[ cassian keeps his hand moving, even at that surprising confession. it had never occurred to him to think that set would blame himself for meridian's loss. he'd realized, of course, that his harmonization — and jyn's — contributed to zenith's win. but "winning" had factored so little into why either of them did it. they'd had no choice, under the roots, but to pick a side. zenith had made sense — he'd needed zenith — and, just as important, it'd helped people. he'd taken that silvered, moonlit corruption tormenting set, and vash, and quetzacoatl, and had drowned himself in it. he'd been able to send the three of them back to meridian, where they belonged. cassian, please. that it had earned zenith the oracle had been incidental, accidental.
and why would he dwell on it? what was done was done. jyn had never given a damn about the factions at all. and gen...cassian only knows bits of gen, encountered an awful turning point in his unhappy childhood, but enough to worry him. enough to leave him unsurprised that the boy had wanted zenith, instead of a restoration of the world that had failed him so profoundly. and it is not a surprise, that set had sent a few of them on their way to the other side, despite everything. but it is confirmation: following his own convictions just as surely as he urges them to do.
he could say, it wasn't your fault. he could say, don't blame yourself. he could take the promise of faith in him, that he believes despite all the reasons he shouldn't, and confess. he could, but he does none of those things. ]
I owe you one.
[ he murmurs, finally, as sleep claims the god. cassian keeps stroking set's hair long after his breath evens out, and his own hand tires. he stays, and keeps a vigil over set's slumber.
and when set wakes — he will be alone. but he'll also be swathed in yet another light blanket, fetched from inside. the plant he'd gifted cassian is nowhere in sight; and in arm's reach is a covered, still-warm bowl of soup. ]
🎀
and why would he dwell on it? what was done was done. jyn had never given a damn about the factions at all. and gen...cassian only knows bits of gen, encountered an awful turning point in his unhappy childhood, but enough to worry him. enough to leave him unsurprised that the boy had wanted zenith, instead of a restoration of the world that had failed him so profoundly. and it is not a surprise, that set had sent a few of them on their way to the other side, despite everything. but it is confirmation: following his own convictions just as surely as he urges them to do.
he could say, it wasn't your fault. he could say, don't blame yourself. he could take the promise of faith in him, that he believes despite all the reasons he shouldn't, and confess. he could, but he does none of those things. ]
I owe you one.
[ he murmurs, finally, as sleep claims the god. cassian keeps stroking set's hair long after his breath evens out, and his own hand tires. he stays, and keeps a vigil over set's slumber.
and when set wakes — he will be alone. but he'll also be swathed in yet another light blanket, fetched from inside. the plant he'd gifted cassian is nowhere in sight; and in arm's reach is a covered, still-warm bowl of soup. ]