lilithspice

[lilithspice]

Playing Your Game

(NSFW, Femdom, Powerplay, Oral, Rough Play, Hatefuck)

Devota made an effort to make sure she was always fashionably late to the Siren’s Den. It would not do for her to seem too eager so she entered once the club would be inevitably full of patrons.

Men were so predictable. Send them to a room full of beautiful women and they became nothing but eager slaves to their own desires.

Were she a different kind of woman, it would have seemed she owned a harem of sorts. Beautiful women flitting around their Madame. Most half-dressed if not fully naked already. The blonde would hand a garter to this one, a top hat to another and assisted them with gentle, trailing fingers in getting dressed for the evening.

Her beautiful darlings, sweet little things that she picked from the streets. Most she would send on to proper employ within her mafia, to work as spy’s or such. But many of them continued to work the dark life, hidden behind saucy smiles in a dark club where they learned to harness their bodies and attitudes to work the men beneath them of every cent they owned as they danced. Many of them took other clients as well, back to the red rooms lined with silks and satins…or leather and metal depending on how they felt.

But Devota herself? She would never be caught dead in that line of work again.

Though she took no small amount of pride in announcing the girls every night, addressing the wealthiest of the country, the VIPs and criminal masterminds. Welcoming them to her little slice of hell, sin and debauchery.

She was les libertine, and once she had enough to drink she knew she would dance with her girls.

…

The sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor of the stage silenced the audience, mouths closed, lap dances were at a standstill and even the boys at the bar stopped to watch. She was a feast for the eyes, form-fitting black dress that hit the floor with the exception of a slit that exposed an audacious amount of thigh with shiny new high heels that most would have found it impossible to walk in. And a Swarovski bodice that caught the light and reflected it in glorious sparkling particles that caught the eye.

“Gentlemen, I see a lot of new faces here tonight~” she purred into her microphone, smirk crossing her full lips. Her hazel eyes scanned the crowd, noting the new faces.

Someone had brought a lot of friends. But who? She knew everyone of importance in her country, and these men didn’t look Italian.

“I invite you to indulge in the beauty that the Siren’s Den has to offer you boys, but be careful, some of my girls do…”

A wicked smirk crossed her lips.

“…Bite~”

…

With her introduction done Devota sat at the bar, mixing her time between studying the men around her and heckling the barboy.

“Madame your making my life hell” one of the boys teased and a playful pout drew her lips together.

“You love me, don’t deny it~”

“Perhaps, Madame, but-“

The spirited exchange was cut off when Devota spied a familiar, and rather undesirable face further down the bar. She spied the man’s expensive suit, tousled blonde hair and freckles even under the dim lighting of her club.

Oliver fucking Carter.

The audacity of the man made her blood boil, white and hot and furious. While Devota may have ran Italy’s crime syndicate, Oliver ran the United Kingdoms.

The two had never really gotten along well.

Abandoning her flirtatious exchange with the bar boy she strode angrily up to the man who stood nursing a tumbler of cognac. An angry finger was jabbed in the Englishman’s direction.

“What the absolute fuck do you think you’re doing showing your face here Oliver?!” she growled, and saw him turn slowly to face her, snide smirk crossing his face.

“Madame Devota~ What a pleasurable surprise to see you here~”

“I own this joint, asshole. You’re in my territory. Get out”

Oliver’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Now, now. No need to be rude. I just wanted to…see the sights your country had to offer. I have to say I’m surprised you own such a classy establishment~”

It was one thing to insult Italy’s most powerful mobster, it was another to insult her girls. The slap was so quickly delivered none of Oliver’s men could do anything about it. The two were silent, Oliver’s cheek going red where her palm had connected with it. She was fully expecting him to hit her back – they had fought often enough for her to know what to expect.

She didn’t expect a hand to entwine almost painfully around her wrist and drag her away from the bar and down a small corridor to the side. Before she could make sense of what was happening Oliver had her pressed against the wall, the bodice of her dress catching on the buttons of his jacket as he pressed his body flush against hers.

“Jesus fucking Christ woman~” the Englishman groaned in her ear, eyes dropping down to her ample cleavage. “I would do the most terrible fucking things to your pretty little body~”

“So would I, Sir Carter~” Devota purred and he pulled away for a moment, hands dropping to her waist. “You would?” he asked, an eyebrow arched that she was going along with his sudden appetite.

“Oh yes~ Just the most terrible things~”

Lust washed over Oliver’s eyes and he pressed against her again, grinding the slowly growing hard-on in his pants against her. “Tell me~” he whispered huskily, hands running along the expanse of her hips as she squirmed, heart racing.

“Should I tell you what you want to hear, baby? Or what I really want to do?” she gasped, breath slightly laboured as she nipped at the shell of his ear and ground back.

“Because I think you would look so very…very lovely on your knees, face buried between my thighs, tongue-fucking me until I was satisfied~”

The sound Oliver made was downright sinful and Devota fought back the urge to take him in the hallway; denying the rush of arousal between her legs as she began to ache.

Part of her wanted to slam her fist into Oliver’s gut, but the growing need clawing at her stomach made her want to take him where he stood.

However, she wouldn’t be seen dead with Oliver Carter in public, so with a mighty shove she pushed him away from her and grabbed him by the hem of his jacket, looking for a moment like she might punch him before viciously shoving him again further down the hallway.

The anger was back in his eyes, this time tainted with the lust washing through his body. As soon as Devota pushed him against the door to her office and he understood what was happening he turned the tables on her, flicking the lock on the door.

It didn’t last for long, this was Devota’s territory after all. Before long she had swept his feet out from under him and had him sprawled on his back on the floor. A few choice angered words died in Oliver’s throat as he saw the Italian crawl over him and press her clothed warmth over the very clear tent in his pants. Seeing his reaction, she smirked with flushed cheeks and rolled her hips in a wide circle, the stimulation causing Oliver to groan as his head rolled back against the floor.

“I fucking hate you” Devota hissed, hands coming to the buttons of his shirt to all but rip them open and Oliver laughed breathlessly.

“Poppet, the feeling is certainly mutual. But right now, you…ah…feel too good when you tease me like that”

“You’re a masochist”

“Sado-masochist actually, Devota, I swing both ways~” he growled as he saw some of the buttons of his shirt bounce away, never to be found again. A sudden surge of energy flushed through Oliver’s body and before Devota could react their positions were reversed, Oliver looming over her as his lips descended on her neck, seeking out the spot that would get her to shut up.

It didn’t take very long.

Hearing the sharp inhale and restrained moan coming from the Italian, Oliver’s hands wound around her wrists and pinned them above her head where she couldn’t retaliate. “There’s a good little girl~” he growled against her skin, the rumble against her chest making her shiver. His lips begun to move south, nipping against the hem of her dress. If he could have he would have torn the dress off with his teeth but that was just not going to happen, so he let go of her hands in order to fumble with the ties on the back, letting the halter neck of the dress part and reveal her breasts to his hungry gaze. As one hand went to grope the soft mound of flesh another slid up the slit of her dress and up her thigh, causing Devota to shudder.

Devota’s anger was quickly melting away, and she didn’t have the energy to even turn it to the lust bubbling through her as his fingers reached her clothed core, damp from her desire and Oliver cooed with a wolfish grin.

“Already wet, poppet? ~” he teased and Devota fixed him with a quick glare, hand coming forwards as she sat up to palm his erection. “Already hard, Ollie~?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Then find a way to make me shut up~” she purred and he licked his lips.

A hand pressed hard against one of her breasts, pushing her back to lie on the floor, the other hand gently prodding against her steady soaking panties. Eventually abandoning being ‘gentle’ his hands moved her dress roughly to the side and roughly ripped her panties down her legs.

His lips then trailed rough, nipping kisses up her thighs until he reached her core.

“Wait…wait what the hell do you think your…ahh~!”

Oliver chuckled as he blew cold air cruelly against her wetness, hands holding her thighs apart as she tried to close them. “I do believe you were the one who said I would look good with my face buried in those luscious thighs of yours~” he teased and when Devota’s face flushed he added, “I do remember you saying you wanted me to tongue-fuck you, correct~?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, tongue venturing into her folds to run the entire length of her heat, flicking once at the pearl on top and watching as her hips bucked and a strangled moan exited her body, fingers threading in his blonde hair.

He always loved it when his women pulled his hair, and Devota was not a gentle woman.

Oliver let out a harsh moan, the vibration causing the Italian beneath him to squirm and tug harder at his locks. He could have stayed like that for longer than he cared to admit, tongue tracing and sliding and making her make those noises.

He pulled away when he got too close to her peak, watching with wide eyes as she glared at him. It wasn’t until he slid above her, freeing his aching erection from his suit pants that she shut up her irritable whining.

“Last chance to back out now, pet” he hissed as he pressed against her and she responded by wrapping her legs around him and pulling, forcing him inside her wetness in once swift movement and causing them both to arch, gasping. Oliver kissed her, enjoying the pouty texture and the way she moved her lips against him like she was trying to devour him.

He shuddered, not willing to admit that he was enjoying her forceful way of taking him. He knew she was in charge now – but refused to admit that he was enjoying it.

He thrust into her roughly, hands coming up to grab at her hair from the roots, fingers caressing her scalp as they kissed, feeling a dull throbbing in the pit of his stomach as she acknowledged the same.

“Oliver…” she warned and he nodded against her, moaning against her lips as his hips drove against hers quicker, racing towards the peak of his pleasure. “Do it Devota. Come for me” he growled, breath hitching as she rolled her hips against his.

It only took a couple more thrusts for them both to arch and squirm against each other, the Italians tightness forcing Oliver to reach his orgasm with her. They lay like that for a couple of moments before he slid off and out of her and tucked himself back into his pants. His hair was dishevelled and he looked less than proper.

Pulling out a hundred-dollar bill he tucked it against her panties and smirked.

“Thanks for that, poppet” he sneered and watched as Devota pulled the bill away and next to her as she dressed and composed herself.

He had reached the door when he felt her slide against his back, pinning him to the door as something pressed against his mouth and he grasped it between his teeth. It was warm, and wet, and tasted like her.

The bill he had slipped into her panties.

“Thanks for the refund, asshole~” she chirped, pulling him away so she could open the door and he was all but thrown out of Devota’s office.

[lilithspice]

Dusty Air (Suicide, Death, Unrequited Love, Drugs, Depression, Love)

At what point in one’s life do they begin to look back on what they have done? When they sit old and content around a family, loved ones surrounding them? When dusty air fills their lungs, bringing with it thoughts of a time spent on the Earth – regrets, fears, memories, both good and bad?

Lorenzo was well aware he would not live to see an old age – sit in an old plush chair with the woman who consumed his thoughts and rode through turmoil with him. If the world were willing to forgive his trespasses and grant him some small semblance of relief, he would have considered himself lucky – but also knew the world was too cruel for that.

He had done terrible things. Killed families, lovers. Ruined lives. Done acts against his better nature for the sake of his Master.

Lorenzo had thought Devota dead – murdered by her father, his Master, after her attempted escape from their hell. A stirring of odd, unwelcome thoughts and feelings had flooded through him seeing her again through the scope of his rifle. Did he love her?

 Possibly.

 But he could never bear to stand beside her after the things he had done, not understanding that she had done terrible acts as well. He refused to accept that.

Vincenzo lay dead, murdered by the woman he called ‘sister’.

Lorenzo’s own father had taken his own life, his sister and mother murdered in a shoot-out when he was three.

Devota, miles ahead of him.

And he stood, a puppet without a master; gun without a trigger.

He knew what he had to do.

 …

 Lorenzo waited until everyone in the villa had fallen asleep for the night to pad his way to Devota’s room and knock on the door.

 “Sorella…may I come in?”

 The door opened after a few moments and Devota appeared before him in a dressing gown, hair messy from sleep. Her eyes widened slightly and pulled him into the room quickly.

 “Lorenzo! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to just be walking around like that?!” the mobster hissed “Dmitri said he would shoot you on sight!”

 “Sorella we need to talk.” Lorenzo remarked suddenly and concern flushed behind her eyes.

 “About what darling? Are you in trouble? Do you need my help?”

 After all this time…and after all I’ve done…bless your heart your still so kind after all this time. Just like your mother.

 He shook aside the urge to touch her with his tainted hands. “No…no it’s nothing like that…I need you to do something for me”

 Devota balked for a moment; Lorenzo had never asked something of her. The sad, numb look on his face scared her and she reached out for him.

 No…no not yet. Please.

 He held out a bottle and Devota’s eyes widened for a moment of fear. Would he try and kill her again?

 “Please…Please Devota I’m so tired.” Lorenzo whispered, looking down at the bottle. “After everything I know I deserve a bullet to the brain – tortured by the families of the people I ruined…”

 But I can’t do that. I should take the cowards way out. I’m sorry I’m so selfish but I want to pass with you there. I want to be a child for a while again. Back when I had a fire in me.

 Please let me remember you back when I had a purpose. Back when you were beautiful.

 The blonde woman took one, then another step closer to Lorenzo. “I can’t kill you Lorenzo. I’m…I’m sorry I just can’t do that”

 “You won’t need to.”

 Devota understood what he was asking of her and she looked down at the floor for a few moments. “Lorenzo, I can’t…”

 “Is it for the same reason that you didn’t kill me before?”

 His question was so innocent, so quickly said that she honestly couldn’t answer. And when she did she avoided the topic altogether.

 “What do you need me to do?”

 …

 Lorenzo lay on Devota’s bed, head spinning and feeling delightfully numb as he rests against her chest. For her part Devota tried not to cry as she combed her fingers through her childhood friend’s hair. He mumbled something and it took her a moment to hear it.

 “Sing for me, little Songbird. Something sweet to send me to sleep”

Devota choked back the lump in her throat and tried to recall a song from her childhood, something that she used to sing him when they were young and scared…but came up empty.

 There was still a large hole in her memory.

 He reached a hand up to her weakly, a small smile curling his lips up as Devota brushed his bangs away that hid his burn scars from her eyes. His hand, surprisingly warm to the touch, cupped her cheek.

 The touch was too gentle – it had been so long since someone had touched her like she was a piece of glass.

 She shattered, tears rolling in confused, frustrated rivulets down her cheeks and dropping onto Lorenzo’s face. She held his hand to her face, watching as he almost peacefully began to drift away.

 “Please don’t leave me…you’re the only one I have left who understands” she hiccupped, curling over him as his eyes slowly closed.

 After all this time…your still such a crybaby. You always looked so beautiful when you cried, Devota.

 Such a bleeding, kind heart, to cry for someone damned as I am…thank you…

 If you hadn’t have helped me I might not have been able to stop myself from tearing out that bleeding heart with my own hands.

 You’ll be safe now.

 I can be with mamma and papa now. And when you decide to come to heaven…

 …I promise I’ll be waiting there.

[lilithspice]

Writing Commission Pricing and Guide

Hey there! Really love a ship but just cant find the right story for it? Unhappy about how a series ended? Determined that two characters should have been a couple in that game!

I got ya!

After my pricing guide you’ll find a list of fandoms/ideas for stories you may want or be interested in, as usual feel free to shoot me a message if you have any inquiries/questions!

Pricing:

$10 per thousand words +$5 for NSFW content Note: There are some kinks that i will have to refuse to write, such as scat, vore, underage, and gore. Not sure if I write it, please ask! :) If you request it then I can post the story and not mention who you are - but make sure you have a link to the work of course!

Fandoms/Things I most certainly WILL write!:

OCs (NSFW/SFW)

Romance (NSFW/SFW)

Angst (SFW)

Psychological Horror (SFW)

Dark Romance (NSFW/SFW)

Warhammer 40k (NSFW/SFW)

Dungeons & Dragons (NSFW/SFW)

General Fantasy or Sci-Fi (NSFW/SFW)

Femdom (NSFW)

Rough Play (NSFW)

BDSM Themes (NSFW)

Yandere (NSFW/SFW)

Horror (NSFW/SFW)

Roleplay (NSFW/SFW)

Songfics (NSFW/SFW)

Dragon Age (NSFW/SFW)

Mass Effect (NSFW/SFW)

Skyrim (NSFW/SFW)

These are obviously just off the top of my head, that list is in no way solid and closed off I know I’ve probably missed some subjects/Fandoms in there so please shoot me a message and ask!

-Lilithspice :)

[lilithspice]

The Chorus of Insanity

(Safe for work, Mythology, Implied Romance/Attraction, Dream Sequence)

Amber hues stained the sky, melding with the oncoming darkness like milk in a cup of tea. Stars had just started to litter the painting.

Somewhere a drum began to pound. It was time to begin. I turned, my golden spun threads of hair catching the last of the light as a feral grin tore across my face. The chase was on. The ivy leaves threaded through my hair caught the wind as i ran. Danced.

Too bad the mortals had long ago forgotten about me - they would have loved the parties i could hold. The fun they were missing.

Arms were thrown up, the drum pounding louder than our collective hearts, somewhere a bottle of wine was opened, and then another. Another after that. Wine stained the pure white of my followers clothing as their movements grew sloppy. Abandoned. They danced again, the wine-stains looking like blood in the dim light. Somewhere i became vaguely aware of another entering my domain.

A mortal, for the first time in millennia, had entered the lush green fields of my realm. I had not seen a mortal in so long - had they gone extinct? Was my mind that far gone to believe that? I was the God of madness.

Did this little lamb know where she even was?

She wore clothes adorned by the initiates. White robes, the lightest of fabrics trimmed with gold and green, loosely hanging off her frame. She had nothing to hide; there was no shame in my domain. I adored them all equally. A winding golden bracelet with bells were clamped around her arms, joining with the ones that clasped around her waist and ankles. Her eyes fluttered, and i watched entranced.

Either i had not seen a mortal in far too long - or she was beautiful.

I had not seen a woman with my own golden hair in so long for a moment i thought it was a trick by one of my family. Her eyes were warm and the hue of mead, framed by long lashes. Her bare feet took a couple of tentative steps onto my grassy field and i abandoned the party for a moment to climb up the top of the hill to meet this fascinating creature.

She seemed to recognize me - but from where? I had no worshipers anymore. I was as good as dead. I held eye contact with her for no more than a few moments, lest the madness within consume her. Then the creature reached forwards, almost in awe as i felt her fingers ghost upon my cheek. The barest of traces but enough to tell her I was real. This was real.

“Your…you exist…”

And i understood. This was a modern soul. A pained modern soul that had walked the heavens in her sleep. Her soul had called and I, unknowingly, had answered. This girl was a rare gift, and not something i would forget anytime soon. I had no clue that I was smiling as i waved a hand through the air, the space warping and conjuring a crown of flowers. Marigolds, Hyacinths, Daisies and Ivy leaves. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and chest as she bowed her head. Almost like she knew what she was supposed to do. I couldn’t have been more proud of this dream traveler. Placing the crown on her head I held my hand out to her, this beautiful, modern creature of a world i was no longer welcome in.

She had to accept the invitation for me to let her in. I could not force it on her, would not do it.

When she did she grinned, and i didn’t want to let go of that smile. All but dragging the poor soul down with me we joined the others and wasted no time in continuing the nightly celebrations. She danced and I watched as her robes twirled around her like the petals that were falling from her crown. Eventually i joined in, playfully tugging at a strand of golden hair or a fold of her robe. My followers soon joined, most of them devoid of their own clothing and eager for our new friend to join us. Most of the newer additions to my family would have balked and shied away - but not this little flower. She let my followers pull and tug at the robes that hid her away as they danced, eventually leaving her in nothing more than the golden ornaments she arrived in and the flower crown i had gifted her.

By the heavens.

She was pure madness when she danced one moment, then glee. I held a jug of wine to her lips and watched as it poured over the edge and followed the curves of her body. Then passed it to the next person. She danced, and sang to a song she didn’t even understand the words to. She was wild, passionate, and i felt happiness for which i had been deprived in centuries.

Eventually we all fell to the floor, curling amongst the ferns and grass as weariness overtook us. I made sure our traveler stayed close by, lest her soul be consumed. I knew she would not return when night fell next. Her place was not in this world. Not yet at least. But i could at least send her off as a good host should.

I watched as she slept, this time in her own bed, the comforter pulled tightly across her form. Here was the little modern beauty, dampened by a world of harsh metals and cold people. Perhaps, if I was lucky, she would return one day. But the day was dawning and i needed to return to my own realm. Brushing back her hair I placed the barest of my lips against her forehead. She would not remember her time with me, but perhaps that would be for the best.

The young woman awoke the next morning, feeling groggy and her tired eyes glanced to the bright colors that laid next to her.

Marigolds, Hyacinths, Daisies and Ivy leaves.

[lilithspice]

Inquisitors Notes: File 9475839 Name: Eveline 'Scarlette' Novianna

(Safe for work, Implied relationship, implied sexual relationship, Warhammer 40k, angst)

I came under the possession of young Scarlette on the planet on Scintala, a bustling hive world. Born to a noble family that dealt in exports and trading cargo, the Novianna family were well known by both the Inquisition and the Rogue Traders. From the details I have been able to pull Scarlette was the youngest of four children born into the family, and as fate would have it quite the rebellious child, often finding herself scolded by her middle bother, Naveen, for the trouble she caused. She expressed to me when we first met that she did not care much for her noble heritage for anymore more than the weight it may carry in the future. Regardless due to the nature of her meddling in her fathers business she found upon her sixteenth birthday she was faced with a suitor for her to marry. As one who has dealt with the headstrong young woman I can attest to her free will, and therefore her obvious disagreement to the situation she was faced with. This, as far as I can tell, was the breaking point for her father who instead came up with a different plan to get rid of his youngest daughter.

When a Rogue Trader vessel came into port on the planet a meeting was held between her father and the Captain, and young Scarlette was told she would be shipped off to work on the vessel as a way to bring honor to her family name (and possibly get rid of the troublesome child). From here when I prompted her to tell me more about her family life she seemed to hesitate, inquiring whether it was indeed necessary and expressing that she did not have many fond memories of her time on Scintala. I noted at this time she had a shard of glass that she turned over in her fingers and asked why she carried the odd item around. She then proceeded to tell me that the night she was told she would be leaving her home world she flew into a rage and smashed one of the stained-glass windows in her room, prompting Naveen to enter and attempt to calm her. As follows is a transcript of the conversation:

S: I was pretty frakkin angry at them all, honestly. I: Why? S: As much as I hated being highborn and having no real worth to my family, it was still my home at the time and I didn’t want to go. I: You said that you broke a window, if I recall? S: Yeah, in hindsight mother was probably pretty angry that I did that. My brother came in when he heard the noise and was worried I had hurt myself. I: You expressed a great companionship with your brother, is that correct? S: Yes, well...not really. It was that I just got along better with Naveen than the other two. Octavius was an ass-kisser, always the first one to run to father when he found out I had done something wrong, and Magnus was the eldest, so in hindsight he thought everyone was out to steal his inheritance. I: So you were closer to Naveen than the others, that’s fair. S: He was more lenient with me but he was so happy for me when he heard I was leaving. After he fixed my hand up he gave me a shard of the glass window to take with me. I: Why would he have done that? S: He told me it was so I could remember where I came from. So I never forgot to come back eventually...I’ve never seen any of my brothers cry before but Nav' cried on the day I left for the Rogue Trader ship. I: Did you ever return to visit? S: No.

Scarlett’s tone shifted greatly when our topic turned to that of the Rouge Trader vessel, she often laughed and told stories about her time on the ship and it would seem that she had much fonder memories than on her home world. She told me that while the Rogue Trader Captain was a little eclectic in his mannerisms, she warmed to him quickly. She expressed then that she didn’t actually serve on the main ship, but rather one of its sisters. There she told me the Captain was a friendly, fatherly type figure to his crew. Her expression often grew warm when talking of him, if a little forlorn. Perhaps a bitter-sweet nostalgia? Scarlette then proceeded to tell me that once she was on the ship the captain asked for her name and when she responded with her birth name, Evaline, was told that was not to be her name any more and was prompted to give a new one. Confused, she told me she had pulled at a strand of her hair, confused, and gazed at the fiery red lock for a moment before responding with the name Scarlette. It would make sense now to me why she prefers to use that name as opposed to her birth name. She has expressed on numerous occasions that she feels her true family was that of the crew of the Rogue Trader fleet, as in her eyes they treated her more as kin than her true family ever did. When prompted to tell me more about her time before being hired for the Inquisition she grew animated, often grinning wildly and gesturing about to make her point. She informed me that she put under a sort of general test and that the information that it had produced apparently dedicated that she would be a Seeker. For those reading this record who are unaware of what a seeker is they are required to uphold the law and rules of the ship and settle any disputes that may have arisen between members. They are also in charge of investigating any suspicious circumstances that may arise on said vessel if the situation were to arise. It is here again that I defer to the transcript to give a better understanding of Scarlette:

I: I take it you enjoyed your new position? S: Very much so! Lupus was an amazing mentor, I couldn’t have asked for a better teacher! I: I take it you are referring to Lieutenant Lupus Vilmar, the ships head seeker? S: Mhmm! He was the one who first showed me around the ship and introduced me to everyone. I'll admit at first I was a little scared of him, ya know, with the scars and tattoos and all that.

(Lieutenant Vilmar was indeed a heavily scarred and tattooed veteran seeker)

I: Did you enjoy your job? S: Not at first, I didn’t like having to boss people around and Lupus would tell me off when I did something wrong but it wasn’t like at home where I felt bad. I actually wanted to get better when he told me what I did wrong and how to fix it. I really hope he is doing well... I: Of course. Is there anyone else remarkable that sticks out in your mind from the ship?

(It was here that Scarlette seemed to become quite sullen and thoughtful, flicking the box of lho sticks around in her hand)

S: I had a best friend while I was on the ship. A real smart ass of a guy, his name was Gaius, he was a guard. I: An unusual choice for a friend. S: Maybe, but he was always kind to me. Kicked my ass when we sparred enough to make me not want to any more and he never really held my heritage against me like some of the others did. For lack of another term Gaius was your typical meat-head. You could talk to him all day about guns and work out regimes but the minute I tried to explain how and why I ended up on the ship he kind of just looked dazed and confused and told me to use smaller words. He was always good to me though, a really good friend. I: You seem dis-hearted by this? S: Not by Gaius' manner, no. I'd grown quite accustomed to spending my free time with the lug of a man to...appreciate what he could do, smart mouth and teasing aside. He always did his job above and beyond. I'm just...remembering how we parted and I don’t want to.

(It would seem Scarlette was possibly holding back on some of the more private notions of her relationship, not wishing to disclose them for whatever reason.)

S: I found out there was a parasitic brain worm infesting the ship. I took it upon myself to investigate and see if it could be stopped and who was possibly infected. I: I bold intuitive move. Didn't you tell your commanding officer? S: I didn’t know if he had been infected, and I had no idea if this thing had some kind of hive mind – that could have possibly blown my investigation away immediately. Ironic as it was but I discovered that one of the key signs of being infected was a drastic change in attitude and sadly that was what Gaius was displaying. I: Perhaps he was having a bad day. S: Perhaps, Inquisitor, but I couldn’t take that risk. I: Then what did you do to resolve the problem? S:...I shot him while he slept, sir. I: In his bunk? With everyone else liable to walk in? S: Uh...no sir. In my room, my bed. I had a private room as an officer... I: … S: Please don’t ask, Inquisitor.

(I conceded the point, my suspicions proving true at this juncture and didn’t feel the need to press any further on the matter.)

I: Then please, do continue, Scarlette. S: I went to to captain after that to report my findings and report on Gaius' death, only to find him in a similar state...so I shot him too. I: You shot the captain of your own ship? S: Dead.

(It was at this point she grew noticeably upset and toyed with both her hat that he had placed in her lap and the lho box she held.)

I: Your fiddling. S: I'm sorry Inquisitor. These are the only things I have left to remember them by. I: A hat and a lho box? S: Mhmm... I confiscated Gaius' lho box before the rest of his possessions were incinerated and was given the captains hat as an old superstition. I: Explain. S: We had stopped the fleet in order to further the investigation and we found out that once the queen worm was killed, the others simply died off with no repercussions. When the Rogue Trader captain heard about how I had killed the captain of my ship he told me it was an old Rogue Trader superstition that the person who had killed the captain had to take their hat. It seemed rude of me to refuse at that point, and he was such a good man... I: But if the brain worms queen was killed when you shot the captain down dead then there was no need to kill your guard friend. S: That’s true, but that fact was not discovered until later, I had to take the precaution since I had no idea how the parasite spread or why. I regret the fact that I had to kill him but I know it was necessary for the well-being of all those on the ship. I had to make my priorities clear. I: I applaud your tenacity and dedication to your job, Scarlette, you did very well. S: I don't want to be thanked for killing my own men, sir.

It was at this point the young redhead seemed to exude some sort of authority, obviously I was not effected but I could easily see how others could be. An understanding silence fell between me and the acolyte I was interviewing, as we both collected our thoughts. Of course I already knew about the brain worms; the Rogue Trader captain used that as one of the prime examples of why she would make such a good acolyte. I must admit he was right in this case, she seemed exactly like what I could have asked for in a subordinate.

[End of transcript]

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