Jyn Erso (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kestreldawn) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-03-12 01:21 am
kestreldawn) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-03-12 01:21 am
i'm pinned down by the dark; makes my head pirouette
WHO: Jyn Erso
WHERE: By the fountain/Jyn and Cassian's Cabin
WHEN: Future-dated to March 16, late afternoon/evening
OPEN TO: OTA/Cassian (Separate thread posted for Kira)
WARNINGS: Mention of war, blood (sort of self-harmy?), violence (Will update as needed)
STATUS: Open
// OTA - By the Fountain //
It had been a mistake, realized too late: attempting to climb the precipice in the northern part of town. She hadn't been doing it for any reason other than pure curiosity - wanting to know first-hand whether the stories she'd been told held any truth ("no one can leave," "everyone who tries is struck down," "the only way out is by death").
Even more foolish had been her attempting to do it alone.
She'd reached about ten feet up when the first floating orb wafted by. She hadn't thought much of it until another one showed, then another, then another - until they practically congealed around her in a brilliant, blinding burst of light - and for a moment she thought, the air sucked out of her lungs -
Scarif. The Death Star. It's happening again.
And in her panic, she'd begun to flail her arms while trying to maintain her grip on the rock's surface, not realizing that this would agitate the insects - or that they would retaliate against her.
It had been one sting - a little zap of pain on the side of her neck. She swatted, bringing palm to skin with a resounding slap. Then it was another, on her left arm - then four more through the fabric of her shirt on the expanse of her back. She leapt down from the crag, covering the back of her neck as she tried to run away, tried to escape the incessant daggers masquerading as flying insects.
It's when she reaches the fountain that the hallucinations and paranoia begin to set in.
She is back at war, back in the jungles of Onderon. She reaches for the blaster at her thigh only to discover it's been lost - or worse, taken. She ducks for cover in a small patch of trees, heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears, breathing short and furious. She trembles, petrified of an unknown enemy, wondering where the kriff her comrades have gone off to; have they left her behind?
// Cassian - The Cabin //
She hadn't told anyone where she was going that morning - not even Cassian. Part of it was because she didn't wholeheartedly believe in the danger, despite the warnings she'd received. Part of it was because she knew the reprimanding sort of look he would give her if she had told him - the silent worry glittering like a galaxy behind the blackness of his eyes. She couldn't stand to see it. So, she'd ventured out alone - didn't lie or come up with an alternative excuse, just said she would be back later.
After the attack, she eventually finds her way back to the cabin - some dull, weak part of her brain remembers it - knows it's familiar. She still sees the jungle, still feels the oppressive heat and the stink of rotting vegetation, but there's something in her, underneath the layers of fever and projected surroundings, that knows this place is safe. Or safer than the rest.
She's crouching, hiding underneath their porch - taking cover from imagined enemy fire that feels more real than the dirt pressing against her belly. Mutters and curses to herself that she's lost her weapon and has been left defenseless, not realizing the volume at which she speaks.
WHERE: By the fountain/Jyn and Cassian's Cabin
WHEN: Future-dated to March 16, late afternoon/evening
OPEN TO: OTA/Cassian (Separate thread posted for Kira)
WARNINGS: Mention of war, blood (sort of self-harmy?), violence (Will update as needed)
STATUS: Open
// OTA - By the Fountain //
It had been a mistake, realized too late: attempting to climb the precipice in the northern part of town. She hadn't been doing it for any reason other than pure curiosity - wanting to know first-hand whether the stories she'd been told held any truth ("no one can leave," "everyone who tries is struck down," "the only way out is by death").
Even more foolish had been her attempting to do it alone.
She'd reached about ten feet up when the first floating orb wafted by. She hadn't thought much of it until another one showed, then another, then another - until they practically congealed around her in a brilliant, blinding burst of light - and for a moment she thought, the air sucked out of her lungs -
Scarif. The Death Star. It's happening again.
And in her panic, she'd begun to flail her arms while trying to maintain her grip on the rock's surface, not realizing that this would agitate the insects - or that they would retaliate against her.
It had been one sting - a little zap of pain on the side of her neck. She swatted, bringing palm to skin with a resounding slap. Then it was another, on her left arm - then four more through the fabric of her shirt on the expanse of her back. She leapt down from the crag, covering the back of her neck as she tried to run away, tried to escape the incessant daggers masquerading as flying insects.
It's when she reaches the fountain that the hallucinations and paranoia begin to set in.
She is back at war, back in the jungles of Onderon. She reaches for the blaster at her thigh only to discover it's been lost - or worse, taken. She ducks for cover in a small patch of trees, heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears, breathing short and furious. She trembles, petrified of an unknown enemy, wondering where the kriff her comrades have gone off to; have they left her behind?
// Cassian - The Cabin //
She hadn't told anyone where she was going that morning - not even Cassian. Part of it was because she didn't wholeheartedly believe in the danger, despite the warnings she'd received. Part of it was because she knew the reprimanding sort of look he would give her if she had told him - the silent worry glittering like a galaxy behind the blackness of his eyes. She couldn't stand to see it. So, she'd ventured out alone - didn't lie or come up with an alternative excuse, just said she would be back later.
After the attack, she eventually finds her way back to the cabin - some dull, weak part of her brain remembers it - knows it's familiar. She still sees the jungle, still feels the oppressive heat and the stink of rotting vegetation, but there's something in her, underneath the layers of fever and projected surroundings, that knows this place is safe. Or safer than the rest.
She's crouching, hiding underneath their porch - taking cover from imagined enemy fire that feels more real than the dirt pressing against her belly. Mutters and curses to herself that she's lost her weapon and has been left defenseless, not realizing the volume at which she speaks.
no subject
No. Jyn compromised him because he couldn't disconnect. Couldn't disengage from her.
…except when he dislocated from everything…
He couldn't make dispassionate decisions.
And the more fraught the situation, the more dispassionate you should be.
The last five minutes, even, he'd already failed. When a veteran's reliving a trauma, you don't engage the symptomatic behavior. Don't fight with it, don't argue about it, don't try to appeal to reason or evidence. You just stay with them, try to make them feel safe; deescalate; contain.
He knows it's self-defeating. Not just for him but for Jyn. The desperation. Unable only to think about what's best (if compassionlessly) for her while his every nerve end and neuron is screaming don't do this please don't do this I need you come back
So when, no thanks to himself, only to her, it works… for a moment he sees Jyn again in her eyes and hears her voice… he utterly loses his caution and precautions—far far too soon.
His other arm is still immobilized, in a sling, to heal his recently-relocated shoulder, he can't shift the pendant to his other hand. He lets the pendant just slip lower, the cord twined about his fingers, keeping it secured but freeing his palm… so he could move quickly forward, reach to touch her face, breathe like a relieved sob, "Jyn…"
*sobbing in the corner* i feel like i need therapy after writing this tag, i'm so devastated.
The sound of her mother's laugh - not her real laugh, which was beautiful and clear and as melodic as a chime, but the one she'd force through her teeth when the last thing she'd felt like doing was laughing, but had to make it appear genuine. How she'd heard it that night the Man in White had been to their apartment on Coruscant.
The roundness of her eyes, the upward slope of the tip of her nose. The depth of her eyes, endless and warm and inviting - yet turned to steel and fire when threatened.
"You got your father's mind, but you got my spirit," she'd said once when Jyn was quite young, gently scrubbing at the girl's back with a sponge in the tub. The way she'd said it made it sound like it had been a bad combination, but when Jyn looked up to search her mother's face, all she'd seen was love and softness.
She can feel the skeleton inside of her body begin to curl in on itself, detaching from skin and muscle - retracting, protecting, shrinking. Wanting nothing more than to make itself smaller, and smaller, until it ceased to exist - wanting nothing more than the soothing graze of her mother's hand on her brow, the dulcet blanket of her lullabys around her body.
She thinks - for a moment - that the touch on her skin might be hers, that the fingers may lead to the hand of her mother. But when she comes to, when her eyes come back into focus, and she sees the visage of a man she doesn't recognize -
Panic.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" she shrieks, swatting his hand away with such clarity and force that the sound of skin slapping skin makes her ears ring. The heat of her gaze is setting fire to everything it falls upon - and this man has the unfortunate fate of being caught in the blaze.
Instinct kicks in - hands ball into fists, arm swings back to maximize momentum, driving itself forward until it meets his shoulder - the one in the sling, knowing it's the best bet of exploiting a weakness. The pain of contact shatters up her arm to her shoulder, but she can't stop to think about it.
She has to run. She has to escape.
She diverts the weight on her feet from offensive to sprinting, sprinting past the man now doubled over in pain, sprinting as far away from the cabin as she can.
no subject
His shoulder exploded in heart-stopping pain. Lightning misfired behind his eyes and in his brain. He may have blacked out.
Because when he raised his head again, she was gone.
Brow furrowed in concentration, regaining his breath, he moved his usable arm in the dirt until it found the pendant. He closed his fingers around it. And laboriously pulled himself to his feet.
What—
Stop. Wait. Respira.
He stood out from under the porch and for a moment let the wind hit his face.
…He hadn't helped that situation at all.
He needed to find Jyn. After he was certain he'd be able to help her. He wouldn't help her come back from this if she felt he was chasing her. Her defensive skills were intact. She'd be able to keep herself safe from external threats still. And the internal… His heart spasmed in his throat such that he abruptly had to brace his good hand (still clutching the pendant) against the side of the porch, lean over, and vomit.
That could be the pain actually. …From his shoulder.
Straightening again, he realized that decided it: he not only shouldn't but couldn't yet go after her. He couldn't count on her seeing him in pain overcoming her perception of him as a threat. Clearly, objective reality was being prevented from reaching her.
He knew how that worked.
And much as he wanted to reach into her mind and close his fist around the dementing shard of pain, and squeeze the way the crystal currently cut into his palm, until it was dust… he knew she'd have to find her own way out. He could just try to be there for her when she succeeded.
Because she would succeed.
This was Jyn Erso.
She always found her way out.
One more lurch of his stomach sent his face parallel again to the ground. But when he straightened, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, one-handedly slipped the pendant's cord back over his head, so the crystal hung again in its place against his chest; shook the cramp from that hand (noting with resignation that he'd held the crystal so tightly he'd not only bruised himself but, where both ends of the pendant were sharp against his palm, made it bleed… if it weren't the exact opposite of his calling and disposition, Medic Williams would kill him—obviously the only time he let his hands match each other was to both be injured—) and, limping a bit (the shock spasms from his shoulder gone all the way down his leg), started back into town.
He would get this seen to, stop the dizziness and blacking out. While he was in town, see if anyone had information on what might have happened. Because he'd never seen or heard Jyn say she could disassociate like that, and while a trigger could be something no one else would find remarkable… he didn't think that would be true this time.
And then he would find her again if it took him all night, and stay with her even if it meant shadowing her out of sight or letting her hit him (ideally somewhere else for sustainability's sake) or holding her down by force until she wore herself out.
He wouldn't fail her again.
. TAG FINNICK .
"I don't know."
Then why are you running?
"I don't know. I have to. I have to keep running. I have to find -"
Safety? It doesn't exist here. Your comrades have left you. Left behind again, forgotten, discarded, unwanted. You should've expected this.
"No, no, no, no. Stop it! STOP IT!" The heel of Jyn's hand rises to the side of her head as she continues her steady pursuit of the ever elusive safety, thudding against her skull so loud it echoes around her brain, jolts the grey mass a little in its cavern. It thought it had been safe in there, too, hadn't it?
Stardust, stop. Please.
"Papa?"
This isn't you. This isn't the life you had. This isn't the life you'd known. You aren't back on Onderon. You aren't with Saw any longer. Please, just -
SILENCE, ERSO. How does it feel, knowing I took everything from you? Not once, not twice, but three times?
"Twice. You didn't take Cassian away from me, not in the end, Krennic." The name somehow coagulates into something coherent on her tongue; she knows that name. She knows Cassian, she knows who he is, knows the softness of his face and the warmth in his eyes.
You aren't safe here, Darkness hisses, using its murky fingers to blot out all light from Cassian's face in her mind's eye; he's nothing, he doesn't exist, did he ever? Keep running. You have to keep running.
"When do I stop?" A cruel, malevolent laugh - Darkness' lips curl and twist, revealing the galaxy in its mouth - meant to be hidden, meant to be concealed, meant to be swallowed. The galaxies of Cassian's eyes, Light whispers before its silenced again.
You don't.
Until the stitch in her side makes the simple art of breathing impossible, Jyn runs - when she hits a canyon wall, she turns, redirects herself, and continues running. When the exhaustion has finally slowed her, when the agony in her muscles and the blisters on her feet have finally grown strong enough to silence the delusions in her harried mind, she stops. Finds the cover of trees and brush. Back pressed to the cold earth, underneath the sparse canopy overhead, she sees the stars for what feels like the first time in years. Something lucid in her wonders if they're the same from home - if there are far off battles and planet killers and pilots never to return to their families. Her lips mutter words, names that would be meaningless to those here -
Saw. Maia. Staven. Codo. Mon Motha. Draven. Bodhi Rook. Chirrut Imwe. Baze Malbus. Until finally, settling in as though finding home, she whispers, Cassian.
-------THE NEXT DAY-------
The sun-speckled rays are what first stirs her out of sleep. Her body is still riddled with fever and ache and, now, a variety of bug bites she'd apparently slept through the night before. But Darkness' voice grows weaker as Light begins to conquer, reclaim its territory from its tethered enemy and counterpart. Two halves of a whole.
Legs no longer willing to run, she limps her way about the area - stomach grumbling yet strangely satiated, blisters screaming with each push of her foot against them. She hobbles, on and on, until finally -
She's somehow found her way back near the cabin where she'd encountered the stranger who knew her name and wore her mother's necklace around his neck, but instead she belly-crawls under the porch of another cabin - the one furthest from the center of town. Rolls onto her back, lets herself be consumed by the strenuous, blazing fire in her lungs, the needles in her legs, the imagined wound at her side still loitering from the day before.
She needs to find food. She needs to find shelter beyond the cover of trees.
"He isn't coming back for you," she whispers to herself. Saw, Galen, even Krennic - "He isn't coming back."
no subject
"What's wrong?" he asks them, looking up from the couch he'd been sprawled on as four of the goslings run past him for the door. He's still feeling sore and not quite as strong as he should, after the mutts' attack, but this is a potential threat to his ... well, home, really, or temporary home, anyway. He gets up, reaching into his pocket for his knife, just in case, and heads for the door.
No sign of anyone on the porch when he opens the door just enough to peer out of. As he steps outside, though, there's the sound of a voice coming from ... where? Nearby.
Aloft has ideas other than letting Finnick work it out, and the little goose runs out of the door and down the steps before Finnick can stop it, followed quickly by a couple more of the little ones.
They're very interested in the ground next to the porch, and Finnick keeps his hand on the knife, flicking out the blade as he crouches down, peering in the same direction as the geese.
"Jyn?"
He takes a step back, closing the knife-blade. "What are you doing there?"