By her cabin, Finnick/Annie's cabin, around townWHEN:
March 22OPEN TO:
OTA (Specific thread for Finnick/Annie)WARNINGS:
Mention of death/loss (will udpated as needed)STATUS:
Note: You can find Jyn anywhere! She'll just be wandering, trying to see if she can find Cassian.
Something was wrong. Jyn knew it the moment she'd opened her eyes, found Cassian's side of the bed to be empty (and worse, cold
). They'd made a promise, a pact - to always
tell the other when one was leaving, wait for confirmation and response before moving. A promise to keep Darkness at bay, the one that lurched in and lived in and poisoned them both -
Darkness, which hissed and seethed and slithered around the curves of their ears and the beats of their hearts.
Darkness, which promised empty beds and forgotten memories.
Darkness, which predicted missing warmth and the bodies that went along with it.
It promised loneliness. It promised abandonment. It promised absence. It promised itself - darkness
- enveloping and swallowing and encasing.
She heard its familiar jeering as she ransacked the cabin looking for any trace of him, or even a note, indicating that he'd gone out, that maybe what had happened weeks ago
had happened again - maybe he had
told her goodbye, had told her his intentions of leaving and going about his business for the day, but she'd forgotten. Perhaps sleep had stolen those fragments away from her, nestled them under the blanket of her subconscious. Perhaps he is outside cutting down boughs the way he had been back then.
She finds the necklace she'd given him, the one that so hauntingly reminded her of the one her mother had given her. She finds his pouch of seeds, his multi-tool, the flint and steel, the pocket knife. His toothbrush and toothpaste still in the bathroom. Why are none of these things in his pockets? Why would he leave to go cut down some branches for their furnace without his tools? She grabs the necklace, buries it in her grasp.
"Please," she breathes - a prayer, a dream - to whatever might be listening. "Please. Karking hell, please
." The twisting, gnawing, nauseating convolutions of her stomach grow. Somehow, she knows; underneath the cloak of 'misunderstanding' and 'oversight,' underneath the near-paralyzing fear swiftly descending upon her, she knows.
Something is wrong.
Jyn shrugs on her coat, slipping her feet into her boots without a spare thought to tie them, and bursts through the door, intent on rampaging around town to try and track him down.
// For Finnick/Annie
The first thing she remembers as the cold air prickles her skin is the letters Cassian had been exchanging with both Finnick and Annie. He'd shown them to her as they'd arrived -
Annie's, full of fire and anger and distrust;
Finnick's, laboriously written and quoting some sort of document (the contents of which she can only vaguely recall).
She thinks to ask if they'd seen him out and about, or if they'd received any other letters from him she hadn't had a chance to see. Darkness whispers conspiratorial hypotheses into the growing hole in her chest, implicating one or both of them in Cassian's disappearance.
- No. No.
There's no proof that he's gone (aside, of course, from the screaming voice at the back of her skull, her intuition, so rarely incorrect and so rarely proved wrong). She has to talk to them first. See if they know anything. There's no reason to panic, Jyn. He's fine. Cassian's fine.
Once on their stoop, she balls her fist, raises it, and lets it hover in the air for a few moments. She wonders if it's pathetically foolish to ask, to jump to such ridiculous conclusions. But she remembers their rules, tacked up on the wall - she remembers the promise, the warm onyx of his eyes, the touch of his skin - and, biting back the tears gathering at the rims of her eyes, raps her knuckles against the wood of their door.