A Rebel Spy Arrives in the Nexus ...

[different_priorities]

When the light swallowed him up, he knew it was the end. He was okay with it. It surprised him that he was - to tell the truth. He was never the type of man that just sat back and accept an outcome that didn't seem fair. The end of the line for himself and his friends was not a just one.

He had done his job, though, and in the face of oblivion, he felt hopeful.

Moreover, he had a death that was far more kind than most people in his place got. Spies tended to die ugly, painful deaths and his was going to be quick and clean. The last seconds spent in the arms of the only woman he had ever really felt any connection to. It ... was going to be over fast.

Imagine his surprise when he woke up.

Cassian pressed the palm of his hand to his own chest and tried to still the hammering of his heart. It was beating hard and fast, but it was still beating. Cool air moved in and out of his lungs without any trouble. His eyes slowly adjusted to his surroundings. He wasn't dead. He might not know what happens when you die, still, but he was positive this wasn't it.

He drops his hand down and scoots over to a brick wall to stand himself. Jyn. 'Where was Jyn' was the thought on his mind as pulled himself to standing. He was holding her only an instant ago. 'Where was everybody else?'

His calculating mind started taking in his surroundings, even as he found himself wondering what the hell was going on. The architecture of this word was jumbled together in a way that was entirely unfamiliar to him - and he could identify a great number of worlds by the sight of their buildings. The sentients walking around were of many races.  And the fact that he had just shown up out of thin air didn't seem to phase any of them either. Wherever he was right now, it was common for people to simply arrive, as far as he could tell. There were many different styles of clothing that people were wearing too, so it was likely that he wouldn't have any trouble blending in.

What he needed to do was regroup, clean himself up and find the rest of Rogue One. The rest of them must be here too. It was the only outcome he could consider to be possible at this point.


~~~~~ Sometime later ~~~~~


Well after the spy had adjusted to the challenge of what it was like to 'blend in' in a place that was a melting pot of many different universes, he finds himself sitting in a bar - the light ale in front of him had already gone warm, while he aimlessly traced his fingers along the edge of the glass.

Jyn, Kaytoo, Bodhi, Chirrut and Baze.

It had been days of mapping out the ever-shifting terrain of the Nexus and still, he hadn't found any of them. Now he had to begin to ask himself what he would do if he was the only one who had made it here. What kind of life he would live if he had no friends in this place and no cause to fight for. The thoughts didn't sit very well with him.

He finds himself compelled to ask a question now, dispite having said only a dozen words aloud all day ...

"What do you do with yourself when the fighting is over?"

Comments

[smartass_captain]

"You pick up the pieces until the next fight."

The voice comes from somewhere past the spy's elbow, to his left. A few stools down sits a blonde man who might have been talking into his highball glass instead of answering the man's question.

Except.

There's a fatigue in the man's eyes that may be familiar. A grim acceptance of whatever reality that seems to have been thrown the blonde man's way. He wears a strange uniform. Gold and black with an unfamiliar insignia pin on his chest.

"Did you lose someone?"

It takes several moments for Jim to force himself to look to his right at the man who had spoken first. He's not a familiar face, but Jim Kirk hardly knew everyone who frequented the Nexus.

[different_priorities]

He's never met the man speaking up from down the bar, but he met the type before. A man who had seen more than his fair share and had been knocked around by life, it's not as if there were any shortage of those in the Rebel Alliance - himself included.

What he did seem to have, that most didn't, was charisma. Loads of it. Even aiming his words into a drink and looking all red where the white in his eyes belonged, he still seemed poised. Ready for the next curve that was surely going to come his way. A natural leader.

"You make it seem so simple." Maybe it was, Cassain for all the thinking that he did, hadn't considered that it could be.

"I'm not sure if I lost them or if they lost me, to tell you the truth."

[smartass_captain]

"Everyone carries their baggage in their own ways."

There's a clack of the glass against the counter when the man sets his empty glass down and shifts so he can face Cassian properly. He's only had a couple of drinks, thankfully, so finding the words isn't as difficult as it could otherwise be.

"Me, I sweep up the pieces and put 'em in a drawer and try to sort it out on my own time. The world doesn't stop to wait for you to deal with your problems. Regrets. Losses. I still have a job to do and people who rely on me to do it well."

The blonde gets up then, moving so he's sitting next to Cassian and flagging down the bartender.

"Can I get another? Thanks." A quick check to see if Cassian needs a refill of his own ale and then he's talking again.

"Well, th'good news is all sorts of folk find themselves here from all different kinds of worlds. You've got a better shot here than most places to find folks you've lost."

[different_priorities]

No, Cass doesn't need another, he seems to have hardly touched the drink he's got. Makes you wonder what he's actually doing here considering he's been alone and ignoring the libation opportunities in front of him.

He doesn't appear put off by the fact that the blond seems content to make friends. Not welcoming of it either. At least the muted reactions of Captain Andor don't seem personal as much as it's the way he is. Quiet. Thoughtful. Always listening.

"So you stay busy."

It's an interesting strategy and one he's employed himself. On the one hand, it keeps you from having to think about what's bothering you and allows you to continue working. On the other hand, it tends to leave a number of things unresolved.

[smartass_captain]

"Well, only about half of that is by choice. I am usually way too busy for my own good even before shit goes wrong and I have to try and handle it on top of the rest."

Jim thanks the barkeep when he gets his new beverage of choice and falls silent a moment so that he can stare into the glass. The wrinkle of his brow and the darting of his eyes belies how much he has on his mind even now, trying to forget his own name in a bar in the Nexus.

"You a soldier?" Jim looks up when he asks, curiosity apparent in his tone and inclination of his head. "You don't look like one. Is all. You look like a survivor."

[attackpatternbattista]

Cassian is probably no stranger to non-humans, given where and when he hails from. So a green-skinned woman in a loose sundress settling on the barstool next to him probably isn't too odd--even if she is wearing a leather eye patch over her right eye.

"That really is the question, isn't it?" She responds, leaning against the bar, cheek against her palm. "You take your time. Figure out how it's effected you, and what you want to do with your life afterwards."

Thoughtful, "And if you're in any kind of military organization, wait on your next orders."

[different_priorities]

The looks of the woman with the patch doesn't even make Captain Andor feel uncomfortable in the least. In fact, the initial glance lasts a beat or two longer than with most anyone else because he's trying to decide if her race is native to his home or not.

He doesn't think so, but the known galaxy he's from is quite expensive.

"It's the afterward, I'm having the hardest time with, I think." Cassian measures his next words carefully. "I've been in it for so long, I don't know if I really believed I'd ever see the end of it ..."

[attackpatternbattista]

From his perspective, she resembles a Mirialan, though a much deeper shade of forest green (lacking the yellowish-green look they typically possess) and lacking the typical tattoos they wore on their face.

Still, she doesn't clarify simply because there's currently no need to do so.

"Unfortunately," Delia sighs, "There's no advice other than taking it a single day at the time, letting you find yourself once more as time goes on, piece by piece, and bit by bit. However it may be, you've come out of the other end of things, and now. Now it's putting it all back together, however long that takes."

[different_priorities]

"That seems like a reasonable stance to take."

Calculated and thoughtful, which, might be why he's so fond of this particular answer. It's not a perfect resolution, but life rarely gives you one, when you think about it.

"Are you speaking from a place of experience?"

[attackpatternbattista]

Life is rarely perfect. In anyone's experience. Below the flirty, lazy, attitude, Delia is highly intelligent. Thoughtful, even.

"I am. I've seen my fair share of fighting, both pointed and pointless. Both big and small." Delia shrugged, "And I'm still piecing myself together after all that and it's been at least a year for me."

Pirate, Privateer, Intelligence Officer, Veteran.

Delia Battista.

[tielle_mortevus]

Taking a seat beside him, Tielle gave him a smirk. She fiddled with the small pendant around her neck while pondering the question.

"The fighting is never really over though, is it? While it may not be one of blades and blood, the constant struggle with ones self, living with the deeds we have done and finding some semblance of peace... it almost makes me long for the battlefield again. At least there I don't have to think."

Taking out a small flask, she takes a sip before looking the stranger in the eyes.

"I take it you were some kind of solder before you found yourself here?"

[different_priorities]

Cassain's eyes are dark. Capable of warmth and cold in equal measure, but almost certainly intense no matter how he's looking at you.

Tielle might get the sense that he wasn't expecting an answer that deep by the way that his eyes narrow in thought, but it's a very fleeting glimpse of him. He isn't the type of man to give away information for free - about himself or anything else, really.

"Something like that." He says, trying to be friendly without saying too much. Always a fine line for a spy to walk. "A shame that there has to be so much fighting, don't you think?"

[tielle_mortevus]

She gives a thoughtful nod.
"Yes, it is quite unfortunate, though quite inevitable so long as people continue to lash out in fear of what they do not understand, seeking to destroy it rather than come to terms with the fact perhaps some semblance of peace can be formed."
She shakes her head, speaking more from her own experience than anything else.
"...Though, there are some who simply wish to cause pain and suffering as well..."
She gives him a wide smile, revealing a pair of sharp fangs.
Taking a sip of from her flask, she leans her elbows on the bar.
"So, where is it you came from anyway? I've always had a bit of a curiosity regarding other planes of existence..."

[different_priorities]

Now the fangs are something that the spy definitely wasn't expecting. The concept of humanoids that appeared human at a glance isn't entirely unfamiliar to him, but he's never seen one so subtly different before.

... but it's more than that because there's something predatory about her that he's beginning to piece together. Not enough to rattle him on its own, there were plenty of species that could easily prey upon a human, but it does make him want to put his guard up a little bit more.

"The galaxy I'm from has no name." Cassian explains. "We're spacefaring, though, and it's quite large. You could spend a lifetime trying to see it all."

The rebel makes himself smile. Any hesitation, however, is undetectable.

"And what about you?"

[tielle_mortevus]

Her eyes reflect a slight glint of fascination as she leans closer.
"Traveling among the stars... sounds quite exhilarating. It would seem your world is quite different from my own. While the stars are still far from our reach, many from my plane focus more on alchemy and spellcraft. Being the one to inherit my father's throne, I focused more on learning politics and hand to hand combat though so I couldn't tell you much about how any of it really works. Alchemy was more my adoptive sister's forte."
Taking out her flask, she took another sip, giving the flask a light shake as she let out a sigh.
"Cursed thing is running low again. I really do need to find a more permanent solution now that I'm so far from home."

/crawls to the corner and dies

[kestreldawn]

There are very few moments throughout the day where Cassian is not in some part of Jyn's mind. He might not always barge his way to the front (he does sometimes, though), but he's always somewhere, always lingering, always haunting her. Sometimes it's a random flash of memory - the darkness of his eyes, the way he gripped the back of her shirt as they knelt on Scarif sands, the feel of bone and muscle beneath fabric. Other times, it's his voice - I've been in this fight since I was six years old or Rebellions are built on hope or Your father would've been proud of you, Jyn. Sometimes it's the ghost of his touch on her skin, and there are times when she first wakes in the morning, before her senses have returned to her and before she remembers exactly where she is, that she will instinctively extend her arm beside her and expect to feel him there.

It makes no sense, really, for her to anticipate the thud of her palm against his chest. For one thing, the bunk on the Falcon is too small to fit more than one person, even for two people with frames as slight as she and Cassian. Secondly, it's not as though this is even remotely reminiscent of a memory from her past life; they'd never been intimate in that way. The closest they'd been had been right before the end, entangled and intertwined in each other's embrace, waiting for the light to swallow them whole.

But he follows her like a shadow throughout the day, and sometimes she swears she can hear him whisper in her ear from over her shoulder. She often plays it off as though it's nothing, or that she's heard a pesky insect nearby. She's fairly certain Han thinks she's lost a good portion of her sanity, or that she's started hearing voices in an alarming sort of way. Sometimes, she'll offer a bit of a sheepish contortion of her features, a placating shrug of her shoulder, or a half-hearted explanation: "fly" or "mosquito" or "spider web." She doesn't think he believes her, but at least he pretends.

Jyn doesn't frequent the bar all that much, but she stops in every so often. Half of the time, she nurses something strong and pungent; the other, she simply lurks in the shadowy corners to observe and perform recon (old habits die hard). While lost in a glass, she tends to not be as observant of the world and/or patrons around her. Her gaze mostly swims in the liquid in between sips, rarely skirting around to see who else might be near.

It's one of those times now, when a voice pierces through the haze.

No, it isn't just a voice; it's his voice. She feels the blood and color drain from her face, feels it puddle at her feet, which are perched on the small beams in between the legs of the bar stool. She glances at her fingers wrapped around the glass and notices the unmistakable sight (and feeling) of them trembling, unable to be steadied. Whatever sound might be filling the air around her head dissipates, leaving only the rush of blood in her ears and the echo of his voice like a violent flechette in her skull.

She can't bring herself to look over right away, for fear that it might not be what she wants to see. Or maybe that it will be. She isn't sure which she prefers. Eventually, though, her curiosity gets the better of her, and her eyes shift to the side first before the rest of her head follows. She feels herself leave the solidity of her body and view the scene from overhead.

"The fighting's never over," she croaks, swallowing hard and thick.

/stands you up, dusts you off

[different_priorities]

Go figure that he searched this place high and low, and just when he was thinking about giving up, Jyn somehow manages to find him. He might have been annoyed by it in another instance, but he's just too pleased to hear her voice. To him, it stands out among the steady thrum of nice quite clearly. Though he dares not get his hopes up too high.

Not till he can see her again. The shimmering, unsteady color of her eyes. The petite nose and high cheek bones. The accent of her basic and distinctive voice ... which admittedly sounds a little more hoarse than usual.

"Jyn." He said, swallowing at a lump he didn't realize was welling in her throat. Cassian can't put into words how relieved he is to see her, he still has to force the smile to show through on his face all the same.

"Never over?" The rebel captain rakes dark hair away from his eyes before taking himself and his stool over to her side. "I thought by now, I had earned a break."

/body goes limp dramatically

[kestreldawn]

The moment their eyes meet, Jyn can't help but wonder if she's fallen unconscious, if this is some sort of fever dream, if her heart's actually stopped beating once and for all. She'd questioned the validity of everything when she first arrived, naturally; for all intents and purposes, she was supposed to be dead. If Han ever got his ship working, and if they ever figured out how to float back and forth between galaxies, Jyn knows that whatever information, whatever file the Rebellion might have on her would mark her as DECEASED.

She can't help but wonder, for the silent moments after he's sung her name and set her nerves on fire, if she'll wake up - violently snatched and brought back to a world without Cassian, a world emptier and colder and worse because of his absence.

But then he moves. His voice vibrates the air around her ears and tickles the hairs on her neck. She feels the shiver shoot down her spine and land at the base, and she's moderately surprised the stool beneath her hasn't cracked in two because of it.

"It isn't the same here as it was before," she says, voice sounding wholly foreign, distinctly not her own. "No Empire, no Rebellion. They don't exist here." She isn't sure how she's managing to speak, given how little air is in her lungs and how parched her mouth has become, but the words keep coming. "But it isn't idyllic. We'd just fought off a number of attackers not too long ago." When he's closer, she considers him quietly - eyes scanning his face for any hint that it might be a rouse, that it might be a clever illusion in her delirious mind, so wracked with subconscious grief that it's projected his likeness at her side. Instinctively, she reaches out for his arm - touches it as though touching a flame. "You're really here?"

/brings you a chair, at least

[different_priorities]

It so happens that he's not a phantom and this is not a dream. You can't blame her for feeling distrustful at the sight of him, though. This place is far more strange than any planet he'd ever been to back home. He hasn't needed to spend very long in the nexus to pick up on that.

"I am really here." Cassian's speaking voice has always been on the soft side, but this time it's not because he's keeping some sort of secret. It's because this conversation is a delicate one - perhaps too delicate for this place, honestly. "I've been looking for you ..."

Andor moves his arm so that he can dodge her touch. Not to avoid touch with her, but because he'd rather take her hand in his. His fingers rubbing lightly against the back of her hand.

https://media.giphy.com/media/gQNQtBkHgmDoA/giphy.gif

[kestreldawn]

Her hand goes to recoil as his arm moves away, thinking that perhaps her reaching out for him had been too much, or that perhaps he's still as injured as he was when she'd last seen him on Scarif. But it isn't to negate her urge for physical confirmation and connection; it's merely to offer the same in return.

Her eyes flicker down towards their hands with softness before rising to seek his face out again.

"How long have you been here?" she asks, fingers rumbling over the mountain range of his knuckles gently. "Did you - what's the last thing you remember, before you arrived?" There was no guarantee that they'd been pulled from the same point in their respective histories, though he'd had to have been taken after their initial meeting on Yavin, given his willingness to touch and show a small display of affection.

[back_in_business]

There is a strange-looking figure at the end of the bar, most likely an alien, although likely not one Cassian has ever seen. It turns when it hears his question, its ethereal form crackling like a thunderstorm underneath the cloth wrappings.

"I use the time to assess my portfolio," it answers in a rich, masculine voice. "Take stock, rearrange my priorities, that sort of thing." Shrugging its large armored shoulder pads, it adds, "There is always another battle, another war, just around the corner. Best to be prepared."

[different_priorities]

Master of looking without staring, Cassian is looking over this figure very carefully. Because he hasn't seen anything like him before, apart from glimpses, while he's been walking through the nexus.

All the cues he's giving seem to suggest this male alien isn't a threat. Or that it doesn't mean to be threatening, anyway. That's not exactly the same thing.

"Your portfolio?" The Captain says, a hint of skepticism touching his accent. "I can only assume that you're speaking in metaphor."

[back_in_business]

He isn't doing anything other than sitting with a drink in front of him, something viscous and gold-colored. Just your average glowing alien, enjoying a beverage. Despite the lack of visible eyes, he appears to be sizing up the Captain, impressed with his subtlety. Most humans, even those brave enough to venture to Outland, gawked at him openly.

"Actually, I did have a portfolio," he answers after a low, rolling chuckle. "I had a number of investments on my world, which were... lost, unfortunately. But yes, I was speaking in metaphor. Were you?"

[different_priorities]

It's important to size everyone up thoroughly. At the expense of maintaining a sense of ambiguity, sometimes. However, it's definitely in Cassian's nature not to draw too much attention to anything he's trying to do. He keeps his head down. Listens and thinks before he acts.

"You're a merchant of some kind?" He asks like he's trying to clarify, but he's pretty sure that's what this gentleman meant. Contextually speaking, it sort of sounds like he may have been profiting in a war-torn place that he comes from, but he could be reaching a little far with that guess.

"No, I ... it was a literal end to the fighting, in my case."

[back_in_business]

This human is smart, too, which isn't something he wants in a potential customer. But this is just idle conversation, for now. The alien takes a small sip of his drink, holding it up to invisible lips, before replying.

"Yes. A dealer of arcane weaponry, although I sold other items as well. Gems, enchantments, healing potions... it was in my interest to diversify." He tilts his head, giving an impression of thoughtfulness. "You're a soldier, then? Was it a war here? I noticed some damage to the infrastructure..."