I will write about the following, leave one in my ask box.
Dear person I hate,
Dear person I like,
Dear ex boyfriend,
Dear ex partner,
Dear ex girlfriend,
Dear ex bestfriend,
Dear future me,
Dear past me,
Dear person I’m jealous of,
Dear person I had a crush on,
Dear [insert URL here],
Go for it
I’m in a ship that is not mine, for mine was left behind because I am being very nice and cooperating in this mock-investigation. These people are empty, they respond to nothing. I’m going to be taken back to Nar Shaddaa and they’re going to ask me questions that I’ve already answered over, and over, and over.
As if they desire the truth – they don’t. They want me to say something heinous, so that they can kill me as they desire to, and be justified for it.
They do not desire the truth. They want a convenient lie. Essie, it will be asked, did you destroy the buildings on purpose? Is it truth that you wanted to kill Darth Arachis? Her children? Is it true that you made a poor misguided alien do rotten awful things for you, and blame the poor soul for your crimes?
Yes, they want me to say. Yes, I wanted chaos and destruction and ashes raining from the sky. I wanted screams and death and fire. Yes, they listen for. Yes, I want that foul she-demon bloodless and cold and the hellspawn she brought into the galaxy stamped out. Yes, yes, I took Arjayat from their life and made them a ruthless murderer.
As if I am such a polished, ivory innocent soul that if I wanted such lovely dischord, I’d lie about it?
If death and destruction is what I desired, I would revel in it. Ash and smoke and blood and bones, you think I would wring my hands and worry? I’d stand on the tallest tower and shout for all to hear, this sweet and twisting chaos is wrought by my hands alone!
Because I am not nice.
I can be kind. But someone said once, not to mistake their kindness for weakness. For me, it is the same. Do not mistake kindness for weakness, for goodness.
I will disappoint them. I will tell them every truth, sing like a pretty little caged bird for them but the song will grate their ears, they do not want it. This investigation is a charade, I could bare my mind open and give them their truth if they asked. I could invite them into my fortress and let them see every action for themselves.
I could. I could have done more. Done worse. I am the storm that rages and I delight in the furor. I love the despair of my enemies. That I would reign myself in so should be telling.
So, I will smile when they scowl and I will fold my hands when they yell and I will be sweet when they harm me and I will give them the truths they ask for but do not want.
May it be like bitter, unripe fruits in the mouths of my enemies, may it choke those who would reject it.