[ set had once lifted a hand to cassian's face, and spoken a blessing in an old language. bound as they'd been by communion, cassian had understood it — or he'd understood the meaning, at least. he hadn't been able to bring himself to answer then, any more than he can now.
the one where you live.
he does want the empire to fall, more than he's ever wanted anything. he does want jyn to live. there'd been a catch, till recently — he wants jyn to live, but she needs him, may need him, may not let it go one way. he's less sure now. and without that...how long has it been since, untethered, cassian andor has wanted to live? the truth is that it wasn't the war or the rebellion that snatched that out of his hands. it wasn't the empire. his last hope had died a half decade or so ago, but the first had curdled before he'd turned ten.
what would it mean to know peace? what would it mean to live? the unadorned truth is that he has no idea. he couldn't even begin to imagine. it has been too late for him for such a long, long time.
almost as impossible is tell me what you did. even the quietest of inquiries had earned john and him serious warnings. he doesn't like the notion of some strange shadowy council, but he likes less how long its shadow of influence stretches, that to speak of them in a place like kowloon courts danger. he likes still less that set had been on the list. and at the end of the letter:
i'll be watching.
does the risk, the possible surveillance, frighten him? no. as set had said, he knows he's good at this. he's lived and breathed this for so long that the clean air of living beyond the shadows had been suffocating. so he falls back on old habits; he doesn't have any other choice, even as he's shown his own greened fingertips, even as this god offers him hope and offers him help. ]
Through you, [ he echoes, slow. the god's hand feels scalding against his own chilled skin. ] What would you do?
[ what could he do? it's as much refusal to outright say as an honest question. ]
no subject
the one where you live.
he does want the empire to fall, more than he's ever wanted anything. he does want jyn to live. there'd been a catch, till recently — he wants jyn to live, but she needs him, may need him, may not let it go one way. he's less sure now. and without that...how long has it been since, untethered, cassian andor has wanted to live? the truth is that it wasn't the war or the rebellion that snatched that out of his hands. it wasn't the empire. his last hope had died a half decade or so ago, but the first had curdled before he'd turned ten.
what would it mean to know peace? what would it mean to live? the unadorned truth is that he has no idea. he couldn't even begin to imagine. it has been too late for him for such a long, long time.
almost as impossible is tell me what you did. even the quietest of inquiries had earned john and him serious warnings. he doesn't like the notion of some strange shadowy council, but he likes less how long its shadow of influence stretches, that to speak of them in a place like kowloon courts danger. he likes still less that set had been on the list. and at the end of the letter:
i'll be watching.
does the risk, the possible surveillance, frighten him? no. as set had said, he knows he's good at this. he's lived and breathed this for so long that the clean air of living beyond the shadows had been suffocating. so he falls back on old habits; he doesn't have any other choice, even as he's shown his own greened fingertips, even as this god offers him hope and offers him help. ]
Through you, [ he echoes, slow. the god's hand feels scalding against his own chilled skin. ] What would you do?
[ what could he do? it's as much refusal to outright say as an honest question. ]