Private The Rakata Prime Grand Prix

[Alana Calloway]

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The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

The sun of Rakata Prime cast golden light over the makeshift race track Alana had pieced together. The course wound through the ruins of an ancient temple, weaving between crumbling stone pillars and archways overtaken by thick jungle vines. The terrain was rough, uneven, and absolutely perfect for the kind of chaos she had in mind.

It took her a bit longer to make it, though the construction bots she had ‘borrowed’ certainly helped the work go by faster.

Serina should have received her invitation at any more now, and then, she’d come out to find Alana had set up the perfect activity for them.

The shorter dark Jedi would find Alana, leaning against a speeder bike, arms crossed, watching as Serina took in the sight before her. "Figured you needed a pick-me-up," Alana said with a smirk. "So I put together a little something. Thought you might enjoy a proper race."

She kicked a foot against the speeder's frame, the engine purring in response. A second bike sat not far behind, looking rather familiar to the dark Jedi.

Alana lifted her helmet off the front of the speeder, looking giddy. "So….are we racing or not?”

Then, after a pause, she added with a grin. “I mean, if you want back out, I won’t tease you too much~”

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina had barely glanced at the message when she stepped onto the landing platform, arms folded tightly across her chest. The humid air of Rakata Prime pressed against her skin, thick with the scent of damp stone and jungle bloom. She wasn't in the mood for games, not today—not after the last week of endless distractions, of unwanted introspection.

She was here to build something, not waste time.

And yet, the moment she stepped onto the overlook and saw what Alana had done, her irritation flickered into something else.

The track sprawled before her, carved through the ruins of an ancient civilization, winding between moss-covered pillars and crumbling structures. Two speeder bikes sat waiting, one already warmed up, its engine thrumming in anticipation.

Serina exhaled sharply, already knowing what this was. Already knowing why.

Her gaze shifted, finding Alana leaning against one of the bikes, arms crossed, eyes practically daring her to engage.

"So….are we racing or not?"

Serina didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took a slow step forward, glancing over the course, feigning indifference. She wasn't in the mood for childish nonsense. Not today. Not after everything.

And yet—

Her fingers twitched at her side, a memory rising unbidden. The weight of wind whipping against her skin. The rush of speed. The way the world blurred at the edges when she let go.

It had been years since she'd raced. Years since she'd let herself play.

Alana's voice cut through her thoughts again, teasing now. "I mean, if you want to back out, I won't tease you too much~"

Serina's head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing, lips pressing into a thin line.

Oh, she knew what she was doing.

She knew.

For a long, drawn-out moment, Serina only stared, calculating, letting the silence stretch just enough to make Alana wonder if she would actually leave.

Then—

A slow smirk curled her lips.

"Back out?" Serina's tone was velvet and steel, a dangerous amusement threading through it. "Darling, if I race, you won't even see the finish line."

She moved toward the second bike, running a gloved hand along its frame, familiarizing herself with it. The weight, the balance—it was built for maneuverability, for aggression. Good.

Still, she pretended to inspect it longer than necessary, letting the anticipation build, letting the moment stretch.

Finally, she slid onto the seat with effortless grace, resting her hands on the controls, the engine humming to life beneath her.

She glanced at Alana through her lashes, voice dropping into something deceptively casual.

"You better try to keep up."

 

[Alana Calloway]

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The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

Alana's grin widened, sharp and wolfish. That's more like it.

She swung a leg over her own speeder, fingers curling around the worn grips as the engine thrummed beneath her. The machine was temperamental, patched together from whatever scraps she'd found, but that just made things more interesting. Unpredictable.

Just like this race.

She met Serina's gaze, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, don't worry about me, sweetheart." She revved the engine, the sound cutting through the humid air like a war cry. "Worry about yourself. Would hate to see you eat sand before we even hit the first turn."

With a flick of her wrist, she shifted forward, boots kicking up dust as the speeder lurched beneath her. The countdown wouldn’t begin until Serina had gotten set. Alana had set a series of rocks in a line on the sands, but they would need some sort of signal to go off of. They both felt it—the tension, the challenge, the need for speed.

Once Serina seemed settled, Alana would slide her helmet on, her giggling drowned out by the roar of the engine.

"Ready?" Alana called over the roar of the engines, barely waiting for an answer before she grinned.

Then—

"Go."

She slammed the throttle forward, and the world blurred.

This was going to be fun.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina's smirk didn't falter, but her grip on the speeder's handles tightened as the engines roared beneath her. The vibrations hummed through her gloves, a familiar sensation, one that sent a rush of something almost intoxicating through her veins.

She had spent so long controlling everything—her actions, her thoughts, her future. But here? Here there was no control. Only speed. Only instinct.

She relished it.

The countdown had barely left Alana's lips before Serina launched forward, the force of acceleration pressing against her chest, the wind whipping past her in a furious blur. The track stretched ahead, uneven and treacherous, but Serina didn't hesitate.

She never hesitated.

The first turn came fast, a sharp curve around the crumbling remains of a temple wall. Most people would slow, play it safe. Serina didn't. She shifted her weight, leaning hard, letting the speeder tilt dangerously close to the ground before kicking the throttle higher, shooting out of the turn with a burst of speed.

She could already hear Alana somewhere ahead—of course, she had taken the lead. But Serina knew better than to rush recklessly. She was calculating, reading the track, committing every rock, every turn to memory.

She'd win this her way.

The next section was tighter, the path narrowing between jagged pillars of stone, but Serina weaved through them with precision, control. The speeder growled beneath her, hungry for more.

Serina grinned, sharp and full of challenge.

Her fingers flexed, and she gunned the throttle.

Time to really race.

 

[Alana Calloway]

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The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

Alana was already ahead, but she had no intention of keeping things safe. That wasn't her way.

She whipped the speeder into a near-suicidal swerve around a crumbling archway, the repulsors screaming as she barely missed the edge. The world blurred in streaks of stone and jungle as she cut dangerously close to the ruins, using the uneven terrain as a playground rather than a hazard. A jagged outcrop loomed ahead—most would steer clear. Alana? She hit the throttle, launched the speeder off the incline, and soared through the air for a heart-stopping moment before slamming back down, the impact rattling through her bones.

She shot a glance back, just enough to catch Serina closing the gap with surgical precision. Always calculated, always in control.

Always a buzzkill.

Alana grinned, reckless and wild, and pushed the throttle harder.

She felt a faint familiarity coming to her. She feels warmth in her chest.

The next curve was a nightmare—tight, full of debris, no room for error. Perfect. She skidded sideways into the turn, her speeder tilting so sharply that, for a breath, it felt like she might lose it.

But she didn't. She never did.

Instead, she tore out of the turn, laughing into the wind, daring Serina to match her madness.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina's lips curled into something dark and amused, a predator's smirk flashing beneath the wind rushing past her. Oh, she wants to play?

Fine.

Alana was fast, reckless, unpredictable. She wielded danger like a weapon, turning every hazard into an opportunity, dancing on the edge of disaster without ever quite falling. It was infuriating. It was exhilarating. It was so Alana.

But Serina?

Serina was something else entirely.

Where Alana was wild, Serina was precise. Where Alana let instinct guide her, Serina used cold calculation. And where Alana was chaotic—Serina was inevitable.

Her speeder barely wavered as she surged forward, threading the gap between stone pillars so closely that she felt the air shift against her skin. The world narrowed to sharp angles, to movements measured down to the millimeter. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion.

She saw Alana skidding into the next turn, teetering on the edge of control. Foolish.

Serina didn't skid. She didn't need to.

At the last moment, she cut her speeder hard, skimming the inside of the turn with terrifying precision. The repulsors flared, kicking up a storm of dust and debris as she all but glided through the bend, leaving barely a whisper between herself and the crumbling ruin beside her. No wonder she fried so many speeders.

And just like that—she was closing the gap.

She caught Alana's laugh over the roar of the engines, the pure, wild thrill in it, and something inside her twisted. Not with frustration. Not even with the need to win.

But with something far more dangerous.

She wanted to see her like this.

Untamed. Daring. Brilliant in her madness.

Serina gunned the throttle, drawing alongside Alana for the briefest of moments. She didn't look over. She didn't need to. The heat between them was palpable, electric, surging through the space that barely separated their bikes.

Then—

She turned her head just slightly, her voice a purr beneath the wind.

"You'll have to do better than that, sweetheart."

 

[Alana Calloway]

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The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

Alana's grin was all teeth, sharp and wild, her crimson eyes flashing with unrestrained delight. Oh, Serina wanted better? She'd get it.

The moment Serina slipped ahead by a fraction, Alana made her move.

She slammed her foot against the speeder's control panel, overriding every safety protocol in one reckless, fluid motion. The engine snarled in protest, the repulsors spiking with a surge of raw, unchecked power. Every warning light on the dash flared red. The speeder shuddered beneath her, a beast on the verge of tearing itself apart.

Perfect.

The world blurred.

Alana didn't steer—she commanded.

She wrenched the speeder into an impossibly sharp banking maneuver, tilting at an angle that defied gravity itself. The repulsorlifts screamed, barely holding together as she whipped past Serina in a move so reckless, so impossibly fast, that for a split second, it looked like she would crash.

But she didn't.

Instead, she shot forward like a comet, blazing ahead with a speed that should've been impossible.

For a breathless moment, all Serina could see was the streak of Alana's taillights vanishing into the chaos of dust and debris she left in her wake.

And then—because Alana never did anything quietly—her voice crackled through the comms, breathless and laughing, charged with adrenaline and something far more dangerous.

Better?

Alana barely had time to savor her lead before the speeder betrayed her.

The overclocked engine, pushed beyond its limits, snarled in protest. The repulsors flickered—just for a second, just long enough for everything to go wrong.

The back end kicked out violently, throwing the speeder into an uncontrolled spin.

Alana's stomach lurched as the world twisted around her, the jagged ruins and blurred horizon whipping past in a dizzying spiral. She felt the moment her control slipped, the moment instinct had to take over.

She slammed her weight against the seat, pressing down, fighting against the vicious momentum trying to rip her off. The wind clawed at her, threatening to tear her free. Her hands clenched around the controls, muscles screaming as she forced the speeder back into her grasp.

With a guttural snarl, she wrenched the speeder sideways, throwing her full weight into the maneuver. The repulsors shrieked, the thrusters spat fire, and the spin broke—slamming the speeder back into a razor-sharp trajectory.

And right through a thicket of bush.

Then Alana was gone, sadly, off the course for now.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina felt it before she saw it.

The shift.

One moment, Alana was a comet streaking ahead, a brilliant, reckless blur of speed and defiance. The next, there was something off—something in the way her speeder's repulsors flickered, the way its frame shuddered like a creature pushed too far.

Serina's heart clenched.

She didn't think—she reacted.

The second Alana's trajectory broke, Serina wrenched her own speeder into a brutal deceleration, the force of it slamming against her ribs. Dust and debris blasted past her as she twisted sharply, veering toward the spot where Alana had been moments before—where she had spiraled out of control.

"Alana!"

She wasn't sure if the name ripped from her throat or through the comms. Maybe both.

Through the thinning dust, she caught glimpses—too fast, too wrong, too much.

The edge of the track. A sharp, merciless drop beyond it. The tangled, vicious sprawl of the jungle below.

And Alana—gone.

Serina cursed, vicious and snarling, as she whipped her speeder toward the spot where the other woman had vanished. The engines flared hot beneath her, the repulsors kicking up a whirlwind of sand and shattered stone, but she didn't care. She didn't care.

Her hands were white-knuckled on the controls, her pulse hammering in her ears. She should have seen this coming. Should have known Alana would push too hard, too far.

Should have stopped her.

Serina ground her teeth, forcing herself to breathe past the spike of frustration, of something deeper clawing its way up her throat. Something she would not name.

Instead, she focused.

The Force coiled around her senses, heightening, searching.

Alana was down there. Somewhere.

Serina narrowed her eyes, yanked the speeder into a controlled descent, and dove after her.

 

[Alana Calloway]

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The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

The jungle wasn't just a blur anymore—it was a maelstrom, a gauntlet of twisted roots, lunging branches, and treacherous terrain. The speeder was fast, but her mind was faster, though the fall she was in was by far the fastest thing here.

She felt her pupils dilate, and a rhythmic ticking started at the back of her mind. The world seemed to just slow down.

Something in Alana shifted.

The world slowed—not in the way adrenaline made it feel sluggish, but something deeper. The sound of her own heartbeat filled her ears, steady, unshaken.

A low-hanging branch lunged—she knew it was coming before she saw it. Her body moved before she could think, twisting low, flattening against the seat. The branch snapped past, missing her by a hair's breadth.

The ground beneath her shifted—an exposed root threatening to catch her repulsors. The thought barely registered before her hands jerked the controls, the speeder tilting at an impossible angle to slip through the gap.

The Force was alive in her now, guiding her, whispering the path before it even revealed itself. A boulder, jagged and massive, came out of nowhere—she didn't hesitate. Instead of veering, she leaned into it, feeling the tension coil in her muscles. At the exact moment before impact, she twisted the speeder and kicked off the rock with the side of her foot, using the momentum to redirect midair.

By some miracle she didn’t break her foot, she hasn’t even thought to do it.

She just did.

She landed smoothly, seamlessly, tearing through the jungle like she belonged there. Like she was part of it.

Serina's voice was still in her ear, sharp and urgent, but distant, like it came from another world.

Alana wasn't thinking anymore.

She was moving.

Another obstacle—something huge, something coming too fast.

She didn't even blink.

The speeder dove, and so did she. At the last second, she rolled off, letting the bike spin through the narrow gap between two rock formations. The instant her boots hit the top of the rock, she pushed—a Force-driven surge of movement launching her forward.

She hit the seat mid-air, one hand catching the handlebar, body already sliding back into position. The speeder roared beneath her, hungry for more.

Alana laughed, wild and breathless, heat rushing through her veins.

Then she noticed Serina speaking in her ear, and…was that worry?

She hit the comms.

"Serina," She breathed, exhilarated, the adrenaline curling her words into something electric. "Seems I got on the scenic route."

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina could barely see through the chaos—the jungle was a blur of motion, the dappled light flickering violently as she weaved through the dense undergrowth at speeds no sane person should attempt. But sanity had never been Alana's strong suit.

And Force help her, Serina didn't think it was hers either.

Her comm crackled to life—finally—but instead of strained breathing, instead of an injured, half-conscious mess, she got that tone. That breathless, reckless, feral joy.

"Serina. Seems I got on the scenic route."

Serina almost crashed.

She grit her teeth, yanking her speeder into a brutal maneuver to avoid an ancient stone outcropping. Her hands were too tight on the controls, her pulse hammering behind her eyes. For the first time in a long, long time, she wasn't sure if she wanted to strangle Alana or—

No. No.

Serina inhaled sharply, pushing the thought down.

"Alana." Her voice was like a whip crack over the comms, low and cold, but shaking at the edges. "If you wanted to get yourself killed, you could have just asked me to do it instead of making me chase your half-feral ass through a forcedamned death trap."

She was gaining on her now, the jungle narrowing, their paths starting to converge.

Serina saw her—just a streak of motion, barely tangible, tearing through the terrain like a storm, like she was made for this.

Serina should have been furious.

And she was.

But underneath it, buried deep where she wouldn't name it, was something else.

Awe.

Alana wasn't just moving—she was unshackled. There was no thought, no hesitation, no fear. Just raw instinct, raw talent, raw power. The Force wrapped around her, guiding her, bending to her as if it had been waiting for her to finally let go.

And that was what made Serina's heart stop.

Because Alana hadn't even realized.

Serina clenched her jaw, her voice lowering to something sharper, something dangerous.

"Tell me, Alana," she purred, pressing the comm tighter against her ear, "was it the Force that made sure you didn't break your neck back there, or are you just that lucky?"

Because if it was the Force—if Alana had finally done it—

 

[Alana Calloway]

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The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

Yea, Serina was not happy with her. She could hear it in the woman’s voice.

Alana should've been riding the high, should've let the rush carry her forward, unshaken and unstoppable. And for a moment, she had. The jungle had blurred into motion, the wind had roared against her skin, and she had felt alive—more than she had in years.

But then Serina's voice cut through, sharp as a vibroblade.

"Was it the Force that made sure you didn't break your neck back there, or are you just that lucky?"

Alana's hands tightened on the controls.

The rush dulled. The thrill curdled.

She knew the answer.

She'd felt it, the way her body had moved before she could think, the way the world had slowed, how she had known where to go before her eyes had even caught up.

And yet—she hadn't meant to.

Hadn't wanted to.

Her pulse hammered in her throat, but she forced herself to exhale, to push it down. It wasn't the first time she'd felt the Force creep in, slithering beneath her skin, pressing into her thoughts like an unwelcome hand on her shoulder.

It had always been there, waiting.

It had always been the thing she ran from.

Her grip eased off the throttle, her speeder gradually slowing, allowing Serina to close the distance. The jungle's chaos began to settle, the blur sharpening into something solid again.

She let Serina catch up, let her presence weigh in beside her like an inevitability.

Alana didn't look at her. Not yet. Though she did bring her bike to a stop, removing her helmet, and letting her ashen hair tumble down.

She forced a smirk, something easy, something normal, even if it felt paper-thin.

"Luck," She said, casual, dismissive. "Nothing more."

Lies had always come easy to her.

But this one?

It bothered her, and frankly, concerned her that her ‘gift’ still lingered with her.

That high she was on suddenly came crashing down.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina slowed beside her, speeder purring as it settled into an idle hum. She didn't move at first, just let the silence stretch, let the weight of her presence fill the space between them. The jungle was still alive around them—the rustle of leaves, the distant cries of unseen creatures—but it all felt muted, drowned beneath the static in Serina's mind.

Alana had lied to her.

And Serina hated lies.

Not because she couldn't see through them. No, that was the problem—she could. She saw every flicker of doubt in Alana's crimson eyes, every minute hesitation in the way she gripped the handlebars, the slight falter in her smirk.

It is that lies were an attempt to take away control from her.

Serina exhaled through her nose, a slow, controlled breath, but her hands were still too tight on the controls.

Then—without warning—she reached over.

The movement was smooth, deliberate, her fingers tilting Alana's chin up with just enough force to demand her full attention.

"Try that again," she murmured, voice low, dangerous, but not unkind.

She didn't need to say the rest.

Don't insult me. Don't insult yourself.

Her thumb brushed over Alana's jaw before she pulled back, tilting her head, studying her like a puzzle missing its final piece. Her expression softened—not with amusement, not with indulgence, but with something deeper. Something Alana wouldn't be able to ignore.

Serina had been terrified.

For the first time in months, she had felt that raw, ugly thing coil in her gut, had felt her pulse spike in a way that had nothing to do with battle, nothing to do with power, nothing to do with control.

Because she hadn't been in control.

Not of this. Not of Alana.

And yet… damn her, Serina couldn't stop the smirk that tugged at her lips, the flicker of something she refused to call pride curling warm and insidious in her chest.

"You were brilliant."

The words left her like an exhale, something inevitable. Serina turned fully in her seat now, her hands resting lightly on the handlebars, but her gaze never leaving Alana's.

"I should be furious with you," she mused, tilting her head. "And oh, don't mistake me, darling—I am. You risked everything pulling that stunt."

Her fingers drummed against the speeder's frame, her voice dipping lower.

"But for just a moment, you let the Force into you."

A beat. A pause, thick with meaning.

"And you soared."

Serina leaned forward then, her lips just shy of brushing Alana's ear, her voice little more than a purr.

"I felt you."

Her breath was warm, teasing, before she leaned back, watching with quiet amusement, with something bordering on affection.

Then, without waiting for a response, she reached over—graceful, fluid—and wiped a stray smear of dirt from Alana's cheek with her thumb. The touch lingered, too soft for someone who had nearly lost her mind watching that near-crash unfold.

Serina tilted her head, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "Do you know what that means?"

It wasn't a question.

It was a promise.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

Alana should've pulled away.

She should've shrugged it off, laughed, turned the moment into something light, something easy—the way she always did when things got too real.

But Force help her, she didn't.

She stayed. Let Serina touch her. Let herself feel it.

Her chin tilted slightly beneath Serina's fingers, not in defiance, not in surrender, but in something else entirely—something caught between a slow inhale and the sharp edge of a knife. Her skin burned where Serina's thumb had brushed over her jaw, where the warmth of her breath had lingered near her ear, sending something treacherous curling low in her gut.

Alana didn't like this.

Didn't like the way Serina saw through her, the way she refused to let the lie slide, the way she spoke those words—You soared.—like they were undeniable.

And she really didn't like the way some part of her, the part she had spent years trying to bury, wanted to believe her.

Her throat felt tight. Her fingers flexed against the controls.

And for a long moment, she didn't answer.

Then—slowly, deliberately—she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"What do you want me to say?"

The smirk that followed was a fraction slower than usual, a shade softer, but it was still there—still her. A flicker of teeth, a glint of mischief in those crimson eyes, like she was daring Serina to push further, daring herself to stay in the moment just a little longer.

But her next words, low and rough, gave her away.

"I don't want it."

A beat. A hesitation. Then—quieter.

“The Force."

It was the closest thing to the truth she could give. The closest thing she could admit. To feel that connection, the death, the constant pulsation of the universe right there in your minds eye to do with as you wish-

She had never wanted it.

Her gaze flickered over Serina's face, searching, waiting—knowing full well Serina wouldn't accept that answer.

Knowing full well she wasn't sure if she wanted her to.

“No, I don’t know what it means.”

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina watched her in silence, letting the words settle, letting them hang between them like a blade suspended on the edge of a string.

I don't want it.

Oh, but Alana did. She might not think she did, might believe that denial could keep the Force at bay, but Serina had felt it. Had seen it. Had watched it unfold in the raw, untamed way only someone who had spent years trying to smother something so inherent could manifest.

The Force had never let go of Alana.

And now, neither would Serina.

Her lips curled—not quite a smirk, not quite a sneer, but something knowing, something satisfied. Not in victory, not in conquest. No, this was something deeper, something earned.

"You don't have to know what it means." Serina's voice was smooth, slow, coiling around the moment like silk and steel. "Not yet."

She reached forward, deliberate, slow enough that Alana could pull away—but she didn't. Serina's fingers traced a path from her jaw to her temple, lingering over the spot where sweat and dust clung to her skin. Her thumb brushed against the delicate space just above her cheekbone, the touch light but lingering.

"I've felt you in the Force, Alana," Serina murmured, and there was no mockery in her voice, no cruel teasing, no command. Only certainty. Only truth. "And for just a moment, you let yourself feel it too."

She tilted her head, her blue eyes sharp, focused, unrelenting.

"You don't have to want it. It wants you."

Serina let that settle before withdrawing her touch, giving Alana back that inch of space she thought she wanted, but not before she left behind something heavier, something she knew Alana would carry long after this moment passed.

It wasn't a demand. Not this time.

It was permission.

A promise.

Serina exhaled, the tension in her shoulders finally loosening. She rolled her neck, stretching, forcing herself to shift gears. The race was over, the adrenaline fading, the danger—at least the physical danger—had passed.

But oh, how deliciously fragile the moment still felt.

She leaned back, resting her weight against her speeder, one brow arching as her lips curled back into something more familiar, more teasing. "And as your superior in this little race," she drawled, mockingly smug, "I get to pick the reward."

Serina's grin was sharp as a vibroblade. "You," she purred, "owe me a favor."

Her tone was playful, but beneath it, the weight of the conversation still lingered, still pulsed between them. Because Serina knew.

She didn't need to push Alana toward the Force.

She just needed to make her free enough to let it in.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

Alana remained still, the weight of Serina's words pressing against her chest like a storm cloud she couldn't shake. She didn't pull away from Serina's touch, even as every instinct screamed to do so. Her breath hitched when Serina's fingers traced her skin, slow and deliberate. She felt something in her shift—a soft, hesitant release she had been fighting against for so long.

She didn't want to feel the Force.

But she had felt it.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Alana's mind didn't race with escape plans or distractions. She wasn't pushing it away. She just let it be. She let the Force hum around her, just for a moment.

And then let it go like she had just picked up a hot piece of beskar.

She was aware of Serina's gaze, of how she studied her with an intensity that might've been overwhelming if Alana hadn't already surrendered in ways she didn't quite understand.

And then, Serina spoke again.

"You don't have to want it. It wants you."

Alana's chest tightened. It wasn't a challenge. Not this time. It was something else—something quietly profound, as if Serina saw something in her that Alana hadn't even admitted to herself.

For a fleeting moment, her breath caught in her throat. There was no denying it. Not to Serina. Not to herself anymore.

"I... don't know what to do with that." The words came out quieter than she intended, almost as though she were speaking to herself. But the vulnerability was there, threading through the cracks of her defiance.

No not defiance, reluctance.

Alana blinked, the weight of that truth sinking deeper into her chest.

When Serina finally withdrew her touch, a sense of absence settled in the space between them—though it wasn't unwelcome. Her skin still burned where Serina had touched her, as if some invisible mark had been left behind.

But Serina's teasing voice soon broke the silence, and Alana, despite herself, let out a low chuckle, her hand slowly loosening its grip on the handlebars. She tilted her head toward Serina, a defiant smirk tugging at her lips.

"You do know I was winning right…." Alana shot back, but her voice lacked the usual bite. There was something softer beneath it now. Something that made her words ring truer than she intended.

But it was enough.

For the first time in a long time, Alana didn't fight the space between them. She didn't fight Serina. Not this time.

"Pretty sure you have to win a race to get a reward," She mused, her voice steady now, even as she still processed the weight of everything that had been said. "And I don’t think we agreed on this…."

The air between them crackled, tension swirling—but this time, it felt like it could go somewhere else. Somewhere different.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina smirked, slow and knowing, as if she could see the battle waging in Alana's mind, feel the way her defenses wavered—just enough. Just enough to make her stay.

For all of Alana's bravado, for all her attempts to claw her way out of this truth, Serina had seen something raw, something real flicker in those crimson eyes. And that—that—was enough.

She leaned in slightly, just enough to erase a sliver of the space between them, enough that Alana could feel her warmth, enough that the air between them hummed with something unspoken.

"You were winning?" Serina mused, feigning amusement, though the tilt of her head, the way her gaze dipped down just so, betrayed the deeper satisfaction curling in her chest. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, sweetheart?"

She reached up, slow, deliberate, tucking a loose strand of Alana's ashen hair behind her ear. It wasn't necessary. It was intimate. Unapologetic. And she left her fingers lingering a second too long, tracing the line of Alana's jaw with a featherlight touch before pulling away.

"I seem to remember you flying off course while I stayed exactly where I was supposed to be," Serina purred, her voice dipping lower, smoothing over Alana's nerves like velvet laced with steel. "Which means I win. And you—" she traced a teasing circle in the air between them, "owe me."

A pause. The air between them thickened, the weight of their conversation still lingering in the edges of the moment. Serina's expression softened—not much, but enough.

"You don't have to know what to do with it yet," she murmured, her tone dropping into something real, something that edged just slightly away from the game. "You don't even have to want it."

She leaned in, her lips brushing close to Alana's ear—not touching, but close enough that her breath was warm against her skin.

"But you felt it," Serina whispered. "And that's enough for now."

Then, just as smoothly, as effortlessly as she had unraveled Alana, she pulled back, letting the weight of her absence settle.

She straightened, stretching her arms above her head, shaking off the tension, as if none of this had been dangerous. As if she hadn't just pried open something deep inside Alana that the woman had been desperately trying to keep shut.

"Now," she said, smirking as if nothing had happened, as if the moment hadn't nearly swallowed them both whole. "As for your little debt…"

She trailed off, deliberately letting the anticipation build, watching Alana with that same knowing, wicked amusement that always promised trouble.

Serina took a step back toward her speeder, the mischief in her gaze undeniable.

"I'll let you know when I'm ready to cash it in."

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.​

​

Alana didn't move—not at first.

The heat of Serina's breath still ghosted against her skin, the weight of her touch lingering long after she'd pulled away. It wasn't the contact itself that unsettled her. It was the way Serina implied she owned her—slow, deliberate, peeling back layers Alana like she was in the wrong here.

And worse? She let her.

Alana exhaled, slow and measured, forcing herself to lean back as if she weren't reeling, as if Serina's words hadn't crawled under her skin and settled there.

She viewed Alana like a pet.

"I wish we could have just kept this….friendly without it turning into a power struggle again," She shot back, voice low. Her smirk was gone, it didn't quite reach her eyes—not fully.

Because Serina was right. And they both knew it.

Alana had felt it. The thing she kept trying to kill inside herself. The thing that refused to die.

She rolled her shoulders, pushing the tension out, or at least pretending she could. "Well." A pause, crimson eyes flicking over Serina with something unreadable. But if there was a name to it, it would be hurt perhaps. "I’ll be back shortly then."

She turned, feigning nonchalance as she powered up her own speeder, but she didn't miss the way Serina watched her. Like she was waiting. Like she already knew.

And that was the worst part.

Alana took off, leaving Serina behind.

To say she felt upset was putting it mildly.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Rakata Prime Grand Prix.
Location: Rakata Prime
Objective: Wipe that little smirk off her face.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: None.

Speeder racing, really Serina?
​

Serina stood frozen, the roar of Alana's speeder fading into the jungle, swallowed by the dense canopy and the endless stretch of distant waves. She didn't move, didn't call after her, didn't try to stop her.

What would have been the point?

The realization settled in her stomach like a stone, cold and heavy, sinking deeper with every breath. She had meant well. For once—genuinely, honestly, without calculation—she had meant well.

And yet, it hadn't mattered.

Serina exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening as she turned away from the empty space Alana had left behind. She felt hollow, the warmth of the race, the laughter, the fleeting moment of something real between them now twisted into a blade against her ribs.

She had tried.

Tried to let go, tried to meet Alana halfway, tried to give her something that wasn't expectation or control or another impossible demand.

And still, it had turned into this.

Serina sat heavily on the rock beside her speeder, fingers threading through her hair as she let her shoulders drop forward, her elbows resting against her knees. The weight of it, the failure of it, settled into the marrow of her bones.

She had told herself she wasn't like them. The ones who had taken Alana apart piece by piece, the ones who had twisted her, broken her, made her something else. She had told herself she could be different, could be more than what the Sith had molded her into. That she was better for her.

But she had been wrong.

Because she had thought—stupidly, naively—that giving up control just this once would change something. That racing would be enough to remind Alana that not everything had to be a war, a test, a game of dominance and submission.

But that was the lie, wasn't it?

Alana didn't believe in peace. Didn't believe in simple things, in fun. Because she had never been allowed to. Because the moment she let her guard down, the moment she started to trust, it was ripped away. And Serina—Serina had been the one to do it this time.

The thought made her stomach twist.

She had been so proud of her. Of the way Alana had soared. Of the way the Force had poured through her naturally, effortlessly, freely in that moment of wild exhilaration.

But had she told her that? Had she simply let her have that moment?

No.

Instead, she had wrapped it in expectation, in the ever-present demand of what it meant. She had turned it into another reminder of what Alana owed the Force, rather than what it had given her.

Serina scoffed at herself, though there was no humor in it. You never learn, do you?

She leaned back against the speeder, tilting her head up to stare at the thick jungle canopy above. The sunlight filtering through the leaves was warm, golden, indifferent to the ache curling in her chest.

She had thought that letting go, even for a moment, would bring them closer.

But now, she feared it had only pushed Alana further away.

And the worst part?

She didn't know if she'd ever see her again.

Her hands clenched into fists against her thighs, nails digging into the fabric of her pants. She could chase her. Could track her down. Could force her to stay. Break her mind so completely she would be nothing but her thrall.

But no.

That was the whole point, wasn't it?

Alana had to choose.

Serina had finally given her the space to decide who she wanted to be.

And now—Serina had to live with the fact that she might not choose her.

That no one chose Serina.

She swallowed hard, her throat burning with something she refused to name. The old instincts clawed at her, whispering that this was why she never let go. This was why she never allowed herself to be anything but in control. Because the moment she did, it was wrenched from her hands, torn apart, leaving her with nothing but regret.

You should've never gotten attached.

She exhaled, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, willing herself to push it down, to shove it away.

She had been fine before Alana.

She would be fine after.

…Wouldn't she?

She didn't know.

And that terrified her more than anything.

For the first time in a long time, Serina felt small.

And she hated it.