11. Sometimes Ser’rah can hear her crying in the room down the hall in their ship. It’s low, quiet, restrained, like she’s trying not to be loud. Every once in a while, when the sounds aren’t enough to wake her, she is instead awakened by the sound of the covers raising, a slender figure slipping onto the bed and wrapping charred, burned arms around her waist.

It’s not usually so overt. She copes in other ways. She rants, she vents her anger on any poor fool that gets in her way. At times, she screams and curses. She doesn’t take a ton of pleasure in fine food and drink, no she seems more comforted to eat simple foods. She suspects that some part of Julliya loathes the little niceties of privileged life. Some old harbored grudge from the days of the past. 

Julliya and comfort are practically strangers, these days. Perhaps it’s always been that way.

24. I barely feel it when I use my lightning anymore. Then again, is anyone surprised? After all, Sith and my masters of old were always quick to point out the innate “resilience” of my species. The Zabrak, the sturdy ox of the slave-species chain. The last one to buckle under the lash, but also the last to falter when the shock collar gets activated.

No, it’s not always so effortless. 

The truth of why I don’t feel it stems from the Force. I… find myself sometimes craving it. They deny the truth about the dark, at times. They claim that it brings strength, reveals truth, frees us from bondage, but that’s not true at all, honestly. It makes us into slaves, just as any entity with a little bit of power over others does. I find myself craving it, sometimes. The pain, the suffering, the anguish. No, not my own suffering, the suffering of others. When I feel it, when I see the shock and hurt in their eyes, it reflects on my own spirit. And all that hurt and rage fuels me. It numbs me, heals me, sustains me, blinds me to my own pain. But there is something… strangely poetic, beautiful about that, no? Empathy grants us salvation from our pain…

…if only we didn’t have to inflict it to feel it strongly enough to gain from it. If only it wasn’t so… addicting.

Then again, pain and anguish in itself can be enraging. I suppose the benefits are short lived when the kiss of the dark side is so… soothing, in those moments.

Who needs Kolto when the ability to knit wounds and undo pain is at your very fingertips?

Nilotica 

9. “She’s being quite difficult again with the tutors, as usual.”

“What this time?”

“When asked what she wanted to be when she grows up today, one of her answers were that she wanted to be a ‘little whore that dances for credits’, quote, unquote.”

“She’s doing it to get under your skin. She knows that the very thought nauseates you.”

“The tutors try to get her to stop being such a sarcastic little twit to them. The best answer they got out of her? That she wants to be anything but what we say she should be.”

“An honest answer at least. What do you think she really wants to be?”

“Other than difficult, I haven’t the slightest idea. Nor does she, I imagine.”

13. He’s sort of a simple creature at the core, isn’t he? Little Van’tango, the Sith that didn’t quite make it big time. So he decided to go off and do his own thing… crime, spice, organ ‘repossession’. 

Is he fun? A little bit, at times. He’s not -always- predictable. Can I stand him for an extended period of time? I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

Yes… being nearby means better access to the stims, and I do need the help. After all, if I’m at risk of becoming a writhing mess on the floor because of Imperial conditioning, dealing with someone who, by all standards, is a little unsavory, might be worth it.

I need the spice too much to say no to this little arrangement. For now.