Just reach out and grab it, it's so close. You know it's there. Right there.

Not without limbs.

All that existed was the eternity of almost.

Was it hell? Perfectly tailored punishments to fit the sinner? Oh, just rewards for a girl who was so voracious in her appetite for sensation. Two sides of the same coin. Pleasure. Pain. She had it all, had it in spades beyond what was both reasonable and sane. Nothing could be meagre in feeling, it was all consuming intensity that ripped and screamed through mind and flesh. Gluttony in absolutes. Perfection.

Stripped away, down to a bare echo, a mere whisper. Fleeting, ebbing, waning but never ending. Only death could be so cruel.

The almost.

Thud-thud.

It was small, barely noticeable for what was barely conscious, on the edge of existence. Sensation. Sound. The faint beat of a heart.

Thud-thud.

Again, louder this time. How could it be? Such things were an impossibility in the vast nothingness of death. There was no chest to cage a beating heart, no frame for blood to be pumped through in constant rhythm.

Still it persisted. Growing steadier, growing louder, growing stronger. At first it had echoed through the almost, without any way of knowing how far or how near it was, but then it came closer and ever closer until it was inside. Beating inside a chest, drumming inside of a head. There was form. Slight sensation like the dying embers of pin pricks gradually spread themselves out with each beat of the heart, down shoulders towards arms and fingers. Midriff, legs and toes. A shell, a body.

Feeling.

Confusion.

It was the first emotion felt before it was even realised. Then thoughts. The very basics. What? Why? Where? When? Each one of those thoughts came, stretching out gradually seeking an answer in the dark but with nothing given in return. Except for one.

Who?

E v e l y n n.

A form. A mind. A name.

There was nothing beyond those rudimentary things, but it was almost entirely overwhelming. Reach out and grab it, it's so close. She moved, a frail hand floating through a lost sea to touch upon a living chest. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Flesh-upon-flesh. Sensation. It revealed to her the beating heart that now existed within. It was so real.

Can't you see it?

Eyes that had not existed for an eternity began to open, just a crack and fear was denied when instead of utter darkness there was an overwhelming light, far too harsh to be gazed into for too long without strain. They shut once more. It was too much for complete comprehension with each moment that passed bringing forth a new perception.

Tired.

A crushing fatigue swept over both mind and body, the creation of something from nothing seeming to take a toll despite the gradual nature of the process. All that she could do in that moment was fall to the embrace of sleep.

Perhaps to dream. A dream for the living.

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Emperor stood, observant, at the base of an elevated platform upon which a cylindrical tube filled with amniotic fluids sat suspended under sterilized white lights. Inside was a small humanoid form, growing and incubating as more and more genetic tissue was artificially grown by metallica appendages terminating in needle-thin applicators. As the days passed, the figure grew bigger and bigger, becoming more human, more recognizable.

Becoming whole.

When at last the clump of inert cells had, at last, grown into tangible sentiency, the grated floor at the base of tube opened and allowed the fluid to rush out into the drainage system beneath the compound. As the fluid drained out, the floating individual drifted down to the grated floor before coming to a gentle rest. The glasteel tube remained in place as the Emperor approached, his footsteps like thunder claps on the durasteel platform that surrounded the tube.

He placed a single hand upon the glass, peering down at the naked woman curled up at the bottom, and uttered a single phrase.

A command.

"Evelynn, awaken."

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Time was endless once more.

Caught on the waves, she drifted in and out of dreams. They were not fantastical stories that would be spun to colleagues the following day at lunch but rather abstract in concept. It was sensation. A feeling of floating, and warmth. Her dream was the womb and she the mere babe that existed within its waters. Content.

Yet it did not feel safe.

Dread lurked upon the horizon. A heavy shadow that was cast upon the scene, completely unmoving. It did not advance but still it did not retreat, but it was there.

Waiting.

However it was not yet tangible. The process of being born out of the almost had not been absorbed, or truly realised. There was form, yes, feelings and a name but it was not yet understood. She existed, but there was not yet a scene set. A canvas and palette with a great many colours ready, but still completely untouched, for the artist had no awareness that there was a painting to be had. All just ideas drifting within the water, jumbled and unable to find coherence.

“Evelynn, awaken.”

A cacophony! A thousand different voices all at once screaming, whispering, begging, cheering! A wicked gasp, lungs desperately drinking in the cold air in shock! Pale eyelids snapped open to light that was utterly blinding for emerald eyes that hadn't seen naught but the void, pupils dilating down to pinpricks in an instant!

Desert. Slaves. Revenge. Pain. Triumph. Blood. Shouts. Screams. Hands. Feet. Eyes. Mouth. Ears. Death. Life.

“...aaaa....aaaaa...aaa....”

Hands grasped around in desperation, fingers gnawing at the still-wet grates on the floor beneath her as if they could find something to relieve the sudden overwhelming stimulation. Images flickered feverishly within her mind, unintelligible and violent causing the woman to clasp her hands around her face, wishing to rip them out and make it stop, just for a moment.

Chest heaving. Heart pounding. Mass confusion. Hard to breathe. Too much. Too much! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!

Heavy boots beyond the glass. Her body trembled as she looked upwards, contorting her neck in an inhuman manner to see a face on the other side, those eyes wide and feral in a concoction of desperation and calamity. The face conjured up a single image.

A Kath Hound.

The image wrenched a surge of new emotions to the forefront of the tidal wave. Pain. Disgust. Rage. Delicate features twisted in monstrous fashion as it looked up from the floor, devoured by primal hatred screaming for blood. Her hands now clawed and savage slammed against the glass over and over again as a hoarse unused voice screeched violently. Eyes unblinking, staring at his face.

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Hello, daughter."

The Emperor remained unmoving, his face stoic and impassive as he stared down at the raving and enraged form of his daughter, clawing and bashing against the unbreakable glass of her temporary prison. All of the other doctors in the room remained glued to their posts, watching with rapt trepidation as the scene unfolding before them.

After some time, the Emperor turned to the head scientist.

"Anesthetize the patient, and move her to a private holding cell."

"Yes, Supreme Excellency."

With the press of a button the cloning creche was flooded with a chemical agent in the form of a colorless gas, which would quickly put the revived Evelynn the sleep shortly after it had entered her body. When she had been fully anesthetized, the tube glass would be raised and her body would be collected and strapped to a hover-gurney. From there it would be transported to a secure wing of the facility, her bonds left secured as the gurney was magnetically anchored to the middle of the floor.

When Evelynn would come to, she would find that her environment has changed. The only light in the room came from a single glow-rod hanging down from the center of the ceiling, the edges of the room shrouded in unflinching darkness. Carnifex stood on the threshold between light and dark, half of his face cast in shadow as he spoke.

"Daughter."

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

The entire time Evelynn's eyes remained purely fixated upon the man who would call her daughter. That hoarse, ragged screaming unrelenting, diminutive hands pounding fruitlessly upon their barrier over and over again. As she stared at the man that made a patriarchal claim ever-violent images still stabbed through her mind. Vivid sanity rending memories, jumbled in order, needing to be taken out and pieced together to make a story.

No light. Kath Hound. Throat. Hate. No sound. Mother. Voice. Feast. No sense. Death. Eyes. Pain. Father.

It did not matter that such visions were so muddled, for the raw emotion that surged forth from them painted the only picture that the newly born woman needed. She wished for nothing more than to plunge her thumbs into his eyes, longed for her teeth to rip out his throat, to watch him bleed.

But soon arms grew heavy and the fury slowly subsided, her screams dying to a small gurgle and then dreams once more.

More coherent now. Memories fluttered by in a manner that was easier to absorb. A brief history of Evelynn Dorn. A mousey foolish girl on Dantooine and her Kath Hound. The mother, great abandoner dead at the hands of the cruel patriarch. A lost voice. Her lover, just as tyrannical as her father. Pain and madness intertwined and laced through a great many moments in the past.. A shifting power balance between two Queens. The slave rebellion. Then nothing. It was not the entire tapestry of her existence, but it was enough gleamed to garner some semblance of sense.

This was her resurrection.

Eyelids peeled open slowly this time, revealing a more palatable atmosphere in the dimly light room. The initial shock of being ripped from the beyond had largely subsided, aided by both returning memories and the aesthetic, likely mostly the latter.

Her eyes lazily scanned the room, head lolling slightly to get a better look. However beyond the single source of light there was only one focal point of the room, the face of dread half-masked in shadows. The face from before. The one that called her daughter. He was different from in her dreams but memories were capable of lies and who knew how much time had passed. Appearance did not matter however, because looking upon him still brought forth the same feelings in her gut.

Hatred. Disgust. Fear.

On instinct she tried to move, but her limbs only found restraints barring her way. Oh, this was a familiar scene. Would have been prompt to laugh, or cry? From the small sound that escaped her lips it seemed as if Evelynn was doing both.

Strange. A sound from her own lips? Her dream-born memories told the tale of a lost voice. Or rather a stolen one, torn from her throat by the man standing before her. It was new flesh. Untouched porcelain that was a far cry from what had departed this galaxy. No scars. No missing appendages. A voice. This was a virgin canvass that begged to be defiled in all manners of crimson. Another time, another place and that thought might have excited her beyond reason, but not at that moment.

“...Why..?” Evelynn's hoarse, unused voice rasped, sounding a slight unsure of how words should sound, “...Have you brought me back? ...To kill me yourself?”

She closed her eyes, almost in anticipation of second death.

“...Father.”

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"If I had designed to bring you back for the sole purpose of ending your life, I would have done so shortly after you died."

The Emperor stepped fully into the light, letting the cleansing artificial illumination wash over his scarred visage. Much had changed in the years since Evelynn had last laid her eyes upon him, his face was marred with the injuries of a thousand battles, and neither of his eyes shared the same iris pigmentation. His right was a deep orange tinged with red, the traditional eye-color of one fully steeped in the Dark Side of the Force. His left was a deep emerald, much like the eyes he had possessed before he devoted himself to the Sith. Both lacked the whites attributed to traditionally Human eyes, instead both iris sat buoyed in a sea of infinite blackness.

"You've been dead for twenty years, daughter. And I let you remain among the dead because I did not believe that you had earned the right to live again, but time has a way of changing one's thoughts."

He approached the gurney, gripped it by its edges, and swung his face down so that it could be close to Evelynn's, but well out of biting range. The Emperor was no fool. "Twenty years dead and buried, though not truly buried. Subsumed by the deserts of Rattatak, your bones left to bleach in the sun, picked clean by scavengers. Much has changed since then, the galaxy has undergone much evolution. Many powers have risen and fallen, and the Sith are reborn by my guiding hand."

Rising back up, the Emperor continued; "It was my triumphs that have brought you back to me, daughter. I have reconsidered the punishments levied against you, and have determined that you have warranted a second chance. Every agony inflicted upon you has been wiped clean, your body unmolested by injury, and your memories left in-tact. When you leave this facility, you will become a member of the Sith Brotherhood and earn your place in my Empire, like the brothers and sisters born before and after your death have done. When you have proven yourself to me, then I will forgive you for your transgressions. I will even offer you a gift, a reunion with the beast you enamored yourself to before I plucked you from worthless obscurity."

Indeed, the Emperor had the power to bring much joy and happiness to his errant daughter, just as he had the power to inflict much suffering. "To monitor your progress, I have conjured forth a face you will find quite familiar." As if on cue, a previously unforeseen entity emerged from the darkness and slowly walked over to where Evelynn was restrained. She looked exactly as she had in life, a memory captured in perfect resolution, though yet it still carried an artificial allure.

Karin Dorn, and yet not Karin Dorn, stood before the Emperor and his daughter.

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Oh my, time had not been kind to her father's features. The differences between them were night and day, the starkest contrast. One worn down by time, ravaged by war and marked by the Dark Side of the Force. The other untouched, so perfect that it was artificial in quality, practically begging to be marked by experience.

Soon enough.

Evelynn found herself voluntarily holding her breath as his face loomed directly over hers and yes, it was unfortunately out of biting range the woman quietly realised as she studied those differing eyes, almost becoming lost in that tainted, black sclera. Her jaw stiffened, sharp features jutting and cheekbones casting harsher shadow. A pity he was not in biting range, for the woman felt urges that longed for her father to sink his own teeth into her delicate throat and tear, if not to see the blood then to feel it.

Such unhealthy thoughts.

That was what stuck to the forefront of her mind in that moment. Not the twenty years. Oh yes, it was an age in their time, an entire generation of heroes and villains would have surely risen and fallen between her death and rebirth but no care would be rendered. What could have possibly changed in that time that could be deemed worthy of her interest? Hopefully the galaxy had only rotted further in her absence, perhaps that would have made it more palatable.

She was beginning to find herself again, all the initial processes and the shock subsiding. The dust settling on a very unsettled girl.

Then came his plans. It was unsurprising that his time had come to be at the forefront of the Sith, her father had never been a man to sit back and enjoy the throne. Without him there might have been Jedi who could rest easily, planets existing in normalcy, not touched by the hand of subjugation, species and families even not brought to the brink of extinction. Such horror to think how happy and peaceful this realm might have been without him!

While his triumph with the Sith may have garnered no surprise, his plans for her did. A second chance? Earn her place? Her face twisted in disgust at the very notion, and that fact was not hidden. What piece was she that could fit into the ranks of the Sith Brotherhood. She was a stain, a void that held no place in a regiment poised to conquer the galaxy. A great black tumour of a child that needed to be cut free and disposed of without second thought.

“...that hound belonged to another gi-”

Her voice stopped when her eyes laid upon the face of the figure that joined the fray. There was a moment of deathly silence as she observed her mother stood before her. It was shock rooted in the unexpected. Last time they had all been in the same room only two had left it still living.

Something s n a p p e d.

The relative calm of the room was broken by laughter. Devoid of both mirth and warmth it was an unsettling shrill noise, never heard before by the like of any man. Her former voiceless rasp brought into the fold by vocal chords, displaying naught but a frenzied dissonance.

“Oh father!” Evelynn cried out between fits, her limbs pulling haphazardly at the restraints without care for any injury, “It appears that I have gone mad!”

Twenty years in the void, in hell, in the almost. It changes a person. It left a mark upon her mind that would likely never been shifted. She had been there, in perpetual torture, tailor-made for monsters like her. Twenty years. It had felt like both a single second and infinity in the same breath, so maddeningly impossible and yet...

“Sweet mother of abandonment!” She suddenly hissed with fury, her back arching as much as her restraints would allow, face turning in an uncanny instant away from manic mirth and into the purest venom as she stared, “How kind of you to take an interest in my growth! Such good fortune that you are here! You missed it all once before, now we cannot have you miss it again!”

Her nails dug into her palms as deep as they could muster, the force applied more than enough to break the skin but almost enough to break her own fingers. The very discomfort of it all gifting sweet endorphins to her fractured mind.

“Mother! Did you hear!?” Evelynn cried out with a mock glee that was so malicious that Jedi light years away had awoken in a cold sweat, “Father is to get me a hound!”

Her head slammed backwards with vigour onto the stretcher with a dull thud, eyes crazed and staring up at the ceiling and into the abyss beyond.

“But only if I'm a good girl!”

Perhaps there was an expectation of what kind of woman would return to the mortal realm. A fresh slate. A balance between the mousy little girl that set out on an adventure and the demented creature that ended it all.

But who could truly account for the touch of the Netherworld?

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Quite."

The Emperor showed no emotion at his revived daughter's outburst, not even a shred of concern for the well-being of her mind. He had expected this sort of reaction, had prepared for it. Karin Dorn's spirit had proved more elusive than his daughter's, which he recovered without much difficulty. To compensate for his inability to recover Dorn's consciousness, he commissioned the construction of a Human-Replica-Droid that bore her exact likeness, drawn from surviving records the Emperor had of his one-time paramour and from his own memory. As the final piece of the puzzle, he commanded that her skull (which he had kept in his possession these past twenty years as a drinking cup) to be built into the droid as well.

"This artificial construct resembling your late mother is to be your companion, daughter. She is programmed with everything you will need to adjust to modern life." Not to mention she had a couple other hidden faculties to restrain Evelynn should she prove too... unruly. "Now come, let's get you dressed."

He waved his hand and the restraints keeping Evelynn tied down unlatched, returning freedom of movement to the newly awakened woman.

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

“Oh...”

In a mere instant her manic state ceased, voice softening, the rapid tempo of her breathing gradually falling but still leaving a small quiver in her breath as she lay there.

“She's not even real,” Evelynn pouted, seeming like an ordinary spoiled young woman in that moment with just the smallest tinge in the air that something wasn't quite right, “that would be too much to expect,” she spat, observing as her restraints were released, giving back at least some form of control over her anatomy, “always ruining our precious family gatherings.”

It was as if she genuinely expected her deceased mother to be here, wasn't too much to ask.

Sitting up upon the stretcher she took the time to observe her own palms where her nails had dug in, four marks across each that now dribbled a meagre amount of crimson. Pulling her hands up to her face Evelynn languidly dragged her palms up over the entirety of her face, inhaling deeply to get a sense of the copper and smearing the blood upon her sharp chin. The very smell of it invoked a great many feelings within her. Urges.

Hatred. Lust. Fear. Desire.

It lingered in her nose and in her brain like the very sweetest pheromones inviting her to stay steeped in nostalgia but at the same time demanding that her appetite be sated.

Hands were pulled away and she looked to the matriarchal-shaped monstrosity. A sneer. Pure disgust.

“I do not like it, father.”

A delicate frame hopped off of the stretcher and approached it's new companion, green connecting with green as she stared up at what was technically her mother's visage. The reborn woman reached to touch it, the soft pads of her fingertips running down her mother's cheek softly, trying to gauge how real the flesh would be to the touch.

“I wish to kill it,” words spilled out slowly and deliberately, as her still hand lingered gently upon its cheek.

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

For the first time since they had been reunited, the faintest glimmer of a smirk broke the placid lake of the Emperor's terrifying visage.

"Perhaps one day."

And just as quickly as it was there, it was gone. Impatience now radiated out from the Emperor, the slightest narrowing of his brow as he squinted at his daughter. "I will not command a second time, Evelynn." His words came out in a hushed whisper, as if lending strength to the true threat and malevolent viscosity in his hissed words might manifest negatively in the material. It was then that he turned and began to walk, each step like a thunder-clap upon the durasteel deck, the synthetic Karin Dorn dutifully ushering Evelynn along with a warm smile and a mild gesture of her hands.

Beyond the chamber was a corridor, as bleak and hopeless as the room had been. The Emperor led Evelynn and the synth through the labyrinth, silent as a statue as he walked with head held high and authority oozing from even the most minute of gestures.

This was a man who ruled, truly and without compromise.

It was not long before they reached another chamber, a starkly furnished bedroom with a single bed, a nightstand, wardrobe, and adjacent refresher. New clothes, the finest garments from the Emperor's own storehouses, had been arrayed across the fabric of the bed. Because this Evelynn inhabited a clone body, the measurements had already been determined beforehand. She would find that each and every garment fit her perfectly.

"I will return within the hour, be ready."

He left her then, alone with the synth, the sound of a lock sliding into place clearly heard above the dull hum of the ventilation system.

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

A petulant frown descended upon the girl's face as her request was greeted by denial, her hand unmoving from the pretender's cheek.

“Not today,” Evelynn whispered sadly to the spitting image of her mother, a minuscule twitch arriving at the corner of her mouth, causing her lips to flicker between sulk and smirk, “but one day.”

That moment lingered in a deadly stillness until her father demanded its end and Evelynn did not hesitate in following his orders as if her very muscles had been trained to do so. Hand was withdrawn swiftly and her head bowed in acknowledgement of his authority. The thing urged her onward to follow and with a lingering gaze she only registered further disgust at its pleasant smile, as if it could make up for all those years with a silent, genial nature.

Their grim surroundings were a reflection of her thoughts, that were still fixated by the imitation parent that followed. Perhaps one day. What would that day be like? Would it be a slow death? Yes, with agony's embrace it would be slothful demise, each act of torture would be layered one on top of the other until there was nothing left. There would be not one method of torture but many, it would take days, perhaps even weeks until every drop of sick satisfaction could be harvested and what was left would not even be recognisable as human.

The very thought of it gave cause for her eyes to roll as they walked, fluttering backwards into her skull, trembling breath being sucked inwards as if she couldn't handle the temptation right there and then. Oh, what it would be to feel such suffering.

What if it were quick? The notion joined its more wonderful counterpart. Why spare it any more time than it deserved? Cut the throat. Snap its neck. Another Dorn to add to the pyre of names at least technically and by her own hand, wouldn't father be so proud? Give it as much time as her mother had given her. That would be just.

Not as fun though.

When they arrived at next room those thoughts were still engraved within her head and then just like that the door was shut and locked behind Evelynn, her father's command clear and the disgusting presence of her false mother still lurking.

Clothes laid out upon the bed, a choice to be made.

“Look, mother, it is like we have gone shopping together,” her voice oozed thick with false pleasantries and disdain, “shall I try them all on? We can bond together at last. Will you tell me I'm p r e t t y?”

It stood there and it smiled vacantly like a mannequin.

“It doesn't even talk?” Evelynn hissed in response to its fixed expression, “Useless!”

The girl would have to pick out her own clothes instead. However, as she stared at all her options, ranging from extravagant to practical the Emperor's daughter found herself at a loss. Material trifles such as this had never been her duty. It had been a great many years since she had chosen her own outfits. Brief flashes of lush green appeared within her thoughts, forests and plains as far as your eyes could see. A small cottage.

Jaw stiffened.

No, no. Before her demise her outfits had been chosen by her lover, Nemene, who had always been the vanity of the two. It was important to look the part, to be as beautiful as they were feared. Nemene Talith however was very much dead, and Evelynn alive so this illusion of choice would be her own to make.

Her fingers gently ran across the garments as the woman wandered around the bead. The more elegant garments were tantalisingly soft, the finest silk that an imagination could muster, so soft that you wanted to bury yourself within it and just feel. She pulled her hand away and stood in quiet consideration.

“I am no longer a Queen,” she mused to herself, “I am a...”

A pause. What was she?

Abomination. Good girl. Science project. Scared. Monster. Dorn. Loyal. Zambrano.

So many possibilities and yet she didn't know.

Minutes had passed and the girl had stood there in her own mental stasis trying to consider the question but no answer had come. She did not know what she was, what her identity was meant to be. It was strangely frustrating, but not in a way that made Evelynn wish to bleed the very answer from her own flesh but instead in a manner that was far too... human.

In the end she chose the very plainest, most practical of the garments available. Black Sith robes that were indeed of the finest make but that lacked any extra embellishment that would have only hindered its function. Once she was dressed she looked to her mother, freshly equipped with a grim expression.

It stood.

Watching.

Waiting.

Smiling.

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

An hour later, the locking bolt to the room swung back into its inert position and the door creaked open.

But instead of the Emperor, there stood a man of much lower stock with long blonde hair, grubby skin, small watery eyes, and a pointed nose that conveyed the vague appearance of a rat in Human skin. The tatters he wore around his body possessed the faintest echo of finery, but whatever luster they once had was long since buried. Scar tissue covered a great deal of his visible skin, most of them faded and old but some of them quite fresh.

His eyes met Evelynns, and they wided in recognition; but not surprise.

"The Master has requested your presence in the throne room, child." His voice was a whisper, perpetually hoarse as if each syllable was painful to utter. He gave a curt gesture, and then turned away from the door into the hall. The synthetic Karin behind Evelynn urged her onward as well, gently pushing on her shoulders towards the door. When they both left, the door they passed through would close and lock automatically. The hall on their journey was more or less the same as the one they took to reach the room, as much of the underhold of the Emperor's Palace was visually similar to confuse any would-be trespassers from discovering the Emperor's secrets.

The winding hall eventually terminated in a large lift room, the entire floor rising up and transporting Evelynn, the synth, and the mysterious man up through a impossibly high lift-shaft until the ceiling opened above them and they found themselves in a magnanimous throne room. Six Crownguard stood on all sides of the lift as it came to a stop, red robes from neck to toe covered by dark gray armor, red helmets cover all but eyeslits that were actually electrically modified view-screens. Their weapons were always drawn.

The room was dark except for the panels of sterile white light running alongside the walkway towards the Emperor's throne. The short man led them across the sleek black steel floor, up the short flight of steps to the platform level upon which sat the Emperor's throne. Beneath the platform and spreading out around it was the mouth of a shaft that delved deeply into the pit of the Palace, no light escaping from the devouring shadows that seemed to writhe beneath their feet, reeking of ozone and echoing continuously in a low, hollow rumble. At the end of the overhanging platform was a wall, in the wall, a huge-circular observation window. Sitting in the elaborate control-chair before the window, staring out over the vast expanse of Kaas City, was the Emperor.

The bustling metropolis could be seen immediately beyond the window, shuttles and other transports buzzing in and around it. the faint silhouettes of men and women as small as ants from the perspective of the almighty Sith Emperor. In the near-distance beyond all this activity was the jade green jungle of Dromund Kaas, one of the most brilliant jewels in the Empire's crown -- and above them was the black velvet of space partially obscured by dark clouds -- and scattered to infinity, the gleaming diamonds that were the stars. Carnifex sat, regarding this view, as the procession approached from behind. He perused the vista before him with a sense of glory beyond all reckoning: this was all his. And more glorious still, all by his own hand.

Finally, the throne rotated around to face them, "Daughter, a pleasure." His eyes turned to the short man, the wretch withering under the Emperor's iron gaze. "Cristoff, leave us." The short man bowed and obeyed, scurrying away from the chamber with all the temperance of a beaten dog. The Emperor's gaze turned back to his daughter, "How have you been adjusting to life, my daughter?"

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

The remainder of the wait was agonising. Every last second seemed to s t r e t c h out, each becoming an individual endless hellscape. All the while Evelynn refused to look at it, in fact she did everything possible to avoid it. Instead the girl busied herself in any way she could, tidying the clothes she had not chosen to wear into the wardrobe, organising them in varying manners eventually settling upon order of extravagance.

She could still feel its eyes burning into the back of her skull however, causing the revived woman to spin around upon her heel and return the favour, eyes filled to the brim with hatred and malice.

“Cease your endless staring!” Evelynn hissed, lips drawn back over her teeth as she was only met by the frustration of that same pleasant expression. She could feel the heat in her face, the rage and hatred ever-growing up her spine.

It did not cease.

This caused the woman to storm towards the vision of her deceased mother with only violent intention in mind. She knew that killing the thing was out of the question, but there would be no harm in giving it a good, hard slap.

However before her hand could connect with its face, she was thwarted, with her minder's own hand shooting out to grab Evelynn's offending wrist. A look of horror dawned upon her. It had a grip like iron, unwavering despite the girl's resistance. Still, nothing changed in its face. Smiling politely. She wondered if it were strong enough to crush her wrist within its grip.

The pair remained locked like this until it had been determined that the Emperor's daughter had been pacified and with that, she backed off, choosing to spend the rest of her time in her sitting upon the edge of the bed, seething in her own frustrations.

Finally the door was unlocked and eager eyes darted over to be greeted by an unfortunate withered wretch. Family. Violence. Cowering. Death. These concepts swiftly penetrated her thoughts as she stared at his pathetic form. The scars of memories past crawling their way to the surface but with no solid form to understand them with. Already she felt an utter disdain for him.

“Do not touch me!” She seethed as her impostor mother lightly pushed her onward.

This journey was just as grim and labyrinthine as the last with Evelynn barely paying attention to it and instead focusing on their repugnant guide. Grand designs were wasted upon her, after all, her father and lover had both been the ones more suited to focus on the grandiose, she preferred enjoying moments instead.

Instead she was fixated upon the crooked man, in particular the evidence of fresh scarring. Now, how did that happen, she wondered. Thoughts turned to his pain, and how she wished to have played witness, no, not just that, longed to have been stood in his tattered shoes, feeling all of his agonies piece by wicked piece. Her gaze trailed longingly at the drawn weapons that surrounded them upon the elevator, she could already taste the crimson in her fantasy.

This train of thought did not derail until they had ascended to the throne room, when a brief stolen glance at the window confirmed that this really was the land of the living, as the city before them carried on diligently with its daily duties.

“Father.”

Realisation dawned upon her features upon hearing the wretch's name. Ah, the rat. Suddenly the vague memories from before became much clearer. The extinction of the Dorn family. It was actually quite impressive that he still lived on, outlasting them all (even her, technically). She supposed that was his reward for his complete and utter submission.

Her eyebrows knitted together upon her father's inquiry. She had somewhat leveled out from her performance upon the stretcher, but those longing thoughts were still very persistent. Would it have been proper to tell him? No, more like futile to hide it.

“My body seems to be functioning as it should,” she replied, her right hand clutching her left wrist before her midriff as she stood there, every bit the little girl in front of her father, “but my connection to the Force is notably weaker than it once was.”

Out of practice. It would no doubt take time and training to build up her former talents again.

“I...”

She faltered. Perhaps the technical details was all that he was after. Perhaps he wouldn't care. Perhaps it was something absolutely idiotic to confess to him. It was too late now, however, that that single syllable had slipped out and asked to be completed.

“I have urges, father. I wish to feel pain, I long to be hurt, to bleed and I cannot shift my mind away from these thoughts,” Evelynn confessed as matter-of-factly as she possibly could with an edge of nervousness, not sure of what he would make of this outcome, “I fear that I have really gone mad.”

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"I see."

The Emperor rubbed one hand across his jaw in contemplation, his eyes never wavering from the pair standing before him. There was a possibility that this could happen, there was difficulties in cloning the genetic material of a Force Sensitive subject. This manifestation of masochism wasn't wholly surprising to the Emperor, who remained distinctly aware of his daughter's relationship with the still-deceased sorceress Nemene Talith.

"Urges like this will only amplify with suppression, so I will grant you a mercy, my child."

He pressed one of the many buttons built into the armrests of his throne, and after several minutes one of the ancillary doors near the opposite end of the throne room opened. What passed through the threshold was wreathed in neck to toe with living organic armor, the skin underneath an indescribable patchwork of scarification. Distinctly alien, yet with a Human gait, the Yuuzhan Vong shaper approached the throne before falling to one knee before the Emperor.

"Daughter, this is Zhudah Thaal, a shaper of the Yuuzhan Vong who has been in the service of the Sith for many decades. She is... intimately familiar with pain and how to inflict it. I transfer her service to you so that you... indulge, when necessary. To counterbalance these urges, I will also give you leave to peruse my Palace's dungeons for a suitable subject to exert your own desires upon it."

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

It was peculiar.

Not only the very fact that he was willing to grant her a mercy in the first place, but the fact that it was all so impassive, almost business-like, as if he were not the girl's monstrous father that played a heavy part in the defective being that stood before him but instead a doctor, prescribing the Yuuzhan Vong before his next appointment was due. You once made me bleed by your own hand, father.

There was anticipation in her heart that expected his own personal wrath, no, craved it but instead she was presented logical solution.

Despite this her desires looked to the Vong shaper and stirred.

So many questions swirled, many of insidious nature as her eyes stalked her new aide, Evelynn's gaze practically caressing what visible mottled flesh that was upon display. There was no doubt that this creature would be able to inflict pain beyond human measure in in the most elegant of ways. They were a people who worshipped pain after all, it was their divine sense that elevated them beyond that of mere mortals. Zhudah Thaal would be able to teach her so much.

“Thank you, father,” she replied softly, offering him a somewhat solemn bow of her head.

Not to mention the prospect of her own personal canvas. This was likely the preferred solution. Were there a way to manifest her needs and paint them across the flesh of another then it would entirely negate the risk that came with rampant self-destruction. Living conduits to absorb her own punishments, they would be painted red in her place and hopefully help curb her awful desires. In theory at least.

“I also must confess that I am not so sure where to begin with this gracious second chance. It has been so long. What would you advise me to do so that I may begin to earn my place within your Empire, father?”

She grimaced, as if buried deep within her was that scared little girl from so long before who couldn't complete a simple sentence without breaking down into a stammering fit. The very act of having to ask felt like such weakness in itself, that she should have known what to do and where to go but alas, she knew not.

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"The city of Kaas lies open to you, child. It has been reborn in the years since its destruction at the hands of the Mandalorians, and now thrives."

Indeed, it took many years but Kaas City now graces the skyline of Dromund Kaas. The towering spires have been rebuilt, the magnanimous courtyards restored, and the land reshaped to suit the Sith Empire's ever need and whim. Though the majority of Dromund Kaas was irrevocably altered by the cataclysm that ravaged it, the Empire had gone to great lengths to return it to its original glory. Jungles remained over a great deal of the landmasses, but they were beset by a curious phenomena that occurred every one in four seasons: snowfall.

Climate experts confirmed that the snowfall was a direct consequence of the globe-spanning nuclear winter that Dromund Kaas had been subjected to for over a decade, portions of the atmosphere were still sufficiently radioactive to cause rapid cooling that blanketed the jungles and new coniferous forests with snow. Quick intervention by Sith scientists allowed the jungle flora to survive such extreme trends, and the striking contrast has become a staple of the renewed planet.

"So long as your guardian remains with you, you will find little to impede your discovery of Dromund Kaas. I would suggest you travel forth to experience society once again."

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

So there was a degree of freedom. A degree of trust. Of course it came tied in with the inclusion of the abomination that would only seek to breed disgust and hatred within her very core, but it was more than the girl thought she would have been allowed.

Then again on her own Evelynn had never been a threat. A disappointment, yes, a disgrace even, but she had never held high ambitions that would have sought to give the Emperor much trouble. Her former companion, perhaps but alas, she was still dead and with her troublesome input absent there was likely a high expectation that his child would prove to become that which he intended in the first place.

This, however, was still an uncertainty. Perhaps it would come with further living but beyond her father's demands Evelynn was unsure of her purpose. She did not even know what she was? Depraved. A monstrosity. Was she nothing more than the sum of her desires? There had to be something.

Something more than pleasure in pain.

“Thank you, father,” the resurrected woman finally replied after a short silence of digestion, her head bowing low with the respect and submission that was likely expected, “I will not fail you a second time.”

A lofty promise for sure.

Was it even one she could keep?

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Be sure that you do not, my child."

And with those last parting words, the Emperor dismissed Evelynn from his presence. His throne rotated around so that he was facing the wide window encompassing the wall at his back, the distant movement of civilization trudging forward as Kaas City glittered like towers of diamonds. The Crownguard that lingered in the periphery now moved into sight, tapping the pommel of their elongated polearms against the durasteel floor in rhythmic succession the signify that all in attendance were now given permission to depart, and that they should with all respectable haste.

---

---

---

​

---

​

Days passed, the Emperor was kept apprised of his daughter's whereabouts through his more visual means of tracking her; the Replica Android that he had modeled after her own mother, and through more mystical means. He was quite invested in her development once he had released her into the wild, monitoring her reactions to others within the Empire and how her own mental integrity held up when pressured.

The results were interesting, to say the least.

But now was the time to reel her back in, to begin the second phase of her development.

So he called her back home, a pair of armored emissaries arriving mysteriously and without warning to her location as if magnetically drawn to her. There they informed her of her father's demand, not a request -- the Emperor did not request, and ushered her back into her father's cold and cruel presence.

Not much had changed in the Imperial Palace since she had been reborn, the aesthetic remained ever present and oppressive as always, and the grim stoic guardsmen kept watch over every inch of it. Even the throne room was the exact same, the Emperor in the same spot she had last seen him as if he had never moved since that fateful day. The only difference was the Emperor's wardrobe, which was still as opulent as ever.

"My daughter, how has the Empire been treating you?"

[member="Evelynn"]​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

A few days had passed, not entirely without event.

It would seem as if her second life would not be without its own struggles. Evelynn had vastly underestimated her madness and had slowly began to realise that it was more than just urges and desires. No, there was a monstrous soul that lived within her, vying for control and more often than not succeeding. Her identity becoming more muddled every day. Was this a part of her? Had her mind always been tainted by such a depraved rot? Or was this sickness born from death, a part of the Netherworld taken with her to the land of the living?

She had been beginning to doubt her own identity, no longer sure of who Evelynn Zambrano even was, and that thought frightened her.

Of course, that disgusting creature masquerading as her mother more often than not kept it under wraps, impassively restraining her until the pandemonium subsided, but her darkness was smarter than it appeared. On the surface stood a wild and unruly creature that only craved a single thing, and one could be forgiven for doubting its intelligence.

However her need was beginning to become more capable of evading mother dearest, and when it sought suffering it knew how to aggravate and provoke her victims as to receive proper punishment in return.

It also had the presence of mind to stay somewhat dormant in the presence of the Emperor.

This time the girl bended the knee instead of offering a mere formal bow, already a strong signifier of her guilt and failure as a functioning member of his Empire. Head was down, refusing to make eye contact.

“Most welcoming, Father.”

Such could not be denied, aside from of her own machinations, there had been no trouble. Everything seemed grand and in order, all the hallmarks of his impressive and iron-fisted rule. Truthfully Evelynn had expected little trouble from her father's people, unless of course she was the one instigating it. Early days still.

“I...”

...keep hurting myself. I cannot rid myself of this sickness. I don't know who I am. I am afraid.

“...I am a failure, Father.”

She had already used the services of Zhudah Thaal and instead of finding a release to soothe her she had only fed an ever-growing addiction, spurred on by every single misery inflicted upon her. Even now the clone's mind demanded a return to the thorn seat, to feel the shaper's exquisite touch once more.

Emerald eyes bored into the floor, mouth trying to find words that could articulate her fears without letting her terrifying patriarch know too much.

“Have I always been so useless?”

-

[member="Darth Carnifex"]