asajj ventress.

FLORENCE KASUMBA // have you met ASAJJ VENTRESS yet? SHE/HER is a/an 31 year old CIS FEMALE DATHOMIRIAN ZABRAK. they’re originally from DATHOMIR and now show loyalty to the UNALIGNED. They are best known for being a/an ASSASSIN, and i hear they’re pretty DETERMINED, yet also SHORT-TEMPEREDat times; i hope they survive the galactic civil war. (JO, 20, CST, ANY PRONOUNS)

the wind bit at the frayed edges of her cloak, whipping it into spirals at her feet. though she pulled the fabric tight until it clung to her exposed skin, there was little ventress could do to keep out the chill. it wasn’t unfamiliar, the climate of a planet in its recessive months, inching away from its host star. still, it brought tension to her muscles and a chattering to her teeth. it was the same beck-and-call routine the force had directed her through dozens of times now. from a system away, asajj had felt another presence in the force like an incomplete melody, hesitating for another note. the pull led her here, at the steps of an abandoned tabernacle, a house of worship for deities not unlike her own. the near-audible ring in the force grew as she approached a lone figure standing amid the carvings of stone. they turned at her word, and ventress could have sworn the presence was familiar...

tw! mentions of physical abuse, emotional manipulation, torture

although the words that came out of the nightsister’s lips, aiya was not particularly inclined to believe her. of course, they understood to a degree, despite their general lack of empathy for those around him. revenge was a concept they were intimately familiar with, something that they had been plotting for years now. so many people from this time that they could have wanted dead, that they could have taken advantage of being an unknown element, and yet… he still had his eyes on kylo ren. but that death, when it happened, would be by their hands and their hands alone. anything else would open a never-ending rage. 

“how long did you train underneath dooku for?” an innocent enough question, not one that was particularly intrusive, even if it was apparent that her relationship with her former master was a very contemptuous topic. “my training is not that of a… more traditional sith. consider me curious about what your experience must have been like.”

.

“too long,” was the only reply to part her lips, and even that was coated in venom and unadulterated loathing. she did not care to hide it. the actions that pitiless motherfucker had subjected her to...her heart had been curdled and calcified into stone, forged through hatred and fear. it was only after asajj had left that she allowed herself to feel more than resentment alone. 

“years. and it was a living hell, all of it. at every failure, every prospect of shortcoming, i was to blame. i was to be punished. and the onslaught of physical abuse wasn’t enough to satiate his temper. no, he had to tell half-truths and deceive me into thinking all of his faults were my own. i wouldn’t survive anywhere else, he warned. without his protection, his guidance, i would fail. i would die. and i believed it. but, oh-- sometimes i was rewarded. sometimes i was praised. and in those moments, it made the pain worth it. i almost convinced myself the power i gained was worth the torture-- almost. it wasn’t until his worst act of betrayal that i left. i realized that for all his power and wealth and words of silver, dooku was only a man. and men can be be hurt. men can be killed.”

she felt within her no remorse or regret, nor any other indication that what she did was wrong. no, asajj knew that she had done what she did to survive. should she really be judged for that? 

togruta were no uncommon sight in any branch of the galaxy-- let alone the mid rim. planets big enough to hold a city of trade often saw hundreds of species a week, and this bustling hive of crime was no different. it was commonplace to share the room with twi’leks, rodians, mirialans, humans, mon calamari, and a plethora of other peoples far from their homeworlds. (planets of origin didn’t mean much to the empire or rebellion, ventress had gathered, expect for target practice.)

still, she knew those montrals. in both the heat of battle and in the depths of coruscant she had seen those markings on face, on lekku, and knew them to be the same. not to mention the force signature; sure, it was a little different now than it had been all those years ago (more mature perhaps, aged like wine, like a river shaped by land and circumstance), but there was little doubt in her mind: it was tano. 

in hope the other woman remembered her retreat from sith learnings and the aid she had provided when the former was only a padawan, asajj acted on impulse. desperately, she grabbed at the togruta’s cowl from among the gathered crowd. would she turn her away? their meeting had to mean something, right? after kenobi, after the young skywalker? it had to. it was with a cautious voice that asajj spoke, ready to retreat if she was unwanted. 

aiya was careful to monitor the reactions of the other in the force as much as they could in the moment, trying to draw their own conclusions from what hints were given away. truthfully, what he could pick up on did not reveal particularly much. interesting. whatever feelings remained in the other about count dooku, they were not clear even to herself. sith could be complicated matters, he supposed.

“i’d be careful with your praise. it was the jedi who killed him.” they offered with a skeptical raise of their brow, just to see how she might react to that. it did not surprise him that the nightsister was pleased to hear of her master’s death, given the pattern of sith over the centuries. truthfully, they wouldn’t mind continuing that particular bit with kylo, even if the knights of ren were not sith in any traditional way.

a short laugh escaped them, shaking their head. “no, not in the slightest. it’s only natural to want to kill your master.”

just as her answer failed to surprise aiya, so did his lack the satisfaction she was looking for. yes, ventress figured it had to be a jedi-- they always seemed to accomplish what she could not-- but which one? which jedi had the satisfaction of putting an end to his cruelty? (not that they would bother to enjoy it. no, the jedi were too good for such things. and look at where it got them.) was it quinlan? obi-wan? skywalker? the estranged jedi tano? or someone else entirely? still--

“that he is dead is all that matters to me.”

it was the not knowing that left a sour note on her tongue. so much so that ventress did not even catch their reassurance of hatred for sith leaders, did not stop to wonder who his master was. but, asajj knew she would get no more information if she had none to exchange. knowledge was currency, she knew. as with all things, it was a transaction of give and take.

        his throat tightened at the sound of her words, sure when they had crossed paths it had always ended with one getting the upper hand on the other, but the was she had sounded made obi-wan want to learn what had he done that had lead her to believe he would leave her stranded in this new timeline. he didn’t say anything, but clasped his hands behind him as he took a few tentative steps towards her. ❝i’ve never turned anyone away who asked for my help❞ he said devoid of any feeling of self-righteousness, and hoped she could sense he was being genuine about wanting to help her. 

        near the end of the clone wars. that was about three years from where obi-wan had been taken, which was of course a disadvantage, he had no idea what had happened in those years between the order and the separatists, but as she told him her story, obi-wan sensed nothing but the truth. obi-wan knew that count dooku had been his master’s master, and had struggle to reconcile the fact that qui-gon was fond of him, with the torture he had suffered in geonosis, anakin losing his hand, and all the acts of war against the galaxy that dooku had not seem to mind in the name of the separatist —and of course the sith. there was also the fact that while obi-wan was being held prisoner, dooku had actually told him the truth about the sith at the heart of the republic. 

       ❝it’s been more than twenty-five years since the clone wars ended. and you will have to forgive me, as there’s going to be about three years worth of memories that i won’t be able to share with you❞ obi-wan said hoping to offer some honesty in return, ❝i was taken shortly after the holocron that contained the names of force sensitive children was stolen to be delivered to the separatists…❞ he said not knowing if ventress had been aware of that, but it was probably the only clue he had to offer that would make sense to her to pinpoint his origin, and then unable to stop himself, ❝so you had nothing to do with the jedi purge? or the rising of the empire? the hunt for those that survived the betrayal of the troops?❞ a part of him knew that what she said wouldn’t matter, he was still going to help her, but he still had to ask. 

       ❝i know it won’t be of help, but as someone who has been betrayed by dooku before, i am sorry, also as someone who has been tried to be murder several times by him, i am glad you are alive❞ sincerity spilling out of his every thought, ventress had always been a formidable opponent, and right now there seemed to be a lot of shared experiences between them. ❝i know the last thing you probably want is to have anything to do with the order, but you are welcomed a the new temple, you’ll be safe there, and if you want i’ll help you figure out what to do in this new reality.❞ 

.

three years. three years of battle. of hiding among coruscant sewers like a frightened womp rat. of running and lying and killing...and yet, he knew none of it. could this man so easily forgive her if her knew the terrors she had committed, blinded by the guise of freedom? the lengths she’d gone to in order to garner attention, the receive something like a twisted form of catharsis? how blurred her lines between good and bad truly had become? 

she left unanswered his first few comments but only spoke only in response to his questions, trying to figure an answer that matched the weight of his inquiries. it was an intense subject, of course it was. she knew how the guilt of surviving slaughter weighed in a heart.

“no. that was...” she pressed a cold hand to her temple, trying to frame together the fractured timeline in her mind. “...after me, i think. i believe dooku meant to kill me-- nearly did kill me-- right before his own demise. i’m still figuring out time’s passage.” 

here, she sloppily recounted to him what she could remember. dooku’s first failed assassination attempt. the healing of maul, the creation of savage. the genocide of her clan family. the aid she provided for jedi tano when she was framed for an assassination she could not commit. and quinlan, oh, quinlan vos. the tragedy of his descent to darkness, her ascent towards light. and, her supposed murder at the hands of a man she now held nothing but contempt for. here, she laid her story bare, left it open for judgement by the jedi (something she’d done with very few before). 

and at his admission of acceptance into a new jedi order, asajj couldn’t bring herself to form the words on her tongue and speak them into existence. thank you. the feeling would have to be enough.

“i...i will keep that in mind. though i doubt these jedi would want anything to do with me if they knew who i was. what i’ve done.”

this had to be some sort of trick. it had to be. it was the one scab she couldn’t seem to pick at, yet which irritated her more than anything. slowly, as though speaking through a wall of water, ventress let herself ask the question that had lingered on her mind for days now, that had caused her so much turmoil.

at the other’s words, tears broke through the young woman’s eyes. long held back, it seemed, the nightsister hadn’t even shed a tear while burying her own sisters. vengeance, solidarity, it had driven merrin for years. it had allowed her to survive. but now, having another, another stricken with grief, alone… a shared pain was felt. 

one that brought with it an immense relief. 

tears carefully ran down her cheek as their eyes, she waited. it had been unexpected… no, improbable for the two to meet. and now– some sort of hope. a gift–

with a breath, she shakily took the others hands, a bond clear enough in eachother’s eyes. with a small nod, she squeezed the other’s hands, “and you’re not alone. not now.”

.

united as one, the two breathed in cadence, the connection between them growing ever closer with each fragmented second. it was familiar, the sharing of pain, the recognition of each other’s hurt. even in the short time asajj had lived among her sisters, she had grown accustomed to this. when one was hurting, they all were. when one was joyful, so was the sisterhood. it was their rite and bond as siblings bound by magic and blood.

slowly, gently, asajj began humming an old tune, a hymn that she had held with her since infancy. (one of the only souvenirs she took when sold for her clan’s safety.) it was a well-known song among their people, all jagged syllables as though hewn from stone, and through the choke in her throat, she sang. here, she was hurt, the child of dathomir lost and then found. here, she was broken. here, she was vulnerable. and for once, that was okay-- this was family.

(cw: mentions of death, violent imagery)

in an area like this, it was not a far walk for them to find themselves in a cantina. not too empty so as their entrance was obvious, but not overly loud or crowded. an easy place for a pair like them to disappear into the back corner, and that was exactly what he intended for now. public provided some feigned semblance of safety to the both of them. nothing real, but enough for conversation now.

the story is a similar enough one to things that they had heard before. jedi had a way of digging their greedy little claws into all of the force-sensitives that they could manage to get their hands on. luke had done it to her, like the jedi before had done it to everyone. not that it mattered in the end. those who were meant to find the dark side would, inevitably, one way or another. aiya knew that they had always been destined for this kind of darkness. it was the only thing that he wanted for himself now.

“well, everyone’s heard of count dooku.” certainly one of the more admirable names from the clone wars that had made it into the history books, as far as they were concerned. “he was killed near the end of the clone wars, shortly before the empire threw over. he didn’t end up amounting to very much, for all the work that he put in during the war.” unsurprising, given the case of the separatists. “is that good or bad news?”

.

killed. the reply strung itself up between them, flayed and left raw. with it was a wellspring of emotion. tangled. undecipherable. was she to celebrate? to breathe a sigh of relief? to curse that hands that had taken the victory from her? he deserved to die-- deserved worse, even-- and for his lifelessness, she was grateful. still, something stung as an open cut cured with salt.

“then he got what he deserved,” she murmured, shooting a glance of daggers at the menu card. “he was equal parts ostentation and cruelty, and i praise whoever finally delivered him back to hell.” then, her voice fell, though she did not doubt the other’s ability to hear. “i only wish i was there to see the light leave his eyes. that it was my hand to still him.”

she examined the figure seated across the table, wondering if his thoughts spun themselves in a web of hatred, or worse-- pity. what were they thinking behind that silent stare, that gnashing of teeth?

ventress took a second, breathing in the presence of this other force wielder. something was different, more storied. layered.

she bit back a chuckle at their words. this force-user, they were curious. so much faith put into artifacts gathering dust behind glass cases, yet so little value for the lives of sentients.

merrin held no malice towards ventress. as a child, it had been unclear what had brought the death of her people, malicos only further clouding that to a point that it hardly mattered now– vengeance seemingly couldn’t be found. not with merrin’s little knowledge. 

not that it mattered right now. not with a sister here in front of her, no rotting corpse reminding her of the loss, but a living breathing semblance of her family. wide eyes blinked at the woman as she continued, not sure what to expect. 

surely family meant some to the woman, even not knowing them… it had to matter. 

the questions brought a sigh of relief she hardly expected. 

nodding carefully she hesitated, “not long before now… i…” she carefully reached a hand towards her face, flinching as if it would disappear, “i thought i was the last…”

.

grief can motivate one to extremes they never imagined possible; it can shake the most dedicated believer or harden the softest hearts. this was its power, to leave one flayed and bloodied on the ground, grappling for a way to stop the lashes of its whip. for asajj...it broke the harsh exterior she had tried for so long to curate. moisture formed, hot and wet, in her eyes. she reached towards her sibling, clinging to the hope that she had for so long hidden away.

“so did i.”

gently, she cupped the cheek that shared a heritage, a home. two sets of eyes met, scarred and marked with hurt and pain and understanding. for the first time in a long time, asajj knew. this was no trick. no illusion. this sister was a gift. this sibling must be a sign from the ancestors, a sign of...she didn’t know. forgiveness? hope? redemption? whatever the meaning behind their meeting, she could hardly have hoped for better. asajj bowed her head in silent prayer to the spirits that were with them even now. 

i will protect this child of dathomir with my blood and flesh, for as long as i can.

closed starter // @sith-no-longer​ // asajj ventress

learning of another nightsister was unexpected. it was an accident– a passing slur at her had brought about the idea that she wasn’t the first of her find they had seen. 

so seeking that out… it had become a priority. 

perhaps dumb, naïve of her to think that it would bring anything… any joy, fill any void left by the loss of her sisters… she had felt an obligation, in a way, to bring who was left back together. 

but seeing who it was, knowing briefly of asajj, she perhaps should have guessed who it was she would meet. regardless, the young night sister approached, a careful pose as she stopped in front of her, “you’re asajj… aren’t you? you were…. i presumed you were dead.”

.

the wound was too fresh to forget. it hadn’t been long since ventress had lost everything-- the remains of the only thing like family she had ever known. sure, it was fucked up and broken, but it had been hers. her sisters had been there for her as she reeled from the betrayal of her master, had welcomed her back after years of absence. who else could have shown that level of affection? and just as soon as she found them, they were gone again, taken by cold, mechanical hands that yielded no pity for any life but their own. 

it was a surprise, then, when she had heard of another. a survivor. but when were they from? how much did they know and remember about her? did they know that she was at fault for the clan’s extinction? still, she needed to know if the rumors were true. 

young was the child that stood before her, but with a gaze so haunted beyond their years. she sized them up, a twinge of something like pity and hurt churning in her gut. she was responsible for this. it was ventress’s actions that had left this person without a family. 

Cody was still watching her warily. He knew far better than to take his eyes off of someone like Ventress. His eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. Not seeking battle? He couldn’t trust that. Not ever.

He tensed further when she drew her saber, curling his finger around the trigger in preparation to fire. So when she tossed it away, he was more than a little confused. Though he knew she could quickly call it back to her with the force, he knew a show of trust was needed to be met with the same and he relaxed his hand, still on his blaster but no longer reaching for the trigger.

“Something of the sort, I suppose.” Cody answered her after a moment “Until I can get off Coruscant.” He said. He wouldn’t volunteer more information than he needed to.

.

she understood his hesitation; of course she understood (and perhaps all too well). it wasn’t long ago that the two had placed targets on each other’s backs. the pressure of battle had bent them both into submission, crafted them into pawns for the wills of vile men with vile agendas. in the flicker of the alleyway, she saw the soldier loosen his grip on the gun, but his stance was not shaken. it was almost impressive, a testament to this clone’s training.

      so his initial thought had been right, she had sounded much like did when he first appeared on geonosis, pulled out of her time. but from when exactly? if she was from a time after point rain, what memories would she hold that obi-wan was not unable to remember? how much could he really trust her? no matter, a voice in his head said, you must help her. whatever happened after he found her it would be her choice, but he was not going to leave her alone out there, in a new time, a new reality. while he did not enjoy the idea of going to christophsis —the whole thing could be a trap— their connection was starting to face. ❝i’ll find you there. if you are trusting me, then i will trust you too…❞

         the planet was far different from what obi-wan remembered, it took longer than he had anticipated to locate ventress, but he finally managed to find her. his weapon firmly secured to his waist offered little protection if he was to be ambushed, but a part of him believed the way ventress had sound through the force was genuine, she wanted his help. ❝ventress❞ obi-wan called out and took a few steps closer, ❝when exactly are you from?❞ he asked, needing to know how much of what she might tell him he could believe, how much would he remember, and how much belonged to a life he never got to live. 

.

the familiar voice echoed off the walls of the near-abandoned streets, now filled only with ghosts and the few solemn creatures that still sought refuge in a place such as this. days alone had sharpened her senses, made acute the sound of footfalls and the beating of a heart. what was there to trust but the turning of the sun and moon above? it was with this hesitancy that asajj listened and watched, reaching out in the force to detect any sign of betrayal. but, no. it was him. some how, some way, it was him.

“obi-wan,” she gasped in near disbelief. another time, asajj might have felt trapped, might have bargained and bluffed for time. but something about his energy was different. almost...concerned? 

“i wasn’t sure that you would come.” it was the truth. why would he risk his safety for her? what had she ever done to aid him? why help? something twisted inside of her then, pushed past the walls she’d so carefully crafted for years at a time. ventress hated debts, but he was owed an explanation.

  Gunray gave a slight shake of their head. Truthfully, the Neimoidian had no pity to spare for the Sith lord. He had tricked the Trade Federation into helping cause their own destruction and build a galaxy that was good for no one. Dooku in the Viceroy’s eyes had gotten exactly what he deserved. Waving his hand at the apology. “Please, I understand the source of your hostility. We were all betrayed, we all have a reason to be angry. Now though, I plan on using that anger to build a true Separatist government. Something that the CIS was meant to be.”

Nodding their head when Ventress offered to buy them a drink, and speak of important matters together, Separatist to Separatist. “I can think of something even better, Ventress. We can speak to one another as friend to friend.” While they used the term sparingly, anyone who fought with the Confederacy and was deceived by Sidious and Dooku was a friend of Gunray.

the viceroy’s words made her skin crawl. still, she maintained the smile. she kept the composure. sometimes, more firedrakes could be caught with honey than with vinegar. if she spun the web today, she was likely to catch what she wanted with time.

“of course, viceroy. if i am quite honest,” she wasn’t “then i admit i am quite new to this timeline. but you are well-spoken.” 

here she grabbed a flute of the closest alcohol (something bright and clear; far too bubbly for her taste) and passed it to the neimoidian before reaching again for the dark liquor she had been nursing.