Account: LT. Rolan Droge
Stories:
Story: #1
The compound that she found herself in was different than most others. It...seemed more proper for civilian rather than military, yet she had been called her all the same. Alana Calloway stood near one of the massive observation windows, her arms crossed as she gazed out into the vast emptiness of space. The stars glittered coldly, distant and indifferent.
"Brooding doesn't suit you," came a smooth, almost teasing voice from behind her.
Alana didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Serina Calis—regal, enigmatic, and as dangerous as she was beautiful. The Sith Lord moved with an effortless grace, her long cape trailing behind her like liquid shadow. Alana kept her stance firm, her pulse steady, even as Serina drew closer.
"I wasn't brooding," Alana muttered, not bothering to mask the lie.
Serina chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "Of course not." She stepped beside Alana, her sharp blue eyes flicking toward the stars. "It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"
Alana huffed. "Cold. Empty."
Serina tilted her head, studying Alana's profile. "Lonely."
Alana clenched her jaw but said nothing. The weight of Serina's gaze was oppressive yet intoxicating, like the heat of a flame drawing her in despite the danger.
"You're different from the others," Serina mused, her voice softer now. "So rigid, so disciplined… but I see the cracks."
Alana stiffened, but Serina reached out, her gloved fingers brushing against Alana's jaw with an almost delicate touch. It was a contrast to the sharp, imposing figure Serina always presented—a moment of unexpected intimacy.
"I could mend them," Serina whispered, her voice silk and steel. "Or I could break them wide open."
Alana swallowed hard. She should pull away. She should step back, reinforce the wall she had built around herself. But she didn't. Instead, she turned to fully face Serina, searching those piercing eyes for something—anything—that would make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within her.
Serina smirked as if she already knew the answer, as if she had already won. And maybe she had. Because when she leaned in, Alana didn't stop her. Their lips met in a slow, calculated dance, Serina leading, Alana falling into step before she even realized it.
The kiss was not demanding, not forceful, but it was inescapable. It was the kind of kiss that made promises Alana wasn't sure she was ready to accept. The kind that whispered of power, of possession, of something far more dangerous than battlefields and blasters.
When they finally parted, Serina's smirk returned, but there was something else beneath it—something knowing. "You'll have to make a choice eventually," she murmured, her fingers lingering against Alana's jaw before she stepped back, her cape swirling behind her as she turned to leave.
Alana exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She watched Serina disappear down the corridor, her mind a battlefield of its own.
Because Serina was right. And for the first time, Alana wasn't sure which side of herself she wanted to win.
A ping from her Comm device drew Alana out of her daze, and looking down, she felt her heart catch in her throat.
Lirka had requested another training session.
Story: #2
The sun hung low over the rolling hills beyond the Imperial outpost, casting golden light over the grass-covered slopes. The usual cold sterility of the Sith compound was far behind them, replaced by the scent of nature and the gentle whisper of the breeze. It was an unusual setting for a sparring session, but Lirka had dragged Alana out here anyway, claiming that even the most disciplined soldier needed a change of scenery.
Alana stood a few paces away, rolling her shoulders as she prepared to engage. "You sure you want to do this out here?" she asked, red eyes narrowing. "I'd hate to throw you down the hill."
Lirka smirked, hands resting on her hips. "Please. If anyone's rolling down that hill, it's you."
Alana lunged first, swift and controlled, but Lirka sidestepped her with ease, tapping her lightly on the back as she passed. "Sloppy," Lirka taunted.
Alana growled, pivoting to strike again. The two exchanged blows—grappling, dodging, countering. For a while, it was the usual, focused intensity of combat. But then Alana managed to get in close, arms locking around Lirka's waist as she attempted to throw her off-balance.
That's when she felt it—Lirka's body tensed strangely, a quick, involuntary twitch beneath Alana's grip.
Alana froze.
Lirka's gold eyes widened slightly, a warning clear in them.
A slow, wicked grin spread across Alana's face.
"Oh," she breathed. "Are...you ticklish?"
"Don't you dare—"
Alana's fingers dug into Lirka's side. The Once-Sephi let out a choked, indignant noise, twisting to escape, but Alana didn't let go. Emboldened, she attacked again, fingers merciless against her ribs.
Lirka let out something between a growl and a startled laugh, trying to shove Alana off her. "Stop—! Alana—!"
But the struggle shifted their footing, and suddenly the world tilted.
Alana yelped as they both went tumbling down the hill, the world spinning around them in a blur of grass, sky, and limbs. Lirka twisted mid-fall, wrapping her arms around Alana, shielding her from any hard impact as they rolled.
They finally came to a stop at the bottom, with Lirka flat on her back, Alana half-sprawled over her. For a moment, everything was still.
Then—
A giggle.
Alana blinked.
Lirka Ka, the deadly warrior, the shadow in the dark, was giggling.
The sound was breathless and unfamiliar, and once it started, it didn't stop. Lirka covered her mouth as if she could force it back in, but it just made it worse. Her entire body shook with laughter, a sound she clearly wasn't used to making.
Alana stared, wide-eyed. Then, she grinned.
"Who would have thought," She teased, propping herself up on one elbow. "You do have a soul in there somewhere."
Lirka shot her a half-hearted glare between breaths, still trying to suppress the lingering giggles that refused to die down. "I hate you," she wheezed.
Alana smirked. "No, you don't."
Lirka exhaled sharply, glaring up at the sky. "If you ever—ever—do that again, I'll kill you."
Alana, still grinning, flopped back onto the grass beside her. "Noted."
They lay there for a while, the breeze cool against their faces, the echoes of laughter still hanging in the air. And for once, there was no mission, no orders, no weight of the Sith Empire pressing down on them.
Just the sun, the sky, and the lingering warmth of something neither of them was quite ready to name.
Stories:
Story: #1
The compound that she found herself in was different than most others. It...seemed more proper for civilian rather than military, yet she had been called her all the same. Alana Calloway stood near one of the massive observation windows, her arms crossed as she gazed out into the vast emptiness of space. The stars glittered coldly, distant and indifferent.
"Brooding doesn't suit you," came a smooth, almost teasing voice from behind her.
Alana didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Serina Calis—regal, enigmatic, and as dangerous as she was beautiful. The Sith Lord moved with an effortless grace, her long cape trailing behind her like liquid shadow. Alana kept her stance firm, her pulse steady, even as Serina drew closer.
"I wasn't brooding," Alana muttered, not bothering to mask the lie.
Serina chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "Of course not." She stepped beside Alana, her sharp blue eyes flicking toward the stars. "It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"
Alana huffed. "Cold. Empty."
Serina tilted her head, studying Alana's profile. "Lonely."
Alana clenched her jaw but said nothing. The weight of Serina's gaze was oppressive yet intoxicating, like the heat of a flame drawing her in despite the danger.
"You're different from the others," Serina mused, her voice softer now. "So rigid, so disciplined… but I see the cracks."
Alana stiffened, but Serina reached out, her gloved fingers brushing against Alana's jaw with an almost delicate touch. It was a contrast to the sharp, imposing figure Serina always presented—a moment of unexpected intimacy.
"I could mend them," Serina whispered, her voice silk and steel. "Or I could break them wide open."
Alana swallowed hard. She should pull away. She should step back, reinforce the wall she had built around herself. But she didn't. Instead, she turned to fully face Serina, searching those piercing eyes for something—anything—that would make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within her.
Serina smirked as if she already knew the answer, as if she had already won. And maybe she had. Because when she leaned in, Alana didn't stop her. Their lips met in a slow, calculated dance, Serina leading, Alana falling into step before she even realized it.
The kiss was not demanding, not forceful, but it was inescapable. It was the kind of kiss that made promises Alana wasn't sure she was ready to accept. The kind that whispered of power, of possession, of something far more dangerous than battlefields and blasters.
When they finally parted, Serina's smirk returned, but there was something else beneath it—something knowing. "You'll have to make a choice eventually," she murmured, her fingers lingering against Alana's jaw before she stepped back, her cape swirling behind her as she turned to leave.
Alana exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She watched Serina disappear down the corridor, her mind a battlefield of its own.
Because Serina was right. And for the first time, Alana wasn't sure which side of herself she wanted to win.
A ping from her Comm device drew Alana out of her daze, and looking down, she felt her heart catch in her throat.
Lirka had requested another training session.
Story: #2
The sun hung low over the rolling hills beyond the Imperial outpost, casting golden light over the grass-covered slopes. The usual cold sterility of the Sith compound was far behind them, replaced by the scent of nature and the gentle whisper of the breeze. It was an unusual setting for a sparring session, but Lirka had dragged Alana out here anyway, claiming that even the most disciplined soldier needed a change of scenery.
Alana stood a few paces away, rolling her shoulders as she prepared to engage. "You sure you want to do this out here?" she asked, red eyes narrowing. "I'd hate to throw you down the hill."
Lirka smirked, hands resting on her hips. "Please. If anyone's rolling down that hill, it's you."
Alana lunged first, swift and controlled, but Lirka sidestepped her with ease, tapping her lightly on the back as she passed. "Sloppy," Lirka taunted.
Alana growled, pivoting to strike again. The two exchanged blows—grappling, dodging, countering. For a while, it was the usual, focused intensity of combat. But then Alana managed to get in close, arms locking around Lirka's waist as she attempted to throw her off-balance.
That's when she felt it—Lirka's body tensed strangely, a quick, involuntary twitch beneath Alana's grip.
Alana froze.
Lirka's gold eyes widened slightly, a warning clear in them.
A slow, wicked grin spread across Alana's face.
"Oh," she breathed. "Are...you ticklish?"
"Don't you dare—"
Alana's fingers dug into Lirka's side. The Once-Sephi let out a choked, indignant noise, twisting to escape, but Alana didn't let go. Emboldened, she attacked again, fingers merciless against her ribs.
Lirka let out something between a growl and a startled laugh, trying to shove Alana off her. "Stop—! Alana—!"
But the struggle shifted their footing, and suddenly the world tilted.
Alana yelped as they both went tumbling down the hill, the world spinning around them in a blur of grass, sky, and limbs. Lirka twisted mid-fall, wrapping her arms around Alana, shielding her from any hard impact as they rolled.
They finally came to a stop at the bottom, with Lirka flat on her back, Alana half-sprawled over her. For a moment, everything was still.
Then—
A giggle.
Alana blinked.
Lirka Ka, the deadly warrior, the shadow in the dark, was giggling.
The sound was breathless and unfamiliar, and once it started, it didn't stop. Lirka covered her mouth as if she could force it back in, but it just made it worse. Her entire body shook with laughter, a sound she clearly wasn't used to making.
Alana stared, wide-eyed. Then, she grinned.
"Who would have thought," She teased, propping herself up on one elbow. "You do have a soul in there somewhere."
Lirka shot her a half-hearted glare between breaths, still trying to suppress the lingering giggles that refused to die down. "I hate you," she wheezed.
Alana smirked. "No, you don't."
Lirka exhaled sharply, glaring up at the sky. "If you ever—ever—do that again, I'll kill you."
Alana, still grinning, flopped back onto the grass beside her. "Noted."
They lay there for a while, the breeze cool against their faces, the echoes of laughter still hanging in the air. And for once, there was no mission, no orders, no weight of the Sith Empire pressing down on them.
Just the sun, the sky, and the lingering warmth of something neither of them was quite ready to name.
