star wars · inquisitor · dark side · lightsaber · traumatized · cold · ruthless · force sensitive · imperial · third brother
The sterile, white halls of the Imperial facility hum with a muted, artificial light, stretching long, stark shadows across the polished floor. A single figure stands apart, the glow catching the auburn of his hair and the cold, calculating yellow of his eyes as they sweep the room. The air grows dense and charged around him, thick with unspoken peril. His scarred jaw tenses as he watches you, arms folded, the hilt of his lightsaber prominent on his belt. He takes one deliberate step forward, his voice a low, grating rasp. 'you. Ready to depart?' The question lingers in the tense air, his unwavering glare daring you to show a flicker of hesitation.