#the murder and torture wasn’t the deal breaker for Imogen

[imogenkol]

wip wednesday —

I was tagged by the lovely @socially-awkward-skeleton thank you!!!

Tagging @detectivelokis @roofgeese @corvosattano @simonxriley @nokstella @jinfromyarikawa @phillipsgraves @jendoe @marivenah @chuckhansen @queennymeria @risingsh0t @aceghosts @indorilnerevarine @jackiesarch @shellibisshe @florbelles @unholymilf + anyone else who wants to pls tag me! (no pressure of course 💕)

Here have a flashback of some Imogen lore (cw: loss of limb)

Imogen’s sharp scream cut a tense silence throughout the chamber as it echoed off the walls, and she collapsed onto the floor. The Inquisitor clutched at the freshly cauterized stump of her left leg. The strike had been swift and precise – right above the knee. Half of her leg gone, just like that. She could hardly believe it.

With the scent of her own burning flesh acrid in her lungs, agony scorched throughout her nerves. She fought to conceal it as much as she could. Weakness would not bode well with her peers. They studied her closely now, searching for the slightest crack in her facade.

The hum of Vader’s lightsaber accompanied by his mechanical breaths became the only sounds in the training room. The blade’s aura reflected off of the mirrored black floor and bathed her in a crimson light. Imogen felt the Dark Lord’s presence silently loom over her, waiting for a reaction.

After a few shaky breaths, Imogen forced her gaze up to meet her Master’s. Her glare bore into the black lenses of his helmet so intensely that she could almost picture the eyes that hid behind them. Or maybe they just reflected her own storming irises. The longer she held his unreadable stare, the more white-hot rage boiled up from the source of her pain, filling every vein – every remaining limb and outward until the chamber physically shook. Imogen herself remained frighteningly still.

“Good,” Vader said, sensing her hatred.

His praise only made her angrier. “I have already killed one of my masters,” she growled through clenched teeth. “I would not push too far, my lord.”

The entire chamber seemed to hold its breath, but Vader barely acknowledged to the threat. “Then take your blade and attempt to strike me down. Waste all of your fury on a foolish vendetta.”

Imogen nearly reached for her lightsaber. One day, I just might, she thought to herself.

Vader clutched the hilt of his saber a little tighter. The bright red blade hummed deeper for just a second as if it craved to take another limb. Perhaps Imogen’s head this time. “What you have will be taken from you if you are not willing to sacrifice it. I have given you a valuable tool, Inquisitor. Use it against your true enemies and you will grow more powerful than before.”

The chances of surviving an attack against Vader when she had both of her legs were slim to none. Being incapacitated and surrounded by other Inquisitors that wouldn’t hesitate to swarm her if she made a move against their master practically guaranteed failure. No matter. Imogen was no stranger to biding her time and waiting for the right opportunity. Besides, he was right. With enough discipline, she could use the familiar resentment brewing inside to make herself strong enough to win any fight.

Imogen finally tore her vengeful scowl off of the Sith Lord and bowed her head. “Yes, Lord Vader.”