Private The Thin Line

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Thin Line​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

​

The waves lapped at the shore, their steady rhythm a quiet mockery of the storm raging inside her. Alana sat motionless on the damp sand, arms draped over her knees, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of ocean before her. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the beach, but she barely registered the fading light.

She had nothing.

That was what her misadventures had revealed.

Absolutely nothing.

No worth beyond what others decided she had.

She let out a slow, hollow breath, watching the tide creep closer. The salt clung to her skin, her clothes heavy with damp, but she didn't move. Didn't care.

Serina was right.

The words echoed in her skull, twisting like a knife. She'd fought against them, convinced herself she was more than what they made her. That she had some say in who she was. But sitting here, empty-handed, stripped of everything that once made her her—what else was left?

What had she ever been, if not something to be used?

A tool. A weapon. A ghost.

Without something to fight for, without someone to tell her what she was, what remained?

The tide kissed her boots. She didn't pull away. Maybe if she sat here long enough, the sea would take her, pull her under, wash away whatever was left.

She wasn't sure if she'd fight it.

She wasn’t going to drown of course, she knew that.

But it was mildly dressing to feel so…lost in life. She tried doing things that she enjoyed, tried to rekindle things she thought she had taken comfort in….and it still felt like a moot point.

She shouldn’t have left.

She should have stayed.

She could see that now.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Thin Line.
Location: ???
Objective: Win.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Alana Calloway

“You thought freedom was something you could take for yourself. That if you ran far enough, fought hard enough, you could carve out a life beyond me. But you were never free, Alana. You were always mine. And now, I'm here to remind you why.”​

The night air was thick with salt, the scent of the sea clinging to the wind as it whispered over the darkened shore. The world was quiet, save for the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the sand—a lullaby for something long dead. The dying light of the sun cast elongated shadows, stretching across the beach like grasping fingers, and within them, something else moved.

Serina Calis.

She stood at the edge of the fading world, just beyond the reach of the tide, watching.

Waiting.

Alana hadn't noticed her yet. She had always been so good at that—not noticing things until it was too late. Until they were standing in front of her, until the choice had already been taken from her hands.

Serina had given her the chance to leave once.

She would not do so again.

The part of her that had hesitated, that had wavered, that had allowed Alana to slip from her grasp—that part had been burned away. Torn out, crushed underfoot, scattered to the winds of the dark side until not even embers remained.

And now she was here.

To take back what was hers.

Slowly, deliberately, Serina stepped forward, her boots silent against the damp sand. The wind tugged at the edges of her cloak, but she moved like a phantom, like a specter made real. The ocean roared, the tide swelling closer, but it was nothing compared to the presence that bled from her now—dark, absolute, undeniable.

She stopped just behind Alana, close enough that she could hear the ragged rhythm of her breathing, see the tension in her shoulders. Close enough that she could feel the weight of the storm inside her, the helplessness, the loss.

Serina smiled.

Alana should have known better.

"You look pathetic."

The words were soft, almost gentle, but they cut like a blade, sliding between ribs, twisting into old wounds. Serina tilted her head, gaze tracing over Alana's slumped form, the way the sea kissed her boots like it had already claimed her.

But Serina had gotten here first.

"You thought you could run," she murmured, stepping closer, slow, measured, letting her presence sink in, letting it consume. "You thought you could make something of yourself. Be something more than what you are."

She crouched down then, one knee pressing into the sand beside Alana, close enough now that there was no escaping it—her.

Fingers lifted, brushing damp strands of hair away from Alana's face, lingering just long enough to make it clear—this was not kindness. This was possession.

"You were wrong."

Serina let the silence stretch between them, let the weight of her words settle, let them burrow beneath Alana's skin like a sickness.

Then, with the slow, unshakable certainty of someone who owned every inch of the space between them, Serina leaned in, her lips brushing just beside Alana's ear.

"You don't get to leave me, Alana."

The name rolled off her tongue like a mockery. A reminder. A final nail in the coffin of the illusion that Alana had ever had a choice.

Serina had come to collect what was hers.

And this time?

She would not be letting go.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Thin Line​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

​

Alana didn't flinch. Didn't pull away.

There was no need.

She had no fight left in her. No resistance to offer. The weight of Serina's presence pressed down like the tide, inevitable, inescapable. A current she had no strength to swim against.

And why should she?

Serina was right.

She had been running on borrowed time, pretending she could be something more than what she was. That she had any worth beyond what others decided for her. That she could carve out an existence separate from the hands that had shaped her.

But the truth had always been waiting.

She had been made for this.

To be used. Owned. Controlled.

Whatever they had done to her, could not be undone.

She had no other purpose than to be a tool.

Serina's breath was warm against her ear, her words dripping with the certainty Alana had long since lost. She felt the fingers against her skin, brushing away strands of damp hair like they had every right to be there. And they did.

She was hers, after all.

Always had been.

Always would be.

Alana's eyes drifted closed, and for the first time in a long, long while, she let go.

Of the struggle. Of the pretense.

Of the illusion that she had ever belonged to herself.

Of the woman she tried to reclaim being.

“I’m sorry, Serina.”

She spoke plainly, her gaze looking to Serina as she opened her eyes.

“I’m here. For you. Until you no longer have need of me.”

She felt something within her twist, and in a way it did hurt.

But this was just the reality of things now.

She had no other reason to exist.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Thin Line.
Location: ???
Objective: Win.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Alana Calloway

“You thought freedom was something you could take for yourself. That if you ran far enough, fought hard enough, you could carve out a life beyond me. But you were never free, Alana. You were always mine. And now, I'm here to remind you why.”​

Serina watched the moment Alana broke. She felt it as keenly as a blade pressed to her own skin—the quiet surrender, the death of something fragile and desperate that had fought for far too long. It was not loud, not violent. It did not come with screams or defiance.

It came with acceptance.

And that was so much sweeter.

Serina's fingers trailed lower, brushing against the curve of Alana's jaw before tilting her chin up just enough to force her to meet her gaze. Blue eyes, cold and endless, searched crimson ones that had once burned with rebellion, with fire.

But that fire had gone out.

Extinguished.

Serina exhaled, a slow, satisfied sigh as she took in the sight of her. Drenched, kneeling in the wet sand, looking up at her with resignation, with devotion. Finally, finally, Alana understood.

And Serina? She could not deny the pleasure it brought her.

"Good."

The word was soft, dripping with something between praise and triumph, curling around the remnants of Alana's former self like a caress.

She brushed her thumb over Alana's lower lip, just barely there, just enough to remind her—this is what you are now.

No will of her own. No path but the one Serina gave her.

Her fingers traced lower, along the side of Alana's throat, feeling the steady pulse beneath her skin. Slow. Controlled. Hers.

Serina's smile was small, barely there, but it carried the weight of absolute certainty. "You never had to run," she murmured, her voice smooth as silk, as steel. "You never had to fight."

She leaned in, her lips brushing just beside Alana's ear, her breath warm, her words colder than the sea around them.

"You were mine from the start."

The truth settled between them, undeniable now. There was no more running. No more illusions of freedom, of choice.

Only this.

Only her.

Serina pulled back just enough to meet Alana's gaze again, tilting her head slightly as if studying her, as if weighing something unspoken. Then, after a long, drawn-out moment, she gave a quiet hum of approval.

"Come," she said, straightening. "You don't belong out here."

She turned without waiting, knowing Alana would follow.

Because that was what she was now.

Not a person.

Not a fighter.

Just an extension of Serina's will.

 

[Alana Calloway]

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The Thin Line​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

​

Alana rose without hesitation.

The movement was smooth, unthinking—like something ingrained, something inevitable. She did not waver, did not pause to glance back at the darkened waves that lapped at the shore. There was nothing left to look back on. The tide had already begun its work, washing away the imprint of where she had knelt, where she had broken.

But she was not broken. Not anymore.

She was something else now.

Serina had been right all along after all.

The fire, the rebellion—those things had only ever been borrowed. Hollow attempts at independence. A desperate, misplaced need to be more than what she was. And for what? The illusion of freedom? The ache of solitude?

She understood now.

She had always belonged to Serina. From the moment their paths had crossed, from the moment Serina had set her eyes on her, it had been written. Everything that had happened since—her struggle, her resistance, her running—had been nothing more than a delay of the inevitable.

And now?

Now there was nothing left to fight.

Alana stepped forward, her place at Serina's side as natural as breathing. She fell into step without question, without hesitation, without the need for orders. This was where she was meant to be.

The cold air pressed against her damp skin, but she barely felt it. The scent of salt, of rain, of the burning embers of the past—none of it mattered. The ocean whispered behind them, the waves surging forward, swallowing the footprints she left in the sand.

It was fitting.

There was no need to leave a mark.

There was no one left to find her.

The only thing that mattered now was the path ahead. The one Serina had chosen. The one she had been leading her toward from the beginning.

Alana did not look back.

She didn't need to.

That wasn’t her place in this.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Thin Line.
Location: ???
Objective: Win.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Alana Calloway

“You thought freedom was something you could take for yourself. That if you ran far enough, fought hard enough, you could carve out a life beyond me. But you were never free, Alana. You were always mine. And now, I'm here to remind you why.”​

Serina walked in silence, her boots pressing into the damp sand, the rhythmic crash of waves fading behind them. The wind howled low, threading through the trees ahead, pulling at the edges of her cloak, but she did not acknowledge it. She did not acknowledge anything but the steady sound of Alana's footsteps beside her.

No hesitation. No resistance.

Just quiet obedience.

The way it should have been from the very beginning.

Serina did not speak immediately. She savored the silence, let it stretch between them like a thread, fine and delicate, something fragile and waiting to be cut. There was no rush. No need for force. Alana had stepped willingly into her place. The last shreds of the woman she had been—the one who had clawed and fought and fled—had been washed away with the tide.

Good.

The moon hung high above them, cold and distant, casting silver light across the darkened path. The jungle loomed ahead, the scent of damp earth thick in the air. There was no direction, no destination. Not yet. It didn't matter where they went. What mattered was that Alana walked beside her.

Finally.

Serina tilted her head, glancing at the woman from the corner of her eye. Alana did not speak, did not shift uncomfortably under her gaze as she once might have. Her shoulders were squared, her posture straight—not stiff, not uncertain. Just… waiting.

Serina's lips curled, ever so slightly.

She reached out, gloved fingers brushing against Alana's arm—light, fleeting, not a command, not a demand.

A reminder.

"You are learning," Serina murmured, her voice smooth, pleased. "Good."

She let her fingers linger just long enough for Alana to feel the weight of the moment before she withdrew, returning her gaze to the path ahead.

"It's quiet now, isn't it?" she mused, half to herself, half to the woman at her side. "No more voices screaming for your attention. No more questions. No more doubt."

Her steps slowed, and she turned, just enough to let Alana feel the weight of her gaze fully upon her. The pale glow of the moon caught the sharpness of her features, her blue eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"You thought you wanted freedom," Serina continued, and there was no cruelty in her tone, no mockery—just certainty. "But freedom is an empty thing. A lie you told yourself to keep from accepting what you always knew to be true."

She reached out again, her fingers slipping beneath Alana's chin, tilting it up slightly, her touch firm but not forceful. She held her there for a long moment, studying her, the silence between them thick and heavy.

"You were made for this," Serina whispered, her thumb brushing just barely against the corner of Alana's lips. "And now you know it."

She released her then, turning away, continuing forward without waiting to see if Alana followed.

She already knew she would.

The jungle swallowed them whole, the darkness closing in, the path winding and endless before them. And yet, Serina had never felt more certain of where they were going.

Because for the first time since she had laid claim to Alana Calloway, there was no longer anything standing between them.

Not resistance.

Not defiance.

Not even the illusion of choice.

Alana had chosen.

And Serina would make certain she never had to choose again.

 

[Alana Calloway]

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The Thin Line​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

​

The silence Serina spoke of wrapped around her like a shroud, heavy and absolute. It was the quiet after a long storm, the stillness that came when all the screaming, the fighting, the endless running finally stopped. It settled deep within her bones, a relief so profound it nearly stole the breath from her lungs.

She had not known peace in some time.

Not in the fleeting moments of escape. Not in the cold comfort of solitude. Not even in the fire of defiance that she had once clung to so desperately. All of it had been struggle. All of it had been pointless.

But this—walking beside Serina, feeling the weight of her gaze, the brief but undeniable brush of her touch—this was something real. Something solid.

Something that had always been waiting for her.

Her name had meant nothing in the end. Alana Calloway had been a name given to her, a name she had worn like an ill-fitting cloak, pretending it meant something. But Serina had stripped that pretense away. Had carved through the illusion until there was nothing left but the truth.

And the truth was this:

She was not lost. She was not free.

She was exactly where she was meant to be.

Alana turned her head slightly, red eyes catching the pale glint of moonlight. Serina's words echoed in the space between them, but they needed no response. There was nothing left to argue, nothing left to question. The choices had already been made.

The fingers that had lingered against her chin had left something behind—not a brand, not a wound. Something deeper. Something that reached into the hollow places inside her and filled them with certainty.

Serina had been right. She had always been right.

Alana did not falter as she followed her into the jungle.

She just accepted her new lot in life.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Thin Line.
Location: ???
Objective: Win.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Alana Calloway

“You thought freedom was something you could take for yourself. That if you ran far enough, fought hard enough, you could carve out a life beyond me. But you were never free, Alana. You were always mine. And now, I'm here to remind you why.”​

The jungle swallowed them whole, shadows weaving between the towering trees, the thick underbrush whispering beneath their boots. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of earth and decay, yet the silence between them remained unbroken, a thing of its own—weighty, binding. It settled into the spaces between them, wrapped itself around Serina's shoulders like a cloak.

And still, Alana followed.

Serina could feel the shift in her, the quiet acceptance that had taken root in the hollow places where defiance had once burned. She had waited for this moment, had shaped it with patient, deliberate hands.

No more resistance. No more pretense.

Just obedience.

Just certainty.

Serina stopped abruptly, turning with the kind of effortless grace that made the movement feel like inevitability rather than choice. The moonlight sliced through the canopy above, illuminating her pale features, casting her sharp blue gaze in an unnatural glow.

Serina took a step closer, the space between them thinning, vanishing. She reached out, her gloved fingers brushing over the bare skin of Alana's forearm—tracing, testing, feeling the warmth beneath her fingertips. There was no flinch. No recoil.

Good.

She lifted her touch, trailing it up, slow, deliberate, until she cupped Alana's chin between her fingers once more, tilting her head just enough to hold her gaze.

"Tell me," Serina murmured, voice smooth, intoxicating, curling around Alana like a tether she would never be free from. "What is your name?"

She waited, watching, reading every flicker of thought behind those red eyes.

Would she hesitate? Would she stumble?

Serina's thumb ghosted over Alana's lower lip, pressing just slightly—not enough to bruise, just enough to remind.

"Say it."

A command. A test.

Her fingers did not waver. Her grip did not tighten. She did not need to force an answer.

Because there was only one.

She let the silence stretch, savoring the moment before she spoke again, her tone softer this time, coaxing. "What is your purpose?"

The words were quiet, almost reverent, as if they were something sacred. And perhaps they were. Because purpose was not a gift. It was not something given freely. It was shaped, molded, carved into the very bones of the one who bore it.

Serina had carved her purpose into Alana. Had shaped her into what she was always meant to be.

Her fingers traced down, curling lightly around the base of Alana's throat, a featherlight pressure that was not forceful, but not gentle either.

"And what do you desire?"

This time, her voice was different. Lower. Something dark coiled beneath it, something that lingered in the air like an unspoken promise. She leaned in just slightly, her breath warm against Alana's skin, her presence pressing against her like the tide, inescapable.

Because this was the final test.

Her name.

Her purpose.

Her desire.

Serina would take nothing less than the truth.

And if there was any part of Alana left that still clung to the past, that still fought—

She would rip it out by the roots.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Thin Line​

​

Location: Rakata Prime​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Gear: N/A​

The past had already burned away, consumed by the tide, by the certainty that had settled deep in her bones. Resistance had been nothing more than a dying ember, and now even that was gone, snuffed out beneath the weight of understanding.

Serina's touch was a brand, a claim, but it did not wound. It did not threaten. It only reminded.

Alana lifted her chin slightly, offering no resistance as Serina tilted her face up, as her fingers ghosted over her skin like something inevitable.

"What is your name?"

The words curled around her like silk, like a chain she had no desire to break.

Alana parted her lips, the answer forming with no hesitation, no doubt.

"Whatever you wish it to be."

It was not deflection. It was not avoidance. It was truth.

Names had never mattered. They had been given and taken, changed and twisted, meaningless labels meant to tether her to a life she had never belonged to. Alana Calloway had been nothing more than another mask, another story forced upon her.

But Serina—Serina was real. Serina was truth.

And whatever she named her, that was what she would be.

Serina did not react immediately, but Alana could feel it—the shift in the air, the quiet, pleased hum of approval just beneath the surface.

Her thumb brushed against Alana's lower lip again, pressing just enough to make her breath hitch, just enough to remind her that she was being tested.

And she would not fail.

"What is your purpose?"

The words carried weight, shaped by something deeper than command. They were a truth waiting to be spoken.

Alana inhaled slowly, steady, and when she answered, her voice was soft, but unwavering.

"To serve."

Not a hesitation. Not a lie.

She had spent so long fighting against something inevitable, trying to shape herself into something she was never meant to be. But purpose was not something freely given. It was carved, shaped, burned into the soul.

And Serina had carved her into something new.

Serina had given her purpose.

Alana did not look away, did not falter beneath the weight of Serina's gaze, even as those fingers traced lower, curling around her throat—not tight, not soft, just a reminder.

"And what do you desire?"

This time, the question was different. It lingered in the air, something heavier, something darker. A promise. A demand.

And for the first time, Alana let herself feel it.

Desire was not a thing of fleeting wants. It was not a weakness to be denied. It was hunger, raw and all-consuming, a fire that burned through everything in its path.

And in the end, there was only one answer.

"Whatever you tell me you desire."

Not whispered. Not uncertain.

A truth as absolute as the night around them. As undeniable as the hand at her throat, the weight of Serina's presence pressing into her, wrapping around her like the tide.

Alana did not resist.

She had already been claimed.

 

[Serina Calis]

The Thin Line.
Location: ???
Objective: Win.
Allies: Alana Calloway
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: ???

“You thought freedom was something you could take for yourself. That if you ran far enough, fought hard enough, you could carve out a life beyond me. But you were never free, Alana. You were always mine. And now, I'm here to remind you why.”​

Serina exhaled slowly, the sound barely audible beneath the hum of the jungle, beneath the steady rhythm of waves still crashing somewhere in the distance. Yet, despite the vastness of the world around them, there was nothing beyond this moment—beyond her.

Beyond them.

She could feel it in the way Alana spoke, the way she didn't hesitate, didn't falter, didn't fight. The words that left her lips weren't careful, weren't measured—they were final. Absolute.

Serina's fingers tightened just slightly against Alana's throat, feeling the slow, steady pulse beneath her palm. She tilted her head, studying her, the sharp, calculating blue of her eyes drinking in every shift in Alana's posture, every breath, every subtle tell. But there was nothing left to measure. Nothing left to test.

This wasn't defiance masquerading as submission.

This was real.

Serina felt something stir deep within her—something dark and quiet and utterly pleased.

She had done it.

She had unraveled the tangle of uncertainty, the frayed remnants of whatever had been clinging to Alana's past, and she had woven her anew.

Serina had not just claimed her.

She had made her.

Her fingers slid upwards again, trailing along the curve of Alana's jaw, her touch both indulgent and possessive.

What a perfect thing you are now.

Serina did not say it, but the thought coiled within her mind like a whisper of the Force itself, a deep, echoing truth.

"You are mine," she murmured, her voice softer than before, but no less commanding, no less final.

The jungle had never felt so quiet.

She felt Alana's breath against her fingertips, steady, waiting, accepting.

"Whatever I tell you I desire?" Serina echoed, the corner of her lips twitching, a ghost of a smirk. "Perfect."

She let her fingers trail lower again, back down to the delicate line of Alana's throat, pressing against the pulse there, savoring the steady rhythm beneath her palm.

"You understand, don't you?" Serina continued, her voice lilting, almost gentle. "This is what you were always meant for."

She leaned in, close enough that her breath ghosted over Alana's ear, close enough that her presence pressed against her like something tangible, something inescapable.

"You fought for so long," she mused, tilting Alana's chin up just slightly, as if coaxing her into seeing the truth of what she had become. "You ran. You denied me. And yet… this was always where you were meant to kneel."

Serina's fingers tightened again, just slightly, just enough to remind her—just enough to claim her all over again.

She pulled back just enough to meet Alana's gaze, her expression unreadable, yet utterly knowing.

"And now you see it, don't you?" she murmured, tilting her head. "You feel it."

Her smirk sharpened, but there was something else in her eyes now—something deeper, something nearly reverent.

"You will never be lost again," she promised, her voice barely above a whisper. "I will never let you be."

And she wouldn't.

Because Alana Calloway was gone.

Because she had buried that fragile, weak thing beneath the weight of inevitability.

And in her place?

Something perfect.

Sable Varro.