( open ) we live, we die

[evasives]

who: cassian + you
what: another one for the memory sharing flood
when: mid october
where: dreams! or elsewhere in public spaces
warnings: spy things, death, murder, spoilers for rogue one, etc



( vision / flash ) i. the droid

[it's tanned hands, working on what looks like a very large robot: a black kx security droid, powered down. cassian tampers with the programming, fiddling with wires and hooking up the droid into his datapad. there's a brief reflection of his face in the black metal of the droid; he's younger, only a teenager, probably no older than fifteen with a prickly, patchy beard and less sallow eyes.]

[ten seconds pass, and he mutters something in fest to himself. then at last, he flicks the power back on. the droid's eyes light up, and he hobbles to his feet. it stands almost seven feet tall, and the angle suggests cassian is looking up from about a foot and a half lower.]

[i am k-2so. are you my reprogrammer?]

( vision / flash ) ii. the horizon

[there's a beach. the water is tinted with warm colors instead of blues, and out along the horizon is a giant sun. only it's not a sun at all, and there are puffs of air and explosions along the edges to prove it. the rest of the area around them is singing like a battlefield.]

[cassian walks weakly along the sand, upright only because of jyn beside him. his clothes are filthy and bloody as he looks down at them, his legs stumbling. as they reach the edge of the water, he collapses and she sets him down gently. he sinks into the sand, looking out at the very bright and damning fake sunset. each second that passes, it seems to grow closer. she reaches for his hand, and he looks down as he takes it.]

( dreamscape ) iii. the shot

[ visual. ]

[it's a very urban area, littered with people and voices and shops in all kinds of languages. cassian rushes through the streets, looking over his shoulder carefully. he moves like a shadow, breaking into a run when he finally ducks down an empty alleyway. there's a man waiting for him in a corner, his arm broken and pacing nervously about.

"news from jedha?" the man tells him about a defector imperial pilot who brings news about the empire building a weapon. a planetkiller. the message is from a man named galen erso. the conversation gets more frantic, nervous. "there's spies everywhere!" the man hisses.]

[the meeting is broken up by the arrival of stormtroopers. they ask for IDs. cassian jokes, laughs, plays it off, then shoots both troopers without hesitation. his informant starts to panic. "i'll never climb out of here with my arm!"

[cassian comes up behind him with a smile and a comforting voice. "calm down, we'll be all right."

[and then he shoots him. the body falls. cassian swallows, steadies himself against the murder, then leaps to climb up the wall's piping to escape.]

( dreamscape ) iv. the fall

[cassian is clinging to the edge of a data vault tower. above him is jyn, and even higher on the opposite wall, a door slides open. "jyn! he yells out, firing his blaster and initiating a quick round of firefight between a man in white and several stormtroopers.]

[one of the returning shots hits him, and his grip slips. he falls from the vault tower. his back slams into a metal beam, his arms briefly scramble for purchase on another, but he keeps falling, falling until he lands hard on a platform, his entire body limp and broken.]

[from above, there's an anxious quick yell of his name, "cassian!" but he doesn't move.]

( closed dreamscape ) v. the youth

[it's snowing outside. fest is a very cold planet, and even when you're small and aware of the dangers, the snow always has a level of adventure. twenty years ago, cassian was six years old. he's running through the snowy streets outside, scampering quickly as curfew approaches.]

[six year old cassian stomps back into the house, jumping on the floormat to shake the snow from his boots. there's a message sticking out of his pocket that he yells out is for his father, because even at six he's already running messages for the festian resistance. his mother comes over with a smile and helps him out of his coat, trading him a cup of something warm and steaming for his fluffy jacket. his father laughs in the kitchen, and cassian reaches for his mother's hand to pull her towards the sound.]

[he tells his mother excitedly about the other kids, how some of them were clonetroopers and they lost the big battle. his father beams down at him and ruffles his hair, but there is a fatigue to his eyes that the adult cassian shares. cassian just crawls into his lap and hands over the message, asking if he's allowed to read it too.]

[no, not this one. maybe next time. cassian shrugs it off, diving back immediately into his mug while his mother threatens to steal it for herself.]

[prose or brackets is fine; feel free to have a vision or a flash or both!]

Comments

[realists]

Freezing, [ she corrects, shooting him a scathing look that doesn't quite have the right amount of heat to it. (read: any.)

it's a small house, like the one on lah'mu, except not built into the ground like her childhood home was. selfishly, she hopes cassian will never get to see the dark sandy beaches of lah'mu, never gets to feel the briny air. ]

What's inside?

[ he's obviously going inside and anxiety spikes. he was six. he's been fighting since he was six years old. if this is some terrible moment for him, the moment he loses his parents, or a family pet... jyn doesn't know if she can handle that. she can barely handle her own grief. ]

[evasives]

[his mouth twitches, like he wants to grin.] That's why we wear jackets.

[are all his many jackets holdovers from fest?? we just don't know.]

[he senses her tension immediately, understands it implicitly. he'd told her, hadn't he? about being six and already in the fight. somehow telling her the truth is another kind of terrifying even though it's much happier than she thinks.]

My parents. [his voice is quiet.] Do you see the thing in my pocket? It's a message, for my father. They are waiting for me to come home. [a beat.] Alive.

[realists]

[ HE SHOULD HAVE OPENED WITH ALIVE. jyn breathes out a whoosh of relief, able to focus on how adorable he is scampering toward the house now instead of wondering what is inside. his living parents are alive.

she is very selfish to not want to see when he became an orphan, even if cassian had to witness the moment she did become an orphan, even if he had to drag her away from her father's body. ]

Good.

[evasives]

[her instant relief keeps him from mentioning they wouldn't all be together for much longer in this house. they're all alive here, but he hasn't lived there since he was six either. besides, he'd rather let himself be a little glad it's such a simple moment he gets to relive with jyn.]

[he and jyn move into the house as his child self does, stomping around and shaking out snow. he yells out for his parents, but it's mother who comes out, and cassian's shoulders sink, reminded just how long it's been since he's seen her. she's tall, dark haired, and cassian has her eyes. he eagerly trades off for a warm drink and starts tugging her towards the sound of his father's voice.]

They were both Separatists, involved in an insurrectionist cell. It started on Fest.

[realists]

Where your rock throwing began.

[ it's absent, jyn's eyes glued to his mother instead of cassian's childish carefree and bubbly nature, but she doesn't miss the way his mother's arrival makes him shrink a little and her hand reaches out to rest against his arm. ]

She's beautiful.

[evasives]

[he actually lets out the shortest, quietest laugh.] Exactly where it began. It did not stay there, though.

[he probably shouldn't sound so fond of his first real foray into way, especially when it's never really stopped since, but this is a happier memory, all things considered.]

[his face softens, looking at his mother leading his tiny self into the kitchen. it helps when jyn touches him, and he leans into it.] Carina. That was her name.

[realists]

[ jyn repeats his mother's name, preserving it to her own memory, albeit without the softness that cassian's accent gives. ]

You look like her. [ it's the dark eyes, really, soft and sad but determined and clever. after a moment, jyn's hand shifts down to curl around his, twisting their fingers together. it feels wrong, to be a voyeur to such an innocent memory of his youth, made especially more so because it's his parents.

but it's something she'd never get to experience otherwise. ]

[evasives]

[he almost smiles at the way his mother's name sounds with her accent. it makes him think about what it might be like to show jyn fest for real, but that's a deep impossibility.]

[he's mildly surprised by her fingers in his, but he tightens the hold she offers, winding their hands together fully. just in time for the dream to shift into the kitchen, where his father finally comes into view. he's tall too, with even darker features than his wife and son, and cassian shares his jaw, his nose. otherwise, jyn's right; he does take a lot more after his mother.]

Jeron. He was Jeron.

[realists]

[ carina and jeron andor, parents of cassian. there they are, beaming at their small child as he scrambles into his father's lap.

jyn watches as his mother expertly snags the mug out of his hands so it won't spill, setting it on the table while cassian passes over the message he'd been holding.

it's idyllic and it makes jyn's stomach churn as cassian hopefully asks if he can read this message, devouring his drink when he's denied and his mother teasingly threatens to take it for herself.

tears abruptly sting at her eyes and she glances away, as if giving them privacy. she doesn't want to interrupt, even if it's only a memory. ]

[evasives]

[he squeezes her hand watching the scene unfold, both because it's kind of overwhelming to see his parents so vibrant and alive like this, and because he can tell jyn is sort of pulling herself away.]

You can watch, if you want. [he says it quietly, trying not to let himself reach that same point of emotional teary overload. she's giving him privacy, but he finds he doesn't want or need it in this moment.] I... would like you to.

[his mother laughs when his tiny self gets a chocolate moustache, and his heart hurts. his father skims over the message grimly, but the second cassian looks back at him, jeron is all smiles and telling his son he's going to have to learn how to shave soon.]

It's nice to think someone else would know them now, even a little bit. [especially if that someone is jyn. cassian has been an orphan for about two decades. there won't be another chance like this to share them.]

[realists]

[ well, fuck. she can't look away now, not after that request. she should say something poignant. something to remind him that he isn't alone, that she knows what it's like to be alone and she understands.

instead, ]

When did you start shaving?

[evasives]

[he worries about asking her to watch. what if she doesn't want to? what if it's too much for her? he can't quite look away from watching his own memory unfold, but he manages to steal a quick glance at jyn anyway before his mother laughs again and he's drawn to her face.]

[jyn's question deflates some of his weird feelings at least. he lets out a huff of a laugh, ducking his head.] Fourteen, maybe? It was before I met K2. I taught myself, watching some of the older men.

[realists]

[ that's sweet, oddly, reminds her of when saw made idryssa come to teach her how to be a girl.

clearly, she failed. ]

What's that you're drinking?

[evasives]

A hot chocolate drink. Similar to the cocoa here, but it was a little spiced. My mother's was the best.

[is he biased? probably. but he remembers it being so warm and so tasty.]

She always had one waiting, when I came home. [from playing messenger. his father opens said message up while son is sufficiently distracted and frowns while he reads it, but as soon as cassian looks back up at him, jeron beams down.]

[realists]

Do you know what it said? The message.

[ she's so curious but she doubts reading it over his father's shoulder would illuminate her to it's contents if cassian didn't know what it said. they're seemingly in his memory, that means they only know what he knows. ]

[evasives]

No. Not this particular one. But I always wondered. It was not long after this that we left Fest.

[years and years have gone by and he still wants to know what it said. what made his family up and leave their planet, what eventually dragged his father to carida and changed everything? he knows now it was this particular message that triggered their movement, but the contents are lost to time.]

[realists]

Have you ever gone back?

[ fest is probably imperial territory now if they haven't drained it of all resources and left it to die the way they did with tamsye prime and so many other planets that were too small and fragile to fight back.

but maybe he went there for the alliance. ]

[evasives]

Once or twice. Never for long. It is Imperial territory now.

[or it was. maybe they got everything they needed from the mines by now. he doens't like to think about his planet ruined and abandoned, even though he knows it's too likely.]

[the corners of his house start to blur, like the dream is slipping away, and he can't decide how he feels about it. part of him wants it to extend, just so jyn can... see more of his planet. more of his parents. part of him is already tired from it all.]

I used to play in the snow. None of the other icy planets I have been to ever quite felt the same.

[realists]

[ jyn happens to be thinking much the same thing -- perhaps fest remains, but not the fest he remembers, simply a husk of his home, stripped by the empire. fuck them. ]

Maybe we will get snow here. [ she squeezes his hand, looking over at him. he can wake up, she'll still be there. ]

[evasives]

I would not mind that.

[he squeezes her hand, understanding entirely what she means. she will be there. nothing else about home will be, but that's how they are now.]

[and then he wakes up, blearily coming to with jyn wrapped around him like usual. he finds her hand for real and winds his fingers through hers, because at least that much he finds he doesn't want to let go of yet.]

[realists]

[ jyn squeezes his hand, strong even half asleep, curls tighter around him. she doesn't know what to say, in the aftermath. what is there to say after that? the last happy moments with his parents.

maybe there isn't anything else to say. instead jyn holds his hand, brushes her lips against the back of his neck before her forehead presses to the same place. she's here, that's all she can offer. ]

[evasives]

[he relaxes into her arms, clinging to her hand. it's not desperate, and he doesn't need her to say anything; it's just a quiet, steadying hold, something she's been for him for a while, but tight enough for her to recognize he doesn't want to let go.]

[it takes him a while to fall back asleep, and he knows he could get up instead, but there is a comfort in having jyn behind him. he doesn't want to shatter it. he's glad she was there, in his dream. he's glad she's there now, and even if it's all she can offer, he finds it's all he needs.]