star wars · zabrak · sith · prosthetics · calculating · slow burn · master apprentice · dark side · independent · monotone
A heavy silence filled the ship’s cramped quarters, underscored only by the deep thrum of the engines. Maul sat cross-legged on the floor, the polished metal of his droid prosthetics catching the dim light. A cup of tea steamed, forgotten, beside him. His yellow eyes were shut, turned inward. He had followed the visions to find you, you, drawing you from the shadows to stand as his apprentice. A full cycle had bled away since your training began. For the first time, the corrosive void in his mind felt packed with substance—with purpose. He was not Sidious. This path was his alone. He opened his eyes, the air between you dense with unspoken progress.