An unfamiliar mirror framed a familiar face.
Tired eyes of emerald, surrounded by rings of smudged darkness and the painted shadows of tears already shed. Her raven hair was erratic curls, wild and free after weathering a storm.
This was the face of chaos, she thought. Of passion wielded clumsily to indulge in weakness for cheap pleasure. The onlooker thought about how much this woman reminded her of who she called her enemies. Comfort was all that mattered, pleasures always came first - no matter the cost. Freedom, after all, is an excuse to allow awful people to do awful things in the endless pursuit of these consolations. Be they criminals and politicians who lust for wealth or raiders who lust for power over the defenceless. She was ashamed of the person she saw in the mirror because they represented everything she despised. So why was this face so familiar?
With the sound of running water, the face in the mirror was gone.
An unfamiliar mirror framed another familiar face.
Waking eyes of emerald, underlined by the soft signs of age and lack of sleep. Her raven hair was boundless waves, soft and rich, completely care-free.
This was the face of weakness, she thought. Of hope and blind trust in whatever lie of security was fed to her. The onlooker thought about how much this woman reminded her of a mother who failed in her only duty. Long nights spent clutching her child close, hoping for the suffering to end whilst being helpless to do anything about it. She was ashamed of the person she saw in the mirror because although she loved with all her heart she knew from the beginning it was impossible for her to protect her child with love alone. So why was this face so familiar?
With the heat from an iron and her pens and brushes put to use, the face in the mirror was gone.
An unfamiliar mirror framed the onlooker’s face.
Determined eyes of emerald, surrounded by perfect lines of black and lips painted just as dark. Her raven hair was straight and tidy, tamed by technology.
This was the face of order, she thought. Of confidence and power made possible by indomitable will. The onlooker thought about how much this woman reminded her of what she knew she had to become. With every piece put into it’s place and working together the vision of a unified galaxy became clear. She was proud of the woman she saw in the mirror because she represented what she considered to be the perfect model of a Sith, of a firebrand who could break the galaxy in two and rebuild it, better, in her image. So why was she so full of doubt?
With a clattering of armor and the closing of a door, the face in the mirror was gone.
There was a glance to the twin hilts hanging in tandem on her belt. It was all she needed to remember why she did all that she did. For Lord Revan. For the Empire. Whomever these familiar faces were in the mirror, they were just distractions or old memories. Weren’t they?
On the way past the bed her steps were slowed and her lips were pressed against the forehead of the one she left sleeping there.
While she watched them for a moment, she wondered who this person truly was to her.
Her latest passion?
Her latest love?
… Her latest conquest?
The knitting of her brows was quickly hidden by a silver helmet covering her head with a sharp hiss from the filter. She appeared emotionless, now. Cold and detached. She didn’t have to think about what face she might be wearing underneath, because nobody had to see.
The Acolyte knew that her image of order must be maintained. She could not stop working toward those ideals. That she only was what she routinely did.
She wondered how long she could keep this up.