ᴅᴀʀᴛʜ ᴀɴᴀᴛʜᴇᴍᴏᴜꜱ
The face in the mirror looked catatonic today as it stared back. Anathemous hardly registered it as her own anymore. Where was the golden fire in her eyes that had since faded into sickly yellow? Where was that look of pride The Empress had instilled within her, where was the empire's youngest Darth?
In truth, this was the closest thing she'd been to honest with herself, with anyone, since arriving from Kainite space.
This was not Darth Anathemous. Brave and unbreakable Anathemous who declared her name for all the Jedi to hear and loathe upon the besieged battlefield of Echnos City, Courageous Anathemous to whom The Empress had been drawn to even over the chaos of war, Mysterious Anathemous who bound souls and knew of ancient sith arts once thought lost to time, nor was she even Master of
Tamsin Graves
, crusader against a stolen destiny.It was the face of Kaila, that sad, pathetic little girl laid at the feet of
Darth Carnifex
.She knew that face well, no matter how much she hated seeing it. Kaine had beaten it out of her, stoked the fires of hatred that should have burnt this face away so very long ago. But like a sad excuse for a hydra, it always came back when nobody was looking. No matter how many names she took, no matter how many masks she wore, it always came back eventually. And she hated looking at it every time. She hated being reminded that beneath all the lies and eerily calm bravado, this was still her face. Her true self.
Yet she could not afford to be herself.
The sound of clattering dishes brought her out of trance, and she set aside the hand mirror as serving droids laid out food and drink across the dining table.
Darth Malum of House Marr
would be here soon, brought to Echnos by her invitation to dine this evening and to discuss trade between his worlds and Echnos. She was almost surprised the Dark Councilor had accepted, considering she was almost certain he despised her after their meeting upon Exocron. But she knew better than to make enemies with the man who now owned the loyalty of both the Tsis'kar and Inquisition. He was just another noble she had to suck up and bow to, she supposed.
She had given up trying to do anything better, trying to be more than she was. She was exhausted, she was utterly alone without
Darth Xyrah
and so far from any Kainites. Not that it didn't suit her being away from the mindless zealots who shared her rank but not while surrounded by the enemy. It had... done things, to her. Xyrah was right, and yet she'd stubbornly asked to stay behind just awhile longer, insisted she had a duty to uphold here.Now she'd given up. Fate, The Force, whatever people were calling it, decreed that she would forever serve and forever suffer for resisting and it had won. Kaila just hoped, cautiously so, that she could do right by this city one last time before leaving.
The Manor was, in part, still in ruins. The dining room being one of a few parts untouched by the war not long ago, although she suspected the nobleman would complain still. She had her reasons for leaving the place in such disrepair of course, but she doubted anyone would care except maybe a few citizens. They lived in shiny new houses while- no, because- she lived in a ruin. All her funding was going into repairing and bettering this city while she tried not to tear her hair out meeting the imperial quota without sacrificing the improved conditions she'd strived to provide her people. But then they weren't really her people, she supposed. Between her use of droids, which Echnosians seemed to hate, and the knowledge that they might turn on her if they ever learned she was a Cyborg, well she belonged here no more than among Kainites.
Yet here she was. Stubbornly sacrificing herself piece by piece to protect them.
Darth Malum of House Marr
