[ their habit is like this: every morning, they depart from the place they're currently calling home, variable as it is with the state of their finances. they often spend their days apart, investigating kenos, the factions, their fellow shard-bearers, the war. in the evenings, they reconvene; they share a meal and talk and share notes, retire to their bed and seek some semblance of sleep. the mood varies. some days, they're more lighthearted; or one or the other is, coaxing the other into a better mood. some days are harder, for one reason or another, and there are so many reasons.
on this day,
after a long day in highstorm, after encountering a mirror with amos and everything that entailed, cassian lets himself in wordlessly. he locks the door behind him. he unbuttons his coat and hangs it up on its hook. or, he tries. once, twice, and once jyn intercedes he lets her help. he doesn't look at her until they've finished that, then breathes out so heavily he seems to lose all the air in him. if he closes his eyes, he sees nothing but a green world, a solemn expression on a small face. so he doesn't, even as he drops his face to her shoulder and makes a soft, exhausted sound. his hands, as he puts his arms around her, are still shaking. they don't often talk about their shared aspect, the same mark inked on her skin as his, but it's impossibly salient now: she can feel the full brunt of his quietly keening misery, old stitches ripped open and left to bleed.
not so long ago, this would have seemed an unfathomable display of weakness. captain andor, rebel spy through and through, is an unfailingly stalwart figure at rebel bases. he always gets the job done, no matter what it takes, with a cool head and calm nerves. he's known for it. only a handful of people ever knew there was more to him than that: draven, kay, melshi. and they kept his secret, because they too understood how important it was to the cause that he be unflappable. to the cause, to himself. he buried every flicker of unhappiness, every part of him that bled at the cost, deeper with every day. he put it all in a grave where he'd one day join all his ghosts. but the weight is so heavy some days, like today,
and this is jyn. she's seen the worst of him, and she still trusts him, and she's still here. and he trusts her like he's trusted nothing in a very long time. so in the privacy of these small rooms, with no one's eyes on him but hers, he lets her help him bear the weight. ]
[routine is a strange thing. usually, it's only found jyn in the worst of places, like stowed away in the cargo hold of some imperial freighter for monotonous days as she waits to strike, or, well — prison. she's never had reason to like or trust consistency, stability; being stupid enough to trust it just makes you that much less prepared to deal with the next inevitable round of shit flung your way.
in kenos, though, she's found that it isn't terrible to have some sense of stability. maybe she's still wary of fully trusting it, but she finds herself actually looking forward to the evenings that she and cassian share, finds that there's relief in coming home to someone. and even if sleep can't always be found (it's rarely found by one or the other of them, often both), there's relief in the presence of another trusted person, in being able to reach out and confirm that presence with physical touch.
but this relief, as it stands, is tenuous — and very often fraught.
it doesn't stick today, with cassian so heavy in her arms, practically collapsed against her; it doesn't stand a chance, with the way that heaviness seeps into her own chest, causes her heart to sink to the pit of her stomach. his misery becomes hers, and it's — a lot to hold onto.
she's carried his weight before, and she'll carry it as many times as he needs her to, but she wonders if having somewhere to land, like the bed just a few paces behind them, wouldn't make this just slightly easier for him.
a light thumb brushes the side of his face — just to get his attention, nothing more. and she asks, softly:]
[ he stirs, just slightly, at her touch. if he weren't all but boneless in her arms like this, it might have been hard to notice. or it might not — jyn has learned how to read him very well in a very short amount of time. better than most, better than people who had years to try.
he stirs, and then he nods. takes a deep breath and says, ]
Yes.
[ and moves to straighten, hands falling back to his sides. can you, she asks, and it seems to strike something in him. he isn't hurt; there isn't a scratch on him that wasn't there before. she can see that. she knows, but she still asks him if he can walk with her, as if he might say no, and that would be an acceptable answer. he thinks, he doesn't know what to do with that. but then he remembers jyn in the holy city, fallen to her knees, after saw showed her the message from her father. practically catatonic, even as he'd taken her by the hand and dragged her all the way to the u-wing. even during the scramble to jump to hyperspace, even in the relative quiet, until he'd gotten the message from draven. proceed with haste and keep to the plan.
maybe she would've understood, then, if he'd refused. but there's no need to find out today. instead, he simply follows her, pliable and obedient and quiet, as she leads him to the bed. ]
[there isn't anything to do but wait. maybe she'll get a response, maybe she won't; that's up to cassian, and she won't push him one way or another. for all the patience she lacks for so much, in this moment, she finds that it's nearly infinite.
but she does get a response, and she can't deny the relief that comes with it. her face softens, mouth setting into something that isn't quite a smile.]
Okay, [jyn says softly, then, for lack of anything else to say. good isn't right, because there isn't anything good about the way he'd collapsed into her arms like that. but it's okay that he'd needed to, because she's here to hold on — no further questions asked.
just as she turns, she reaches back for a hand that she'd dropped, takes it as she leads him those few paces over to the bed. tugs on it, gently, as she finds a seat on the edge of it, indicating for him to do the same.
[ she leads him by the hand to the bed, and he follows. just as promised a scant few days ago, if even, he follows her to their bed as easily as he'd followed her to scarif. easier. and when she motions for him to sit, he does without letting go of her hand. he does without looking at her face, either. this is jyn, and she might be the safest place in kenos, the safest place he's ever known, but he can't bear to think how he must look. what story his face, his eyes, the set to his mouth must reveal.
he'd lied to melshi a matter of minutes after finding out he'd been orphaned for the second time in his life. but melshi didn't know him as well then as he did later, as jyn does. she would see right through any false assurances. and, in truth, he doesn't have the heart to make them. this manifestation of the blight, these mirrors, managed to reach through his ribs and pull something very old and very broken and very raw into the light. and, to his credit, amos had been kinder than some would've been. than many might've been. but the kindness can hurt too; pressure on a wound can still be enough to crack a fragile surface. jyn, so far, has trod carefully, and he's grateful for that, but even her kindness could become a knife if misapplied. ]
[he doesn't look at her, but she doesn't take her gaze off of him, noting the way he follows, pliant, as if her hand is a string that's the only thing pulling him along — and noting the blankness in his face. the deadness in what she can glimpse of his eyes. there's always something between the lines with cassian that tells her multitudes, a lift of a brow here and a twitch of a lip there, but what she gets now is... nothing. whatever is on his mind has him so deeply shaken that she can barely read him at all.
there's a time and place to push, though, and this isn't it.
so she keeps her hold on his hand, giving it a squeeze as the space on the bed beside her creaks under his added weight and silence settles in between them.
after a time, she casts out a quiet probe.]
Did I ever tell you about when I scammed an Imperial officer out of all his credits?
[she doesn't know what might've been in the file that the alliance had compiled on her, beyond a general rap sheet — specifically liana hallik's rap sheet — so it might be something he has scant details on already. if it is familiar, that's safe. if it isn't, and some part of her might be willing to bet on that (she doubts anyone there could've followed her entire trail of aliases), that's still safe; it's parsecs away from everything else, including the unspoken, and it can give him a distraction, if he wants.]
it might be. it's not harder than standing had been. the softness under his legs is more comfortable, probably, than leaning on jyn had been. and her hand is still in his, warm and small, gently squeezing as he joins her on the bed. he feels no less like there's some horrible, hollow emptiness in his chest, but he's felt that since the mirror illusion had worked its magic. neither breaking free from the bubble nor the walk back nor any moment here has been able to fix any part of that.
and why should it? there are some things that can't be fixed. hasn't he always known that? there were no survivors on kenari. he's been doing things that couldn't be taken back, couldn't even be forgiven, since he was a child. there had never been any making it better, just lashing out at the galaxy that had allowed awful things to happen. just devoting himself to a war that would make the galaxy a better place for other people. he couldn't outrun his pain — and he tried — so he'd weaponized it for a worthy cause.
tomorrow, he wants to tell jyn, he'll be fine. sooner. this is an old misery, and all he needs is a little time to put it back where it's lived since he was a child. once the puzzle piece is back in its place, he'll remember how to live and breathe and talk and work around its presence. this isn't even the first time its spilled over the barriers of its prison, though the first in a while.
he wants to, but she beats him to speaking. he blinks, the question slowly sinking in, and then he finally turns his face to look at her. ]
No, [ he says finally, ] you didn't.
[ and she hasn't. it brushes against the edge of a memory — had it been on her rap sheet, or had he missed that charge while having it compiled? — but even if he had known about this before, it would've been some dry charge of theft from the authorities. not the colorful story she seems prepared to share. ]
[jyn is, at first, distracted; she's mid-communion slapfight and that's taking up all her time and resources. at some point in there, though, the frustration and anger bleeds over into physical expression, and she moves to curl her right hand into a fist, when — she winces.
she doesn't regret anything she's said on communion, but she does regret punching solid wood.
and it's enough to pull her out of it, to slide her gaze over toward cassian. she gives him a shrug, says,]
The people who do disagree are asses.
[hayame and silco, like. what are their opinions worth.]
[ there's a slight pull downward at one corner of his mouth, disapproval at the reminder of her injury. like, you could've reacted in ways that were not punching logs, jyn.
but. anyway. ]
Diplomacy isn't what I'm good at. [ and, to make his point, ] I lied to all of them for months.
[she tucks her hand in against her chest, and scrunches her eyes shut for a moment while she breathes — because it hurts that much, yes, but also because she can avoid the clear disapproval if she doesn't look at it.
after she opens her eyes again, though, she... better gets it. the point. and she turns, facing him more fully.]
That doesn't make you not good at it. [she says this like it's a fact — because to her, it is. plain and simple.] And they can see that.
[we've done terrible things on behalf of the rebellion, he'd said once. and the truth of it glimmers darkly in his eyes now, skates across his face in the slant of his brows, the tenseness about his mouth. in the sharp line of his shoulders as he looks her way, written in the scars across his knuckles. spies, saboteurs, assassins. that had been the most honest he'd been with her since meeting her, remains one of the most vulnerable sentiments he's ever expressed.
that is what he is. that is who he is. she has to know that; she has to know that better than anyone, even those here who have seen his heart. she'd come to know what he's capable of, in the damp and dark of eadu. and that's where he always belongs, in the end, those shadows. not public forums, public discussions, places where he would've given a report of his findings and quietly left. his recent address to bearers had been familiar in that way. this is not. ]
There's a reason I didn't report to Mon Mothma.
[ the very face of diplomacy in the alliance, if there is one, determined as she was to try peaceful solutions within the empire as long as they were possible. no, he was quickly sent to general draven for his skills. for the skills he developed, years with the rebellion. ]
It wasn't me that inspired the others to go to Scarif; this [this kind of situation ] is where you shine.
[even if jyn can't avoid it in her nightmares, all reminders of it have gone unsaid and unacknowledged during her waking hours. scarif. just hearing the name now, here, is a jolt down her spine, a shock to the system; the grip holding up her injured hand slackens, and everything else leaves her mind.
unavoidable; there's no point in trying to pretend otherwise.
so her gaze sticks, studying him over the small distance between them. she knows the difference between cassian's lies and his truth, and she knows that what she's getting is the latter — at least in the way he sees it. and it's complete bantha shit; how much had her words to the council alone actually accomplished? most of them had still wanted to surrender, even when she'd given them every reason to fight.
four people couldn't have faced an entire imperial installation.
but they'd been far more than four, because —]
Scarif wouldn't have happened if you didn't believe me.
[ caught in his thoughts as he'd been, cassian seems to snap back to reality with jyn's visceral reaction to hearing scarif. he almost feels the same, himself, saying the name aloud for the first time in this world. hearing jyn echo it back to him. what was he thinking, bringing up everything that happened there, now?
he listens, and he swallows, and he nods, slowly. there's truth to what she says, he knows. melshi, pao, plenty of others who followed him to scarif. (to their deaths.) he knows. but that — wasn't the same thing. he'd known those people for years, through missions against the empire, fellow soldiers, fellow operatives. this is different. ]
I'm sorry. [ he breathes out. ] Of course, you're right.
[ he leans closer to her, presses a kiss to the top of her head. small affections that he'd been getting used to giving. ]
[While discussions mostly went smoothly, Claude's conscious that he ruffled a few feathers during talks, and he's not about to go making that worse an hour or so after talks conclude. There is, however, at least one person he wants to reach out to, so he contacts Jyn and hopes she'll oblige him a little more time.]
Hey... I just wanted to thank you for today. What did you think about how things went?
[when the meeting ends and everyone involved begins to disperse, the first thing jyn does, before she really even thinks about it, is look around behind her, open her mouth to say something —
before she, again, remembers.
she exhales a heavy breath into the empty air of an empty house, and closes her eyes for a moment. for an hour.
it's unexpected when claude reaches out — and there's a sense of some of that surprise — but it isn't unwelcome. she'd meant to say something to him beforehand to... thank (?) him for believing in her enough to put her up for this in the first place, but she hasn't been able to find the words for that. still isn't able to, so she starts with:]
I think it went a lot better than it could've.
[it's quiet and thoughtful over communion, and some parts relieved — at what she's saying, but also, maybe, that she's not having to sit with it alone right now.]
[ they go back to his room at the hotel. and later finds them curled up on his bed, facing one another, entangled. cassian has one of her hands held in his, kisses each of her knuckles as he listens to her talk about the ambassador meeting. he hadn't attended, couldn't bring himself to show his face, so to speak, at thing like that. not with the fresh blood on his hands, not with the uncertainty of what kind of intel he was going to get. so he obliges jyn by listening to her retelling, sometimes breathing out a huff of a laugh at appropriate moments, never taking his eyes off her. ]
It went well, [ he finally suggests.
it certainly sounds like it'd been less contentious than it could've been. no one had even thrown a punch. ]
[it's no small thing, being the center of cassian's focus; it's no less intense than it's ever been. after an absence, jyn feels the acuity of that intensity — not as a sharp thing to startle her, but as something warm and welcomed. like his touch, like the half-laugh she pulls out of him every so often, like... him in general.
he's a good audience, and for a good audience, the story is easy. even for someone who isn't good with her words.
and so is the smile that lingers with traces of amusement for a time, before smoothing out, rather than faltering.]
Sure, [she offers in response, with a tilt of her head on the pillow rather than a shrug of her shoulder; it's comfortable where she is, entangled with him, and she'd rather not do anything to disturb that.] If you forget the idiot who wouldn't stop trying to tell people it was a good idea to send someone who doesn't know how to fight into a forest full of monsters that'll definitely kill them.
[it's abundantly clear that she's still sore about that, even if the rest of the group had ended up having the sense to vote against it. like... what kind of brainless thing?]
Or the idiot who was trying to plan escalations during peace talks.
[oh, has she neglected to mention this part up until now?]
[ the first thing just gets a soft, amused scoff. not the brightest idea he's ever heard, but people suggest all kinds of strange things in diplomacy — easy for some people to forget practical realities. he can see the logic, if he thinks about it, and that combined with the fact that the suggestion had been voted down mean he isn't too fussed about it. groups can be good for that, weeding out the foolish ideas. but the second thing she says —
she had neglected to mention that part up till now. his eyebrows draw together, creases forming between them, and for a moment there's nothing but disbelief writ across his face. ]
What?
[ he isn't shocked, exactly. he's taken aback, yes, but also angry. scoffs again — but there's nothing amused in it this time. ]
[that'd been about her exact reaction sitting at the table, receiving these plans through private communion. it'd still been her reaction days later, long after the whole thing was over. jyn has thought about that a lot in the time since, that willingness, eager willingness, on the part of some people in zenith to turn the tide in its favor and getting caught up in all the bantha shit everyone does.
it'd been an insult to anyone who'd actually been there to try to do something in good faith.
only problem with relaying this now is: she's not good with names. she's shit with names. fuck if she could even remember her cellmate's name on wobani now, much less than when she'd still been in there.]
The... white-haired man on the Zenith side.
[she scrunches her face, takes another minute to think — because she really is trying here. then:]
Cid? I think that was his name.
[that sounds right. anyway,]
He told me in private that he was willing to be the unarmed diplomat and die to escalate tensions with Meridian.
[ in truth, extreme dedication to faction isn't something either of them are unfamiliar with. it isn't even something exclusive to zenith. they've both met meridian zealots. hayame, for one. set, in some ways, willing to destroy anyone who threatens the promise he'd made his son; though in other ways, he's as indifferent to the concept of sides as any bearer cassian's met.
still. his eyebrows pull downwards, disapproving, as jyn wracks her brain for the name. and when she produces one, cassian gives a slight nod. white-haired, zenith, cid — yeah, that sounds familiar to him too. he has a faint memory of a man he'd spoken to upon arrival, so certain that everyones' worlds were gone forever and that yima was doing them a kindness. ]
It's a waste of time.
[ impossible as it is to be tense, in this soft bed with jyn, there's the edge of a growl in his voice. ]
[there's a relief, jyn finds, in hearing this voiced outside her own head; a relief, she finds, in not being alone, on so many counts. almost funny how profound that revelation is when she's spent so much of her life that way, anything that mattered kept to herself without anyone else she could trust.
(this cements it, now, that she can never go back to that, but she doesn't have to.)
she could kiss him — literally — but for the moment, holds off. says instead,]
Fucking bantha shit, is what it is.
[a roll of her eyes; her own scoff has no less of an edge than his voice.]
And these people are too stupid to realize it won't benefit them.
[ Not terribly long after the Exalt Oracle's conclusion, but more importantly, maybe a day or two after Quetzalcoatl had a little tussle with everyone's favorite rat... It occurs to her that she owes a "call" to someone! ]
¡Hola, Jyn!
[ And right away, Jyn is just (gently) blasted with all of the cheerful, friendly warmth that is Quetzalcoatl in Communion. ]
I just wanted to let you know, since we talked about it un poco. Um, there won't be a chance for you to give him a smack with it since I didn't keep it! Eso sería raro... But I did cut off señor Silco's hand!
[it's difficult, as it always is, to be unaffected by the quetz blast. for her part, there's a definite sense of amusement, and an actual laugh, however brief.]
Shame you didn't keep it. [even through that, though, does jyn also sound maybe just a little disappointed? maybe. hard not to be, when something that's played such a significant role in overly violent daydreaming for several months will never come to pass. (play a small violin for jyn rn)
but that's fleeting, overpowered by an eagerness radiating off of her in communion when she adds:] What'd he look like when you cut it off? Did he cry?
Ah, I didn't think about it until later!! I probably would have grabbed it if I was thinking about it, but... Ay, well, since it was right in front of Yima's house! I had to run!
[ Since a scuffle was one thing, but actual, vicious violence was enough to bring out the Zenites that fiercely guarded Yima's manor. Considering she had gone there to try and do a good deed, she had decided it was best to not push her luck... But she says all of this as sunnily as ever, as well as Silco's, uh, less than sunny response. ]
No crying, nada! He was actually a little scary, how cold he was! He's such a little guy, but la intensidad, wow! He said he was going to kill me, but that's no surprise! I figured that was already the case!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
you know when.
on this day,
after a long day in highstorm, after encountering a mirror with amos and everything that entailed, cassian lets himself in wordlessly. he locks the door behind him. he unbuttons his coat and hangs it up on its hook. or, he tries. once, twice, and once jyn intercedes he lets her help. he doesn't look at her until they've finished that, then breathes out so heavily he seems to lose all the air in him. if he closes his eyes, he sees nothing but a green world, a solemn expression on a small face. so he doesn't, even as he drops his face to her shoulder and makes a soft, exhausted sound. his hands, as he puts his arms around her, are still shaking. they don't often talk about their shared aspect, the same mark inked on her skin as his, but it's impossibly salient now: she can feel the full brunt of his quietly keening misery, old stitches ripped open and left to bleed.
not so long ago, this would have seemed an unfathomable display of weakness. captain andor, rebel spy through and through, is an unfailingly stalwart figure at rebel bases. he always gets the job done, no matter what it takes, with a cool head and calm nerves. he's known for it. only a handful of people ever knew there was more to him than that: draven, kay, melshi. and they kept his secret, because they too understood how important it was to the cause that he be unflappable. to the cause, to himself. he buried every flicker of unhappiness, every part of him that bled at the cost, deeper with every day. he put it all in a grave where he'd one day join all his ghosts. but the weight is so heavy some days, like today,
and this is jyn. she's seen the worst of him, and she still trusts him, and she's still here. and he trusts her like he's trusted nothing in a very long time. so in the privacy of these small rooms, with no one's eyes on him but hers, he lets her help him bear the weight. ]
no subject
in kenos, though, she's found that it isn't terrible to have some sense of stability. maybe she's still wary of fully trusting it, but she finds herself actually looking forward to the evenings that she and cassian share, finds that there's relief in coming home to someone. and even if sleep can't always be found (it's rarely found by one or the other of them, often both), there's relief in the presence of another trusted person, in being able to reach out and confirm that presence with physical touch.
but this relief, as it stands, is tenuous — and very often fraught.
it doesn't stick today, with cassian so heavy in her arms, practically collapsed against her; it doesn't stand a chance, with the way that heaviness seeps into her own chest, causes her heart to sink to the pit of her stomach. his misery becomes hers, and it's — a lot to hold onto.
she's carried his weight before, and she'll carry it as many times as he needs her to, but she wonders if having somewhere to land, like the bed just a few paces behind them, wouldn't make this just slightly easier for him.
a light thumb brushes the side of his face — just to get his attention, nothing more. and she asks, softly:]
Can you walk with me?
no subject
he stirs, and then he nods. takes a deep breath and says, ]
Yes.
[ and moves to straighten, hands falling back to his sides. can you, she asks, and it seems to strike something in him. he isn't hurt; there isn't a scratch on him that wasn't there before. she can see that. she knows, but she still asks him if he can walk with her, as if he might say no, and that would be an acceptable answer. he thinks, he doesn't know what to do with that. but then he remembers jyn in the holy city, fallen to her knees, after saw showed her the message from her father. practically catatonic, even as he'd taken her by the hand and dragged her all the way to the u-wing. even during the scramble to jump to hyperspace, even in the relative quiet, until he'd gotten the message from draven. proceed with haste and keep to the plan.
maybe she would've understood, then, if he'd refused. but there's no need to find out today. instead, he simply follows her, pliable and obedient and quiet, as she leads him to the bed. ]
no subject
but she does get a response, and she can't deny the relief that comes with it. her face softens, mouth setting into something that isn't quite a smile.]
Okay, [jyn says softly, then, for lack of anything else to say. good isn't right, because there isn't anything good about the way he'd collapsed into her arms like that. but it's okay that he'd needed to, because she's here to hold on — no further questions asked.
just as she turns, she reaches back for a hand that she'd dropped, takes it as she leads him those few paces over to the bed. tugs on it, gently, as she finds a seat on the edge of it, indicating for him to do the same.
inviting him.]
no subject
he'd lied to melshi a matter of minutes after finding out he'd been orphaned for the second time in his life. but melshi didn't know him as well then as he did later, as jyn does. she would see right through any false assurances. and, in truth, he doesn't have the heart to make them. this manifestation of the blight, these mirrors, managed to reach through his ribs and pull something very old and very broken and very raw into the light. and, to his credit, amos had been kinder than some would've been. than many might've been. but the kindness can hurt too; pressure on a wound can still be enough to crack a fragile surface. jyn, so far, has trod carefully, and he's grateful for that, but even her kindness could become a knife if misapplied. ]
no subject
there's a time and place to push, though, and this isn't it.
so she keeps her hold on his hand, giving it a squeeze as the space on the bed beside her creaks under his added weight and silence settles in between them.
after a time, she casts out a quiet probe.]
Did I ever tell you about when I scammed an Imperial officer out of all his credits?
[she doesn't know what might've been in the file that the alliance had compiled on her, beyond a general rap sheet — specifically liana hallik's rap sheet — so it might be something he has scant details on already. if it is familiar, that's safe. if it isn't, and some part of her might be willing to bet on that (she doubts anyone there could've followed her entire trail of aliases), that's still safe; it's parsecs away from everything else, including the unspoken, and it can give him a distraction, if he wants.]
no subject
it might be. it's not harder than standing had been. the softness under his legs is more comfortable, probably, than leaning on jyn had been. and her hand is still in his, warm and small, gently squeezing as he joins her on the bed. he feels no less like there's some horrible, hollow emptiness in his chest, but he's felt that since the mirror illusion had worked its magic. neither breaking free from the bubble nor the walk back nor any moment here has been able to fix any part of that.
and why should it? there are some things that can't be fixed. hasn't he always known that? there were no survivors on kenari. he's been doing things that couldn't be taken back, couldn't even be forgiven, since he was a child. there had never been any making it better, just lashing out at the galaxy that had allowed awful things to happen. just devoting himself to a war that would make the galaxy a better place for other people. he couldn't outrun his pain — and he tried — so he'd weaponized it for a worthy cause.
tomorrow, he wants to tell jyn, he'll be fine. sooner. this is an old misery, and all he needs is a little time to put it back where it's lived since he was a child. once the puzzle piece is back in its place, he'll remember how to live and breathe and talk and work around its presence. this isn't even the first time its spilled over the barriers of its prison, though the first in a while.
he wants to, but she beats him to speaking. he blinks, the question slowly sinking in, and then he finally turns his face to look at her. ]
No, [ he says finally, ] you didn't.
[ and she hasn't. it brushes against the edge of a memory — had it been on her rap sheet, or had he missed that charge while having it compiled? — but even if he had known about this before, it would've been some dry charge of theft from the authorities. not the colorful story she seems prepared to share. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
I expected more people to disagree.
[ with his nomination, he means. ]
no subject
she doesn't regret anything she's said on communion, but she does regret punching solid wood.
and it's enough to pull her out of it, to slide her gaze over toward cassian. she gives him a shrug, says,]
The people who do disagree are asses.
[hayame and silco, like. what are their opinions worth.]
no subject
[ there's a slight pull downward at one corner of his mouth, disapproval at the reminder of her injury. like, you could've reacted in ways that were not punching logs, jyn.
but. anyway. ]
Diplomacy isn't what I'm good at. [ and, to make his point, ] I lied to all of them for months.
no subject
after she opens her eyes again, though, she... better gets it. the point. and she turns, facing him more fully.]
That doesn't make you not good at it. [she says this like it's a fact — because to her, it is. plain and simple.] And they can see that.
no subject
that is what he is. that is who he is. she has to know that; she has to know that better than anyone, even those here who have seen his heart. she'd come to know what he's capable of, in the damp and dark of eadu. and that's where he always belongs, in the end, those shadows. not public forums, public discussions, places where he would've given a report of his findings and quietly left. his recent address to bearers had been familiar in that way. this is not. ]
There's a reason I didn't report to Mon Mothma.
[ the very face of diplomacy in the alliance, if there is one, determined as she was to try peaceful solutions within the empire as long as they were possible. no, he was quickly sent to general draven for his skills. for the skills he developed, years with the rebellion. ]
It wasn't me that inspired the others to go to Scarif; this [ this kind of situation ] is where you shine.
[ chirrut would agree, he knows for sure. ]
no subject
unavoidable; there's no point in trying to pretend otherwise.
so her gaze sticks, studying him over the small distance between them. she knows the difference between cassian's lies and his truth, and she knows that what she's getting is the latter — at least in the way he sees it. and it's complete bantha shit; how much had her words to the council alone actually accomplished? most of them had still wanted to surrender, even when she'd given them every reason to fight.
four people couldn't have faced an entire imperial installation.
but they'd been far more than four, because —]
Scarif wouldn't have happened if you didn't believe me.
[again, it's a fact.]
That took both of us.
no subject
he listens, and he swallows, and he nods, slowly. there's truth to what she says, he knows. melshi, pao, plenty of others who followed him to scarif. (to their deaths.) he knows. but that — wasn't the same thing. he'd known those people for years, through missions against the empire, fellow soldiers, fellow operatives. this is different. ]
I'm sorry. [ he breathes out. ] Of course, you're right.
[ he leans closer to her, presses a kiss to the top of her head. small affections that he'd been getting used to giving. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
post-ambassador discussion
Hey... I just wanted to thank you for today. What did you think about how things went?
no subject
before she, again, remembers.
she exhales a heavy breath into the empty air of an empty house, and closes her eyes for a moment. for an hour.
it's unexpected when claude reaches out — and there's a sense of some of that surprise — but it isn't unwelcome. she'd meant to say something to him beforehand to... thank (?) him for believing in her enough to put her up for this in the first place, but she hasn't been able to find the words for that. still isn't able to, so she starts with:]
I think it went a lot better than it could've.
[it's quiet and thoughtful over communion, and some parts relieved — at what she's saying, but also, maybe, that she's not having to sit with it alone right now.]
We have a start.
later,
It went well, [ he finally suggests.
it certainly sounds like it'd been less contentious than it could've been. no one had even thrown a punch. ]
no subject
he's a good audience, and for a good audience, the story is easy. even for someone who isn't good with her words.
and so is the smile that lingers with traces of amusement for a time, before smoothing out, rather than faltering.]
Sure, [she offers in response, with a tilt of her head on the pillow rather than a shrug of her shoulder; it's comfortable where she is, entangled with him, and she'd rather not do anything to disturb that.] If you forget the idiot who wouldn't stop trying to tell people it was a good idea to send someone who doesn't know how to fight into a forest full of monsters that'll definitely kill them.
[it's abundantly clear that she's still sore about that, even if the rest of the group had ended up having the sense to vote against it. like... what kind of brainless thing?]
Or the idiot who was trying to plan escalations during peace talks.
[oh, has she neglected to mention this part up until now?]
no subject
she had neglected to mention that part up till now. his eyebrows draw together, creases forming between them, and for a moment there's nothing but disbelief writ across his face. ]
What?
[ he isn't shocked, exactly. he's taken aback, yes, but also angry. scoffs again — but there's nothing amused in it this time. ]
Who was doing that?
no subject
it'd been an insult to anyone who'd actually been there to try to do something in good faith.
only problem with relaying this now is: she's not good with names. she's shit with names. fuck if she could even remember her cellmate's name on wobani now, much less than when she'd still been in there.]
The... white-haired man on the Zenith side.
[she scrunches her face, takes another minute to think — because she really is trying here. then:]
Cid? I think that was his name.
[that sounds right. anyway,]
He told me in private that he was willing to be the unarmed diplomat and die to escalate tensions with Meridian.
no subject
still. his eyebrows pull downwards, disapproving, as jyn wracks her brain for the name. and when she produces one, cassian gives a slight nod. white-haired, zenith, cid — yeah, that sounds familiar to him too. he has a faint memory of a man he'd spoken to upon arrival, so certain that everyones' worlds were gone forever and that yima was doing them a kindness. ]
It's a waste of time.
[ impossible as it is to be tense, in this soft bed with jyn, there's the edge of a growl in his voice. ]
This war, these factions, all of it.
no subject
(this cements it, now, that she can never go back to that, but she doesn't have to.)
she could kiss him — literally — but for the moment, holds off. says instead,]
Fucking bantha shit, is what it is.
[a roll of her eyes; her own scoff has no less of an edge than his voice.]
And these people are too stupid to realize it won't benefit them.
[also just... stupid in general, but.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
anyway i guess this is a good place to note we're getting nsfw
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
🎀
hi! this is stupid!
¡Hola, Jyn!
[ And right away, Jyn is just (gently) blasted with all of the cheerful, friendly warmth that is Quetzalcoatl in Communion. ]
I just wanted to let you know, since we talked about it un poco. Um, there won't be a chance for you to give him a smack with it since I didn't keep it! Eso sería raro... But I did cut off señor Silco's hand!
LKSJDFKJFKS no this is perfect and so is quetz
Shame you didn't keep it. [even through that, though, does jyn also sound maybe just a little disappointed? maybe. hard not to be, when something that's played such a significant role in overly violent daydreaming for several months will never come to pass. (play a small violin for jyn rn)
but that's fleeting, overpowered by an eagerness radiating off of her in communion when she adds:] What'd he look like when you cut it off? Did he cry?
[please tell her he cried, lmao]
no subject
[ Since a scuffle was one thing, but actual, vicious violence was enough to bring out the Zenites that fiercely guarded Yima's manor. Considering she had gone there to try and do a good deed, she had decided it was best to not push her luck... But she says all of this as sunnily as ever, as well as Silco's, uh, less than sunny response. ]
No crying, nada! He was actually a little scary, how cold he was! He's such a little guy, but la intensidad, wow! He said he was going to kill me, but that's no surprise! I figured that was already the case!