The weight of what Jyn's done has taken its toll on her. Barely speaking, hardly venturing out of the cabin (partially out of embarrassment, partially out of fear that she might have a beast within her, constantly lurking beneath the paper of her skin), often meandering like a corpse who's suddenly remembered it could move. Even Cassian, for all of his soothing whispers and adoring encouragements, has been only moderately successful in drawing her out of the exoskeleton she's created - hard, protective, unrelenting.

But even the most withered minds need to flex their muscles sometimes, and so she's decided to venture out, peeking her head through the crack between door and frame, sliding her body out like the sun between the branches of a tree. Wanders somewhere around the Inn, the fountain - eyes glazed over, barely focused. Alert enough to avoid collision, avoid injury - but only just.

Limbs heavy and heart heavier, she sits at the edge of the fountain - gaze swimming in its brackish depths, fingers gripped to the sides to mitigate the lure of letting herself fall forward, letting her mouth and nostrils flood with the smothering waters.