Private Failed Isolation.

[Serina Calis]

Failed Isolation.
Location: Woostri.
Objective: Survive.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Aadihr Lidos

Never truly alone, am I?​

The abyss cradled her.

Serina lay still upon the ocean floor, her body broken and drifting in the gentle undulations of the deep. The darkness pressed against her—thick, warm, and insidious—as it slipped through the cracks in her armor like a lover's breath. The pain had dulled to something distant, a persistent echo lingering at the edges of her awareness yet no longer unbearable. The shadows had seen to that.

She was not alone.
She had never been alone.

A voice, deep and velvety, curled through the water like silk unraveling, settling over her with the familiarity of a whispered secret.

"Little one."

Serina exhaled slowly, her lips parting as her ruined throat labored around a breath that was not breath at all. The shadows filled her lungs and coiled within her chest, sustaining her in the place where the ocean should have stolen her life away.

"Took your time," she murmured, her voice edged with weary amusement. "I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me."

Laughter—soft, indulgent, almost maternal—rippled through the abyss. The sound vibrated through the water, sinking into her very bones. "Oh, my dear… have I ever left you?" the voice replied, wrapping around her like velvet.

Serina's head tilted slightly, and her remaining eye slid shut as the darkness caressed her skin. It threaded through her torn flesh like fingers combing through silk, touching her tenderly and reverently. It wound its way through the gaps in her armor, curled around her mutilated hand, and lingered over the raw ruin of her missing fingers.

"You let her do this to me," Serina whispered, a mixture of accusation and despair in her tone.

"I let you do this to yourself," came the measured reply. The voice carried no cruelty, only a deep, knowing calm—a silent acknowledgment that both understood the immutable truth: Serina had played her game, and Jenn Kryze had simply refused to be played.

The ocean pulsed gently around her, the oppressive weight of the darkness pressing closer, embracing her like an old friend. "I told you before, my sweet one," the voice murmured low and intimate, wrapping around her in a comforting yet inescapable embrace. "You are not meant to be the hunter in this tale. Not yet."

Serina sighed, the motion sending a ripple of dancing shadows through the water. "You always say that," she muttered.

"Because you have a long way to go."

A silence then stretched between them, thick and absolute, its weight pressing down as the abyss churned lazily around them. Nearby, coral formations pulsed faintly with bioluminescent light, shifting in slow, rhythmic patterns—as though they too were responding to a presence beyond their understanding.

Serina's fingers twitched—what was left of them, anyway—while the shadows held her close, yet did not fix her. Not yet.

"Is this a lesson?" she asked softly, her voice barely a ripple in the vast dark.

The darkness hummed in response, as if considering her question. "It is a moment of… reflection," the voice eventually answered, its tone indulgent and unhurried. "You are so impatient, my love. Always reaching, always taking, always trying to pull everything into your grasp before you are ready."

"That's the way the game is played," Serina murmured, a faint curl of her lips betraying her uncertainty.

"Is it?" The question slithered into her mind like ink twisting through water, and in that moment, her remaining eye flickered open. The dark had never lied to her—not once.

"She doesn't see me anymore," Serina admitted, her voice quieter now, laden with a despairing intimacy as if confessing a forbidden truth. "I thought I had her, I thought I—"

"No." The single word cut through the water with quiet certainty, making Serina flinch.

"You do not have her. Not yet."

Frustration surged as Serina's fingers curled into the ocean floor, her nails scraping against the stone with the sound of slow-burning fire in her veins. "She's mine," she whispered fiercely.

But the shadows coiled around her throat, tightening—not as a threat, not as punishment, but as an inexorable reminder. "She belongs to no one, not yet." the voice corrected gently yet firmly. "And you… my sweet, foolish girl… you are not yet worthy to take her."

The words should have wounded her, should have sliced through her pride and her carefully constructed sense of control. But they did not, for they were undeniably true. Serina closed her eye once more, the ache of her wounds pressing back at the edges of her awareness.

"So fix me," she whispered, her voice raw and demanding. "Make me worthy."

The darkness purred in response, a sound that brimmed with satisfaction. "Now you are ready to ask."

A shift in the water followed—a slow, steady pull akin to the turning of a tide, the weight of the ocean shifting in her favor. The darkness pressed deeper into her wounds, slithering through torn muscle, through fractured bone, through the ruin of what had once been whole. It did not heal her. Not yet. It shaped her.

"This will take time," the voice murmured, deep and possessive, filling her mind, her body, her very soul. "You will not be whole for weeks, perhaps longer. You will ache, you will yearn, you will suffer for your mistakes. But I will make you strong again."

And so she sat on the seabed.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

Aadihr awoke. Klaxons had long since ceased, emergency lights flickering. The air was thin. Bulkheads sealed. He was meant to protect the docks. He didn't know why his own allies fired upon the dome. He wasn't fast enough.

Now he would die in this shell, without even the gift of a quick end, instant implosion from crushing depth denied for asphyxiation or starvation. He was relieved to be unable to find the corpses of Kuhbee or Aris Noble among the wreckage. At least he hadn't failed them. Azurine Varek in the back of his mind, was still alive, albeit distressed.

Only...

There was a living presence, engulfed in water and shadow. A familiar presence - though Aadihr was much too concussed to clearly identify it at this distance. Perhaps he couldn't give up just yet. Not when his death could still mean something to someone.

The Miraluka slowly rose to his feet, thanks in no small part to his staff. He wandered the crumpled remains of the dome, in the few pressurized zones otherwise isolated under miles of oceans and hurricanes.

He stumbled to an emergency supply box. Tossing aside fire extinguishing implements and first aid supplies he found what he needed - personal environmental shielding and air tanks. Perhaps with a bubble of stabilized pressure and a few hours of oxygen he could risk the flooded halls.

Maybe rescue would arrive. Maybe he simply would prevent someone from dying in isolation. Aadihr activated the bubble shield and put on the rebreather tank. He left the safe zone and headed into the waterlock bulkhead; into the waterlogged section of the complex.

He sought the presence in the force, unable to identify what remained of them - though a memory struggled to rise to the surface.

Aadihr halted in place, recognizing the shadow-tinged aura of Serina Calis - alive but in pieces. That she was alive at all came at a surprise.

He quickened his pace, unnerved by the closeness of death just beyond the sphere of environmental energy shielding.

Just a bit further

Aadihr limped out into the sea floor.

Serina Calis​

 

[Serina Calis]

Failed Isolation.
Location: Woostri.
Objective: Survive.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Aadihr Lidos

Never truly alone, am I?​

The abyss had always been kind to her.

It had taken her in its embrace, whispered to her in the voice of her own desires, promised her she would not die in the cold, indifferent depths. It had begun its work, slow and deliberate, the dark tendrils weaving through her wounds, binding her together, shaping her once more. But it would take time, the kind of time she did not have, the kind of time she would have to survive to see through.

She lay half-buried in the sand, her body caught between ruin and renewal, between agony and something more. The ocean still cradled her, but it was not enough. The dark could not lift her from this place alone.

Then came the ripples.

Something new.

Something alive.

She felt it before she saw it. A pulse in the water, the soft hum of a presence that did not belong here, a signature in the Force—faint, distant, familiar. It brushed against the edges of her awareness, cutting through the ink and shadow that surrounded her, but it was not the sharp, intoxicating presence of the siren who had left her broken. This was something else. Something gentler.

Serina's one good eye flickered open.

It took effort—more effort than it should—but she focused, her gaze tracking the distant figure limping through the remains of the drowned facility, wrapped in the glow of an environmental shield, a thin pocket of air separating him from the crushing depths.

Aadihr.

A strange sound escaped her, half a laugh, half a breathless rasp. Of all people.

She had thought the dark had sent her another phantom, another whisper, another promise in the depths. But no—this was real. He was real. And he was coming closer.

The knowledge unsettled her.

Not because she feared him, not because she doubted his intentions. No, because he had once backed her into a corner in some misguided attempt to save her.

Serina chuckled, thinking to herself.

As if the Darkness could ever be saved.

Serina felt the water coil around her, felt the tendrils of shadow that had begun to seep into her wounds tighten, pulling against her flesh, weaving through her bones like a lover's grasp. She had not seen herself since Jenn had left her, had not looked upon the ruin of her form, but she did not need to.

She knew what she had become.

And so did he.

A shudder ran through her, though whether it was from pain, from the slow healing process, or from something deeper, she did not know.

"Well," she murmured, voice raw, torn, yet edged with something still wholly, undeniably her. "You're a long way from home, Aadihr."

Her lips curled, even through the ruin, even through the exhaustion, because even now, even here, she could not help but find amusement in the absurdity of it all.

"Tell me," she continued, voice threading through the water like silk unraveling. "Are you finally here to save me?"

The shadows pulsed around her, shifting as if alive, curling through the water, wrapping around her arms, her throat, her still-broken fingers. They did not touch him, did not move toward him, but they lingered, restless, waiting.

He had finally found her, found her in pieces.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

"Well," she murmured, voice raw, torn, yet edged with something still wholly, undeniably her. "You're a long way from home, Aadihr."

"What home?" Aadihr grumbled, gathering the smaller pieces of Serina first as the largest chunk of her continued to taunt, voice growing clearer as he approached close enough for the environmental shield to loose free the voice from the crushing depth of water.

"Tell me," she continued, voice threading through the water like silk unraveling. "Are you finally here to save me?"

"Hardly. I'm here to die slowly. You just happen to be here, astonishingly in even worse shape than we last met."

The Jedi was too worn out to take any offense, even with the Sith-cursed burn of his left arm trying to egg him on, destabilize his emotions.
Aadihr had one arm bundled with the separated pieces, the other reaching to drag Serina's should-be corpse into the bulkhead airlock, out of the sand and saltwater and crushing pressure. The airlock pumped out the water and depressurized.

"So, is being one with the darkness all you hoped it was? Are you feeling particularly free to live your life on your own terms?" He asked Serina, beginning to waggle one of her severed fingers for effect, but giving up on the banter halfway through.

"Kriff it, I'll spare us both the pontificating. I'm just surprised to find you churned out of the Sith Order's meatgrinder is all."

Once back in the pressurized safe zone Aadihr set down all the pieces of Serina, trying to arrange them like puzzle pieces.

After a bit of positioning, he began reattaching each piece bit by bit, healing from his own life force just enough to reattach what was possible; there were a lot of pieces. Serina's shadows seemed to be healing her anyway but every reattached piece was a piece that could be healed with accelerated natural means instead of regenerating from scratch.

Serina Calis​

 

[Serina Calis]

Failed Isolation.
Location: Woostri.
Objective: Survive.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Aadihr Lidos

Never truly alone, am I?​

Serina watched him work, the amusement never quite leaving her expression despite the ruined mess of her face. It was almost funny, the way he moved, so methodical, so practical, arranging the shattered remnants of her like a puzzle he had no interest in solving but couldn't quite leave alone.

She should have been grateful. He had no reason to do this, no obligation to piece her back together. He could have let her rot in the abyss, left her to the shadows, to the slow, sensuous crawl of the dark as it remade her in its own time. And yet, here he was, spilling his own life force into her, patching together what remained, helping in a way she knew he didn't even fully understand.

Her fingers twitched beneath his touch, a faint, involuntary response as the severed pieces of her were reattached. It was not painful, not anymore—not after what she had already endured. If anything, it was fascinating, watching him work.

"You're a strange one, Aadihr," she murmured, voice low, edged with something between amusement and exhaustion. "Dragging me out of the ocean just to put me back together? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a soft spot for me."

She let the words settle, watching him closely, gauging his reaction.

A pause.

Then, slowly, a smirk curled at the corner of her lips, wicked and knowing. "Or maybe you just like playing with dead things."

Her good eye flickered to the severed finger he had attempted to waggle at her earlier, and a breath of laughter—real, quiet, aching—slipped past her lips. Of course he had. The absurdity of it was almost endearing.

She let her head tilt back slightly, resting against the cold, metallic floor of the airlock, watching him with a lazy, feline sort of interest. The shadows still curled around her, still worked beneath the surface, seeping into the wounds he had not yet touched, knitting flesh back together with slow, deliberate reverence.

"To answer your question," she mused, shifting slightly, testing the weight of her body as it slowly reformed itself, "being one with the darkness is…intimate. But I suppose you already knew that."

She let the silence stretch, let the meaning behind the words linger.

"You're using yourself up for this, you know," she said after a moment, her voice softer now, measured. "I wonder—why? You've seen what I am, what I've become. You felt it, even before you saw me."

Her gaze pinned him, sharp despite the exhaustion weighing down her limbs. "You know better than most that things like me are not meant to be saved. Valery Noble understood that notion wisely."

The words were not spoken with bitterness, nor with regret. They were simply true.

"And yet, here you are."

The shadows pulsed against her ribs, curling up along her spine, a soft, velvety caress against the exposed flesh of her throat.

"So tell me, Aadihr."

Her fingers curled slightly, flexing as sensation returned, as flesh reattached, as the dark wove itself through her like a lover threading silk through a loom.

"What are you really trying to save?"

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

"You're a strange one, Aadihr," she murmured, voice low, edged with something between amusement and exhaustion. "Dragging me out of the ocean just to put me back together? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a soft spot for me."

"Believe what you wish" Aadihr replied. His tone was exhausted, primary focus on the work before him, not acknowledging the taunting insinuation.

"You're using yourself up for this, you know," she said after a moment, her voice softer now, measured. "I wonder—why? You've seen what I am, what I've become. You felt it, even before you saw me."

"I'm living on borrowed time anyway. Might as well put it to use." He lacked the spirit to exchange banter. He had no reason to wear a mask, trapped at the bottom of the sea, waiting to die. "I could give some lie of selfish motive to sate your curiosity, and I promised no pontificating —which I think ranting about selfless motives would fall under. Which would also be a lie, by the way."

"What are you really trying to save?"

**"I don't really know.
Whatever I can. You seem happier now than before — in your own twisted way. I'm sure you've made new friends who would miss whatever this version of you is."**

Aadihr focused on debriding sand from for the crimson edge of another finger before resuming.

"I'd rather not see more suffering if I can do something about it. Sure, call it selfish or shortsighted. I'm just doing what feels right."

It skirted close to the truth of it. His own life was easy to give away when he held it in such low regard.

The focus of the task at hand and the exhaustion of the battle's aftermath was enough to keep the insistent pain of his arm at bay - strangely making this the most calm he's been in weeks. Perhaps resigned was the better fitting word.

Serina Calis​

 

[Serina Calis]

Failed Isolation.
Location: Woostri.
Objective: Survive.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Aadihr Lidos

Never truly alone, am I?​

Serina watched him with an unreadable expression, her one good eye half-lidded, her breath steady now, though laced with the slow, creeping sensation of being stitched back together. His hands worked with the same patience she had seen in those who built things, who mended rather than destroyed. It was an art she had never understood.

She had broken so many things. People, minds, bodies, beliefs. But she had never learned how to put them back together again. Not truly.

"You think I'm happier now?" she mused, rolling his words over in her mind. "That's an interesting choice of words, Aadihr."

Her lips curved, but there was something almost thoughtful in her amusement now.

"I wouldn't call it happiness," she continued, her tone almost lazy, as if they were simply discussing the weather and not the fact that she was in pieces, her body barely clinging together by the combined forces of shadow and a man who should have left her to rot. "More like... contentment."

She flexed her fingers slowly, testing the feeling as it returned, the sensation alien yet achingly familiar all at once. The shadows curled around the spaces that had once been raw, but Aadihr's work was keeping them stable, giving them something to cling to.

"There's a certain comfort in knowing what you are, in accepting it. I no longer have to fight against the lie that I was ever meant to be anything else."

Her gaze flicked to him, sharp despite the exhaustion settling over her like a thick cloak. "Can you say the same?"

She let the question hang between them for a moment, watching him, measuring him.

"No," she answered for him, softly, knowingly. "You can't."

Her smirk was faint, but there was no malice in it, no mockery—just understanding.

She had known men like him before. Men who spent their lives trying to give everything away because they had nothing left for themselves.

"Tell me, Aadihr," she murmured, her voice dipping lower, softer, curling like a whisper into the space between them. "What happens when there's nothing left for you to give?"

Her fingers curled slightly, testing the weight of them, feeling the slow throb of something returning to life.

"What happens when you've bled yourself dry for a cause you don't even believe in anymore?"

She tilted her head slightly, watching him with quiet, patient interest.

"Who will put you back together then?"

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

She was at least feeling well enough to speak. That was a good sign. He continued working, accepting part of her taunting manner of speach as just how she talked.

"There's a certain comfort in knowing what you are, in accepting it. I no longer have to fight against the lie that I was ever meant to be anything else."

Aadihr nodded. It was a small comfort that she had found her truth, even if it started from the course of light.

"Can you say the same?"

Aadihr froze a moment. Her question hit something, but perhaps not what she intended. At every turn, the galaxy wanted him to fight, to kill. His master wanted it, the brand on his arm wanted it. The endless wars wanted it.

If anything, the only time Aadihr felt like he was where he was meant to be was as a child. With his parents, among his people, singing in the choirs, helping tend the gardens and herding the livestock.

He never wanted any of this, but he had responsibilities. People who depended on him, causes greater than himself.

"Tell me, Aadihr," she murmured, her voice dipping lower, softer, curling like a whisper into the space between them. "What happens when there's nothing left for you to give?"

"Then I'll die." He answered bluntly. "And then I can rest. Maybe someone, somewhere down the line will have a chance at a better life as a result of my actions. It wont really be my concern then, I'll be free."

"Who will put you back together then?"

Aadihr paused once again, considering. "I suppose I'll decompose, and in a way, be made whole again with the dirt that makes up the planets. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll die in a forest, so a tree can grow where I've passed."

He had not treated her question as a joke nor replied with snidely over-literal responses. Perhaps his answer might change depending on his mood, or the time of day, but in this moment, that was the truth for him.

There was almost a of longing in his words, as if sentience were a burden and a duty. As if death would be like coming home after a tiring day of labor. He resumed once again, healing where he could.

"It's too late for me to return to who I am supposed to be, but I've had the privilege of getting to live through those years. It's not too late for me to help others reach it themselves, however."

Aadihr reached for a canteen, "do you think you can stomach water yet? You'll need a lot of fluids and iron to make up for the blood you've lost."

Serina Calis​

 

[Serina Calis]

Failed Isolation.
Location: Woostri.
Objective: Survive.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Aadihr Lidos

Never truly alone, am I?​

Serina listened, her good eye half-lidded, watching the way Aadihr worked with slow, measured movements, the way he spoke with the same quiet resignation that lined every scar on his body. It was the kind of answer she had expected from him—the noble, self-sacrificing kind. But there was something else underneath it, something deeper, something that pleased her in a way she hadn't anticipated.

He wanted to die.

Not in the desperate, clawing way most did—not with fear, not with resistance, but with a quiet acceptance. It was not a question of if for him. It was a simple, inevitable when.

Serina smiled.

"Aadihr, darling, you're entirely too romantic about all this," she mused, stretching out her fingers now that she could feel them again. "A tree? Really? That's how you want to go? Fertilizer for some mindless bit of greenery?"

She clicked her tongue, amused. "At least say something interesting, like you'd prefer your bones to be carved into an instrument or your ashes baked into an aphrodisiac. Something with character."

She shifted slightly, rolling her shoulders, testing the feel of her body as sensation returned in waves. It was slow, sluggish, but she was whole enough to play again.

"But no," she sighed dramatically, "you're the humble martyr, aren't you? No glory, no pleasure, just dust and dirt and the satisfaction of knowing someone else might get to live their lives without having to be what you are."

She smirked. "Sounds dreadfully dull."

Then he offered her the canteen, and her smirk curled into something lazier, something wicked.

"Oh, Aadihr," she purred, reaching for the canteen with slow, deliberate fingers. "I thought you'd never offer."

She let her fingers linger against his as she took it, running the pads of them along his knuckles with featherlight intent.

"You've been working so hard, piecing me back together," she mused, her voice curling between them like silk. "I'd say I owe you a favor, wouldn't you?"

She tilted her head, considering him with something akin to fascination.

"What would you like in return, hm?" she teased, unscrewing the cap of the canteen, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "A reward for all your selfless efforts? Surely there's something you want."

She brought the canteen to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip, making a soft, contented sound at the taste of the water, the coolness of it against her throat.

Her eyes flicked back to him, gleaming with mischief, her smirk still firmly in place.

"Or," she mused, licking a stray drop of water from her lips, "are you one of those monks who pretend they don't want anything at all?"

She leaned back slightly, stretching again, letting out a satisfied sigh as her body remembered itself.

"Because I have to say, darling, I find that utterly unbelievable."

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

"A tree? Really? That's how you want to go? Fertilizer for some mindless bit of greenery?"

Something stung inside Aadihr - emotion that fed the burn-scar of his left arm. The wound sought any slight to escalate into anger.

She teased further. Aadihr's exhaustion dulled the insult. He had been honest - boring suited Aadihr just fine. Too often circumstance thrust him into the next conflict, never feeling like he had the time to simply exist the way others seem to. Like he was constantly trying to catch up as the galaxy moved on, but too afraid to plant himself somewhere and let universe pass him by.

"What would you like in return, hm?" she teased, unscrewing the cap of the canteen, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "A reward for all your selfless efforts? Surely there's something you want. Or," she mused, licking a stray drop of water from her lips, "are you one of those monks who pretend they don't want anything at all?"

Aadihr had no immediate response - the silent hum of the emergency systems a backdrop to his consideration.

Aadihr surely did want for something once, but he had since forgotten. A sea of needs and duties had isolated the Miraluka from from thought of selfish desire.

It's not that he didn't want anything. The truth was: "I want nothing."
It was not an ascetic platitude. It was a desire for Nothing bad to happen. Nothing that needs saving, nothing to concern him. Nothing on his mind, Nothing ailing his body, nothing demanding his focus.

"But there will be plenty of nothing later."

He was driven by want he didn't want. By fear, pain, and sorrow - the avoidance of such things. The taunting gestures, lingering contact, the tone of Serina's voice - to play along would be to invite the very pain he sought to avoid.

It was cowardly.

Serina could drink, and Aadihr had spent much of his energy already. The work was done, her shadows were capable of mending the cracks that remain.

"I know that's not a satisfying answer. Truthfully, I don't know what I want, and I don't think it matters in the grand scheme of things. To want is just to present a vulnerability it seems, so I guess I have stopped trying to want. Or tried to stop wanting."

Serina Calis​

 

[Serina Calis]

Failed Isolation.
Location: Woostri.
Objective: Survive.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Aadihr Lidos

Never truly alone, am I?​

Serina watched him with rapt amusement, her smirk curling as he wrestled with something—hesitation, exhaustion, or perhaps something even more deliciously unspoken. His answer was as dull as she had expected, but there was something almost charming about the way he admitted it, about the quiet finality of it.

"I want nothing."

Oh, how utterly tragic.

She let out a slow, dramatic sigh, shifting against the floor, rolling her shoulders, feeling the ache settle into something almost pleasant now that she was mostly in one piece again. The shadows had done their work, curling beneath her skin, stitching what he had started, leaving her whole enough to move—whole enough to play.

"Aadihr, darling," she purred, drawing herself up with a languid stretch, the motion slow, deliberate, as if to remind him that despite everything, despite being pulled from the bottom of the sea in pieces, she was still her.

"Do you know how utterly infuriating you are?"

She tilted her head, her smirk deepening as she mocked a look of genuine distress, pressing a hand to her chest as if he had wounded her deeply.

"You could have said anything," she continued, sighing as if this truly pained her. "Gold. Power. The forbidden secrets of the cosmos. A night of the unspeakable..."

She grinned, lips curling with wicked intent.

"And yet—nothing."

She let the word settle between them, let her voice drip with disappointment, shaking her head as if he were a student who had utterly failed a lesson.

"It's truly a shame," she lamented, sighing again, as if this was some grand tragedy. "I was really hoping you'd give me an excuse to thoroughly corrupt you."

She leaned in, fingers lightly tracing the newly healed skin of her arm, as if testing just how much strength she had. She had enough—for now.

"But fine," she relented, rolling her eyes. "I suppose I can admire your resilience in the face of overwhelming temptation."

She pressed her hands to the floor, pushing herself up, graceful despite the ordeal, despite the fact that hours ago, she had been left for dead on the ocean floor.

"Since you're clearly too noble to ask for anything interesting," she mused, rolling her neck until it gave a satisfying pop, "I suppose I'll offer something useful instead."

She turned, fixing him with a look of pure, shameless mischief.

"You need all the help you can get."

Serina grinned.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, darling," she teased, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder. "I'm only offering to escort you back to your little Alliance. Surely you're not going to refuse a lady's assistance after she was so grievously wounded?"

She placed a hand over her heart, dramatically, as if she were some tragic figure from a holodrama.

"I mean, just look at me," she sighed. "I survived an assassination attempt, got brutalized by a Mandalorian war goddess, was left to die at the bottom of the sea, and now here I am, offering my services as a most gracious benefactor."

Her lips curled.

"It would be so ungrateful to refuse me now."

She could feel the exasperation radiating from him, and it only delighted her further.

"Besides," she added, her voice dropping, low and honeyed. "You and I both know you need all the help you can get."

Her fingers brushed against his arm, featherlight, just for the reaction, just because she could.

"So tell me, Aadihr," she whispered, savoring the way the moment stretched, the way he felt the weight of her words before she even finished. "Will you let me help you… or do I have to drag you there myself?"

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

"Just leave." Aadihr said after a pause. "You're well enough - even if your offer is genuine. The risk of a handoff with the alliance could undo all the work I've just finished."

He'd seen a Vision. A vision of, or from, Azzie's pet Racyon of all things; Aadihr would be found. Azzie, however was taken.

Aadihr's eyeless gaze ran over the force presence of Serina.

Just how many degrees of separation were there between her and the Sith that had captured Azurine Varek ? The burn Aadihr earned on Eiattu flared - fighting against the exhaustion to incite fury in him, but finding little kindling for it to linger.

A name was all he had. A name he muttered, audibly enough to gauge Serina's aura for a reaction. A name of whom he couldn't keep venom from escaping his lips when he spoke.

"... Darth Carnifex ..."

Serina Calis​

 

[Serina Calis]

Failed Isolation.
Location: Woostri.
Objective: Survive.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Aadihr Lidos

Never truly alone, am I?​

Serina stilled.

It was subtle—a momentary hesitation, the flicker of consideration behind her single good eye, the way her lips parted just slightly before she closed them again. A name had weight, and this one was heavy.

"Darth Carnifex."

He had said it with venom, with a hatred so palpable she could have tasted it in the air between them. The name itself was legendary, spoken in the same breath as calamity, as ruin, as a force of unyielding dominance. The Butcher King, the Black Iron Tyrant, the one who had shattered empires and remained barely challenged over the Sith for what felt like an eternity.

Serina had never met him, but she knew of him. Every Sith with any ambition knew of him.

And yet, this wasn't about Carnifex himself.

Her gaze sharpened, head tilting slightly, watching Aadihr with something different now—not amusement, not temptation, but pure, honed calculation. He had not asked her about Carnifex, had not accused her of anything, but the way he had said the name, the way he had let it fall from his lips as if it burned him to do so—

This was personal.

Her mind moved swiftly, piecing together what it could from what little she had to work with.

First, his refusal. He wanted her gone—badly enough to push away the only ally he had in this moment. That meant something was weighing on him, something he did not want her to see.

Second, his anger. It had flared, briefly, but he had smothered it, as if it were an ember that had nothing left to burn. It wasn't directed at her—not entirely. But it had surfaced the moment he spoke the name.

Third, his exhaustion. He had spent too much of himself already, not just on healing her, but on whatever else had happened before this.

And finally, the most telling of all—the vision.

She had seen it in him, the way Jedi sometimes did—that distant, far-off weight, the way something unseen clung to them, something they had felt, but not lived yet. His words had not been random. The name had not been spoken without purpose.

Serina did not rush to respond.

Instead, she let the silence stretch, let him feel the weight of his own words, let it settle between them before she finally spoke.

"Now that," she murmured, voice smooth, measured, "is a very interesting choice of words."

She let her gaze drift over him, slow, deliberate, not with the same teasing edge as before, but with the eyes of a woman who saw things she wasn't supposed to see.

"Tell me, Aadihr," she mused, voice curling like smoke. "What exactly are you hoping I'll say to that?"

Her fingers drummed lightly against her thigh, a slow, thoughtful rhythm.

"Because you don't think I have answers—if you did, you would have asked me outright."

She took a slow step closer, just enough to let him feel the shift in presence, the way she was watching him now with something sharper, something more dangerous than before.

"But you do think I might know something—maybe not now, but eventually."

Her lips curled into something closer to satisfaction than amusement.

"And that tells me something, darling."

She reached up, running her fingers through her hair, her posture relaxed, effortless, like she wasn't already turning the pieces of him over in her mind.

"It tells me that you know something, something you're not saying, and that whatever it is, it's tearing at you just enough that you couldn't resist seeing if I would flinch."

She let that sink in, let him hear it, let him feel the truth of it, before she continued, her tone softer, almost curious now.

"But I didn't, did I?"

A pause.

"Which means you have something on your mind, and you're desperate enough to poke at it even with the wrong audience."

Her smirk returned, slow, sinuous, but not cruel.

"So tell me, Aadihr—do you want to keep dancing around whatever storm is brewing in that troubled little mind of yours, or are you going to stop pretending that you don't want my help, even if it isn't escorting you to the Alliance?"

She folded her arms, arching a brow.

"Because if you keep looking at me like I might have something useful to say, I might just start believing it myself."