[ cassian is quiet — cassian is so often quiet — and that's a good habit for a spy, isn't it? blend in a crowd, fade into the background, don't say more than needs to be said, allow other people to press their assumptions onto you. skills that have served him all his life, the need to hide and go unseen. but he isn't hiding now, nor could he be said to be anything but seen, under the pitiless gaze of a war god.
pitiless, perhaps, but kind. and maybe it's easy, in some ways, for a man like cassian andor to accept this gentle care. war, conflict, chaos — the oldest friends he's ever had, the only thing he's ever known, companions who have been truer and realer than anyone in his life. hadn't he said to vash the stampede, we aren't all so lucky as to be born in peaceful times? had he met an embodiment of peace, he wouldn't know the first thing about how to speak to them. how to understand them.
so he's quiet, and he's still, as set does his work. shudders out a breath as the dissonance starts to melt away, warmth leaching back into his fingertips, igniting in his shard. the purification is a kind of pain, but it's one he finds himself welcoming. punishment is so much easier than atonement, isn't it. the difference between the two is the presence of hope, and that's a difficult thing to hold onto. ridiculous that he has real faith in set's ability to atone, knowing what he does of the tyrant's past, and none in his own. but neither of them are unfamiliar with contradictions.
he's still, and he's quiet, but he does speak up, as set works. soft, but audible to the god at this range. ]
I'd appreciate a warning, the next time you plan on doing something like that.
[ speaking of contradictions. his grip on the plant remains steady, for all that he's half-collapsed onto set, and he doesn't look up when he says that. he can feel the strain in set; and he hasn't forgotten the explanation for why he's unwell. it's not fair, to refuse to explain himself and then demand set give him forewarning in the future. but neither of them are fair people. ]
I won't stop you, [ he explains, or clarifies. ] from doing what you have to. But. [ he breathes out again, maybe a little easier than the first time. it's not impossible for him to lie under these conditions; he can always find it in him to speak a necessary lie. he chooses not to. ] It matters to me.
no subject
pitiless, perhaps, but kind. and maybe it's easy, in some ways, for a man like cassian andor to accept this gentle care. war, conflict, chaos — the oldest friends he's ever had, the only thing he's ever known, companions who have been truer and realer than anyone in his life. hadn't he said to vash the stampede, we aren't all so lucky as to be born in peaceful times? had he met an embodiment of peace, he wouldn't know the first thing about how to speak to them. how to understand them.
so he's quiet, and he's still, as set does his work. shudders out a breath as the dissonance starts to melt away, warmth leaching back into his fingertips, igniting in his shard. the purification is a kind of pain, but it's one he finds himself welcoming. punishment is so much easier than atonement, isn't it. the difference between the two is the presence of hope, and that's a difficult thing to hold onto. ridiculous that he has real faith in set's ability to atone, knowing what he does of the tyrant's past, and none in his own. but neither of them are unfamiliar with contradictions.
he's still, and he's quiet, but he does speak up, as set works. soft, but audible to the god at this range. ]
I'd appreciate a warning, the next time you plan on doing something like that.
[ speaking of contradictions. his grip on the plant remains steady, for all that he's half-collapsed onto set, and he doesn't look up when he says that. he can feel the strain in set; and he hasn't forgotten the explanation for why he's unwell. it's not fair, to refuse to explain himself and then demand set give him forewarning in the future. but neither of them are fair people. ]
I won't stop you, [ he explains, or clarifies. ] from doing what you have to. But. [ he breathes out again, maybe a little easier than the first time. it's not impossible for him to lie under these conditions; he can always find it in him to speak a necessary lie. he chooses not to. ] It matters to me.