The droid analogy is lost on her, completely. She blinks blankly a few times, visibly relieved for his second explanation - one that makes sense. That it isn't to control him (something she doesn't want to do, ever) or to create some kind of power imbalance. That it isn't to elevate her in their relationship or degrade him. If anything, she thinks, it'll give her even more autonomy over herself .. only with Cassian, too.
"I want us to be equal - always equal," she says quietly, letting the thought linger before turning her attention back to the necklace. "It isn't exactly the same," Jyn begins to explain quietly, a tingle of electricity darting up her hand, arm, shoulder at the trail of his thumb. "The shape is - it's different, not as smooth or worn down. And it's missing the inscription that was on it." It didn't matter that it wasn't exactly the same, she knows this - but for some reason, she feels the need to explain. She swears it turns into its own flame at random points, could've sworn it singed her skin without a trace on more than one occasion. She remembers clutching it when they'd approached Scarif, listening to Bodhi try to talk his way through the gate.
"I don't know where she got it. I think she'd just - taken it, from somewhere. I'd asked her about it once, before bed time, but she never really gave me much of an answer." Her gaze goes unfocused, lost somewhere around their hands, the mind behind it travelling through the forest of memories. Her tongue goes stagnant, seems to paralyze itself despite wanting to continue. It's a story she's not told anyone - not Saw, not Maia, not anyone. Cassian hadn't invoked the tell me something rule, but she sees no reason to withhold the information.
Not that it matters, now.
It's not as though her mother's been alive at any point in the recent past.
"The last time I saw her was on Lah'mu, when Krennic found us. She and I were supposed to run for the bunker my father had made. He'd - he'd called it a game, would have me run and find it and called it our 'hiding spot.' But I'd always known it was something more than that, even if he never used a title. I knew it wasn't just for fun. I knew he was - was training me, for the day I'd have to use it." She tightens the grip on his hand to keep hers from trembling, lids falling to lightly meet their lower counterpart. "But at the last minute, she'd taken the necklace off, put it around my neck, told me to trust in the Force. And she went back - she went back with a blaster and shot Krennic in the arm, before -"
Her jaw tightens, molars against molars, feeling like they might very well shatter.
"He ordered his men to kill her." Eyes open - find his, glossy and brimming. "I watched her fall to the ground, heard my father cry." Perhaps there's a piece of Jyn that's always harbored the guilt that she didn't - couldn't - do anything to save her. That she'd inherited her spirit and love of adventure and fiery temper but had no mother to soothe her, embrace her, love her. "I don't want this to be a reminder of that, or of her. I want it - I want you to choose its meaning now. My only request is -" The corners of her lips twitch with a lopsided smile. "Make it something happy."
no subject
"I want us to be equal - always equal," she says quietly, letting the thought linger before turning her attention back to the necklace. "It isn't exactly the same," Jyn begins to explain quietly, a tingle of electricity darting up her hand, arm, shoulder at the trail of his thumb. "The shape is - it's different, not as smooth or worn down. And it's missing the inscription that was on it." It didn't matter that it wasn't exactly the same, she knows this - but for some reason, she feels the need to explain. She swears it turns into its own flame at random points, could've sworn it singed her skin without a trace on more than one occasion. She remembers clutching it when they'd approached Scarif, listening to Bodhi try to talk his way through the gate.
"I don't know where she got it. I think she'd just - taken it, from somewhere. I'd asked her about it once, before bed time, but she never really gave me much of an answer." Her gaze goes unfocused, lost somewhere around their hands, the mind behind it travelling through the forest of memories. Her tongue goes stagnant, seems to paralyze itself despite wanting to continue. It's a story she's not told anyone - not Saw, not Maia, not anyone. Cassian hadn't invoked the tell me something rule, but she sees no reason to withhold the information.
Not that it matters, now.
It's not as though her mother's been alive at any point in the recent past.
"The last time I saw her was on Lah'mu, when Krennic found us. She and I were supposed to run for the bunker my father had made. He'd - he'd called it a game, would have me run and find it and called it our 'hiding spot.' But I'd always known it was something more than that, even if he never used a title. I knew it wasn't just for fun. I knew he was - was training me, for the day I'd have to use it." She tightens the grip on his hand to keep hers from trembling, lids falling to lightly meet their lower counterpart. "But at the last minute, she'd taken the necklace off, put it around my neck, told me to trust in the Force. And she went back - she went back with a blaster and shot Krennic in the arm, before -"
Her jaw tightens, molars against molars, feeling like they might very well shatter.
"He ordered his men to kill her." Eyes open - find his, glossy and brimming. "I watched her fall to the ground, heard my father cry." Perhaps there's a piece of Jyn that's always harbored the guilt that she didn't - couldn't - do anything to save her. That she'd inherited her spirit and love of adventure and fiery temper but had no mother to soothe her, embrace her, love her. "I don't want this to be a reminder of that, or of her. I want it - I want you to choose its meaning now. My only request is -" The corners of her lips twitch with a lopsided smile. "Make it something happy."