candor1 | IC contact

[She hears the ocean in her ears, eyes closed, chest and diaphragm and rib cage heaving with desperate pants - an attempt to catch the breath she's lost.

She dreams of the dark, black sea on Lah'mu. How often she'd stare into its impossible depth, conjuring up creatures who could have lurked beneath the light-drained surface. How her Mama had kept such a watchful eye on her adventurous and curious daughter, knowing that she could be lead by a glittering stone underneath its waves.

She dreams of the grotto on Wrea. Sitting at the perch of it, Maia at her side, the others splashing in the water below and out of sight. She remembers the first time Staven invited her to join the others for a drink; she'd been 12 then. He clapped her back and roared with laughter when she first spit out the fermented bantha milk, then whooped when she gave it another go and finished the glass.

She dreams of those last moments on Scarif. Finally fearing death and the loss it brought for the first time in her life, clutching onto the one thing that promised her a future.

When she re-enters herself, her eyes don't open right away, but her lids tremble with consciousness. She wiggles the fingers resting lightly on his breathing form, feels the slickness of perspiration. Breathes in the heady scent of sex and musk and sweat, mixing with rust and metal and oil. Subconsciously squeezes around him as nerves misfire in their descending state, feels the trickling of him escaping her and puddling on the ground beneath her. Feels his pulse - in his chest and down below. Wonders at the weight of him on top of her - in no way oppressive or hindering, but .. grounding. Assuring.

Her eyes slowly open to stare blankly at the ceiling as she remembers what had driven them into the freight elevator in the first place. I should have known you my whole life. The war should never have happened to either of us. We should have had all that time.

We did know each other our whole lives, she thinks. We fought alongside each other in our own battles, fighting against our own demons. We were with each other through comrade death and skirmishes that made us expel our breakfasts outside of the ring. We were with each other in the cold feel of a durasteel blaster and the smell of ozone. All of those things lead us to each other, but we'd already known each other before we met.

She exhales a heavy sigh, though it isn't one of sadness. It's one of gratitude.

Her hand traces itself through the strands of his hair gently.]

I would do it over again. If it brought me here. If it led me to you.

I would it all over again.

[He turned his face closer into her skin. Unable to demonstrate how badly he needed and welcomed her fingertips through his hair, unable to push himself up into it the way an animal might. Only able to moves his fingers in a similar pattern where they rested, one in the curve of her neck and shoulder, one in the soft skin of her forearm—over the imPort mark.

Are you monitoring somehow…? I don't care.

His breathing was steady. So it might just be sweat. But where he pressed his face to her skin, it was wet. From effort and emotion and release… and what she'd just said.

Because she meant it.

And he knew what she'd gone through.

She'd do it again for him.

What that meant to him was… too big to hold in his flesh. He wished he could ever have a prayer of exlaining or returning that feeling.

…But he didn't know if he was capable of thinking that way, back.

The decisions that most clawed and roared at him in any moment of silence
The things that should never have been done or failed to be done
The people that…

Jyn had been a convicted criminal for refusing to accept or abide by an unjust universe.

Cassian had never been convicted and was a criminal in any universe.

There are things he couldn't do again.
(Even for Jyn…?)
(Please please Yavá never make me find out.)

But more than that…

He could not credit… this

lying here with her, bodies shaking and breathing and interwound
all of her open to him, flesh and mind
able to be as open back

he couldn't conceive of… what came before as having led to this.
If there was causality how could he accept
If they were linked how could this transcend
If…

…if nothing.

It didn't matter. It was thoughts.

And what he did feel was still an agreement.

Perhaps they were here in spite of everything else. That even all of it couldn't prevent this correctness in the cosmos. That they'd been brought here for existence to right itself and create whatever they had always been intended to be, in themselves and one another.

He can't think that way, but he feels the same.

So though it doesn't sound like it should follow, his whisper is indeed a direct response:]

I never believed in the Force before you.

[The words hadn't left her mouth with the demand of finding their counterparts. She'd released them into the ether because it seemed foolish not to, because he drove out of her things she would've kept buried and hidden in the darkest depths of her, because she needed him to know.

But the words hadn't been a ransom for his own.

When she hears the inner war he wages, she doesn't tell him not to - she doesn't tell him to disregard his fears, his tribulations. But she softens herself beneath him. She lets her limbs and flesh and bone melt like rubber in the sun. Her fingers continue their work at raking the fields of his hair, her other twisting to interlace with the fingers of the hand he'd skated across her imPort mark.

She turns her head to press her cheek to his forehead, lets her eyes close again.

Doesn't dream of anything in particular this time. Finds that all she wants to dream of is already here.]

Mama would've loved you for saying that. [She lets out a quiet breath of a laugh, kissing his dampened forehead.] What changed your mind?

[…Everything they were both just thinking about… but how to articulate it…]

I assumed it… implied… unidirectional causality. "This happened because the Force made it happen." I can't buy that as more than… consolation. Confirmation bias to avoid facing the horrible truth that reality is chaos.

But now I don't think it matters whether we found each other because we were 'supposed' to, or that finding each other makes us able to… make something good, become something better, out of everything that came before. Maybe there's no difference. They're both the same thing. And that… seems like… the heart of what people seem to be talking about when they say 'the Force'.

[How literally he's ready to take some of the other elements—to what one is being attuned, how passively it can be relied upon—he's not ready to judge. …But that itself is a change. He's no longer simply dismissing them. Not just because he's seen what Chirrut can do, but because the concepts, possible explanations, no longer seem contradictory. The Force need not be separate from the beings within it.]

Edited 2017-06-14 22:47 (UTC)

It used to be the Force of Others, didn't it? Which .. would make sense, if you think of it that way. My mother used to talk about it at length when she'd teach me. She taught me Chemistry, Literature, History, all of the other core things, as well, but she came alive whenever she talked about the Force.

I never got the impression it was vindication of any kind. But rather that - what you do as an individual affects others, and vice versa. We're connected to everything around us, humans, non-humanoids, trees, rocks, whatever it might be.

She always made it out to be that you weren't ever really alone. No matter what you thought. Because you were connected to others through the Force. [Her voice is floating like a wispy cloud in the air, eyes still closed, memories of her Mama flashing in her mind's eye. Even now, all these years later, she still sounds love-struck while talking about her.] I didn't believe in it either, before ..

Well, you.

[He'd eased onto his side to listen to her, gathering her up against him, belatedly trying to take his share of the cold floor.

Remarkably unconcerned about getting out of here to somewhere more comfortable or less of a trespass.

Perhaps because in here… they could be in a lifepod. The rest of the universe ignoring them and ignored.

By her last two words, he's touched his face into her neck; his body still loose, breathing moderated, slow… but definitely tears now tracing a line on her skin.

Lyra
Seidh
Galen, Jeron
How do we do this
How do we risk
When we know how easy
Please however it finally goes don't let me outlive her

He remains silent, relatively still, but can't make it stop. Has to keep his eyes closed against her until the storm drifts on its own, away.]

[She feels the wetness on her skin, hears his thoughts and immediately tightens her arms around him. Turns her face to bury it in his hair, inhale the scent of him until it mixes with the gases in her blood and in her lungs. To remember it forever.

Her arms cling to him tightly, securely - so any threat of floating away, disappearing in whatever capacity, is harder to do. She shifts - gently slipping him from inside of her - as she turns on her side to face him. Uses her thumbs to gather the tears on his face, pressing her lips to his forehead.]

I love you, Cassian. My moon and my stars.

[He loses some of the control over his breathing. He bowed his head to hers, forehead to breastbone, feeling her encompass him with her heart and warmth and breath, words and thoughts and love.

And allows himself to receive it.

…He finishes openly sobbing

(the first time since he was…

…four

even Kay has seen him catatonic and convulsing and screaming and silently crying but never gasping in grief like that

making Jyn the only person alive to hear him make such sounds)

and turns his head, resting his cheek against her chest, to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palm.]

Sorry…

[Not because he thinks she minds or will think less of him or doesn't understand. He knows better than all of those. There are just only so many ways to exit such a moment.

And it is a slightly awkward—if not actually psychologically unusual—way to come down from… though they are in an elevator so maybe worrying about awkwardness is moot…

One more time, he turns his face to press a kiss between her breasts, to her drumming heart.

…Knows he's feeling better because he has to suddenly suppress a mental image of Kay amazedly criticizing him for spilling so many fluids in so little space.]

Edited 2017-06-15 03:40 (UTC)

[She recognizes the sounds as the ones she'd made in the cargo hold after Eadu. Desperate gasping, as though all oxygen had been removed from her lungs, from her cells, from every crevice and molecular structure of her body. Diaphragm spasming and attempting to equalize itself with little success.

The exhaustion that comes after, as tension leaves the agonizingly tired muscles, as air flow once again establishes itself and oxygen floods the senses and the body.

Feeling light-headed, almost drunk or high off spice or rankweed.

Twitches in toes and fingers and faces.

She holds onto him, says nothing as the sounds force themselves out of his core and barge through his lungs with violence and calculated madness. Simply reminds him of her presence in her touch, in the weight of her hands and limbs and the pressing of her lips to every part she can find.

Murmurs something at his apology, not outrightly dismissing it but certainly not finding it needed.]

I'm here.

[One more quick pass of his hand over his eyes. Then uses it, propping himself up on one elbow, to brush back her hair and trace her face.

Murmurs,]

I'm going to get you fired.

I want to run away with you into the woods, now.

Fired from a job I hate? Please do.

[She tilts her head to look at him and smile into his touch.]

I wouldn't argue.

[He stargazes in her eyes.

Tempted to kiss her
or put his forehead to hers to throw open and share some memory
the way to insert themselves into one another's pasts retroactively

...but he's too likely to get lost in her again, and they should really get out of this elevator.

They can get lost all they like in the woods or in their bed. They have that now.

The suppressed desire to kiss her is obvious but transposes itself into a slight smile. Not hiding his regret even slightly, he pushes himself upright. …But does press a hand to her shoulder to prevent her from doing the same just yet; casting around for a piece of clothing he doesn't strictly need. His sock just feels disrespectful. …His own underwear will do. Bending over her legs with total focus, care and precision like rewiring a nav, he gently wipes her clean of his… donation, using his tongue-wetted fingers where it's set enough to defy immediate removal.

…The activity and the reaction of her skin to his touch making him want to abandon everything again and kiss her again more. But wait, wait. There are more glorious places than elevators. If he wants to imagine a little longer than he can do literally nothing else for the rest of his life than make love to her.

He deliberately lowers his eyes to (much less lovingly) apply a quick, efficient swipe to any pooling on the deck. Just seems courteous. …As well as an ingrained aversion to leaving personal data where anyone could take it.

Knotting the cloth to only expose dry swaths, he finds the rest of his clothes. He'll decide on the way if it's not too offputting to stick the bundle in his pocket or just toss it. (Though see again re: leaving such rich data as genetic material. Whether anyone's looking to collect on him or not.)]

[She moves to get herself re-clothed, and raises a curious eyebrow at his staying touch. She props herself up on both elbows to glance down and watch his careful movements, expression soft and melted at the care he shows in cleaning her off. She hadn't even thought of it; would've simply dealt with the leaky aftermath with some discretion later on.

But he still draws out shivers and twitches out of her, even in an action as simplistic (and perhaps as primal) as the grooming he's doing, and she exhales a sigh of knowing - and picking up on - the fact that it's best if they get out of their strange metal love box, and wills herself to not react the way she wants to (very much wants to).

Once he's finished, she reaches a hand out to touch his arm lovingly, a silent thank you for being so considerate, before she gathers her trousers to her thighs and lays her shoulders back down on the ground. She elevates her hips, pulling her underwear and trousers up the rest of the way, then rests them down to fasten. She stretches for the shirt and bra they'd disposed of in their passion, moving in reverse from before to place everything back on where it had been.

Once done, she flips her legs over to kneel on them, readying herself to stand. She glances at the balled up fabric in his hand.]

Can take it home to be cleaned later, if you want. I can run back to the office to grab my pack and shove it in there.

[He can't help laughing. And possibly blushing.]

Not necessary.

[Once he's reached that stage of dress, he'll just shove it in his coat pocket.]

…for me. I can wait if you need it the pack for yourself.

[He does feel… bad? or just strange… hijacking her day… the abandon with which they can both treat…

everything. That isn't each other.

…but again. (And again and again.) Jyn is the exception to all his rules. On other matters, he gets wary when presented with what he most wants. With her, he'll just be grateful for it.

And defend the hell out of it.]

Edited 2017-06-16 11:46 (UTC)

[She makes a noise to signal she doesn't need the pack for herself. It's mostly out of habit, more than necessity; she always carries around a change of clothes, spare credits - or dollars, in this case - in case what she has on her (which is minimal to begin with) gets taken, and usually some kind of weapon. She hasn't pursued the idea of carrying around this world's version of a gun - not yet, anyway (and hopefully never) - but she did find an extendable truncheon that she keeps in the pack.

Just .. in case.

She reaches out to touch him again, this time letting her fingers skirt across the back of his hand.

Confirmation of each other's presences for them both.]

[He turned his hand over to grasp hers back, immediately.

Suddenly put his other hand to her waist and pulled them together and kissed her deeply.

No matter all the intimacy they'd just had. No matter they should get going. No matter they were going to spend the rest of the day together. One lifetime of missed, stolen, and sacrificed opportunities was enough.]

[It's strange, to think of how different she is with Cassian than with all others. A sudden constriction of muscle, the equally sudden propulsion forward towards him, it would be instant reflex and reaction to the blunt side of her palm to a throat, heel of her hand up towards the nose, elbow to the gut or groin or neck or anywhere. But with him, she melts like molten metal towards and against him, without a hint of reservation or reluctance or hesitation.

Her hands are gently on either side of his neck, thumbs lined and pressed up against the trunk of it, reaching just below his jaw. Her other fingers grip into his shoulders lightly as she pulls away to look at him, all of the love she can manage to feel and carry in her eyes.

There's so much she could say. So much she wants to say. But can't seem to wrestle her tongue into submission long enough to verbalize any of it.

She hopes he knows anyway.]

So, where to next? The woods?

[He thinks he knows.

He's the same.

Where to… How about the curve of your neck…

Cassian deliberately steps himself back from her, holding up his hands in a show of restraint, like surrender; self-aware dramatization to counter other reviving physical signals.

And smiling… and quoting herself back to her from some earlier time:]

Yes please.

[He recreates what he'd blazed through earlier, in reverse: moves lever to unlock, opens grate, opens door.

His awkward idea of being met by an impatient crowd of workers waiting to use the elevator was not realized. …But moments after the lever was thrown, the lift's control panel emitted a loud buzz of someone calling it above.

Suppressing a splutter of laughter or urgency, he grabbed her hand for them to dive through, then yanking the outer door shut behind them as quick as he could.]

[She exhales a giggling laugh with an equally playful roll of her eyes at his dramatic display, though she certainly understands, having to bite down on the tip of her tongue to distract her mind from pursuing ..

Other activities, instead - ones that involve reversing all the dressing they'd only just done.

She nods, easily falling in line beside him as he opens the door, anticipating a sight similar to what Cassian had expected. Breathing a chuckling exhale to find it not the case.

The moment's short-lived at the wailing buzzer (oddly similar in sound to the alarm on Wobani, she realizes), and she bursts into an urgent jog, steps accentuated with delighted laughter.]

Hopefully we haven't stalled production too much!

[He turned away from the door to fall back in step with her, making their way without running but at a brisk pace out of the alley.

Though on the way he leaned in to murmur close to her ear,]

If we did, it was the best sabotage assignment I ever had.

[She leans over to nudge him with her elbow, flicking her eyes up him with a mischievous glint in them, a curling smirk at her lips.]

Equally the best excuse to leave work I've ever had.

[The process of getting to the woods seemed interminable. But once there… seemed like they'd never left each other's arms.]

IC contact

action] (OH THAT ART IS LOVELY)

[That TAG is lovely!!!]

YOU'RE LOVELY

<33333 (P.S. Hallo comparative religion courses…)

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idk why i thought i responded but realized i read it and didn't reply while i was at the doctor's ha

#relatable!

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