She's found no answers, no hint, no trail, no discernible trace of Cassian. For all of the efforts of the few she's run into, who've been kind enough to try and assist her, who've let her ruminate in her panic and hysteria and fear .. he's nowhere to be found. There's a dull ache at the center of her chest, the same one she'd felt when she'd first come through the fountain. Her braying heart again picks up its familiar song of pain, and loss, and devastation. Each beat is another dagger driven within her, lodged between ribs or into guts. Each beat is another reminder that Darkness, forever lurking and lingering at the edge of her consciousness -
Was right.
Attachments make one weak. Vulnerability leads to havoc and ruin. Love, in all its forms, is nothing more than a death sentence - no better than twenty years in a prison camp, where no one makes it past five.
She's spent the last - how long? Three hours? Four? Five? - running, from perimeter to perimeter, trying to find him. Unable to relent and unable to give voice to what she knows is true: he's gone. She's caked in dirt and sweat and grime, breathing ragged and labored, feet dragging with each step. She mutters his name every few seconds, unable to admit that she may never be able to call his name again and see his face, hear his voice, touch his skin. She remembers how it had been a prayer for her, when she'd first arrived, learned he'd been here. How it kept her moving, kept her breathing until she'd found his arms wrapped fiercely around her. It does the same now - only, she knows the ending won't be as joyful.
She somehow manages to hear the mutterings of another person - a woman, she thinks - and it snaps her out of her haze. Panicked eyes scan like quadnocs, finding a woman she doesn't recognize looking rather confused. She adjusts her trajectory, sets course for the stranger.
"Have you seen a man with dark hair wandering about?" she calls out when she's within earshot. "Black scrubs, dark eyes?" Please, she thinks, Please. Let him be here.
the woods // jyn's going through a lot so i'm so. so sorry for this, lol.
Was right.
Attachments make one weak. Vulnerability leads to havoc and ruin. Love, in all its forms, is nothing more than a death sentence - no better than twenty years in a prison camp, where no one makes it past five.
She's spent the last - how long? Three hours? Four? Five? - running, from perimeter to perimeter, trying to find him. Unable to relent and unable to give voice to what she knows is true: he's gone. She's caked in dirt and sweat and grime, breathing ragged and labored, feet dragging with each step. She mutters his name every few seconds, unable to admit that she may never be able to call his name again and see his face, hear his voice, touch his skin. She remembers how it had been a prayer for her, when she'd first arrived, learned he'd been here. How it kept her moving, kept her breathing until she'd found his arms wrapped fiercely around her. It does the same now - only, she knows the ending won't be as joyful.
She somehow manages to hear the mutterings of another person - a woman, she thinks - and it snaps her out of her haze. Panicked eyes scan like quadnocs, finding a woman she doesn't recognize looking rather confused. She adjusts her trajectory, sets course for the stranger.
"Have you seen a man with dark hair wandering about?" she calls out when she's within earshot. "Black scrubs, dark eyes?" Please, she thinks, Please. Let him be here.