Private Crown Jewels.

[Serina Calis]

Crown Jewels.
Location: Christophsis.
Objective: Analyse ancient CIS debris.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: W Writer

Sometimes a spectacular gem is found in a sea of dirt.
​

The crystalline spires of Christophsis caught the fading sunlight, refracting it into a brilliant cascade of turquoise and gold, casting hauntingly beautiful reflections upon the battlefield ruins below. Here, in this forgotten place, the echoes of ancient war lingered in silent whispers through the air, resonating softly with a sorrow long-forgotten by history.

Serina moved gracefully among the shattered remnants, her armored form a stark contrast against the luminous debris. Her cape flowed gently behind her, illuminated by the subtle glow of its pink and violet lining. She stepped carefully, boots clicking against the glassy surface, each sound resonating like echoes of the past.

She paused beside a towering monolith, cracked and jagged, its surface scarred by blaster fire from battles centuries old. Reaching out, her gloved fingers traced the ancient, angular patterns etched deeply into the stone—runes whose meaning had long been lost to history. Yet, Serina sensed their significance, a faint whisper of power lingering within the carved lines.

A gust of wind stirred, carrying whispers of memories and shadows that had long since vanished. Serina's blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully beneath her hood, scanning the horizon where spires rose like blades against the darkening sky. This was the only part of Christophsis left untouched by the rebuilding efforts, preserved as a silent monument to a forgotten battle—a battle that held secrets, perhaps vital, waiting patiently to be uncovered.

Serina's gloved hand brushed against the monolith, feeling the residual energies hum beneath her fingertips. She felt a pulse of something deeper, something ancient—echoes of emotions left behind by warriors long departed. Power, she mused, always left a mark, and here it lingered, ripe for the taking.

She began moving again, deeper into the ruins, following an invisible path guided by intuition, curiosity, and a hunger for knowledge. Each step drew her closer to truths long hidden beneath Christophsis's shimmering façade—truths she was determined to claim.

Behind her, unseen amidst the shadows cast by fractured crystal towers, a presence stirred. A faint crunch of footsteps on glassy ground hinted at another explorer drawn to this place of secrets—someone whose own destiny intertwined with the ruins and the enigmatic woman who wandered among them.

 

[Writer]

Aielyn's fingertips brushed against the monolith's surface, tracing the worn carvings etched deep into the crystal. The runes were unfamiliar, but she could feel them. Not just the physical ridges beneath her gloved hands, but the lingering whisper of something more.

It pulsed faintly—an echo of something lost, something waiting.

She inhaled, her breath measured, letting the Great Flow weave through the silence, guiding her.

This place remembers.

The weight of time pressed upon her. The fractured crystal spires, the ruins left untouched by those who had rebuilt the rest of Christophsis—they still carried the sorrow of what had happened here. Whatever battle had been waged, whatever purpose these stones had once served… the Force had not yet let them fade.

Aielyn closed her eyes, listening, feeling—searching.

And then—

A sound.

The faintest shift in the air. A presence, subtle but unmistakable.

Her breath caught for a fraction of a second—too long.

Aielyn's eyes snapped open, body tensing as she turned sharply, her movements instinctual, reactionary. The monolith's energy still hummed at her fingertips as her gaze landed on the shadow slipping between the jagged ruins.

A figure. Cloaked, deliberate, watching.

Aielyn exhaled, steadying herself, willing her pulse to slow. Too late to pretend she hadn't noticed.

Her voice came quiet but unwavering. "You walk in silence," she murmured, violet-blue eyes narrowing slightly beneath the dim light. "Yet places like this rarely welcome those who wish to go unseen."

The words were not quite a challenge—but they weren't far from one, either.

Because Aielyn did not know if she was the intruder here… or if she had just been found.

Serina Calis

 

[Serina Calis]

Crown Jewels.
Location: Christophsis.
Objective: Analyse ancient CIS debris.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: W Writer

Sometimes a spectacular gem is found in a sea of dirt.
​

Serina stepped forward gracefully from the shadows, her cloak rippling like liquid twilight, its faint inner glow casting delicate hues of violet and pink onto the fractured crystals around them. She moved as though the world itself yielded before her, a regal confidence carried within every measured step, her presence commanding attention even amid ancient ruin.

For a lingering moment, she said nothing, allowing the quiet tension between them to deepen. Her gaze met hers, blue eyes bright beneath the darkened hood, their intensity softened by a faint, inviting amusement—a subtle, beguiling warmth that contrasted starkly with the eerie surroundings.

Finally, a delicate smirk tugged gently at the corner of Serina's lips. "If this place did not welcome me," she began, her voice a silken murmur, laced with the hint of something alluringly forbidden, "it would not have beckoned so sweetly. Can you not feel it? How it yearns for us both?"

Her fingertips lifted to gesture toward the monolith, her gloved hand graceful, almost caressing the air itself. "It remembers," she echoed softly, her tone intimately conspiratorial. "But memory alone is insufficient, don't you think? It craves understanding, a gentle touch to awaken its true potential."

Serina moved closer, unhurried, deliberately entering the radius of the strangers presence, close enough to sense the subtle shifts in her breathing, the pulse quickening just beneath the surface. "And I find," she continued, her voice lowering, rich and inviting, "that understanding comes most easily when one surrenders to sensation—allowing the mind to feel rather than merely know."

She tilted her head slightly, appraising the wanderer openly, curiosity mingling with appreciation in her gaze. Her eyes slowly traced the contours of the strangers face, lingering upon her features with a look that was both admiring and tantalizingly suggestive, as though she already envisioned what secrets lay hidden beneath her careful poise.

"Do you often linger in forgotten places, searching for things unspoken?" Serina asked gently, the question wrapped in the softest silk of implication, leaving just enough unsaid to spark imagination. "Or is it the thrill of discovering something once lost that draws you here…?"

Her voice trailed off deliberately, allowing silence to fill the space between them once again, charged with the subtle promise of shared secrets and unexplored paths. Serina's gaze remained locked with hers, an open invitation shimmering behind her eyes, each word chosen carefully, each movement precisely calibrated to weave a slow, delicate spell.

The ruins around them seemed to hum softly, resonating with their meeting, as if Christophsis itself sensed the beginning of something profound—and perhaps irrevocable.

 

[Writer]

Aielyn didn't flinch at the closeness, nor did she retreat. She stood steady in the fractured light, her expression quiet, unreadable—like a figure carved from the same crystal as the ruins themselves. The crystalline glow played across her features in soft blues and silvers, catching the faint streak of color in her hair, casting shadows beneath her eyes.

Her gaze lingered on Serina, not hostile—but assessing. Cautious. Intrigued.

"Places like this don't beckon." Her voice was low, smooth—not quite a challenge, but not yielding either. "They endure. And those who come here bring their own meaning with them."

A pause, just long enough to draw out the tension.

"But I can feel it, yes." Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the monolith, the movement mirroring Serina's, though with none of the seduction—a ritual, a reverence. "This place remembers pain. Sacrifice. Echoes caught in crystal. Not all longing is romantic, Serina. Some of it is grief in disguise."

Her eyes turned again to the woman before her—not cold, but cool. Watchful. The glint of something sharp behind velvet.
"You speak as though sensation is liberation," she murmured, "but I've found it to be… deceptive. Beautiful, yes. Powerful. But fleeting. Like light on glass."

A breath passed between them—shared, intentional.

"And no, I don't seek the forgotten." Her head tilted ever so slightly, the corner of her lips curling into something not unlike amusement. "I seek what hides itself. The things that vanish not from time, but from will. The truths that refuse to die quietly."

She let the silence linger, just as Serina had before, before adding—softer now:

"Tell me, then. What truth did you come here to awaken?"

Her tone was level, her stance unshifting—but in her eyes, something stirred. An echo. A possibility. A spark yet unnamed.

Serina Calis

 

[Serina Calis]

Crown Jewels.
Location: Christophsis.
Objective: Analyse ancient CIS debris.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: W Writer

Sometimes a spectacular gem is found in a sea of dirt.
​

Serina's eyes widened slightly, genuine interest shimmering within their blue depths, amusement flickering behind their carefully measured gaze. Aielyn's subtle revelation had piqued her curiosity, hinting at something deeper, something beyond mere happenstance.

"You know my name," Serina observed softly, her voice lilting gently, weaving effortlessly between curiosity and quiet admiration. "Yet I have not had the pleasure of yours."

She paused briefly, studying Aielyn's poised expression—the restraint, the careful layers of composure and control. Her smile softened, more intimate, almost conspiratorial. "But perhaps that's fitting. Names are such personal things, aren't they? Intimate truths, offered or withheld at will."

Serina stepped slowly, deliberately around the monolith, her movements fluid and graceful as she circled Aielyn, gently disrupting the rhythm between them without ever fully breaking the delicate tension that held them both.

"You speak of sensation as deceptive," she continued softly, her tone almost purring in quiet appreciation, "but is not deception merely a matter of perspective? A sensation fleeting in one moment can resonate for eternity in memory." Her voice lowered subtly, an undercurrent of temptation threading through her words, wrapped carefully in layers of intellectual intrigue. "It's those memories, those echoes, that truly hold power—lasting beyond even grief."

She paused, standing close once again, her gaze locked onto Aielyn's, assessing yet gently probing for vulnerability, or perhaps something deeper still. "The truth I seek here is not one of pain, nor loss," Serina whispered, her voice dipping intimately, as if sharing something precious and forbidden. "It is about control. The mastery of forces that others fear, misunderstand, or flee from. The strength to shape these echoes, these memories, into something lasting."

She inclined her head slightly, voice thoughtful, laden with subtle promise. "You speak of truths that refuse to die quietly. I admire that passion—the hunger behind your eyes," she murmured softly, delicately suggestive. "It's a hunger I understand well, a craving to uncover that which others conceal out of fear or shame."

Her expression became gently curious, her words becoming both question and subtle invitation. "How did you come by my name, I wonder? Have whispers reached you through darkened corridors, or perhaps," she leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a softer, inviting timbre, "it was the Force itself, drawing our paths together?"

Her eyes lingered upon Aielyn, warm yet piercing, a careful blend of professional curiosity and an intimate promise just beneath the surface—a silent invitation to surrender, little by little, to the magnetic pull of secrets waiting to be shared.

 

[Writer]

Aielyn didn't move as Serina circled—didn't flinch, didn't track her with her eyes. She simply stood there, centered, letting the woman's presence wash around her like wind curling around stone.

Her gaze, when it finally returned to meet Serina's, held something quieter than defiance—but sharper than fear.

"Names are anchors," she said evenly, the words spoken like a lesson long ago absorbed. "Sometimes they steady you. Sometimes they sink you."

A pause, as if she was weighing something unsaid.

"So I choose when I give mine."

Her tone wasn't dismissive. Merely… precise.

She shifted, ever so slightly, enough to reorient her stance—not away, but not fully open either. A subtle readjustment, more habit than defense. Her fingers, relaxed at her sides, curled once.

"And I don't need whispers," Aielyn added after a beat, gaze unwavering. "I listen."

She let that word settle for a moment—simple, but full.

"To the way people move. To the stories they think they hide. And to the Force." A breath. A tilt of her head. "Sometimes it doesn't speak in visions. Sometimes it simply… nudges. A shape in the dark. A name on the wind."

The air between them carried weight now—not tension, but density, like something important might bloom in the silence if they let it.

"Control?" A faint smile—cool, not unkind—touched her lips. "I've seen what that costs. What it buys. I've seen it given, stolen, bled for."

A long pause.

"You say you want to shape echoes. But what happens when the echo answers back?"

She didn't look away.

"You may not be searching for grief, Serina… but I think you know it. And I think it knows you, too."

The words weren't accusation. They were recognition. A kind of reflection neither woman had asked for—but maybe couldn't avoid.

Serina Calis

 

[Serina Calis]

Crown Jewels.
Location: Christophsis.
Objective: Analyse ancient CIS debris.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: W Writer

Sometimes a spectacular gem is found in a sea of dirt.
​

Serina's eyes softened, the corners of her lips curving upward with an expression somewhere between admiration and intrigue. She allowed the silence to stretch gently, comfortably, as though savoring the weight of Aielyn's words. When she finally spoke, her voice was silk and shadow, woven through with subtle threads of temptation and understanding.

"Echoes always answer," she murmured thoughtfully, stepping closer again, gently pressing against the boundaries of Aielyn's guarded composure. "That's their nature—to reflect our hidden truths, our secrets, our desires. But when they speak, one must be willing to listen… and brave enough to respond."

She tilted her head slightly, blue eyes glowing softly beneath the shadows of her hood, an enticing mystery shimmering within them. "You speak wisely about grief. We all carry our own, don't we?" Serina's voice was rich, almost intimate, hinting gently at vulnerability without ever truly yielding it. "But grief, like desire, is merely fuel—a force to guide us, shape us. It need not hold power over us unless we allow it."

Her tone shifted subtly, professional yet irresistibly personal, the lines between inquiry and seduction elegantly blurred. "You speak as if you fear what control demands. But tell me," she whispered, eyes locked carefully onto Aielyn's own, voice dropping into an inviting softness, "what would happen if you ceased fearing the cost, and instead… embraced it?"

Serina reached out delicately, gloved fingertips grazing lightly against the surface of the monolith beside them, mirroring Aielyn's earlier gesture but infused now with deliberate sensuality, as if offering a glimpse into how easily the barriers between reverence and desire might collapse.

"Control isn't something merely taken or stolen—it's shared, cultivated, guided," she continued gently, weaving her words with subtle promises, alluring hints of deeper truths yet to be discovered. "Imagine the possibilities, if we were to listen together, unafraid of what might whisper back."

She allowed another pause, measured and purposeful, her presence carefully calibrated, respectful yet undeniably provocative. "You speak of anchors," she said finally, softly, as if sharing an intimate secret, "but perhaps some anchors are meant to steady two instead of one."

A faint, inviting smile touched her lips, lingering with the gentlest suggestion of something more—something shared. "When you're ready," she murmured gently, her gaze warm yet piercing, inviting yet challenging, "perhaps you'll find the courage to let me know your name… and see where our truths might lead us."

Serina fell silent again, patient and poised, the air heavy with possibility—waiting now for the echo that would inevitably return.

 

[Writer]

Aielyn stood still—almost statuesque—but the stillness was deceptive. Beneath the surface, there was movement. A quiet storm of thought and memory. Of caution. Of temptation.

She hadn't flinched when Serina stepped closer. She didn't draw away when the monolith was touched with reverence—or seduction. But her shoulders held tension in their silence, her chin tilted just slightly, as if resisting the gravity of the moment with the last ounces of pride and poise she had left.

Her gaze, a mingling of violet and blue, met Serina's with measured calm. But behind the hue, behind the calm—there was weight. Not fear, not entirely. Something older. More weathered. Like a person who'd stood at the edge of fire before and had chosen not to leap.

"You speak like someone who's never truly lost control." Her voice was soft. Not dismissive. Not unkind. But edged with something quieter and sharper. "Or maybe you did… and decided to rename the ruins."

She took a single step forward—not enough to close the distance entirely, but enough to allow the air between them to shift, for the weight of her presence to press back against Serina's gentle tide. Still regal, still composed—but no longer distant.

"Desire is fuel. I know." A faint smile flickered, but it was tired, lived-in. The kind a person wears when they've heard too many promises wrapped in velvet tones. "But fuel burns. It consumes."

Her eyes flicked briefly to the monolith. Her hand did not reach for it again.

"Control is a lie we whisper to ourselves when the current becomes too much. I don't fear the cost, Serina." Her gaze returned, steady. Fierce in its quiet. "I fear who pays it."

There was silence again—but this time, she allowed it. Owned it.

Then—

"Aielyn." A simple offering. A name, nothing more.

"You've asked the stone to remember." She tilted her head, considering. "But the Force doesn't whisper because we want it to. It speaks when it decides we're ready to hear."

Another moment passed, slow as the drift of ash in still air.

"So tell me…" Her voice dropped, not seductive, but solemn. Curious. "…what are you hoping it says back?"

Serina Calis

 

[Serina Calis]

Crown Jewels.
Location: Christophsis.
Objective: Analyse ancient CIS debris.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: W Writer

Sometimes a spectacular gem is found in a sea of dirt.
​

Serina held the quiet space between them gently, her gaze fixed upon Aielyn's face, studying each subtle shift with patient, thoughtful attention. The offered name—Aielyn—was accepted gracefully, a soft smile of approval curling the edges of Serina's lips. Her voice, when she spoke, carried the weight of genuine appreciation mingled with delicate layers of allure and intellect, carefully crafted to disarm even the most wary.

"Aielyn," she echoed softly, savoring the name as if it were a rare, precious gift. "It suits you—elegant, strong, guarded yet full of quiet depth."

She allowed another pause, deliberate and intimate, stepping gently toward the woman again. Her proximity was respectful yet purposeful, a subtle invitation to bridge the lingering distance of caution and uncertainty. Her voice dipped gently into a lower register, warmly conspiratorial, threading through the conversation like velvet drawn over steel.

"You fear who pays the cost," she murmured thoughtfully, a note of understanding resonating gently through her words. "But consider this: the price is always paid, whether we accept control or surrender it. Inaction, fear, hesitation—these too exact their own costs."

She tilted her head slightly, allowing the shadows beneath her hood to shift softly, emphasizing the delicate, refined lines of her features. Her blue eyes glowed faintly with intrigue and gentle challenge. "And yes, desire burns," Serina continued, her voice carefully, knowingly seductive. "But isn't it better to control the flame rather than be consumed unknowingly?"

She reached out slowly, deliberately, fingertips barely brushing against Aielyn's sleeve—an ephemeral, fleeting touch intended not to grasp but to stir, to awaken the senses, a silent testament to her argument that sensation, carefully managed, was power itself.

"You asked what I hope to hear," Serina murmured, her voice dropping into a confidential whisper, rich with layers of subtle temptation. "I seek answers that others fear to ask for. Truths that might set us free—or bind us closer together."

Her gaze drifted briefly to the monolith again, eyes narrowing slightly, as though seeing beyond its physical form. "I listen not just for what the Force might say, but what it offers. Knowledge, understanding, possibility—power, even." Her eyes returned slowly to Aielyn, softer yet no less piercing. "I'm hoping to hear an invitation, an affirmation… a promise."

Serina leaned subtly closer, voice softening, intimate yet profoundly careful, as though each word was precisely calibrated to touch not just Aielyn's thoughts, but deeper, hidden places of longing and quiet hunger. "Perhaps," she whispered gently, her breath warm with quiet confidence, "it will tell us that the cost we fear might lead to something greater than loss—perhaps it offers something worth embracing."

Her eyes held steady, shimmering with the quiet promise of something shared, something potent. "I wonder, Aielyn," she finished softly, the question both gentle challenge and invitation, "will you listen with me?"