Private Fixing takes Time.

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Serina stepped inside, her presence as fluid and deliberate as ever. She took her time, allowing the sound of her boots clicking against the sterile floor to fill the silence between them, savouring the anticipation that always accompanied the moment before she spoke.

Alana lay in the hospital bed, upright, but clearly weakened. The faintest remnants of blood had been wiped away, though Serina could still sense the lingering damage beneath the surface—both physical and otherwise. It was fascinating, how something so conditioned, so hollow, could still be teetering on the edge of something more.

And Serina intended to shove her over it.

She smiled. Soft. Slow. Indulgent.

"Well, look at you," she purred, tilting her head as she approached the bedside. "Still in one piece. Mostly."

There was warmth in her tone, but just beneath it—just beneath—was something sharper, something dangerous. She reached out, her gloved fingers ghosting over the edge of the bedsheets, as if testing how close she could get without Alana recoiling.

A test. A tease.

And then, ever so gently, she let her fingertips trail up—along Alana's wrist, over the fabric of the hospital gown, before resting just at the hollow of her throat. Light. Barely there. Just enough to remind her of their last encounter. Just enough to see if Alana would shudder again.

"You really should be more careful," Serina murmured, her voice dipping lower, richer. "I went through so much trouble keeping you alive, after all."

She let the words stretch, let them linger, before a quiet chuckle escaped her lips.

"But then again…" She leaned in slightly, lowering herself to Alana's eye level, closer than necessary, close enough that the heat of her breath ghosted against the soldier's skin. "You never really had a choice, did you?"

A pause. A heartbeat. Then, she sighed, exaggerated, mocking sympathy.

"They really did a horrible job on you, darling," she murmured, shaking her head, her fingers finally retreating, but slowly, dragging across Alana's skin just long enough to be felt. "Stripped you down, hollowed you out, and then didn't even bother to finish the job properly."

She clicked her tongue, as if truly disappointed.

"What did they leave you with, I wonder?" she mused, her blue eyes locking onto Alana's with something far too knowing. "Blind obedience? A sense of duty so fragile that it nearly killed you at the first sign of strain?"

She exhaled, shaking her head with a sickeningly fond smirk.

"How pathetic."

And then—then—she softened.

"But that's why I'm here," Serina whispered, her voice turning into something dangerously gentle. She leaned in again, closer, her lips just inches from Alana's ear. "I'm going to fix you, darling."

She pulled back just slightly, just enough to watch her, to see how the words settled in her mind, how they twisted and unraveled whatever fragile defenses she had left.

"Don't worry," she cooed, her fingers lifting once more, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Alana's ear, her touch both possessive and sickeningly tender. "You don't have to think about it. You don't have to do anything at all."

A slow, sweet smile.

"Just let me take care of everything."

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A

Weapons:
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Gear:
N/A

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The sound of the door opening alerted the patient. Alana looked, with her one good eye, to find the woman from earlier approaching her. Her gaze remained blank, staring into her, listening to her speak. Unlike last time however, she wouldn’t give her the pleasure of hearing her speak.​

​

Her eyes drifted back ahead, hearing the woman speak to her, rattling on, and on like she cared. Like she understood for even a moment, how Alana might feel now. Her teeth gritted, her facial muscles tightened as the act continued on, another one of the underlings just wanting to have fun with a down and out soldier. Another toy to break, to run experiments on, but if she could just sweeten her with a few more words then it would all be well,​

​

Alana gave no reaction to the touch, merely staring ahead with her one good eye. Eventually, the woman would leave. Then she could go back to being alone.​

​

Just as she always had been.​

​

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina did not speak at first.

She merely watched.

She saw the way Alana's jaw clenched, the subtle tightening of her muscles, the way she refused to acknowledge the touch, the words, the game.

Good.

That meant there was still something alive in her. Something that hadn't been completely drowned in the cold, in the silence, in the emptiness that had been forced into her.

And Serina, ever patient, ever indulgent, was more than willing to play the long game.

She withdrew her hand, let the air settle, let the silence stretch. Not uncomfortable. Not pressing. Just there.

And then, finally, she spoke.

"You think I'm like the rest of them."

Her voice was soft. Understanding. No teasing. No honeyed seduction. Just quiet, steady truth.

She took a seat beside the bed, crossing one leg over the other with slow deliberation, making it clear that she was not going to leave.

"You think I'm just another one of them—another officer, another handler, another master waiting to use you until you break." She tilted her head slightly, eyes still locked onto Alana's. "And you're right."

A pause. Let the words sink in. Let her feel the honesty.

"I am a manipulator. I am here because I want something from you." She gestured vaguely with one hand, a slow, elegant wave. "Just like every single person you have ever served under."

Her gaze darkened.

"But unlike them, I will never throw you away."

Her voice remained calm, but beneath it—beneath the smooth cadence, there was something hard.

"They built you to be used until you broke." She gestured at the bandages, at the blood that had nearly taken her life. "And when that happened, when your mind started to crack under the weight of it, did they come for you? Did they try to save you?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her voice dropping into something lower, something dangerously intimate.

"No. Because to them, you were already dead the moment you stopped being useful."

Serina let the silence breathe between them, let the words settle into that hollow space inside Alana's mind, where all the discarded pieces of herself had been left to rot.

Then, ever so gently, she reached forward—slowly, letting Alana see the movement, letting her anticipate it. She cupped the side of her face, lightly, fingers resting just beneath her jaw, a touch that was neither commanding nor forceful.

A touch that simply was.

"But I saved you," she murmured, her thumb barely brushing against the skin beneath Alana's ruined eye. "And I don't save things just to throw them away."

She let out a slow breath, tilting her head, searching for any shift in expression, in breath, in tension.

"You don't have to trust me. Not yet. That will come in time." A small, knowing smile. "But you do have to accept the truth."

She let go.

Let the air between them cool. Let Alana feel the absence of warmth after it had been given.

Then, standing, Serina's voice softened even further, the final, deliberate push.

"You want to believe that being alone is easier. That you can just sit here, stay silent, and wait for me to go away." She tilted her head, lips curling slightly. "But I won't."

She let the weight of that truth settle.

 

[Alana Calloway]

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Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
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Gear:
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​

The woman spoke, again, this was about her. She proved Alana right, revealing all that she was, her goals, her hopes, what she intended from Alana. The Echani continued to listen, staring on ahead, refusing a reply as the lies continued on.​

​

She wanted Alana to be thankful for something she could have caused. She asked for loyalty in the wake of servitude.​

Her nostrils flared as Serina touched under her eye. She felt pure offense at how this woman spoke down to her, talked about her as if trying to recruit a slave from another owner.​

​

Serina said she wouldn’t leave, she wouldn’t depart Alana. But Alana knew better than that. Again she continued the act, staring ahead, as if pretending Serina didn’t even exist.​

​

It was all conjecture, play, break the tool, fix the tool, break the tool, fix the tool over and over until the process broke down.​

​

They were all the same, Jedi, Sith, Dark Jedi Light Sith, whatever they were. Alana remained where she was, Serina moving further from her mind. She was alone, and until Serina had intervened, things had been easier.​

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina stopped just before reaching the door.

She didn't turn around immediately. She let the silence sit there, let the weight of it press against the walls of the sterile hospital room. Alana had given nothing. Not a word, not a twitch, not even the satisfaction of anger.

And Serina should have been furious.

She should have mocked her for it. Should have demanded a response. Should have teased, taunted, twisted the knife deeper until something finally cracked.

But instead…

Instead, she let out a slow breath, barely audible.

And then, she turned.

Without the usual dramatics, without the sultry indulgence, she walked back toward the bedside. She didn't touch her. Didn't try to push again.

She just… sat down.

For a long moment, she said nothing at all.

Then, when she finally did speak, her voice was different. Lower. Lacking its usual game-playing edge.

"You know," she started, exhaling sharply, shaking her head as she leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees, "I don't actually know what I was expecting."

Her eyes flickered toward Alana, but there was no smirk. No challenge. Just… something quiet.

"I don't know why I even care what happens to you." She let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her hair, her nails lightly scratching against her scalp in frustration. "It's stupid. It's not like me."

She didn't expect Alana to answer. She didn't need her to.

She just kept talking.

"I don't save people," she admitted, tilting her head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. "I never have. And I sure as hell don't try to fix them." She let out another short, bitter breath. "But here I am, sitting in a hospital room with a woman who clearly doesn't want to be here, doesn't want to be saved, doesn't want anything I have to offer."

She shook her head, her lips pulling into something almost self-mocking.

"So tell me, then," she murmured, finally shifting her gaze back to Alana, her eyes sharp, searching.

"If you hate all of this so much… if you truly believe you're nothing more than a tool to be used, thrown away, replaced—" Her voice dropped lower, almost challenging now.

"Then why the feth are you still alive?"

Not a whisper. Not a mockery. Just cold, hard truth.

Serina leaned back, watching her now, waiting.

Because this wasn't a question to manipulate her. It wasn't a game.

It was the one thing she genuinely didn't understand.

Alana had been built for obedience. Conditioned for nothingness. And yet—she had survived.

So why?

Why was she still here?

 

[Alana Calloway]

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Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
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Gear:
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She thought she had driven the woman off. But she should have known better, as Serina returned, sitting down and began to prattle off again. Alana’s one good eye slowly moves to look at the woman, listening to her vent, somehow she seemed worse off in Alana’s mind. The words turned to insults, impressing upon Alana of who she is, what she was, and how ungrateful she was to merely be held captive by a group like the Sith and forced into their ranks.​

​

She was a tool, all people like her were tools to the Sith. To the Jedi, they were a resource to be used in waging a war against these religious nutcases, that’s all this broke down to.​

​

Alana blinked with her one good eye, staring at the woman as she issued her demand of a statement. She turned her head to fully face Serina, and mustered herself to speak. Her voice lacked the monotone touch of their last conversation, a small bit of venom gathered in her voice. “Because I can still turn this around.” ​

​

She wanted to believe what she said, but even in her head, she didn’t feel quite right still. Things just felt….off.​

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina didn't react immediately.

She sat there, still, her blue eyes locked onto Alana's like she was peering into her. Not with the sharp edge of manipulation, not with the indulgent amusement she so often carried, but with something quieter. Heavier.

Because I can still turn this around.

Serina let the words linger between them, let them breathe, let them settle into the sterile air of the hospital room.

Then, finally, she let out a slow breath and leaned back in her chair, her gaze flickering downward as if consideringsomething she hadn't before.

"Hm."

Just that. No scoff, no condescension. Just thoughtfulness.

"Turn it around," she echoed softly, rolling the words in her mouth like she was trying to taste them.

And then—finally—she looked back up at Alana, her expression unreadable.

"How?"

Her voice was still calm, still somber, but there was something searching in it now.

"Do you even know what that means?" A pause. A slight tilt of her head. "Turning it around? Do you have a plan? A path? Or is this just another order you've given yourself—one you hope will fix things but don't actually know how to carry out?"

She let the silence stretch for a moment, but not long enough for Alana to respond.

"I'm not mocking you," Serina clarified before she could even think it. "I genuinely want to know."

Her hands came together in her lap, fingers interlacing as she spoke again, slower this time.

"Because right now… you're still here. You're still lying in this bed, recovering from a near-death experience, still being held in the grip of the people who made you like this." Her voice didn't sharpen, didn't turn cruel—it simply was. Just cold reality. "And if you really knew how to turn it around, I imagine you'd have done it already."

She let that sit between them for a beat, then exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly.

"That's what frustrates me about you," she admitted, her voice still quiet, still low. "You're not an idiot. You know what's happening to you, you know you've been used, broken, tossed between hands that never intended to hold you for long." Her gaze flickered up, sharp. "And yet you cling to this idea that if you just keep going, something will change."

Serina sighed again, running a hand through her hair, frustration evident but contained.

"You don't turn things around by existing, Alana." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You do it by making a choice."

She shook her head slightly, gaze flickering over Alana's bandaged face.

"But I don't think you're ready for that."

And then—soft, almost distantly sad—

"…Not yet, anyway."

Serina didn't press after that.

She simply sat there, waiting. Watching.

 

[Alana Calloway]

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Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
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Gear:
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Alana straightened in the bed, looking to Serina as the woman now caught her ire. The hospital room lost all sense of familiarity, and now it conformed to that of a debate hall. Serina laid on her condemnations of Alana. The foolhardy beliefs, the simplicity of her stance and how she thought life may turn around.​

​

But the Echani didn’t care, for it was all she had known. “You keep going, day by and, and opportunities present themselves. I came from nothing. I was given, nothing. Every route in life I’ve followed, dragged me down. I’m still here, going forward…still alive.” She muttered softly, unsure if what she said was even true, aspects of the past still remained foggy at best. The life she referred to merely dreams she had long ago.​

​

“Choice doesn’t exist, you simply leave and go down what is familiar. Choice is how we rationalize what lays before us. It’s an illusion. I continue to go on because it’s all I’ve known, you can argue that it’s a choice, but that implies I’m committing to it rather than it unfolding upon me. I don’t expect you to understand, no one I’ve spoken to about it has.”​

​

She mutters, her voice trailing off towards the end. Alana looked down to her bed now, lingering in her words.​

​

“All people want me for, is to use my abilities and move on. It’s not who I am they want, it’s what I can do that they need.”​

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina stilled.

For the first time since she had stepped into the hospital room, since she had first laid eyes on this broken, bleeding soldier, her smirk didn't return, her voice didn't slither with teasing delight. She didn't move, didn't laugh, didn't taunt.

She just listened.

And then, ever so slowly, she let out a breath. Not exasperated. Not mocking. Just… quiet.

"You think I don't understand?" she murmured, shaking her head, but not in dismissal. Not in disbelief. "Darling," she exhaled, her voice almost—almost—pained, "I understand completely."

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and for a moment—just a moment—she almost let the mask slip.

"Choice is an illusion," she admitted, her voice softer than it had ever been. "I didn't choose to be the way I am. To think the way I do. To become something that others only ever want to use."

Her gaze flickered up to meet Alana's, and for the first time, her expression was not a carefully crafted smirk, not a playful veil of mischief or mockery. It was open. Raw.

"I have never been allowed to be anything other than what I am," she murmured. "I was made for this, built to be a tool—whether it was for the Dark Side, for the powerful, for the weak, for anyone who thought they could take what they needed and leave me in the dark." Her fingers curled slightly in her lap. "And no matter how much I pretend, no matter how much I laugh, or tease, or—"

She stopped. Caught herself. Let out a slow, bitter chuckle as she leaned back in her chair, tilting her head up toward the ceiling, as if daring it to challenge her.

"You want to know why I act the way I do?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more introspective than anything she had ever spoken to Alana before.

She looked back down, smirking—but it was different now. Weaker.

"Because it's the only thing that makes me feel something."

She let that hang between them.

"I flirt, I touch, I tease—I make people uncomfortable, I entice them, I push them toward something real—because I need it," she admitted, voice raw. "Because if I don't, if I stop—if I let myself be what I was meant to be—"

A pause. A long, quiet pause.

"Then I really will be just a tool."

She huffed a small, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "And I can't live like that."

She leaned forward again, studying Alana. Not like a predator now. Not like someone trying to pull the strings, to manipulate, to mold her into something she could use.

But like someone who had just seen a mirror, cracked and imperfect, staring back at her.

"You say people only want you for what you can do," she murmured, tilting her head. "That no one ever wants you."

A small, knowing smile, barely there.

"Then why the feth do you think I'm still here?"

She spread her hands slightly, as if gesturing to the space between them. "I could have left. I could have walked away after you fell. After you nearly died. After you ignored me, spat in my face, refused to even acknowledge my existence."

She smirked, but again—it wasn't teasing. It was just soft.

"And yet," she murmured, "here I am."

Her eyes flickered with something deep, something genuine.

"And you're still talking to me."

She let that settle, let the weight of it fill the space between them.

Then, she tilted her head, her lips curling into something just slightly more playful—but not in the way she had before. Not in the way that meant to push, to tease, to twist.

Just light.

"So tell me, darling," she whispered, eyes gleaming with something real.

"If no one wants you… why haven't I left yet?"

 

[Alana Calloway]

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Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A

Weapons:
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Gear:
N/A

​

Alana looked to the woman, finding it as if she was expecting pity, or begging for understanding. Alana just looked into her being, her face remained placid, little sympathy would be found on the renegade cowgirl. She listened to the story, of how she felt like a tool, how she tried to fight against the rising tide of concerns and fears. Alana felt little to no pity towards her, though her hands came together, settled in Alana's lap, her eyes studying Serina as she finished, giving more questions, asking if she had appeased the concerns of Alana.​

​

The Echani woman rubbed her palms together, musing for a moment before she spoke. "In a sense, you're no different from me. You're a tool. You're just trying to expand your uses." She said softly, reaching up to remove the bandages from her covered eye, unless Serina stopped her, it would be revealed. Blood had turned the white of her right eye to a light maroon color. The blood had not entirely left where it had been captured. "You're here, because all you have over me, is the concept of control." She says, sitting up in the bed, feeling the emptiness of her mind starting to close back in.​

​

"You're still here, because you want what I can give you." She said, pulling back the sheets, turning to set her bare feet on the cold tile floor.​

​

Serina wouldn't be leaving her alone anytime soon, it seemed. "You still haven't told me your name."​

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina watched in silence.

For once, she didn't smirk, didn't tease, didn't play. She simply existed in the moment, letting Alana's words settle into the air between them.

A tool. Expanding its uses.

Yes.

Serina didn't flinch as Alana removed the bandages. She didn't stop her, didn't reach forward to fix what had already been ruined. No, she only watched as the bloodied eye was revealed, maroon-streaked and raw. A reminder.

And then—Alana spoke her final truth

Serina exhaled, slow.

And then—finally—she laughed.

Not her usual mocking laugh. Not something cruel or condescending.

Just quiet. Almost… relieved.

"You're right," she admitted, leaning forward slightly, resting her chin on her palm as she studied Alana with something softer than before. Something more human. "That's all I've ever wanted. Control."

A pause. A long, steady inhale.

"You think I'm playing some grand game," she mused, tilting her head slightly. "That I just want to mold you into something I can use. And maybe that's true. Maybe I am exactly what you think I am."

She exhaled again, shaking her head slightly.

"But I think, deep down, what I really want is to finally have something that belongs to me."

She didn't say it with her usual possessive undertones, with the weight of ownership she had tried to push onto Alana before.

No. This was different.

This was a woman who had never had a say in her own existence. Who had never been given the chance to be anything other than what others demanded of her.

And now—now—she had found someone just like her.

Alana was not hers. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But this conversation? These moments?

This was something Serina had never had before. Honesty. Realness.

And it felt good.

She leaned back, stretching her arms slightly, and let out a long, slow breath, as if shaking off the weight of all she had just said. Then, a small, almost playful smirk finally returned—but not in the way it had before.

"You asked for my name?" she mused, arching a brow. "How rude of me to keep you waiting."

She placed a hand over her heart in mock sincerity, but her eyes gleamed with something genuine beneath it.

"Serina Calis," she said simply. "Manipulator. Control freak. Compulsive flirt." She tilted her head. "And, apparently, your problem now."

A pause. A slight chuckle.

"But you already knew that part, didn't you?"

 

[Alana Calloway]

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Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A

Weapons:
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Gear:
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There was at least common ground between them now, and that, Alana could accept.The faintest impression of a smile formed. At last, she was talking to a person, not an act. Alana rose, her posture still rigid, feeling something foreign digging into brain. If nothing else, Serina had a genuine laugh. It wasn't one of a psychopath, just a young woman, finding humor in a situation."All we want, really, at the of the day....is control of our lives. Of fate....people who can do that, are deemed powerful."​

​

Alana rose, and looked over at her new partner, pondering what may lie ahead for them. "You want something that belongs to you, buy a ship." She said, no humor to her voice, just her actual thoughts. The pain in her brain started again, the dull thudding began to pound against her skull. She winced, holding the side of her head, feeling the discomfort come like a wave, grabbing at her, and for a moment, threaten to pull her back down.​

​

Yet, Alana remained for the time being. Serina stretched, and uttered her name, letting Alana know for once who she spoke to. "Alana Calloway." She said, the name sounded alien to her ears, the pain kicked on again, her eye twitched but no blood came forth. "...I did alot...of stuff before this...if I start listing off what I did, it'd be easier to say what I haven't..." She would state, rubbing at her brow, as the pain faded away.​

​

She paused at the idea of Serina being a problem, the woman tilting her head to the side, both hands lowering. "...I know how to fix problems." She said, the faintest hint of a grin coming to her face, before she struck.​

​

With a speed that no hospital patient should dare have, she struck at Serina's sides, tickling away with all the fury that Alana would have hated to be on the receiving end of.​

​

There was a point to be made here, and she was going to make it here and now.​

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina let it happen.

She permitted it.

Because Serina never lost control.

Never.

The moment Alana moved, the moment her hands darted toward her, Serina's instincts screamed at her to react, to counter, to turn the tables before the woman could even think she had the upper hand. But she chose not to.

She allowed it.

The sensation jolted through her, sharp and unexpected—but not unwelcome. Tickling. A childish, playful thing. Something Serina had never been on the receiving end of before.

Her body tensed on instinct, her breath hitching—not in the way she had so often controlled it, not in the carefully calculated ways she used her voice, her tone, her breath as weapons of manipulation.

No, this was real.

And feth if that didn't throw her for a moment.

She bit her lip, stifling the immediate urge to retaliate, to punish the action—not because she was angry, not because she hated it, but because it was something she had never prepared for.

Serina hated being influenced by others. She hated the thought of someone else making her do something outside of her own will, her own plans, her own carefully crafted control.

But this—this was different.

Because it wasn't manipulation. It wasn't a power move. It wasn't an attempt to break her, to push her into a corner, to mold her into something weaker.

It was warmth.

And Serina didn't know what to do with that.

A sharp breath escaped her lips, something dangerously close to a laugh, but this time—not because she had chosen to laugh. Not because she had forced herself to.

It had just… happened.

Her hands shot forward, grabbing Alana's wrists before she could continue, fingers curling around them firmly, stopping the movement cold.

And in that moment—that perfect, quiet moment—Serina smiled.

Not the smirk. Not the knife's edge grin she wielded like a weapon.

Just a smile.

Soft. Real.

But only because she allowed it.

Her grip remained firm, her blue eyes locked onto Alana's with something dangerously knowing.

"Oh, darling," she purred, finally slipping back into that familiar, honeyed tone, but with something different beneath it. Something lighter. Something real. "That was adorable."

She tilted her head slightly, her lips parting into something slow, teasing—but not cruel.

"But let's be very clear about something," she continued, her voice dropping into something almost… intimate. Her fingers tightened around Alana's wrists, just slightly, just enough to remind her that Serina was still in control, that Serina allowed this.

"If I didn't want that to happen… it wouldn't have."

She let that settle. Let Alana understand it.

And then—only then—she released her.

Slowly. Deliberately.

And then, ever so graciously, she leaned back, stretching as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just allowed someone to touch her in a way that wasn't calculated, wasn't planned, wasn't hers.

She rolled her shoulders, sighed dramatically, then smirked—properly this time.

"I must say," she mused, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "I was not expecting you to be such a little menace."

She tilted her head, crossing one leg over the other.

"…I think I like it."

A pause. A smirk.

"Dangerous, though." Her voice lowered, laced with something sickeningly sweet. "You might make me soft."

Then, without any warning, she reached forward, her fingers ghosting just beneath Alana's chin, lifting it just slightly.

And with a whisper, she murmured—

"Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Then, just as quickly, she let go, leaning back with mock innocence.

Her grin remained.

Because even in this—even in something light—Serina would never truly let go of control.

 

[Alana Calloway]

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Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A

Weapons:
N/A
Gear:
N/A
Alana didn't resist.

Not when Serina's fingers curled around her wrists, not when those sharp blue eyes locked onto hers with something knowing, something dangerous masquerading as soft. Alana just stood there, watching. Feeling. Letting the moment settle in the space between them.

Because the truth was—she hadn't expected Serina to allow it.

She had braced for resistance, for a sharp, immediate counter. For the flicker of irritation, the flash of something lethal behind Serina's gaze. A sharp word, a twist of the wrist, a reminder that Alana had never been the one in control here.

But it hadn't come.

Instead, Serina had let it happen. A mutal understanding was being had.

She had felt it.

And that? That was intoxicating.

Alana's lips curled, slow and deliberate, at Serina's purr. The shift in her tone, the tease beneath it—it should have felt like a warning. Maybe it was one. But Alana only tilted her head, letting Serina's grip linger, letting her words slide between them like a silk thread woven with steel.

"If I didn't want that to happen… it wouldn't have."

Alana's smirk deepened. "Oh, I know."

She did.

But knowing that Serina had chosen to let that moment slip through her fingers, that she had allowed something uncalculated, something real, to touch her? That was delicious.

Serina released her wrists slowly, deliberately, and Alana exhaled through her nose, not stepping back, not filling the space with anything but the weight of what had just transpired. The silent understanding. The amusement curling in her chest, warm and electric.

And then, as expected, Serina reset.

Rolled her shoulders. Flipped her hair. Draped herself back into her usual effortless confidence, wearing control like a second skin. But Alana had seen it now. Had felt it.

The crack in the armor.

The moment that had just happened, because Serina had let it happen—not because she had planned it. Maybe, deep down, she longed for that connection. She had lectured Alana about hostilities, threats, and how to tell if one meant to do harm...but the same was true of Serina. She wanted, to trust Alana.

The smirk, the teasing lilt, the dramatic air of indulgence—it was all familiar. Expected. But beneath it? There was something else now. Something lighter. Something… dangerously real. There was a person under there...someone that Alana could talk with. At great risk, certainly...but the problem with wanting power is having to hold onto it. No matter how strong one was, eventually, you would have to let go.

That was what made or break people, the ability to let go.

Serina's fingers barely ghosted under Alana's chin, lifting it just slightly, and Alana didn't move. Didn't pull away. Didn't do anything except meet her gaze, red eyes gleaming with something unreadable, something unreadable—except to someone who knew.

"Wouldn't that be a shame?"

The whisper lingered, just for a moment, before Serina pulled back with that perfect smirk, all mock innocence and effortless control.

Alana let the silence breathe between them, let the weight of that touch settle and then—

She laughed.

A soft chuckle, low in her throat, amusement curling at the edges of her smile as she reached up—slow, deliberate—and smoothed a single, nonexistent wrinkle from Serina's sleeve. Nothing forceful. Just a reminder. A mirror of the game she was playing.

Oh, sweetheart, Alana thought privately, voice syrupy smooth, teasing—but with something darker beneath it. Something knowing.

She leaned in just slightly, just enough for Serina to feel the shift of air between them. I think you're already soft.

"Well, now we're both trouble, ain't we?" She asked, an unusual twinge to her language, perhaps an accent she had been concealing from the young dark jedi.

Alana settled back onto her bed, feeling just a tinge giddy now. A little bit more like her old self, but only a tinge.

Because Serina wasn't the only one who knew how to play this game. Alana would never give her control up.

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina's smirk deepened as Alana reached up—slow, measured, a movement of deliberate intent—and smoothed the nonexistent wrinkle from her sleeve. Not a taunt, not a challenge. Just a reminder.

A mirror.

Oh, darling. Serina was reveling in this.

Not just the teasing. Not just the control she still held, even as Alana tested the edges of it, even as she dared to press back in her own quiet, knowing way. No—what thrilled Serina was the understanding.

This was the first, most primitive, most basic step to everything.

And Alana had finally taken it.

Serina had spent so long maneuvering through people's defenses, tearing them down, manipulating them into giving her what she wanted. But this—this was different.

Alana wasn't breaking. Not yet.

She was meeting her.

And feth if that wasn't delicious.

Serina's fingers flexed slightly at her sides, resisting the urge to reach for something—Alana's wrist, her throat, something—but she forced herself to remain still, to let the air settle, to let the game play itself out.

"Well, now we're both trouble, ain't we?"

That twang. That slight, unpolished tinge of accent, something that hadn't been there before.

Serina's grin widened just slightly, her eyes gleaming with that dangerous, sharp-edged amusement.

"Oh, sweetheart," she purred, her tone practically dripping with indulgence. "We were always trouble."

She let the words hang between them, let the weight of the moment settle, thick and electric.

And then—she leaned in, just slightly. Not touching. Not yet.

Just enough to let Alana feel the shift, to let her anticipate something that never came.

"And darling…" Serina whispered, her voice silken, her breath warm in the space between them. "I was soft the moment I let you touch me."

A confession. But one given willfully.

A truth that Alana could have—but only because Serina allowed it.

She pulled back just as slowly, exhaling through her nose, watching the flicker of something unreadable in Alana's bloodstained eye.

Understanding.

Not submission.

Not control.

Just—understanding.

And feth, if that wasn't the most intoxicating thing of all.

Serina straightened, rolling her shoulders, smoothing down the fabric of her own robe where Alana had touched it, as if amused by the action. Then, ever so casually, she flicked her gaze back to Alana, lips curling into something dangerous, something just a touch too pleased.

"I think…" she mused, tilting her head, "…that we're going to have a very interesting time together."

Then, with mock seriousness, she placed a hand over her heart.

"But you really should be careful, my dear." Her voice dipped into something warm, something deceptively gentle. "I am lethal."

She smirked. Because the game had just begun.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A

Weapons:
N/A
Gear:
N/A
Alana didn't move.

Didn't flinch. Didn't waver.

She absorbed Serina's words, let them sink into her skin like slow-burning embers, let the warmth of them settle deep in the marrow of her bones. But she didn't react—not in the way Serina might have expected. Not in the way anyone might have expected.

No sharp retort. No challenge laced with playful defiance.

Instead—Alana smiled.

Slow. Measured. Something quiet. Something real.

Because oh, Serina was so certain she was still in control. That every step forward, every shift in the air between them, every carefully placed word was a thread in her web, woven with precision.

But Alana saw it now.

The way Serina wanted her to push. The way she wanted her to meet her, to dance at the edges of whatever game they had begun to play. The way Serina was relishing this.

"I was soft the moment I let you touch me."

Alana breathed out, a slow, quiet exhale through her nose.

And then, finally, she spoke.

"Oh, sweetie," she murmured, voice laced with something unbearably smooth, unbearably warm, "That's the thing, isn't it?"

She leaned in—not much, just a fraction, just enough to bridge the space Serina had left between them. Just enough for her own breath to brush against Serina's skin.

"You did let me touch you."

Not because she had lost. Not because she had slipped.

Because she had chosen to.

And that was power.

"Just like I let you, touch me."

Not the control Serina wielded like a blade, not the effortless command she carried in every syllable, in every tilt of her head. Not the manipulation, not the feigned indulgence, not the way she let people think they had a hand in the game.

But choice.

And Alana knew it now.

So she lifted a hand—not fast, not teasing, not testing. Just deliberate. Just understanding.

And she touched Serina.

The briefest graze of fingertips against the curve of her jaw. Light. Barely there. Nothing forceful. Nothing demanding. Just contact. Just the quiet, unmistakable assertion of I know.

Of I see you.

And then—just as easily—she pulled away.

Alana let the silence breathe, let Serina sit with it, let the weight of it settle in the space between them.

And then, with a smirk of her own, she stepped back, rolling her shoulders in an easy, unbothered motion.

"I am careful," She said lightly, her voice dipping into something just as warm, just as deceptively gentle.

And with a wink, she added:

"That's why I'm still alive...because I'm lethal too."

She found herself, actually liking the strange woman now.

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Oh, feth.

Serina felt it—the shift, the slow unraveling of the game as it turned mutual. As it became something other than just her web, her control, her design.

And oh, darling, if that wasn't the most delicious thing she had ever felt.

Alana had learned.

Had seen her.

Had touched her—not in the way others had, not in the way Serina had trained people to react to her, but in the way that said I know.

In the way that said I choose.

Serina stood perfectly still as Alana's fingers barely ghosted against her jaw, the warmth of her skin brushing against the coolness of Serina's own. A featherlight touch, softer than breath, nothing forceful, nothing demanding—just a reminder.

A powerful one.

Serina's lips parted slightly, her eyes gleaming with something almost wicked, something that curled deep in her belly and thrived.

Because oh, this was fun now.

Alana stepped back, the movement lazy, unbothered, rolling her shoulders like this had been her game all along. Like she was just as effortlessly lethal as Serina was.

And then—the wink.

Serina nearly laughed at that, her lips curling into something slow, knowing, sinfully indulgent.

"Oh, my darling," she practically purred, her voice slipping into something low and dangerous, silk laced with steel, pleasure wrapped in poison.

Her fingers lifted to where Alana had dared to touch her, pressing against her own jawline as if memorizing the feeling.

"Now you're just teasing me," she hummed, tilting her head slightly, watching Alana with something dark, something sultry, something utterly delighted.

A slow, decadent exhale.

"Lethal," she echoed, letting the word drip from her tongue like liquid gold. "I love that about you."

She stepped forward now—just once, just enough to reclaim the space Alana had left between them, just enough to let her presence press against her again, to remind her that Serina still played this game better than anyone.

She lifted a single finger—nothing rushed, nothing desperate—just the gentlest graze along Alana's hip, tracing the fabric of the hospital gown, as if it were nothing, as if she were merely curious.

And then, as she leaned in—just close enough for her lips to nearly brush against Alana's ear, just close enough for her voice to slip into something almost unbearably low—she whispered:

"I wonder..."

Her fingers trailed just slightly higher, just along the hem of the gown, before they lifted away, hovering just out of reach, mocking the absence of touch.

"...How lethal you really are... off the battlefield."

A wicked, wicked smirk, her breath still warm against Alana's skin.

Then—just as deliberately—she pulled away, her fingers slipping from the space between them as she took a slow, languid step back, dragging out the moment.

Her smirk was full now, the devil's own delight, her blue eyes gleaming like twin daggers in the dim light of the hospital room.

"Do be careful, darling," she mused, stretching her arms above her head with a soft, pleased sigh. "Wouldn't want you to get too attached now, would we?"

And then—without another word—without another touch—she turned.

And left.

Because the best part of the game?

Was making them want more.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

Fixing Takes Time​

Tags: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A

Weapons:
N/A
Gear:
N/A

At first, Alana didn't move. Not in any way that mattered.

She simply let the silence settle, thick and deliberate, like the slow cooling of embers after the fire had already burned through. Letting the weight of Serina's absence press against her skin, letting the ghost of those barely-there touches linger, unwanted but undeniably present. The flimsy hospital gown did next to nothing here.

She should have felt unsettled. Should have felt off-balance, thrown, even if just slightly.

Serina was good at that—turning the ground beneath people's feet to shifting sand, leaving them with the illusion of control just long enough to let her steal it away.

Alana was sure that Serina was experienced in this,after having weaved webs around people so effortlessly they never even noticed when they'd been caught.

And yet.

Not this time.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, fighting back a small giggle. She didn't lift them to where Serina had touched her, didn't chase the warmth, didn't press against it like some fragile, lingering thing.

Serina had left thinking she'd set the pace, that she'd drawn the line exactly where she wanted it. That she'd dictated the terms of their little game.

Alana let her.

Because that was the trick, wasn't it?

Serina wanted to be wanted. She thrived on it, wrapped herself in it like armor, turned it into the weapon she wielded best. Every move she made, every glance, every taunt, every carefully measured breath—it was all about creating that pull. That need. That hunger.

She left people chasing after her. Craving her.

But Alana?

Alana didn't chase.

She hunted.

So she let the moment stretch, let the quiet wrap itself around her like a second skin, let the air go still in Serina's absence.

And then—finally—finally—she let her shoulders roll back, loose and unhurried, as if shaking off the last vestiges of Serina's lingering presence.

A slow inhale. A measured exhale.

The corner of her mouth curled, just slightly. Not quite a smirk. Not quite anything at all.

And then—soft. Almost amused. Almost nothing.

"Oh, sweetheart...."

She barely whispered it, barely even let the words slip past her lips.

But feth, if they didn't taste like victory.

She had done something this day, though what that may have been...Alana wasn't sure.