Private The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos​

​

Location: Unknown​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

​

Sable jolted upright with a sharp inhale, heart hammering against her ribs. The weight of the nightmare still clung to her like smoke—thick, suffocating, impossible to shake. Her breath came shallow and fast, her throat dry, her skin damp with cold sweat.

The room around her was unfamiliar. Dimly lit. Walls of cold durasteel, the hum of machinery thrumming low in the background. No windows. No clear exit in sight. Just the sterile scent of recycled air and something faintly metallic.

Her fingers twitched toward her holster—empty. Or….wait her gear was gone.

She swore under her breath, forcing herself to focus. The nightmare was still clawing at the edges of her mind, threatening to pull her back under. Flashes of it lingered—whispers in a language she couldn't understand, hands pressing against her skull, something twisting inside her.

She exhaled sharply. Not real. But this? This was.

Where the hell was she?

There was a lingering pain at the back of her mind, flashes of the nightmare lingered and slowly dissipated. Gently, she reached up and found that her eye had once again been patched up.

That didn’t bode well, but…again, where was she?

 

[Serina Calis]

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos
Location: Rakata Prime.
Objective: Find the Truth, Fix her.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???

Control is not just about power, my darling. It is about knowing—about understanding what is yours, inside and out. I do not tolerate mysteries. And I do not accept uncertainty. So tell me… what are you hiding from me?
​

The moment Sable jolted upright, gasping for breath, Serina was already there.

She had been watching. Waiting.

Not hovering—Serina never hovered—but positioned with intent, seated just close enough that Sable could feel her presence the moment she stirred. The dim glow of the medical scanners flickered against her face, illuminating the sharp angles of her expression, and for once, there was no smirk, no amusement, no knowing glint in her eye.

Just silence.

A quiet, weighty kind of stillness. One that stretched between them like a chasm.

Sable's breath came uneven, shallow. Her pulse was erratic, too fast, still trapped somewhere between unconsciousness and waking. Her fingers twitched at her sides, moving out of instinct, reaching for something that wasn't there.

Serina's eyes followed the motion, registering every detail. The way her hand skimmed the sheets in search of a weapon. The way her muscles tensed as if she were ready to spring into action at any moment. The way her breath hitched—not in defiance, not in anger, but in something else.

Fear.

She was disoriented. Confused. And for the first time, Serina realized, she was looking at her with an expression that wasn't just wariness. Wasn't just the quiet, burning embers of rebellion.

No, this was something else.

Sable was looking at her like she wanted something from her.

Like she needed something from her.

Serina exhaled slowly, careful, deliberate, before finally breaking the silence.

"You're awake."

The words weren't teasing. Weren't cruel. Just an observation, smooth and calm, spoken with quiet certainty.

She didn't move closer. Not yet.

She let Sable come back to herself. Let her find her footing in a world that, for the first time in what felt like forever, had shaken beneath her.

Serina knew control. Knew how to own a moment, to guide it, to shape it to her will. But right now?

Right now, this wasn't about her.

Her eyes flickered to the medical scanners lining the walls, the pulsing red light reflecting in her gaze. The readouts had stabilized, but the anomaly remained. The thing that had nearly broken Sable—whatever had clawed its way through her skull, whatever had bled her dry from the inside out—was still an enigma.

And that made Serina's fingers twitch.

She had spent hours poring over the data. Watching the medical recordings, replaying the collapse over and over again, searching for something—anything—that would give her answers.

It wasn't just exhaustion. It wasn't just strain.

It was something else.

Something Serina hadn't accounted for.

And she hated not having control over what was hers.

More than that—she hated not knowing how to protect what was hers.

Serina leaned forward, just slightly, just enough to let the light catch the cold gleam of her eyes.

"How much do you remember?"

Her voice was softer now. Not weak. Never weak. But deliberate. Intentional.

Sable's breath hitched.

Her fingers curled tighter into the sheets, gripping them like they were the only thing anchoring her to reality.

Serina reached out—slowly—her fingers barely grazing against Sable's wrist. A light touch. A grounding presence.

Not a command.

Not a demand.

Just… there.

"You lost consciousness." Serina's voice dipped lower, not with amusement, but with something bordering on concern. "You were bleeding."

She let her fingers linger for a moment before drawing them back, just enough to study her face—watching, searching, taking in every minute detail.

There was something fragile about her in this moment. Something raw. And Serina knew she could take it, could twist it, could mold it into something sharper, something cruel.

But she didn't.

Not yet.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly, voice dropping into something quieter. Something almost gentle.

"I need to know what you felt." Her words were slow, careful. "What you saw."

She let them settle between them. Let them sit.

And then—softer. Testing.

"Are you in pain?"

A question she never asked.

Not as a courtesy. Not as a show of weakness.

But because she needed to know.

Because whatever had happened to Sable Varro was not supposed to happen.

Because she needed to fix this.

She needed to fix her.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos​

​

Location: Unknown​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

​

Sable swallowed, her throat dry, her mind sluggish, thoughts slipping between her fingers like sand. The world still felt wrong—like she wasn't fully in it, like part of her was still trapped in whatever nightmare had wrenched her awake.

Her eyes darted across the dimly lit room, scanning, assessing. Medical equipment. Scanners pulsing with quiet life. The sterile scent of antiseptics and metal. No immediate threat. No enemy. Just—

Her gaze finally settled on the stranger in the room.

She didn't know her. Not really.

She knew the shape of her, the cold precision in her presence, the way she occupied space without demanding it. Knew the eyes that studied her like she was something to be dissected, like she was data waiting to be understood.

But she didn't know her.

The women began to speak, and Sable merely nodded along, unsure what she was to say.

Sable's fingers flexed against the sheets, grounding herself in the texture, the weight. She wasn't sure when she had started shaking, but she forced the tremor down, swallowing past the tightness in her chest. She felt raw. Exposed. Like something had been ripped out of her, leaving only the jagged edges behind.

The woman’s words echoed in the space between them. A question, an expectation.

"Are you in pain?"

Sable almost laughed. She wasn't sure why.

Instead, she exhaled slowly, steadying herself, pressing her palms against the mattress as if testing whether the ground beneath her was real.

"...I don't know," She admitted finally, voice rough, uncertain.

Not a lie. Not entirely.

The pain was there, but it wasn't just in her body. It was somewhere deeper, threaded into her very being, lingering like the phantom of something she couldn't name. Something she wasn't sure had ever truly left her.

Her pulse still pounded in her ears, her mind replaying the nightmare in fragmented flashes—faces she couldn't remember, voices she couldn't silence, the sensation of something suffocating, something wrong.

She didn't want to answer her questions. Didn't want to let her in.

But the woman was there.

Watching. Waiting. Not commanding, not prying, just… present.

And Sable wasn't sure if that made her feel more at ease or more trapped.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos
Location: Rakata Prime.
Objective: Find the Truth, Fix her.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???

Control is not just about power, my darling. It is about knowing—about understanding what is yours, inside and out. I do not tolerate mysteries. And I do not accept uncertainty. So tell me… what are you hiding from me?
​

Serina saw it—the hesitation, the uncertainty, the way Sable's breath hitched as if caught between the remnants of a dream and the weight of waking reality. She was unraveling, but not in the way Serina had planned. Not in the way she had meticulously crafted. This was something else. Something deeper.

Something wrong.

Her fingers twitched, resisting the urge to grip, to hold, to take.

Instead, she softened her stance, tilting her head just slightly, watching with the patience of a predator waiting for its prey to step forward willingly. But there was no hunt here. No game. Not now.

"Breathe."

The command was gentle, but firm. Not a demand. Not an order. A tether.

Serina's voice dropped, smooth as silk, curling around the edges of the moment like smoke.

"You don't need to think right now."

Her fingers ghosted along Sable's wrist, barely touching, but enough to anchor, enough to remind her that she was here, that she was real.

"Just breathe, darling. In… slowly…"

She inhaled with her, deliberate, controlled, coaxing Sable into following the rhythm.

"Good. Now out."

Her voice dipped lower, steady, unshakable, filling the space between them, threading through the air like a melody meant only for Sable to hear.

"There's nothing else to focus on right now. No questions. No expectations. Just my voice. Just your breath."

Serina watched the tremors stilling in her hands, the tension slowly bleeding from her posture. Her pulse was still too fast, her muscles still too taut, but she was listening.

That was enough.

For now.

Serina let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again, softer this time, less a command and more a quiet promise.

"You're safe here."

A lie. But a beautiful one. One that Sable needed. One that Serina would let her believe—for now.

"Just stay with me. Just breathe."

She let her fingers trail just slightly, a whisper of touch, then withdrew. No pressure. No force. Just presence.

Serina wouldn't let her fall.

Not yet.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos​

​

Location: Unknown​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

​

Sable’s breath came shallow, uneven. Each inhale felt like it caught somewhere in her chest, like her body had forgotten how to work properly. She clenched her fingers against the sheets, grounding herself in the fabric's rough texture. Something real. Something solid.

Serina's voice wove through the haze in her mind, a quiet tether in the dark. Breathe.

Sable did. Slowly. In. Out. Not because she was told to, but because she had to. Because if she didn't, she might slip back into whatever nightmare she'd just clawed her way out of.

Her muscles were taut, her pulse thrumming too fast beneath her skin. The distant beep of medical monitors filled the silence between them. She felt raw, exposed, like she was standing on the edge of something she didn't understand.

Serina's fingers barely ghosted along her wrist—just enough to be felt, not enough to be forceful. Sable didn't pull away. Didn't tense further. Just sat in the stillness of the moment, trying to make sense of anything.

"...I don't know who you are…but thank you." The words left her quieter than she intended, but steady. A truth she wasn't sure she believed, but one she had to hold onto.

And yet, she didn't move. Didn't break the space between them.

Because for all the uncertainty tangled in her mind, for all the questions she didn't have answers to—one thing was undeniable.

She wasn't sure where she was. Wasn't sure who she was supposed to be.

But right now, she wasn't alone.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos
Location: Rakata Prime.
Objective: Find the Truth, Fix her.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???

Control is not just about power, my darling. It is about knowing—about understanding what is yours, inside and out. I do not tolerate mysteries. And I do not accept uncertainty. So tell me… what are you hiding from me?
​

Serina's lips curled into something unreadable, a slow, careful expression that wasn't quite a smirk, wasn't quite a smile. It was something softer, something that didn't belong in the same breath as the woman she was, the woman who took and took until there was nothing left but what she desired. But here, in this fragile moment, she allowed it to exist.

For her.

For Sable.

Serina didn't rush to correct her, didn't let her amusement slip through the carefully woven silence between them. Instead, she let the name—I don't know who you are—hang in the air, unchallenged.

Because in a way, Sable wasn't wrong.

Serina tilted her head slightly, her fingers retreating just enough to let Sable feel the absence. A lesson, even now. A reminder that her presence was given, not taken. Earned.

"You're welcome," she said, voice smooth, deliberate. No arrogance. No cruelty. Just the weight of certainty, of something inevitable.

Serina let the silence breathe between them, let it settle. Sable wasn't ready for more yet. That much was clear. She was lost, shaken, still teetering on the precipice of something neither of them could fully see.

But that was fine.

Serina had always been patient.

"You don't need to know who I am right now," she murmured, tilting her head, blue eyes gleaming in the dim light. "That will come in time. Just as you will remember who you are. Or rather…" She leaned in just slightly, just enough to let the warmth of her breath touch Sable's skin. "Who you are meant to be."

The words were not a question. They were a certainty. A law.

Serina studied the girl before her—the trembling hands, the shallow breaths, the way she fought to hold onto the last strands of control that she didn't even realize had already slipped through her fingers.

And still, she was strong.

Fragile, yes. But not broken. Not yet.

And oh, how Serina relished that.

"For now," she continued, her voice dipping into something quieter, more intimate, "all I ask is that you rest. There is no need to force clarity where there is none."

Serina's fingers ghosted along Sable's wrist once more, light, fleeting. A promise, a command.

"I will take care of you, Sable. You don't have to carry this alone."

Another lie.

Another truth.

She would take care of her. She would hold her, guide her, shape her into something new. And when the time came, when Sable was ready, when the last of her past had faded into dust—

Serina would give her something far greater than memories.

She would give her purpose.

"Close your eyes, darling," Serina whispered, brushing her fingers over Sable's temple, just barely. A touch so soft it was almost reverent. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake."

And this time, it wasn't a command.

It was a promise.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos​

​

Location: Unknown​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

Sable didn't move, didn't breathe for a moment too long. The words echoed, curling around her thoughts like smoke—thick, cloying, impossible to hold onto. She could still feel the ghost of Serina's touch, the way it lingered like an afterimage behind her eyes, the way it threatened to pull her under.

Who you are meant to be.

Her fingers curled tighter into the sheets. It felt like an answer she should already have. Something she should know. But she didn't—not fully. The thoughts were slippery, fragmented, sliding through her grasp the moment she reached for them. She was drowning in the space between knowing and forgetting, caught in a tide she had no memory of stepping into. She took notice of the ink adorning her skin, several images decorated her skin, making her stare as she tried to work out the meaning behind them.

Sable swallowed, throat dry. Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke.

"…I don't understand. My…name is Sable?”

It was quiet, uncertain, and it tasted wrong on her tongue—like admitting defeat. Like surrendering something she wasn't sure she'd ever agreed to give. Why did it sound…so wrong to her ears?

She was unsure how this woman would respond. But for now Serina didn’t chastise her. Didn't fill the silence with answers that she wasn't ready to hear.

She just stayed.

Sable exhaled sharply, letting her head tip back against the pillow. Her body ached, exhaustion pulling at her limbs like iron weights, but her mind wouldn't still. Wouldn't settle.

Wouldn't let her forget that she had woken up without knowing her own name.

The weight of Serina's presence lingered, unwavering, patient. Like she was waiting for Sable to give in.

Maybe she already had.

Her eyelids felt heavier with every passing second, her body betraying her even as her mind fought to stay above the current. She didn't want to close her eyes. Didn't want to let go. But the exhaustion was winning, dragging her down, forcing her to surrender to the inevitable.

Serina had promised she would be here when she woke.

Sable wasn't sure why she believed her.

But she allowed herself to trust the woman.

So she settled back, letting out a sigh, closing her eyes.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos
Location: Rakata Prime.
Objective: Find the Truth, Fix her.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???

Control is not just about power, my darling. It is about knowing—about understanding what is yours, inside and out. I do not tolerate mysteries. And I do not accept uncertainty. So tell me… what are you hiding from me?
​

Serina watched her carefully, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the tension still lingering in her fingers even as exhaustion weighed her down. Sable's name—her name—was still foreign on her tongue, and Serina saw it. Felt it. That small flicker of resistance buried deep beneath the haze of uncertainty.

That would not do.

Serina had expected the past to die. She had ensured it. She had crafted her touch carefully, like an artist molding raw material into something exquisite. And yet, the ghost of something lingered in Sable's voice. Not rebellion—no, she had seen rebellion. Had crushed it beneath her heel, reshaped it into devotion.

This was something else.

Something unfinished.

She did not like unfinished things.

Still, Serina did not let her displeasure show. She did not scowl, did not reprimand, did not tighten her grip until it bruised like she might have done with another. No, Sable was different. Special. Sable had bent to her, yielded beneath her touch like something inevitable, and Serina would not tarnish that perfection with unnecessary cruelty.

Instead, she reached forward, tracing the delicate lines of ink on Sable's forearm with a featherlight touch. Symbols. Marks. They spoke of something old, something that should have been buried, and yet here they were. She did not recognize them, but that only fueled the quiet, insidious thought creeping through the back of her mind.

Why won't her past die?

Serina exhaled slowly, composing herself, letting her fingers linger, soft, affectionate.

"Yes, darling. Your name is Sable."

Her voice was smooth, unwavering, as if saying it made it truth. Because it was truth. The past was a lie. This was real. She was real.

Her other hand lifted, trailing gently along the curve of Sable's jaw, coaxing her to relax, to let go.

"And you will come to understand it, in time. It will become as natural as breath, as instinct. You will not have to think about it." Serina's lips curled, her tone dipping into something warmer, something indulgent. "You will love the sound of it on my lips."

Her thumb ghosted over Sable's lower lip, a possessive gesture, a silent promise. Mine.

Serina knew how to be cruel. Knew how to take. But this? This was how you shaped something with permanence. You did not strike at the cracks and widen them. You filled them, patiently, thoroughly, until the original shape no longer existed.

"Sleep, my dear," Serina whispered, leaning in just enough that Sable would feel the warmth of her breath against her temple. "I will be here when you wake."

And it was not a lie.

Serina lingered a moment longer, watching the last vestiges of consciousness slip from Sable's features, her expression peaceful in a way Serina doubted it had ever truly been. The ink on her skin, the echoes of something unfinished, still gnawed at the back of Serina's mind.

She moved over to the computer nearby, rewatching the same clip she had a thousand times before.

She would find answers.

 

[Alana Calloway]

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The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos​

​

Location: Unknown​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

Alana woke with a sharp inhale, like surfacing from deep underwater. The air felt heavy—wrong—thick with something she couldn't name. Her fingers curled against the fabric beneath her, coarse and unfamiliar, but that wasn't what set her pulse pounding.

It was the silence.

Not the quiet hum of a ship at rest. Not the distant murmur of a crowded street. A silence too controlled, too intentional. The kind that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Her eyes snapped open.

She didn't recognize the room. Sleek. Dimly lit. The shadows stretched too far, pooling in corners where her mind swore something might be watching. The bed beneath her was too clean, the air smelled too sterile. No scent of dust, of oil, of life.

Where—

A sharp pulse ran through her skull, a spike of white-hot pain that nearly made her gag. She squeezed her eyes shut, breath shuddering. Something wasn't right.

She tried to piece together the last thing she remembered.

Dantooine? No. That was too long ago. A bounty? No, she hadn't taken a job in weeks. She'd been—

The memory wasn't there. Just an expanse of nothing.

Alana sat up too fast, her heart hammering. The movement was automatic—practiced. The way someone moved when they expected a fight. But her body felt heavy, sluggish, like it wasn't hers. A familiar pain throbbed against the right side of her skull. She moved to contain it there, wincing in discomfort.

The tattoo on her arms were still there. The ink. The reminders. But something was missing. Something fundamental.

Her mouth felt dry.

Where the kriff was she?

That question soon faded, as she noticed Serina’s form nearby, feeling a small bit of relief at the realization. “Serina-“ She started, before her voice gave out.

Force, her throat was dry.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos
Location: Rakata Prime.
Objective: Find the Truth, Fix her.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???

Control is not just about power, my darling. It is about knowing—about understanding what is yours, inside and out. I do not tolerate mysteries. And I do not accept uncertainty. So tell me… what are you hiding from me?
​

Serina's focus had been entirely on the holopad resting in her lap, its dim glow casting shadows across her face as she analyzed the latest maneuvers of her simulated fleet. The game was amusing, a way to pass time, to sharpen her mind while she waited. She had been toying with a blockade strategy, methodically crushing any opposing force with the precision she so adored.

But then—

"Serina."

The voice was hoarse, rough from disuse, but unmistakable.

Her head snapped up immediately, crimson eyes locking onto the figure stirring in the bed.

The holopad dimmed in an instant as Serina set it aside, the simulation forgotten. She shifted forward, elegant and deliberate, her expression unreadable, but inside? Inside, she was already analyzing, dissecting, questioning.

Sable—or was it Alana now?—had spoken her name. Without hesitation. Without being prompted.

That was new.

Her gaze swept over the woman in front of her, cataloging every minute detail. The confusion in her eyes. The tension in her muscles. The slight quiver in her fingers as she touched her temple. Memory returning where it should not have.

Serina didn't let her concern show. Instead, she tilted her head, studying her with that same careful, clinical precision.

"You remember my name," she observed, voice smooth, but the subtle sharpness beneath it was undeniable.

Not My Lady. Not Mistress. Not a name forced from broken lips in desperate surrender.

Her name. Serina.

And that meant something had shifted.

Something had cracked.

Serina rose from her chair in a fluid motion, closing the space between them effortlessly, her presence settling heavy in the air. Her fingers reached forward, grazing lightly along Sable's jaw, tilting her chin up just slightly. Not forceful. Not yet.

"Tell me," Serina purred, her touch featherlight but anchoring, pressing reality into her with every syllable. "What is your name, darling?"

Because Serina needed to know exactly who she was speaking to.

Sable?

Alana?

Or someone else entirely?

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos​

​

Location: Unknown​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

Alana's breath came shallow, uneven. Her mind was a battlefield—memories clawing at her, half-formed and shattered, too jagged to hold without bleeding. Her name, her real name, sat heavy on her tongue, begging to be spoken. But if she said it, if she let it out, then what?

Would it all come crashing down?

Would Serina look at her differently?

She wanted to say it. She wanted to hold onto it like a lifeline, to cling to the pieces of herself that had been ripped away. But then—Serina touched her.

It was light. Featherlight. A barely-there brush along her jaw, tilting her face up, guiding her back to the present. It should have been grounding, reassuring, but it only made her tremble worse. Because Serina wasn't asking as a commander demanding obedience. She wasn't forcing, wasn't prying.

She was waiting.

And that scared Alana more than anything else.

Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her throat was dry, her chest too tight. Instead, her hands lifted—hesitant, uncertain—until they caught Serina's wrists. Not to push her away. To hold on.

"I—" Her voice cracked, rough with emotion. Raw. "I’m….Alana?”

The words made her stomach twist. Because she did know. She knew exactly who she was, exactly what she had been before this place, before the Empire had carved her into something else.

But knowing and being weren't the same thing.

Her grip on Serina's wrists tightened, fingers pressing into skin like she was afraid this moment might slip away. Her red eyes, wild and too bright, searched Serina's face like she was looking for something—some kind of anchor, some kind of answer.

And then, in a whisper, so soft it barely existed—

"…I think I'm …dead."

 

[Serina Calis]

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos
Location: Rakata Prime.
Objective: Find the Truth, Fix her.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???

Control is not just about power, my darling. It is about knowing—about understanding what is yours, inside and out. I do not tolerate mysteries. And I do not accept uncertainty. So tell me… what are you hiding from me?
​

For a moment—just a moment—Serina didn't speak.

She had won a thousand battles without lifting a blade, without firing a shot, without spilling a single drop of blood. She had turned resistance into obedience, defiance into devotion. She had stripped away the unnecessary and rebuilt it into something better, something stronger, something hers.

But this—

This was not a victory.

The way Alana—not Sable, not now—held onto her, trembling, breaking apart in real-time, it was wrong. This was not the precision she had honed, not the perfection she had sculpted. This was something else entirely.

"I think I'm dead."

Serina exhaled through her nose, slow and deliberate. There was no pleasure in this moment. No satisfaction.

Just her.

And Alana.

Still gripping her wrists like she might disappear if she let go.

Serina could have scoffed. Could have chided her for this pathetic display, for slipping so far, for unraveling so completely. Could have mocked her for falling back into the fragile, broken thing she had once been.

But what use was something shattered beyond repair?

No—this required something different.

Serina moved with a grace so slow, so deliberate, that it was almost unnatural. She let Alana hold on, let her press those trembling fingers into her skin. Let her cling to something real.

Then, gently, she shifted.

Serina's hands, so often used to command, to mold, to take, instead curled around Alana's—steadying, holding.

Not controlling.

Not demanding.

Simply there.

"You are not dead," Serina said, her voice softer than it had ever been. It was still smooth, still rich, but there was something else woven into it now—something that didn't often see the light of day.

Certainty.

"You are here." A pause. A breath. A truth. "With me."

It was not a threat. It was not a promise. It was simply fact.

Serina let one hand move, trailing slowly up Alana's arm, skimming over her shoulder, up her neck—settling, finally, against the side of her face. Her thumb brushed over her cheek, not possessive, not cruel.

Just present.

"You are not lost," Serina continued, her voice dropping to something low, something steady. "You are not gone. You are here. And I will not allow you to slip away."

Not now.

Not ever.

She could feel Alana's pulse thrumming beneath her fingertips—too fast, too uneven, but still there.

Still alive.

Serina leaned in, close enough that her breath brushed against Alana's skin, close enough that the warmth of her presence was inescapable.

"Listen to me, darling," she murmured. "I will not let you fade."

She could have spoken of strength. Of purpose. Of Sable Varro. She could have reminded Alana of everything she could of become.

But that wasn't what was needed.

Not now.

Instead, she let her be.

For now.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos​

​

Location: Unknown​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

Alana's hands gripped Serina's with desperation, fingers trembling as if she could hold herself together simply by clutching onto the reality of the woman in front of her. She felt fractured, each word that had left her mouth like a jagged piece of glass being pulled from a wound. And when she spoke, it was with a rawness she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.

"I don't know who I am anymore," She whispered, her voice breaking with the weight of her admission. Her chest was tight, her breath shallow, and for a moment, she wasn't sure she even wanted to keep going. But the words—once they were out—seemed to hang in the air between them, as if they might finally unlock something buried deep inside her.

"Who I was…" Alana paused, the thought like a phantom that threatened to vanish entirely when she tried to grasp it. "I think she died a long time ago." The words didn't feel real as they left her lips, but the ache in her heart, the hollowed-out feeling in her chest, was.

Her hands tightened around Serina's, nails biting into her own palms as if the physical pain might pull her back from the dark edges of her own thoughts. She felt… adrift. Like a ghost drifting through a life she couldn't remember fully. The person she had once been was a faded shadow, a phantom of someone she thought she used to know.

Her heart was beating too fast, and yet it felt so distant, so out of sync with the rest of her body. "I wake up, and it's like I've been dead all these years," She said, her voice growing thinner with each word. The words themselves were a betrayal, but they were true. She wasn't sure if she was even alive in the way she used to be. Her thoughts were tangled, the fragments of her former self scattered too far apart to put back together.

The thought of her former self—her real self—was almost laughable now. What if that person never existed? It was a haunting thought, one that circled in her mind and grew louder with each passing day. And it scared her. Terrified her.

"I'm just… this now," she whispered, looking down at their intertwined hands, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers tightened again, her pulse hammering in her ears. "I don't know if I can be anything more….they killed me…over, and over…"

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images in her mind, the memory of who she used to be—someone strong, someone whole. But that person was fading, and Alana wasn't sure she even remembered her anymore. There was only this fractured shell of a person, barely holding onto what felt like the remnants of a life she couldn't even recognize. She felt herself imploding in the inside. Uncertainty, condemnation, deceit-was it all a lie?

The weight of the silence crushed her. The question lingered in her chest, suffocating her, but she couldn't bring herself to ask it aloud.
What was she now?

Who was she even?


And then, without even realizing it, she pulled herself closer, clinging to Serina's touch like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world. She didn't know if it was the comfort she needed or if she just couldn't stand to be alone with the thoughts tearing her apart. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she let herself feel something that wasn't numbness.

Maybe she wasn't lost.

But even as she thought it, she wasn't sure she believed it.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos
Location: Rakata Prime.
Objective: Find the Truth, Fix her.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???

Control is not just about power, my darling. It is about knowing—about understanding what is yours, inside and out. I do not tolerate mysteries. And I do not accept uncertainty. So tell me… what are you hiding from me?
​

Serina stilled.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she did not have the right words.

Alana's voice was so raw, so broken, that it cut through the quiet calculations in Serina's mind like a blade to the heart. There was no resistance in her anymore—just exhaustion, just longing, just the fragile remains of someone who had been torn apart and stitched back together too many times to remember what the original shape had been.

Serina had taken many things in her life. Had reshaped people, refined them, molded them into what they were meant to be. But as she looked down at Alana—her trembling hands gripping her own like a lifeline, like the last tether to something real—Serina felt something she had not anticipated.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, silent and unnoticed, falling into the abyss between them.

She did not wipe it away.

Instead, she pulled Alana forward, wrapping her arms around her in an embrace that was neither a demand nor a command. Just warmth. Just presence. Just Serina.

She held her close, resting her chin lightly against the crown of Alana's head, fingers tracing slow, grounding patterns against her back. There was no rush, no expectation—just the steady rhythm of breathing, the quiet hum of existence between them.

And then, softly—gently—Serina spoke.

"You were never meant to be broken, my darling," she whispered, her voice carrying no trace of mockery, no amusement, no manipulation. "They tried to take everything from you. They tried to make you nothing."

Serina tightened her hold slightly, as if anchoring her.

"But I see you. I always have. And now… you have a choice."

She leaned back just enough to tilt Alana's chin up, forcing her to meet her gaze—not with force, not with control, but with something deeper. Something real.

"You can be Alana Calloway again," she murmured. "A woman who fought, who survived, who was never meant to be caged. Alana is fire. Alana is rebellion. She is stubborn and untamed, and no one—not even me—could ever fully own her."

A pause. A beat. A breath.

"Or you can be Sable Varro. The name I gave you. A name of my design. Sable is strength. Sable is purpose. She is not lost, not hunted, not searching. She is in bliss. She is mine."

She let the words settle, tracing her fingers along Alana's wrist where the pulse still raced beneath her skin.

"You have never been given a real choice, have you?" Serina murmured. "Always running. Always surviving. Always bending under the weight of someone else's will."

Her thumb brushed gently over Alana's knuckles, reassuring, patient.

"But now, for the first time, you get to decide who you are."

She smiled then—soft, warm, dangerous.

"Alana… Sable… It does not matter to me. I will cherish whatever choice you make."

Serina pressed a feather-light kiss to her forehead before whispering her final words against her skin.

"Think on it, my love. And when you are ready—tell me who you wish to be."

She pulled back just slightly, waiting, giving Alana the space to breathe. The space to choose.

For the first time in her life, no one was making the decision for her.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos​

​

Location: Unknown​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

Alana let the words settle between them, feeling their weight, their offer, their quiet promise. For a long moment, she simply breathed, letting Serina's warmth ground her instead of suffocate. She didn't pull away—not yet.

Her fingers flexed against Serina's sleeve, gripping it lightly before loosening again. The choice dangled before her like a blade's edge, tempting, terrifying. And for once, there was no force behind it. No demand. Just… space.

A quiet, tired laugh left her, barely more than a breath. "You make it sound so simple," She murmured. "Like I can just pick a name and everything else will fall into place….."

Her gaze lifted, meeting Serina's, searching for something she wasn't sure she'd find. “I don’t know know if I can be either of them," She admitted, voice softer now. "Not fully. Not yet."

But she didn't let go. Didn't push Serina away. Instead, she let herself lean—just slightly—into the touch, into the warmth, just for a moment. "I know you see me," she said, quieter still. "And I think… I think that scares me more than anything….knowing how weak I must seem right now…."

She exhaled, a slow, careful breath. Then, finally, she gave Serina's hand the smallest squeeze. "I don't have an answer tonight," She spoke, her voice tired but honest. "But I'll think about it…."

And that was more than she'd ever given anyone before. She looks to Serina, almost pleading. “Can you….please just stay here with me….and hold me….it…helps. Knowing I’m not alone.”

 

[Serina Calis]

The Girl With The Cartel Tattoos
Location: Rakata Prime.
Objective: Find the Truth, Fix her.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???

Control is not just about power, my darling. It is about knowing—about understanding what is yours, inside and out. I do not tolerate mysteries. And I do not accept uncertainty. So tell me… what are you hiding from me?
​

For a moment, Serina did not move.

She did not speak, did not blink, did not even breathe.

Because this—this was unfamiliar.

The weight of Alana's words, the hesitant touch, the quiet, pleading request—it stirred something within her. Something unrecognizable. Something that did not belong.

She should have been thrilled. Alana had given her everything. Her trust. Her dependence. Her very self. She had offered herself up in the rawest form Serina had ever seen, cracked open and trembling. It was everything Serina had wanted—wasn't it?

So why did it feel like something was pressing against her ribs, clawing at her throat?

Weakness. That's what this was. The part of her that still remembered what it meant to care. The part of her that had long since been drowned in ambition, in control, in power. She had no use for it. Had sworn herself to something greater than sentiment.

And yet—

Alana's voice, barely more than a whisper, echoed in her ears, wrapping around her like a chain. Please just stay here with me…

Serina had never been asked for something so simple. No kneeling, no submission, no promises of devotion or whispered vows of servitude. Just stay.

Her mind waged war against itself.

The cold, logical part of her—the part that had broken Alana, that had sculpted Sable—screamed at her to walk away. To let the girl wallow, to let the moment pass, to keep her on the edge of longing, needing her but never quite getting her. That was how power was maintained, how control was secured. That was how she kept her.

And yet, her body had already moved.

Serina let out a slow breath. Her arms moved on their own, wrapping around Alana, pulling her in. Holding her.

Not as a master. Not as a keeper.

Just as Serina.

Alana sighed softly against her, her body relaxing, the tension bleeding out of her muscles. And Serina—Serina let her.

It was an unfamiliar feeling. Unsettling. But not unpleasant.

Her fingers traced slow, absent patterns along Alana's back, her grip firm but not possessive. Not controlling. Just there.

The silence stretched, comfortable in a way Serina hadn't expected. And for once, she didn't try to fill it.

She simply held her.

And for the first time in a long, long time, she allowed herself to be human.