riverviewlogs | (no subject)

[ Give him like. Three seconds of delay in answering that. The memories are always a little disorienting, but this one almost sets a new precedent. The shift in tone, scenery, in emotion.

Some of them, Finn doesn't recognize on his own.

Some of it he knows better than he'd like. ]

Not sure if it's dealing with it when you don't know what you're doing. But yeah. On and off. It's normally just one way. [ This must be Poe's fault. Wow. He twists his mouth for a moment, thinking. ] If I see something of yours, do you wanna know when it happens?

[ Or what it was, he leaves unspoken.

Good work, Finn, that's a great subtle way to say you just got a memory scoop fresh off the presses. ]

Oh, great, normally just one way, that's. ...Really unfair.

[ He was going to whine about this being a two-way street until it struck him how crap it would be for someone else to see his memories and be that much more helpless. At least this way...

Except it still sucks that he's seeing Finn's past without his consent.

But Finn is also seeing his.

But.

Poe leans forward to scrub his hands through his hair which, thanks to Shara Bey, only makes it look artfully windblown.

Then Finn says that, and Poe feels a fresh prickle of fear. He hates this. ]

You just did, huh? [ He hesitates. ] Was it bad?

[ It's wild when your mother passes on genes that make you look beautiful all the time. Hard to thrive in a society like that.

Welcome to Riverview Quarantine. Where everything is complicated. The fresh fear barely gives Finn thought to pause. Fear is a good reaction and a good default state in a time like this. He'd rather spare the moment of thought for the question itself. ]

Didn't seem bad to me. Not exactly. Your dad was in it. [ Finn is going out on a limb on this one and phrasing that as a good aspect. Poe's memories of his dad have to be at least a firm 97% "not unbearably awful or awful to explain." Probably. ] Complicated, maybe.

[ A gentle press of longing comes with the mention of his dad. Poe misses Kes Dameron. He misses his solidity, his calm, his quiet humor. He misses having his dad around, someone to keep him on an even keel and give him advice and remind him that taking things slow isn't always a bad idea.

God, he misses his dad.

(God, he misses Leia.) ]

Was I leaving for the Academy? Or were we fighting?

[ It would be simpler just to ask what was it, but Poe still isn't sure he wants to know. If it was a fight, if it was one of those times he let his mouth run long enough to hurt his father, he'd rather not be reminded of it. He thinks about those moments plenty already on his own. ]

[ That seems fair. Sort of in line with the dad thing. More than fair. ]

No. You were pretty young. Still a kid. [ How do you describe your friend's own not bad, not great, melancholy memory to them without making it weird, an essay by Finn. The entire essay is "I don't know what I'm doing." It'll be fine. If Poe wants the deets, he'll just figure it out. Wouldn't be the first time. ]

He seems nice. [ Not that Poe's ever made his father sound not nice. Or that Poe was asking for peanut gallery opinions. Now if he ever meets Poe's dad he'll know who he's talking to. Poe's father and his steady hands, his clear-cut profile in the low light. Probably a little older now.

He wonders if he got any less scared or just more scared. ]

Can't say I'm too surprised. [ Finn's trying to put enough of a sardonic spin on it to not make it into a whole heartfelt statement about how Poe is a good and nice person. This is probably a better thing to try when someone's not magically tethered to your emotional state. Or if you're a person with like. A good poker face in general.

Whatever, don't @ him. ]

He's the best.

[ If there's one person Poe will unreservedly talk up these days it's his dad.

He feels it tho, that sentimental tug on Finn's part, and for the first time since Finn told him what happened Poe manages a smile. ] Thanks.

[ He reaches out, touching Finn's wrist, nervous energy slowly coming back to him, making him want to get up and pace. He stays sitting. For now, he stays sitting, but one leg bounces while he taps the ball of his foot against the floor. ]

Okay. So I'm thinking we order in today. Stay put. We won't be any good to anyone at the PG if we keep getting these flashes all day.

[ It's good to not have to PVP Poe about how good his dad is. As if that were ever a real risk.

And on perhaps a more immediately relevant note, seeing Poe this keyed up is very, very odd. Is it coming from Poe, or is Poe reflecting something that he's getting? Maybe both? Finn takes to nervous energy like a fish to water. After so long it almost feels like background noise. Nothing really makes it stop. Sometimes other things just outweigh it. ]

Might wanna add a run to the plan. But it's a good idea. I'd rather call off than be a liability.

[ Nobody needs this level of distraction when they're trying to shoot a monster or fly an actual ship. be a nice way to get someone they like killed. But speaking of flashes. ]

A run is a good idea too. Maybe we--

[ --so much for suggesting they get Cassian or Jyn to go with them just in case one of them tries to jog off a bridge or something by accident.

Again, that foreign wave of sensation, the sight of Phasma's bucket head and a fear of her that Poe knows isn't his. Poe doesn't know which bout Finn is talking about. But he recognizes that number. FN-2003.

Slip.

Poe comes out of it wanting to knock Phasma's head off her shoulders. He comes out of it wanting to pry every kid the First Order has stolen out of their grip. He comes out of it with anger rolling off of him in waves strong enough to be felt even without a bond, anger enough that he gets up and punches the closest wall.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Slip is gone, Slip is dead, Slip can't be saved. Not by Finn, definitely not by Poe himself.

(Again, that question of whether or not he was the one to cut Slip down, and again the pained admission that it doesn't matter.)

Still angry, still furious, Poe turns and pulls Finn into a hug that's just on the uncomfortable side of bone-breaking. ]

You're a good man, Finn.

[ It's easy to see from the other end just how obvious it is when those flashes happen. Makes it easier to try to brace for an aftermath. Not knowing what it'll be, or what Poe is seeing, but knowing one is probably coming. Not that there's much bracing a person can do for this.

He isn't expecting the swell of anger, sudden and unchecked. Or you know, the wall-punching. That's kind of a wild ride.

It's met with something part confusion, part concern, and a potent combination of fear and dread-- the latter not specifically directed at Poe as much as it is a reactive instinct. Whatever "what did he see, what's the worst-case scenario" feels like.

There are plenty of things Finn doesn't talk about, as far as his past goes. Doesn't see much point to it. Then there are things well past his usual caginess that he tries very hard not to think about at all, and that he's not sure he knows how to... get into. The definitive worst-case scenarios. (He hasn't been able to do that as well as usual this month. It's worn on his nerves.)

Weird quarantine magic doesn't change that. He doesn't want to have to try, if he's honest. ]

Thanks? [ He's not not gonna hug back for however long he can go before Poe breaks his ribs. And boy if it doesn't feel like that might actually happen. ] You doing okay?

[ Finn Lastname: still willing to go in for the glorified formalities and thinly-veiled do i wanna knows. ]

Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. [ Poe slowly loosens his grip, trying to be okay in the face of Finn's emotions, the dread he can sense there. In a way, the whole emotional link thing is kind of useful. It certainly tells Poe more than he usually knows about how his friends are feeling in the moment.

Would be more useful with people like Cassian or Jyn, who he can barely read at the best of times. But it's still an invasion, an unwilling bond, and that makes it unacceptable at best. ]

Are you okay?

[ They're great at this, really. Fantastic. Poe hugs Finn again, more lightly this time, wanting his friend to feel better and not knowing how to make that happen. He has to wonder how much of this Finn feels all the time, how much of this is just because of where they are and what's happening. (Sadness supplanting anger, longing mixing the two--the feeling of wanting to help and not knowing how. It's a familiar emotion for Poe. It's entirely too familiar. )

Phasma is lucky she's already dead. ]

[ Name a more iconic and emotionally savvy duo. I dare you. They're having a great time.

It's more personal. When it goes both ways, when it's someone you really know already. Poe's anger lifts, gets filtered into something different but still familiar. Something a little easier to source, to work around.

Will Finn ever turn down a hug in his life? Who knows. If he does, it's not happening today. Even, you know, thirty seconds after the first one. It's nice. Less bone-breaking. ]

I'm good. You know, just. [ Sort of a shrug? Just uh. It's a wild morning. He's not 100% sure how he was planning on finishing that one.

Finn is starting to suspect that they're both gonna keep saying they're okay for the foreseeable future. Because he's not sure he has it in him not to ask when it's his first impulse, and he's not sure Poe has it in him either, and they're both pretty package-dealed into being worried together. ]

Probably better not to think about it too much.

[ Poe snorts. ] Easier said.

[ He's pretty sure it's all either one of them is going to be able to think about, and he's also pretty sure there's gonna be no hiding the fact that it's all either one of them is thinking about.

He tries to calm down, tries to get that sense of helplessness under control. It's so much easier to just be angry. It's so much easier to just drive against things until they break.

Lights in the sky. Lights in the sky, seen throughout the galaxy. Lights he can't think about when he lands on D'Qar, lights he can't think about as he leads Finn down into the base to find Leia, lights he can't think about while they plan the assault on Starkiller.

Lights he can't think about, can't think about, because they'll be all he can think about if he starts.

It isn't until after, when he's changed out of his jumpsuit and into his uniform to address his pilots about the Starkiller casualties. It isn't until they see Rey off and the evacuation starts.

Then he can think about them. And he can't stop.

The faces play out in his mind, squadmates and rivals, Academy friends. Bantu, the Abednedo restaurant owner who'd given him and his Academy squaddies their meals for free. Leneera, the weapons shop and range owner who let them try her newest blasters in exchange for a promise to tell their commanders about them. Kor Sella, Leia's devoted right hand. How many of them were there? How many of them saw death coming?

Their faces play out in his mind during the evacuation and after, as he and BB-8 taunt Hux and draw the fire of the First Order's fighters, blasting their surface cannons and clearing the way for retribution. For every escort shot down, every bomber destroyed, Poe's rage builds into something wild and untamable, a beast that wants blood no matter the cost. A monster that wants the First Order to suffer for every murdered innocent of the system they annihilated.

A monster that only weakens when it sees the bombs drop on the dreadnaught, only comes back into his control as he sees Paige Tico's bomber go down. As he sees Paige die.

It's the First Order's doing. It's the First Order's fault. (It's his, it's his fault, he murdered their bombing fleet and lost half the fleet's guard.)

Helplessness and rage unbridled. That's all he is, all he has, and he wants the First Order to pay. ]

[ A flash, the foreign feeling of what he knows isn't quite his, all the pieces Finn's already coming to-- expect, at least, to brace himself for, despite never knowing exactly when it's going to happen again. Being on edge isn't new. Adapting on the fly is part of getting by.

But the rest of it, the content, there's no bracing for. Can't be ready for what you don't know.

It's like stepping into a puddle and finding that it has no bottom. Like stumbling onto the edge of a ragged hole in the universe where something was, and it doesn't make sense, and at first that's all that it really is. The same numb-but-not sting that comes first after taking a solid hit to the face; a senselessness that makes Finn think of the skirmish on Jakku, the feeling of reaching out for something that should be there-- and the edge of that hole caves in, and the almost-numbness dies out, and loss blooms out it--

And he's blindly fumbling for Poe's hand, not sure if it's for him or for Poe or maybe both of them at once, holding a breath in. A barely-registered anchor while loss folds into something white-hot and far more familiar. Something that hasn't left, just been tempered by necessity in this place, sitting idle.

Which Poe probably understands better than anyone, he realizes, since Poe's been pretty much doing the same thing.

For a moment, he starts to think that this one just isn't gonna end. The loss and the anger and the helplessness and the lingering image of ships going down. Too big a hole to climb back out of. That's a pretty wild moment. It's followed with unquestionable relief when he blinks and is, in fact, still standing in their completely necessarily chic apartment. And concern still, that steady baseline they seem to keep circling back to.

He should maybe try to say something about it. Or cut to the chase and trade out the hand grab for another hug, or add to their pile of "are you okay"s when they both know they're not, or something. Because the flash is over but it leaves bits and pieces in its wake, sort of an aftertaste that's hard to shake off, and something would be a very good thing to have in his arsenal right now.

Or, consider. Blurting out the first words that manage to pop into his head and not trading the hand grab out at all. Sometimes the best solution to not knowing what to do with yourself is to sound offended and a little salty about the situation at large. ]

When this is over, we're not telling each other what we think about anything for a week.

[ A bold strategy. (A blatant untruth.)

It's gonna be okay, and it's gonna end just like the other times, and they can do this and it's fine. It's fine. ]

I'm holding you to that, and I'm going to cook the worst food I can think of the entire time.

[ It's a weak joke, but he's scared. He's scared of what Finn could have seen, he's scared of the mix of emotions he can feel coming from his friend. He hates being scared. He's afraid of hating being scared now, if everything he feels can set off some new shared memory.

Poe squeezes Finn's hand. He almost asks again: What do we do? ]

Maybe that jog?

[ Maybe they can tire themselves out, to the point of not feeling anything. Maybe that will help somehow. It's worth trying something. ]

[ A weak joke is better than none. Finn doesn't have the resources to allocate for a laugh; he dredges up a snort. He could say bad food doesn't count, but if Poe goes through on that once for goofing, Poe surely knows he's just opening himself up for the roast. And if he doesn't, he'll get a fun surprise. Of opinions. ]

Yeah. Yeah. I'm gonna get my shoes.

[ Which he does go to do! In a way, that's a success. Finn sort of wishes he knew how to feel something reassuring on demand, because that would be very handy right about now. He doesn't know what to do with fear and a whole other package of significantly more than fear that's not his, from someone who doesn't handle things the same way he does. What he knows is it's hard to operate when they're both circling the edges of the same emotional drain. And what he knows is that when it's just himself he has to deal with, sometimes if he thinks at himself hard enough and finds something else to do, things get easier.

Jogs are good. Something to focus on. Somewhere to start. Poe is, as always, a pretty smart person.

He takes a minute. Definitely to the point of longer than necessary. There's no genuine privacy between them right now, with this, but going through the motions of taking that minute is worth doing. And he thinks very hard at himself. And with even something as simple as a run to focus on, with a few breaths, he can almost settle. Reel himself in, try to be mindful of circling back to anything within the past ten minutes or so. No time for fear when you're doing something. No time for it when you're the one who knows more about what's happening.

It's restraint. Restraint is in his wheelhouse. If you can't control what you're feeling, which no one can, you can still control what you think.

Basically he needs this minute to give himself a pep-talk and to try to shove a lot of things under a lot of rugs before he's stepping back out for jog nation. Because even if they're not doing great and they're both painfully aware of how not-great they are, he's got a better chance of being okay if he acts like he is. It's foolproof. Han Solo would be proud. ]

Good?

[ And basically if you want some space for Poe to do his own rug-shoving and introspection, I feel that and go for it, then in my tag after that I'm probably gonna just make a jog Happen. ]

[ Poe, also, takes a minute.

He goes into his room, shuts the door, and then braces both hands against the foot of the bed he barely ever uses. Poe closes his eyes. He's flying with a crippled wing, here, fighting a tailspin inside his own head.

Normally, thinking about Finn is what puts him back on solid ground. What would Finn do, what would Finn think, keep it together for Finn. This time, though, all it does is remind him of the presence in his head that isn't his. It reminds him of what Finn can feel in him right now, the fear and the anger and all the things he tries and succeeds at hiding more often than people might think.

Poe bows his head until it touches the bed's baseboard and tries to breathe. Course-correct. Guide himself out of the spin. His hands fist against the sheets. ]

Easy, Dameron.

[ In the corner of the room, there's a quiet boop and BB-8 powers up, out of charge mode. Poe straightens.

If he can't think of Finn without dwelling on what's happening, he can at least think of BB-8. He can focus on being okay for . the droid, not worrying him, not falling apart over this.

Deep breath. Exhale. ]

Hey, buddy. You're just in time for a jog.

[ He's mostly put himself together when he comes out of the room to find Finn waiting, BB-8 at his heels. A shaky smile. ]

Oh yeah. I'm great.

[ There's solidarity in this mutual unspoken consensus. In this joint effort to scrape themselves together as much as they can, to move instead of freezing up. The hope that if they both manage to pull away right, they can find some kind of a balance.

He feels it. Maybe not balance, maybe not any sense of real peace and calm, but the effort. And that has to count for something. Because if it doesn't, they're pretty much doomed to spend the next day or so trying to be unconscious. Not ideal.

They're very not great but Finn is more than willing to keep hacking away at this faux-equilibrium.

So they do. A Jog. Possibly in the form of a montage with those wavy about-to-reminisce video effects that people use for Scooby Doo cartoons sometimes. And this jog is largely, thankfully, uneventful. Maybe the occasional problem with switching points of view for a few seconds at a time, presumably the odd flash of nondescript memory here or there. BB-8 probably does a lot of very good work herding them away from accidentally running off of bridges or into traffic. Because BB-8 is the best droid in the world. We've known this.

They're coming to a stop for a much-needed breather when the next memory rolls in from Finn's end. It's here to prove that they have good memories. It's here because. As of this general date in the log, it's actually a relatively recent memory and I think the event said recent ones are also likely to crop up. But it's also here because I stan Cassian Andor OOC, and so do Finn and Poe, and this is vital content for both of them.

(I'm about 80% sure this tag made sense, but I'm also tired so if I'm wrong you can definitely lmk.) ]

[ This is the cutest shit Poe has seen since BB-8 got in that beep-barking match with the little fuzzy dog thing they met in the park the other day, and in fact it might have the battle beat in terms of Purity and Wholesomeness.

Finn gets a flood of warmth from Poe's end, tangled up in relief that what he felt coming turned into something... nice. He'd been starting to wonder if they were allowed nice, with all of this.

Cassian laughed. Cassian laughed, and Poe can't help but make it his mission to hear that for himself some day. It's too good a sound to stay locked up.

The memory--the good memory--uncoils something ugly and afraid in Poe and scorches it away, for now. It's like the universe saying see? It's not all bad. See? You've both made good things in the world, too. ]

Next time, me and Jyn versus you an Cassian. [ Wait-- ] Racing, I mean. I saw the sleds. The two of you.

[ It takes him a second to follow that thought track to the oh right point. Mostly because he was caught up feeling relieved to feel relieved, more or less.

Finn knows more than well enough that no one is perfect, and Poe is as human as anyone, and that covers a broad, broad span of emotional and mental hangups. It's just how things are. But he doesn't think of ill-concealed terror and barely scraping by when he thinks of Poe. All the human flaws in the world can't keep him from associating Poe with this kind of warmth, with even the most tenuous of hopefulness.

There's still a piece of that to touch base on, in some way. Even now.

Shoutout to the dumb mental connection conspiracy thing going on today for giving them that much. ]

Yeah? [ Good. Excellent. A memory that didn't make Poe get mad and then hug him. If he had it his way and had any kind of control in this, those would be the kinds of memories he picked.

Plus yeah. That race sounds pretty fun. If anything, it's too bad they didn't do it during Hygge. Next time sort of relies on being around this place for a year. ] If she starts throwing snow, I will throw back. You've got time to get your ground rules figured out.

[ Mercifully, Poe isn't thinking about what "next time" actually means. He's not thinking about the fact that they would have to be here a year for that to happen. He's caught up in the thrill Finn felt, how familiar and freeing it is.

How much it feels like safety and home. ]

Ground rule number one: whatever Jyn wants to do, Jyn gets to do.

[ You come at me with these good and gentle memories. Into my own home, personally.

It's good to get the firsthand proof that, yes, good things exist both ways and have happened to them. Knowing it logically only got either of them so far and all. There's relief there, in place of the old dread, and all the leftover echoes of how it felt, a feedback loop of piecemeal joy and exhiliration. Some of that fond nostalgia. You can definitely be fondly nostalgic of a month-old memory on his part. He doesn't make the rules. What he gets from Poe right now only corroborates that.

But there is a sort of fleeting-- out-of-placeness that winds its way in. It's like he walked into Canto Bight and someone handed him a very fancy fragile vase to hold for them and walked off. There he is. Positive he's not qualified to be holding it, even if it's objectively a very beautiful, good thing to behold.

It feels weirdly more intrusive to have witnessed than any of the old angers, or Poe's distant private melancholy with his father.

Explains a lot about Poe, though. That's the easiest thing about it. ]

I said ground rules. Not city laws.

[ As we all know, Jyn does what she wants is in fact a city-wide law. ]

[ He actually grins, as much at Finn's response as at the fact that he feels like smiling. He's not built to exist in a world without jokes, without friendship and good memories. Without hope. Even though they're connected, even though Poe has a hard time telling where what Finn feels ends and where he begins, at least he trusts who he's sharing with.

It might be forced, but at least they're in it together, and they've got something good to show for it, too. ]

You want to get something to eat? Before we head back? I'll even let you get broccoli on it without complaining.

[ You put broccoli on pizza one (or two or three) times and suddenly broccoli becomes an expected topping for everything. ]

You shouldn't anyway! [ Poe can literally feel in realtime as Finn's 1/2 inch deep offense rises to greet him. For the whole two seconds that it registers in Finn's expression, full-blast, it turns out it has all the weight and potency of a spider web. It's very important to detail this, the emotional equivalent of that time BB-8 did his little offended backwards roll, obviously. It's basically the dumbest emotion of them all. ]

You know you don't have to eat it. I know you know you don't have to eat it. You're losing ground every time you try.

[ It adds! Nutritional value! He likes to eat things that are good for something! It tastes good! One day he'll whip out the 10,000 word defense thesis and immediately get told that "I just like it" was equally valid. There's a whole thesis on Finn's eating habits in general probably. The important thing here is: Poe clearly really is the true villain of Star Wars. Gosh.

There isn't a cool segue into the great Phasma yeeting interpretation of promised days past, except that it was a thing Finn was thinking about a lot with January being what it was. And maybe in the raw charisma of his broccoli related passion. The "you and I both know the truth" energy.

Energy which obviously vegetables provided him? Checkmate. ]

[ The adrenaline and anger hits Poe in a rush. His surroundings all but vanish into the memory. He's breathless with hope at the reaction of the stormtroopers, breathless in the rush of the fight, taken enough to grab Finn's arm to keep himself grounded.

In the wake of Finn's memory comes pride, and a fierce renewed hope that Poe didn't know he was missing. A feeling that's been largely eclipsed by sorrow at the loss of friends and comrades, burning through to the surface once again.

The stormtroopers listened. The stormtroopers listened. He looks into Finn's eyes, his own bright. ]

I know you don't like being called a hero, Finn, but you're more than just a soldier. You're going to be a leader. I know you are.

[ What does this have to do with broccoli? Fucking nothing at all, but Poe doesn't care right now. He couldn't be more proud. ]

[ There's a solid half a second where, despite all the very obvious signs that memory lane is back at it again, Finn really is straight-up confused about how being salty over broccoli connected to inspirational leadership? It's easily within the top five most wild moments of this day so far.

Once he catches up to that half second, he takes a sudden track change to whatever the closest emotional equivalent of "character in a studio Ghibli movie is surprised, so their hair responds and fluffs up somehow like a sentient creature" is. A bold mix of still slightly confused, flattered, and the hint of alarm with no specific target in mind. He can't believe he's legitimately tapped in live to Poe's emotions and old memories and he still doesn't get what the guy's about half the time. ]

Thanks.

[ It's too late to make that come out like less of a question.

He has the vote of confidence, now what does he do with it. It's practically a whole responsibility now. Poe's always had different standards for heroism and leadership, though. Finn thinks he'll try not to really read into this. There are a lot of different little emotional pieces pinging around and they're not easy to pinpoint. Maybe he'll come to a stop at being glad he apparently did something good enough to get Poe to light up like a bonfire in retrospect. He's not above being pleased about that.

Finn sort of pats Poe on the forearm. ]

You good?

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aww a blast from the past :']

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