La paz llegará, el amor siempre vivirá—No me ames, mas quedate otro dia

[candor1]

WHO: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, Bodhi Rook, Finnick Odair (independent threads)
WHERE: Cabin 56, the woods, the spring, wherever else happens
WHEN: Feb 6 through now. "Ten days in the [new] life".
OPEN TO: Jyn, Cassian, Bodhi and Finnick
Quick apology for what a first-love middleschooler I've been being IC and OOC, with me neglecting and Cassian unable to gear shift at all away from Jyn! (Turns out we're super OTP, quelle surprise) Thanks for forebearance, and sorry, guys…!
This might help with moving back into the rest of the game from that first obsessed flush of her arrival. Mainly prompts for kestreldawn and I to multithread several CR developments in a single post, rather than a slew of logs.
WARNINGS: PTSD (both helping and triggering one another—and worrying about that), exchanging war/life/traumatic stories, issues they haven't thought about in decades resurfacing 'cause this is so new and everything's getting unlocked, smut (though surprisingly happy/healthy), treating physical injury (possible self-harm convo), reproductive choices, panic attacks
STATUS: Open

1. the next moment (Jyn and Cassian in their cabin)

2. that night (same)

3. in the next few days (Finnick and Cassian at the spring)

4. in days following (Bodhi, Jyn and Cassian TBD)

5. today (Jyn and Cassian, cabin and forest)

Comments

[candor1]

"Yes ma'am," he said with soft, affectionate humor. And made himself leave before he could get too caught in dread. Though at the door, he may have murmured back at her—"Te quiero."—like a prayer or safeguard. The stories were always of losing someone without saying it again. It was nonsensical, but couldn't be helped: the feeling that saying it could prevent the loss at all. Deprive malevolent forces of that particular torture.

It was paranoia… the only way to get over it was to disprove it… and the only way to disprove it was this… so he kept his mind fixedly on the immediacy of his task and nothing else.

No impossible-to-substantiate evidenceless ideas about how and why and by whom they may have been brought and whether for salvation or damnation… he's never even believed in those oversimple binary superstitions before… but if wanting to torture them, and what is given so easily can be as easily taken—

No. Get it done. Get back to her.

Kriff it's cold.

And dark.

It's a very, very good thing he'd mapped the place so obsessively or he wouldn't be able to find his way back, let alone anything to bring.

The adrenaline helps—always has—and within a quarter hour, he's back—knocking gently at the door to warn her, but unable to wait before shouldering his way, arms full of wood, back in.

Oh please forest and gods and space, Jyn, be here. Be real. Be here.

[kestreldawn]

"- I love you, too," she replies, voice soft like a feather. She'll learn to bend her tongue to the language of his eventually, but for now - she resorts to Basic. It's more familiar - safer, in a way. They require no translation, no pauses to ensure accuracy. She sends the words with him like a shield, hoping they will protect him from -

No, the flint. Focus on the flint. The idea of self-created heat is certainly enticing, but she knows it isn't - can't be - permanent. They need fire.

The sound of the door clicking behind him sends an abrupt and violent shiver down her spine, and for a moment, she wonders if it's his leaving or the temperature of the cabin (it's the former, though she isn't readily aware of this fact). There's a mind-numbing silence that follows, the only music the sound of her breathing, which is now quivering and vibrating with her body.

Find the flint.

Hands swing out as she makes her way around the floor, blindly searching, searching, searching, until -

She finds it. Jagged, rough, approximately the size of her palm. It's cold to the touch, but her hands are numb enough to not be bothered. She pauses, sitting back on her knees for a moment, trying to study the thing in the pale moonlight, but it's no use. All she can do is feel it, run her finger along its sharp edges, feel the tug of her skin against its surface.

It feels like hours have passed since Cassian had left - shouldn't he be back by now? Or had it only been a minute, stretched out to impossible lengths with his absence? She feels a shudder in her heart as Darkness begins to sing its song, and it takes all of Jyn's strength to close her eyes, her ears - ignore the wailing prophesy of doom.

The sound of Cassian all but barging through the door snaps her back, and she drops the flint in her surprise. She scrambles, catches it quickly, jumps to her feet. She rushes over, moving to the side of him to carefully sling an arm around his shoulders, press her cheek to the opposite one, squeeze - feel him, make sure it's him, make sure he's here.

[candor1]

Tempting as it is to drop the firewood onto the floor and grab her immediately, the imperative finish task in order to hug and not let go still wins. But in his mind, over and over, not knowing to what forces (or Force) he'd never actually believed in he now projects, Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

And the refrain persists, through her helping him redress his hand, their making a quick exploration to find the bed and blankets, and finally lying together in it—the first proper bed either has had in a long, long while… and possibly the first time ever sharing one like this.

Thank you.

CLOSED

[kestreldawn]