He gives her the most pleading sad-Wookiee look in his repertoire. (Damned if his eyes didn't seem to triple in size.) "Please never say 'Cass' or 'Cassy' again unless you're angry with me. I'll understand the severity of my transgression."
And yet they both seem to like 'Jynnie'. Hearing her say it only makes it nicer. He wondered if and how his name could possibly break down into something like that, since direct equivalence didn't have the same effect. Adding versus subtracting syllables…? it wasn't something he'd ever really analyzed before. Analysis probably not the point.
The nearest he could think of was when Grendreef's daughter and son had called him "Jorah". Started as a mispronounciation of "Joreth" which had then been deliberately adopted. It had been more about how they said it. Like he was someone they were so delighted to see, whose appearance heralded good things (like presents, messages, story- or playtime) rather than dread or doom.
Maybe his real name couldn't allow that possibility.
…No. Demonstrably false. When Jyn said it, unaltered and sincere, it transformed his entire existence.
The only nickname he needed was his real name in her voice. Maybe he could tell her somehow.
But thank goodness he doesn't have to figure out how, yet, because she's moved on. Thank you.
Back to a(n almost playful) grimace, Cassian answers, "Jeron." (Pronounced almost like the Alderaanian [and, coincidentally, Earth] bird, but with the slightest throaty catch to the aspiration, a flip to the 'r', and a long 'o'. cHEH-ːroʊn.) "After my father."
Echoes abounding. Jeron Andor had been from the Yavin System. Hence the childhood foundation in Yaval that remained in Cassian's natural speech, that any Fringe insurgent of the same cultural background (a fair lot; Yavin was a big system whose native civilizations were more ancient, and so their cultural and linguistic descendents had spread far) had maintained in child Cassian's language acquisition. Hence the feeling of eeriness when the Alliance moved its base to Yavin IV, the odd feeling of belonging he'd had there, that he'd never felt on Carida—or when, as a teenager, he'd finally set foot (again?) on Fest. He had to assume Fest had been his mother's world. But he'd felt no familial resonance there.
The name of the world I come from means 'rock'. And it deserves it.
He tended to say he was "from" Fest when asked, to maintain Yavin IV's security, and in utter rejection of Carida as any such thing. But for all it was the last Alliance base he'd been to (first he'd been brought to was Dantooine), and the most continuous time he ever spent there tended to be in med bay (which looked the same no matter which planet it had been plunked down on), it had felt more 'home'-like than any place he could be said to have 'lived'.
no subject
And yet they both seem to like 'Jynnie'. Hearing her say it only makes it nicer. He wondered if and how his name could possibly break down into something like that, since direct equivalence didn't have the same effect. Adding versus subtracting syllables…? it wasn't something he'd ever really analyzed before. Analysis probably not the point.
The nearest he could think of was when Grendreef's daughter and son had called him "Jorah". Started as a mispronounciation of "Joreth" which had then been deliberately adopted. It had been more about how they said it. Like he was someone they were so delighted to see, whose appearance heralded good things (like presents, messages, story- or playtime) rather than dread or doom.
Maybe his real name couldn't allow that possibility.
…No. Demonstrably false. When Jyn said it, unaltered and sincere, it transformed his entire existence.
The only nickname he needed was his real name in her voice. Maybe he could tell her somehow.
But thank goodness he doesn't have to figure out how, yet, because she's moved on. Thank you.
Back to a(n almost playful) grimace, Cassian answers, "Jeron." (Pronounced almost like the Alderaanian [and, coincidentally, Earth] bird, but with the slightest throaty catch to the aspiration, a flip to the 'r', and a long 'o'. cHEH-ːroʊn.) "After my father."
Echoes abounding. Jeron Andor had been from the Yavin System. Hence the childhood foundation in Yaval that remained in Cassian's natural speech, that any Fringe insurgent of the same cultural background (a fair lot; Yavin was a big system whose native civilizations were more ancient, and so their cultural and linguistic descendents had spread far) had maintained in child Cassian's language acquisition. Hence the feeling of eeriness when the Alliance moved its base to Yavin IV, the odd feeling of belonging he'd had there, that he'd never felt on Carida—or when, as a teenager, he'd finally set foot (again?) on Fest. He had to assume Fest had been his mother's world. But he'd felt no familial resonance there.
The name of the world I come from means 'rock'. And it deserves it.
He tended to say he was "from" Fest when asked, to maintain Yavin IV's security, and in utter rejection of Carida as any such thing. But for all it was the last Alliance base he'd been to (first he'd been brought to was Dantooine), and the most continuous time he ever spent there tended to be in med bay (which looked the same no matter which planet it had been plunked down on), it had felt more 'home'-like than any place he could be said to have 'lived'.
"How about you?"