There are good days and bad days. The bad usually outstrips the good in the beginning but they end and the sun rises and they start again.
There are good days and bad days and then there are days like today.
Jyn doesn't suffer from a lot of nightmares, because Jyn doesn't sleep particularly well or often, she rarely finds herself in a deep enough sleep to actually have nightmares. Instead sleeplessness plagues her until her very bones hurt, feeling like glass grinding against itself any time she so muchs as closes her eyes, an ache so deep and heavy that the very act of breathing hurts.
Eventually sleep takes her. Mid-afternoon, when the rest of the world is bustling about their daily activities Jyn finds herself still just long enough to nod off tucked in the corner of the communications tower, watching transcribed transmissions flicker across the screen, the familiar occasional static and crackle of a ship's radio as it approaches. It's all rather soothing in it's familiarity and she's asleep before she can begin to fight it.
The story comes in spurts when they find Cassian. A scream so powerful the radioman looks haunted by it. A fit, maybe, the other offers, fidgeting nervously in the presence of the (former?) Alliance officer. And then she ran. All they can offer is a point in the right direction, but the trail of hand-wringing natives is enough to find Jyn.
Under the spray of the shower, Jyn is sat, knees pressed to her chest, brown curls plastered to her forehead. Her expression is hollow, sadness found only in the perpetual downturn of her mouth. She doesn't seem to notice the water, or at least isn't bothered by the steady stream of water soaking through her clothes, fingertips starting to prune. She doesn't look up when she hears a woman warning Cassian, as if unsure he can handle what's behind the door. She doesn't look up either when the door opens and closes behind him.
But her eyes do flicker up, flecked with gold and silver like stardust and looking so impossibly broken.
creeps on u
There are good days and bad days. The bad usually outstrips the good in the beginning but they end and the sun rises and they start again.
There are good days and bad days and then there are days like today.
Jyn doesn't suffer from a lot of nightmares, because Jyn doesn't sleep particularly well or often, she rarely finds herself in a deep enough sleep to actually have nightmares. Instead sleeplessness plagues her until her very bones hurt, feeling like glass grinding against itself any time she so muchs as closes her eyes, an ache so deep and heavy that the very act of breathing hurts.
Eventually sleep takes her. Mid-afternoon, when the rest of the world is bustling about their daily activities Jyn finds herself still just long enough to nod off tucked in the corner of the communications tower, watching transcribed transmissions flicker across the screen, the familiar occasional static and crackle of a ship's radio as it approaches. It's all rather soothing in it's familiarity and she's asleep before she can begin to fight it.
The story comes in spurts when they find Cassian. A scream so powerful the radioman looks haunted by it. A fit, maybe, the other offers, fidgeting nervously in the presence of the (former?) Alliance officer. And then she ran. All they can offer is a point in the right direction, but the trail of hand-wringing natives is enough to find Jyn.
Under the spray of the shower, Jyn is sat, knees pressed to her chest, brown curls plastered to her forehead. Her expression is hollow, sadness found only in the perpetual downturn of her mouth. She doesn't seem to notice the water, or at least isn't bothered by the steady stream of water soaking through her clothes, fingertips starting to prune. She doesn't look up when she hears a woman warning Cassian, as if unsure he can handle what's behind the door. She doesn't look up either when the door opens and closes behind him.
But her eyes do flicker up, flecked with gold and silver like stardust and looking so impossibly broken.