The screams come from all around her. The swirling mixture of pain and color vivid in her nightmare, threatens to drown her. Time has no meaning, or measure, but much of it passes before she is able to breathe and open her eyes.
She sat up, taking several breaths, before rising from her bed, her emerald eyes pausing for a moment as she saw the sweat where she had been laying, shuddering a little at the effect the nightmares had on her physically. Quickly pushing off the Imperial Issue sleep-suit, not nearly as flattering as the many pieces of expensive lingerie housed in her walk in closet. Being the Emperor's Hands had it's rewards, but nothing came without a cost.
Her jaw tightened as she paused to study her reflection in the full length mirror that stood in front of her bed. The room itself was sterile. White, and more white, the only accents in black and grey. She would bring back things from her missions on occasion, to try and brighten the place, but in her rages, she would find herself incinerating or otherwise destroying the evidence of her career. A career that rose and fell on the number of corpses at her feet. She studied the form of the assassin. Her new curves were a strange juxtaposition to the ferocity in her eyes. The damp auburn curls, hair still mussed and wild from the terrors that met her in the night, a sharp contrast against the cream of her flesh. She had just turned 16, and had spent the last eight years of her life under the thumb of the Empire. Learning to better serve her Master. She sighed, her eyes traveling to the messy hair, and she hurried o the attached bathroom, starting the water for a shower. She glanced at the clock, 17:00 hours. She had time. Her lips quirked with a faint smile, grateful that she wouldn't have to hurry through her ritual.
She spoke to the computer, drowning on the music selection she wanted. The violent score of a Corellian ballet. The music was angry, and when it wasn't violent, and crashing percussion, it was melancholy and soaring. It spoke to the deepest part of herself, and she turned the volume up all the way.
Her next stop as the music filled the bed chamber and attached bathroom, was at the bar. Mara had a habit of self medicating. She'd befriended a mechanic, and through a mutually beneficial relationship, she acquired a variety of mind numbing substances, and he acquired a number of mind blowing stories of pleasure shared with the Untouchable Mara Jade. He hadn't even seen the danger coming, and she had been careless, and unaware that her Master was aware of everything that she did. He saw everything, and she would learn it all too soon.
She lined up the fluorescent powder along the black lacquer of the bartop, smiling at the comforting smell that filled the room, spices of the Nandorian region. Without ceremony, and unaware of the terrible cost her mechanic had paid for this delivery and all of the kindnesses he had shown her, and more for the kindnesses she had shown him, she bent her nose to the countertop, a fingertip pushing a nostril shut, as the other snorted the bright, crystallized powder. She coughed, after taking it all in, chuckling a little, at the way the cough tickled. The powder working quickly.
She made her way into the shower, humming along, and turning the water up, so that the water was scalding. Enjoying the steam as it surrounded her, coding for her favorite scent, a flower that bore her name, that grew only near waterfalls in her homeland. She closed her eyes as the scent surrounded her, and blinked back the onslaught of emotion that came with it. Had she her choice, she would have happily used the Death Star's shampoo's, conditioner's and soaps, but her Master had his preferences in all things, and she was always to smell the way he wanted her too, and for some reason, he enjoyed for her to smell like ~home~.
She took a deep breath, and let the powder coarse through her and settle her frayed nerves as she prepared for her evening lesson. The Emperor had summoned her, and she knew what that meant. She knelt in the bottom of the shower, listening to the music of the dark ballet. He would punish her, she knew. For what? She wasn't certain. He always found a reason, and his punishments were varied, but always left him smiling, and her with more reasons to fear sleep and the inevitable nightmares that came with the night.
She finished washing herself, and her hair, using the foam that removed all of the hair she didn't want on her body, and still had time left to have another bump of the mechanics powder, before returning her attention to her appearance. Picking a simple black mesh bodysuit in lieu of underthings, positioning her assets in it, just so as she slid herself into the black bodysuit that was her approved uniform for the created position of Emperor's Hand. She zipped it up, careful of her flesh, and the bit of fabric separating herself and the flight suit. Gazing at her reflection for a moment, continuing with applying makeup, and forcing her hair into an intricate braid, he had insisted she learn. Her eyes flickered to the clock, and she sighed. Muttering to herself.
"Show time."
With one last glance, and a forced smile, she typed her access code, to leave her room, and entered the claustrophobic hallway. Ignoring the gazes and occasional whistles or comments from lowly stormtroopers and on up the chain of the command. She let her hips sway as she made her way toward her Master's quarters, the click of her heeled boots echoing, her perpetual companion as she made her way through the maze of hallways, and transport compartments, finally finding herself in the first of several security stations. Making her way by rote, through them all, before finding herself with only one door between his quarters and herself. Taking a moment to steel herself and prepare, she instantly fell to her knees when his crackly voice filled the hallway, cold and unyielding.
"Enter, child. You have kept me waiting. I do not like to wait."
The door slid open, and he was before her in a moment, his fingertips sparking with blue lightning, and in his expression a mixture of hunger, anger, but most of all, promise of the pain to come.