[ set speaks, and the sound is like rain pattering against transparisteel. quiet, inevitable, impossible to ignore. like all cassian need do is cross the room and open the window, to find himself flecked by warm summer raindrops and cleansed of what ails him. like it could really be that simple.
it speaks to set's power, that he can even imagine it. that he almost believes it, for a flickering half-second.
cassian doesn't flinch away from the touch this time, hand boneless in the god's grip as it's lifted into view. green-stained, fragrant, almost beautiful. fingers belonging to a different man, different life; someone who grows and cultivates and makes things better. someone who hasn't pulled the trigger so many times he couldn't possibly count. who is always paying for his hopes with blood.
he wants to say, this isn't caring. it's just something to do with his hands. it's just following an order, and maybe set has seen enough to know how good he is at that. he wants to say, you're mistaken. but he asks himself whether he would drop this pot, let the stoneware shatter, the soil scatter, the citrusy plant die. if he wanted to make his point, he would, and he would say, see? this is what i am. it had worked with jyn.
(do not play world-weary and heartless with me, cassian. it will not work.)
he swallows, answers slowly. ]
Meridians always ask why I don't want to go home. [ his voice holds none of the bitterness it had when he'd said something like this to quetzacoatl in front of the iconoclast oracle. he lifts his eyes to set's face, now. ] Did you think it was because of the Empire?
[ a brief shake of his head. the bluish-white crystal set into his palm gleams in the light of springstar's suns. ]
It's because I can't. Nobody survives the Death Star.
[ it is the closest he's ever come, in kenos, to saying aloud what happened to him and jyn on scarif. he's sure he doesn't have to elaborate; set saw the monstrous abomination during their trade. the planet-killer. set is sure to understand the deadly light that had swallowed him and jyn and the others whole, burnt them to stardust. ]
Tell me, [ he says, then, ] what path is left in front of me.
[ he is dead, no matter what the magic of kenos has wrought. all of this time is borrowed, bonus, extra. but he has no future, not really. only to maximize the use he makes of this time, before his shard shatters, or returns to the swirls of space-time yima had pulled it from, and his fate is returned to what it was. ]
no subject
it speaks to set's power, that he can even imagine it. that he almost believes it, for a flickering half-second.
cassian doesn't flinch away from the touch this time, hand boneless in the god's grip as it's lifted into view. green-stained, fragrant, almost beautiful. fingers belonging to a different man, different life; someone who grows and cultivates and makes things better. someone who hasn't pulled the trigger so many times he couldn't possibly count. who is always paying for his hopes with blood.
he wants to say, this isn't caring. it's just something to do with his hands. it's just following an order, and maybe set has seen enough to know how good he is at that. he wants to say, you're mistaken. but he asks himself whether he would drop this pot, let the stoneware shatter, the soil scatter, the citrusy plant die. if he wanted to make his point, he would, and he would say, see? this is what i am. it had worked with jyn.
(do not play world-weary and heartless with me, cassian. it will not work.)
he swallows, answers slowly. ]
Meridians always ask why I don't want to go home. [ his voice holds none of the bitterness it had when he'd said something like this to quetzacoatl in front of the iconoclast oracle. he lifts his eyes to set's face, now. ] Did you think it was because of the Empire?
[ a brief shake of his head. the bluish-white crystal set into his palm gleams in the light of springstar's suns. ]
It's because I can't. Nobody survives the Death Star.
[ it is the closest he's ever come, in kenos, to saying aloud what happened to him and jyn on scarif. he's sure he doesn't have to elaborate; set saw the monstrous abomination during their trade. the planet-killer. set is sure to understand the deadly light that had swallowed him and jyn and the others whole, burnt them to stardust. ]
Tell me, [ he says, then, ] what path is left in front of me.
[ he is dead, no matter what the magic of kenos has wrought. all of this time is borrowed, bonus, extra. but he has no future, not really. only to maximize the use he makes of this time, before his shard shatters, or returns to the swirls of space-time yima had pulled it from, and his fate is returned to what it was. ]