words that no one said to cassian either, before now. not after any of his alliance missions, not even the ones where he was the only survivor by the skin of his teeth; not the off-books missions draven could only entrust to him and a handful of others. not when he uncovered critical information about this or that thing. not when he learned about the pilot and the death star and repaid his informant with death; not when he led the mission to scarif, with jyn, on a desperate gamble to keep the rebellion alive. and not before, either, days and years in ferrix, in surviving one imperial prison or another, working the black market to spit in the eye of the empire he hated so much. not when he was a child and entrusted with the well-being of another child, a burden so crucial to the fabric of who he is, that he sought it out again from yima.
it's such a simple thing to say, to be told. jyn was the first person in years to look at him and see something he didn't recognize, something brighter. with things between them shattered, he had no reason to believe anyone else ever would. especially now. and yet, set does not give up on him. cassian really doesn't know what it would take to make that happen, and that's a strange feeling. he doesn't withold now for fear of judgment, but for a desire to protect. carrying the danger on his own shoulders, instead of risking the war god's safety. cassian doesn't expect him ever to find out about the list; there are some things that don't need to be known.
the glow of meridian scalds his hand, pure and unyielding, but he doesn't turn away. he softens, lets himself sag until he's leaning against set, buries his face in that shoulder under the curtain of ferociously red hair. and he softens, too, his mental defenses; opens himself so the deep freeze of his discord can swirl and spiderweb like the crackling of so much ice, out where set can see it. do what you will, is the sense that conveys, as close to direct permission as he'll give. set doesn't have to do anything — cassian will not ask for the help — but if he wants to draw the discord like poison from a wound, a drop or a deluge, cassian will not stop him. ]
no subject
words that no one said to cassian either, before now. not after any of his alliance missions, not even the ones where he was the only survivor by the skin of his teeth; not the off-books missions draven could only entrust to him and a handful of others. not when he uncovered critical information about this or that thing. not when he learned about the pilot and the death star and repaid his informant with death; not when he led the mission to scarif, with jyn, on a desperate gamble to keep the rebellion alive. and not before, either, days and years in ferrix, in surviving one imperial prison or another, working the black market to spit in the eye of the empire he hated so much. not when he was a child and entrusted with the well-being of another child, a burden so crucial to the fabric of who he is, that he sought it out again from yima.
it's such a simple thing to say, to be told. jyn was the first person in years to look at him and see something he didn't recognize, something brighter. with things between them shattered, he had no reason to believe anyone else ever would. especially now. and yet, set does not give up on him. cassian really doesn't know what it would take to make that happen, and that's a strange feeling. he doesn't withold now for fear of judgment, but for a desire to protect. carrying the danger on his own shoulders, instead of risking the war god's safety. cassian doesn't expect him ever to find out about the list; there are some things that don't need to be known.
the glow of meridian scalds his hand, pure and unyielding, but he doesn't turn away. he softens, lets himself sag until he's leaning against set, buries his face in that shoulder under the curtain of ferociously red hair. and he softens, too, his mental defenses; opens himself so the deep freeze of his discord can swirl and spiderweb like the crackling of so much ice, out where set can see it. do what you will, is the sense that conveys, as close to direct permission as he'll give. set doesn't have to do anything — cassian will not ask for the help — but if he wants to draw the discord like poison from a wound, a drop or a deluge, cassian will not stop him. ]