sixthiterationlogs | I've Got a Bad Feeling About This

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I've Got a Bad Feeling About This - OTA

WHO: Jyn Erso
WHERE: At the fountain.
WHEN: February 6, night.
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Grief, mention of death, depression, implied self-harm.
STATUS: CLOSED

Arrival
Blinding light.

That's the last thing that Jyn can remember. No, there's more: the wetness of tears, the feel of cloth and muscle and bone, the inevitable resignation at the end of her short life, and the reverberation of Cassian's heartbeat against her chest.

Cassian.

The name sears across her mind's eye like wildfire, a dagger in her gut, a sharp, hot pain that makes her body ache and her heart shatter. But before she can weep the way she wants to, before she can mourn the loss of him, of them, of the future ripped violently out of their grasp, she realizes she's in water. Her eyes open as widely as they can manage, but there isn't much to see, except the faint light overhead. Go up, she tells herself, her legs forcefully kicking with all of the residual strength she can muster. There's a way out, she can see it. Faint as it is, it's there.

When she finally breaks the surface, she's gasping and clamoring, the rush of the frigid air like needles in her lungs and in her throat. It almost makes her feel like she's suffocating, and the only thing she wants to do is get out of this -- thing. She thinks for a moment that perhaps it's a pond, or a lake, but as she stumbles out and off of it, she realizes that it's a fountain. A fountain? Her mind attempts to make sense of it all, but the chill of the air prevents her from doing so. All she can think now is to survive, that thing she's done so well her entire life, the thing she's so tired of doing. As she scrambles to her feet, it's then that she notices something strapped to her back. She pats the pockets of her drenched trousers, looking for her comm - not that she even imagines it might work in this place - but it's her first instinct to search for it. Only .. her pockets are empty. She's so disoriented that it takes her an embarrassingly long time to even realize that the clothes on her body are different. She considers plunging back into the fountain to see if her old ones are lost in the water, but even disoriented Jyn knows it's a bad idea. Who would she call, if she could find the comm? Who would hear her pleas and cries? There's no one left. She has nothing, not even the blaster she'd had those last moments on the beach.

Oh, the beach, she thinks, feeling her footing slip as she stumbles back into the darkness of her mind's eye. No, Jyn. Focus. You have to focus. She rummages through the pack and finds, much to her delight, a set of clothing for her to change into.

Change into dry clothes, she thinks, starting to create her checklist. Figure out where you are, find some food, find some shelter, check the area for danger, get some sleep.

There's a dull pain in her chest, squarely over what she thinks is her heart. It reminds her of what she's lost, it reminds her of what she might have had. It reminds her of her comrades, of Scarif, of Krennic, of Stardust. It reminds her of their mission. She presses palm to bone, willing the pain, the sorrow to leave. The ache pulsates with each beat of her heart, braying its despair. Emptiness, loneliness, it sings.

But there's no time to weep, the threat of tears beginning to sting the backs of her eyes. No, for now, she needs to survive.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jyn's eyes float down to the gloves, a brief curiosity overtaking her. She wonders if the brisker temperature isn't hitting her as much as it might be affecting the woman, or if the woman is simply more sensitive to the chill in the air. But it's none of her business to know the reasoning, and she knows this. Her eyes quickly raise to the woman's face as she speaks.

"-- Oh," she replies, brows slightly stitched together. "And -- do you know what they mean? The colors?" Her gaze softens as she nods, appreciative of the Peggy's offer. "Anything you'd be willing to share."

Peggy's wearing her scrubs lately, fearful the ice abilities will somehow ruin her properly nice clothing, so it's easy to gesture down to the navy blue of them. "The same stitches and fabric and all, but mine are blue," she says. "There are others with grey and green and one terribly unfortunate pinkish colour, though I suppose it quite popular for men," she admits.

"I can share plenty of information and facts," Peggy tells Jyn. "Unfortunately, I don't have the how or why or who behind it. I don't have a pattern or an explanation that makes sense."

"Grateful to have managed to squeak by with red, then," Jyn responds, her tone light in response to the mention of the pink clothes. Of course, if she'd had a choice, she would've picked something significantly more muted - black, a deep green, grey, even. The colors that reminded her of home. Even the woman's navy blue was better than red; it reminded Jyn too much of the Empire and all that it stood for.

Not that the Empire was a threat here. She didn't know if she'd ever escape from the shadow of the Death Star, burned into her memory.

"Perhaps we can figure one out, if there's one to be had. Otherwise, having facts without the explanation is better than having nothing"

"I've been seeking a pattern for eight months," Peggy warns, because she's not adverse to someone else swooping in and suddenly seeing what she hasn't, it's just that it doesn't seem very likely, in her opinion. "I spent some time exploring the outer reaches of this place, first to see if I could find some exit, which wasn't successful. Since then, I've mainly been probing at people's backgrounds and histories to see if there's a link between all of us."

That, and she'd abandoned her search for an exit and has traded in her time to learning skills that will help her to survive in this place, fearing that if she doesn't pick them up now, she never will when those people vanish potentially, just like her friends. "There's piecemeal information in many places. I believe the inn has an account of who's doing what, as well," she admits.

Eight months? Jyn thinks to herself. She's been here that long? Still, she is trying her hardest not to be disheartened by that fact - both the length of time as well as that there haven't been any patterns found.

"What've you found? Is there anything?" Jyn's mind is always working in a tactical sense, looking for the opportunities, the patterns, the next move. There has to be something tying all of the villagers together, something that's brought them all here. "I -- I was supposed to have died," she adds on as an afterthought, willingly throwing herself into the cauldron of information this woman's been stirring. "Before I came through the fountain." She wonders if it's trauma that's brought everyone here - something terrible that was supposed to have happened but somehow rerouted itself to bring them all here instead.

"Are there expeditions? Going out to explore the landscape, seeing if escape is possible?"

"There's evidence of foul play in our surroundings," Peggy reports, as if she's back in the war and giving her mission report for the day. "Each time I went into the canyon, the borders changed and shifted. There was a group that managed to find something in the very place I searched previously, as if it had been camouflaged and hidden from my view," she says with distaste.

She gives Jyn a probing look at her confession, knowing that it's not the first time she's heard it. "I know some people think this is an afterlife, but I can assure you that I was very much alive when I came," she guarantees, lest Daniel's kiss had given her a heart attack.

"I don't go out much anymore, but if you'd like a partner, I'm willing. It's not safe to be out there alone, is what I've learned."

The familiar language of mission briefings and status reports makes the edge of Jyn's lips twitch with the threat of a smile. It feels more like home, in a way. She listens carefully to what Peggy shares, and the information causes Jyn's brows to stitch together with thought and slight confusion. The landscape can be morphed? Changed? How? And, more importantly perhaps, by whom? The thought of them being pawns in some - alternate reality, figures for something's twisted idea of fun - is disconcerting, to say the least.

"I don't think of it that way," she replies," But more was curious if perhaps there's something there, for all of us. Something - traumatic, something big, that might've triggered the - journey."

Jyn nods, as though to silently thank the woman.

"I'd be interested, as soon as I'm able to move better. A partner would be helpful."

If the poor woman had experienced a near life-ending event before she'd arrived, Peggy quickly realizes that she likely needs a little more attention to ensure that she's fine. "Do you want to talk about what happened to you?" Peggy asks cautiously, not wanting to spook her and insist that they go now. "Would you like something to drink?" she offers instead, because that might be what the poor woman needs right now.

Possibly, she's projecting, but she can't imagine she's that far off the mark.

The offer, innocent as it is, to talk about what Jyn's experienced is met with a bitter snort. It isn't directed at Peggy - not at all. In fact, there's some part of Jyn that's humbled and warmed by this stranger's willingness and openness to hear a lifetime of pain, loss, sorrow, and death. Another part of her thinks in terms of falsehoods and manipulation, and it can't help but wonder why the woman would offer something so grandiose; was it to extract a weakness? A pressure point with which to unravel Jyn from the inside out?

The genuine expression on Peggy's face makes Jyn dismiss the latter, focusing instead on the former: that she might be as kind as she seems.

But how could Jyn tell this woman her story? How could she share the parts of herself with a stranger when she hadn't been able to with Cassian? The only person to have taken out her shields, projected himself inside of her chest like a hologram, murmuring words that meant more than he could've ever realized (welcome home). But maybe there's a sterility in conversations with strangers. No history to sway one way or the other, no personal connection to fuel any fires.

Peggy doesn't know what she's asking, when she asks Jyn if she wants to talk about it. She couldn't possibly know.

The mention of drink, though, is something Jyn can understand and respond to. As if her tongue has ears, it immediately unsticks itself from the roof of her mouth, alerting her of its transformation to sand (no, don't think of sand, don't think of Scarif). She nods, slightly, to the woman's offer for a drink.

"Water," she replies, barely above a whisper. "I'd like water."

Peggy's in a touch of a bind here, in that she fears that if she fetches the water, it may become ice. Still, what's the alternative? The rudeness of stifling the woman's request after asking is out of the question, so Peggy heads to the sink to fill a glass with water, taking in deep breaths to control herself, keeping the gloves off as if the barrier will aid.

"Here you are, it might be a touch cool," she warns, "take your time," she says, settling down again in the chair near the fire. "I'm from London, originally," she shares, as if giving an unimportant piece of information about herself might somehow open the channels of communication. "Recently, Los Angeles, though as I mentioned, that was eight months prior to being kidnapped or sucked into whatever strange alternate world this is."

Jyn catches the hesitation and wonders what it's for. Was it merely manners that forced Peggy to ask that question? Perhaps water was a scarce and valuable resource in the village, and Jyn has just inadvertently asked for an impossibility. No, that isn't it, she thinks. There's something else, something hiding behind Peggy's consternation, but Jyn knows it's not her place to ask.

She grasps the glass in both hands, noting almost immediately the frigid surface against her skin. But the cold, glacial liquid running down her throat wakes her in a way that she hasn't been able to since she arrived. She can feel the whirring of her brain as it reboots, synapses beginning to fire more efficiently already. The corners of her lips twitch, grateful for the kindness conveyed through a glass of water.

"Where .. are those places?" Jyn asks, a slight shake of the head. "I've never heard of London, or Los Angel - Angelis?"

It seems she's somehow drawn in yet another person who has no earthly idea where, well, where earth is. By now, it's not a shock anymore, so she offers a smile that tries to be completely kind, but likely errs on the side of impatient and mildly worn. "I'm from Earth," she clarifies, settling her hands on her lap. "It's a planet in the Milky Way galaxy, which some people here have never heard of."

"Before this place, I would have imagined such a thing to be impossible, but my definition of impossible is changing daily," Peggy notes matter-of-factly.

Jyn can only manage to blink a few times, as though it will somehow miraculously help her mind wrap around the information being given. She quickly runs through the list of galaxies, star systems, planets, and moons she knows off of the top of her head - none seem to match up with Earth or the Milky Way. She isn't entirely surprised, per se, but it certainly does nothing to ease the confusion.

"As long as you adapt with it," she comments, almost more to herself than to Peggy. "I've not heard of Earth or the Milky Way before. What type of planet is Earth? Lava? Forest? Ice?"

"All of that," Peggy says, even though she's only seen some of it. She can't help the way her forehead furrows a touch, nose crinkling at the thought that their planet could only be one thing. "Ice at the poles, giant swaths of forest, deserts that span the width of a continent, lush areas and hot and dry ones."

"It's everything," she says, with a great deal of fondness for the world that she'd fought so hard to protect the freedom of.

"All of it?" There's no hiding the flabbergasted tone in Jyn's voice; how is it possible? How could the planet contain all of those geological and meteorological features and not simply collapse at its instability? Or perhaps it did, and that's what brought Peggy here? No, Peggy still speaks of Earth in the present tense, leading her believe that it's intact - where it might be located. "And - it manages to - find homeostasis? Even with a variety of climate and terrain? The ecosystem there manages to find homeostasis?"

She nods, knowing that it might seem wild to others, but it's something that Peggy's grown used to. She'd spent a year in the coldest reaches of the front in Russia before flying back to warm spring in Austria and then balmy summer in England before America. To her, it's perfectly natural to hop from one to another, but it's a lovely thing to imagine it being a surprise to someone else.

She frowns as she tries to place the word 'homestasis'. "Well, it's been that way for millions of years," she clarifies, "no one's really done anything to muck it up, not yet."

Jyn exhales a sigh of disbelief and perhaps a bit of awe. It's a concept completely foreign to her, coming from a galaxy full of mono-climate/terrain planets. Even planets like Coruscant were singular in their type - even if that type was an ecumenopolis, or gigantic, multi-layer city.

She thinks, then, that life everywhere learns to adapt to its surroundings, the will and need to survive stronger than almost anything else. It's a funny little thing to think about, a commonality across the galaxies of the universe.

"Do you have a favorite?"

"I was always partial to the English countryside," Peggy admits. "Lots of green, lush flowers, mainly thanks to the constant rainy seasons but for the bright months of the summer, when you could take advantage of them." She's drifting, but she pulls herself back. "I was growing to like Los Angeles, a warm city on the coast with a rather thriving population. The mountainous hillsides provided an incomparable view."

"I can't say where we are is a favourite," she says with a touch of disdain. "I would never have chosen to live somewhere like this."

Jyn sips her water quietly, listening to the woman recount a small handful of memories from wherever she's come from. Jyn tries to picture the scenes, of course not knowing what "English" might mean in relation to the countryside, but the rest is rather easy to imagine. She thinks to herself that she has no favorite, never had the chance to develop one. She does know that she will always carry a certain hatred for beaches, though.

"That's certainly something we have in common," she quips before she takes another sip of water. "When did you arrive"

"We lack a reliable calendar system here," Peggy admits, which also goes to the fact that they also lack something to tell them whether twenty-four hours still marks a day, "but given my own sense of time and the changing seasons, I would estimate that it's been eight or nine months," she says. Certainly enough to see summer, autumn, and a brisk winter, but what that means is beyond her.

"Those canyon trips of mine never yielded an exit, unfortunately," she says, "and so, I'm still here to be able to tell you all this."

"Perhaps something to come up with, if only for our own sanities in having a decently accurate measure of time. It seems there are still hours of daylight, hours of moonlight - though they feel .. different, from what I'm used to, in terms of length." Jyn has noticed that they feel somehow longer and shorter simultaneously; she isn't used to multi-climate terrain, so the fact that it might be due to changing seasons, proximity to the sun, eludes her. "I'm selfishly grateful for that, but - I hope you are able to find an exit, if that's what you want." She pauses slightly, looking down to her water glass pensively. "I'd be willing to assist you, in reaching that goal. If you so desired."

Peggy gives a grateful nod, utterly aware that this is the very thing she's supposed to be avoiding because of the mess it had left her in, but that had been months ago and before Steve had vanished again. She's more than ready to get back out there and keep searching. "Perhaps once you've settled in, I'll come calling on you," she says. "There's a small observation area that I'd like to delve a little more into."

"There has to be something here, if not escape, then clues as to who's responsible. Something like this place can't happen by chance."

"I will be ready for when you do," Jyn replies, her voice no longer weak and hindered. There's a quiet fire behind them now, reflected in the light of her eyes. She would be relying on Peggy, as well, whenever the expedition took place. She's a woman who's spent a significantly greater amount of time here, who has had a chance to acclimate (as well as one could, Jyn imagines) and seek out patterns. She seems intelligent, capable, quick. The sort of ally Jyn would want, in a strange town. Or any town. She nods her acknowledgement of the observation area, the thought of it immediately prickling the back of her mind.

"I knew someone once, who would've laughed at the idea that being here was due to chance or coincidence," she says, a certain fondness in her words. "I'm inclined to believe him; there has to be some sort of explanation." A pause. "And I think it's better to know, even if the explanation turns out to be - one we'd rather not have discovered - than not to."

"The observation pods might well be the best place to start. They might not have much evidence left, but if someone was coming in or delivering things there, there may yet be evidence," she shares with a firm nod of her head, still determined to beat this place somehow, no matter if it takes the constant grind of years.

"I'll be ready as soon as a trifling little personal matter resolves itself," she notes with displeasure, wondering how long it will be before the ice in her hands vanishes.

"Where are the pods located?" Jyn's been tucking all the information away in the vault at the back of her mind, the one once used to house the anger and hatred she'd felt for various people throughout her life. The one used to contain the few happy memories of her childhood. Now, it seems, it'd be better suited to information about the town - possible escape - possible explanation. She'd evacuated the remnants of anger and hatred long ago, anyway.

Her eyes squint slightly in consideration.

"Anything I could help with?"

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