nysalogs | ( CLOSED )

[ Perhaps Jyn only notices her because they're after the same thing. While Jyn isn't cocky, she has faith in her skillset, particularly her ability to go unnoticed (evading an empire for fifteen years affords one such pride). With her dark clothing, including an Olympian cloak, she could be a local, albeit a scruffy-looking one. In the heart of the Market District, she leans against the wall at the mouth of an alley, playing on her phone, brows furrowed in concentration, as she catches snatches of a conversation between two merchants.

"Dreadful thing, wasn't it?" a man intones mournfully, unpacking bracelets for display at his stall, like today is any other day and yesterday was but a spot of bad weather. His fellow merchant nods, unable to think of a suitable reply. The relative quiet of the streets is explained by the early hour. People will flood the area soon enough, despite the prior morning's tragedy.

With few others in the vicinity besides vendors opening their stalls, Rey stands out, hazarding as glance at the vendors as their conversation turns to the blast and dressed in a manner reminiscent of scavengers from Jyn's own stars (not her home, never her home). It's not enough of a similarity for her to presume shared origins between them, but perhaps the girl is like Rhys or Clarke. Of some stars, if not her own. She was listening the merchants just then, too, if nothing else. Without warning, Jyn pockets her phone and slips in front of the girl, gaze on her feet as she stumbles into Rey (perhaps intentionally). ]

Oh — [ She regains her balance easily, looking up in mild surprise. ] — didn't see you, sorry.

[ as long as she's been alone all her young life, rey's never quite perfected the art of blending seamlessly into a crowd; there were simply never enough crowds of scavengers in niima outpost for her to even gain practice at it. she knows enough of how to lie low and be unobtrusive, but hiding in plain sight among other people is another art altogether, and a skillset she simply doesn't have.

the open-air market seems as good a place as any to attempt to navigate conversations of the vendors and buyers all around her, and she's not-so-subtly attempting to eavesdrop on a conversation while feigning interest in a vendor's wares when jyn — accidentally or not — bumps into her.

she rubs her shoulder petulantly, frowning. acts like this among scavengers often happened when someone was trying to pick pockets, and subtly she tries to pat herself down to make certain this woman hasn't stolen anything out of her knapsack. ] You should watch where you're going, a bit better.

[ her brows knit, and her expression changes slightly from irritation to concern. ] There's no quarantine, and you might've bumped into someone who's infected.

[ she raises her hands in the universal gesture of surrender before tucking them in her pockets. ]

I suppose you're right.

[ said neutrally. as it happens, she does agree with the observation regarding the dangers of the infection spreading. while jyn thinks herself immune (after surviving with rhys and abelas sneezing all over the flat), the lack of quarantine or even a kriffing word from the empress is disconcerting.

scanning the area for eavesdroppers, she lowers her voice. this requires discretion, not coyness. ]

Did you happen to hear what vendors were chatting about?

[ rey fully turns to regard the young woman, and sees that she's attempting to keep a low profile as well, most likely doing a much better job than herself at it. not a native olympian; an outsider from another world, as rey is. she doesn't recognize the woman's face, but something about her style and manner of dress seems slightly familiar. similar to that of off-world traders she'd seen coming in and out of niima, perhaps.

when she asks about the vendors, rey's own curiosity is piqued and she lowers her voice as well, turning her face away from the vendors as jyn's done to hide the movement of her lips. ] Someone was talking about the Simwe Institute — something about a break-in that happened there, months ago.

Why, have you heard anything?

[ jyn lifts herself onto a stool by the bar, looking much the same as ever (her customary dishevelment shows little additional wear and tear, given her starting point of dark-rimmed eyes and darker clothing). features settled in neutrality, she waits patiently for poe to return with a free drink, idly removing her gloves and slipping them in her pockets. she keeps her satchel strap in the cross-body position, with the bag itself on her lap beneath the bar. valuable cargo today (well, relatively speaking). and she has no desire to steal the same thing twice.

her schedule at shades darker is far more erratic than his own. when an opportunity arises, she moves. and when called, she goes. some weeks, she spends days away from the establishment itself, out casing a place and awaiting the perfect moment for supply acquisition (theft, darling). the week of the bomb, jyn has been pursuing a rare vintage at the request of one of koralle's vip clients. there are few bottles left and only four within the walls of olympia, presently (not like to be more, with suspicions running high on shipments into the city). three, if the bottle weighing down her satchel is for consumption and not decoration. it's nothing like forging documents in imperial space or jacking a petty dictator's ship, overflowing with clever weaponry, but the work is diverting enough for jyn.

her collector will arrive within the hour to retrieve the bottle, but she intends to catch up with poe in the meantime. few other staff and even fewer patrons linger in building. the red light district doesn't normally pick up until night falls, after all. perfect time to discuss more confidential matters, isn't it? ]

[ it's been a while since they've last talked and poe has missed her. in the beginning, it had been the fact that she's the only other person here from the same galaxy, his link to a place that's gone now, even though she's from a different time. it's more than that now. even with rey arriving, he's still missed jyn. not even the sex, though he remembers that fondly. talking to her, her sharp angles, the different perspective at times.

but she's here now and so he brings her the customary free drink and settles on his side of the bar, opposite her, sparing a glance to make sure no customers want anything. shades darker is still mostly empty, so there's no one trying to get his attention — which means he can focus on jyn. ]

You're all right?

[ she doesn't look sick, but he still needs to hear it. ]

[ the prior month had been quiet for her, spent ruminating on the appearance of cassian andor (the man at the nexus of her longing and belonging, betrayal and hope) and dashing about on errands for koralle. still, she likes seeing poe, bright as ever, despite everything else. ]

I always am.

[ simple, mildly deflecting. her housemates have fallen ill, and she's beginning to understand the gravity of their situation. why release toxic gas, if the illness isn't meant to kill eventually? neither saw nor the empire would bother with non-lethal methods. always set your blaster to kill. never stun. ]

And you?

[ he's more likely to be exposed in his customer-facing job. ]

[ i always am, she says, and the thing is — poe's not sure he believes that. no one is always all right; the question is more whether they're willing to admit when they're not. he's very sure that he believes that jyn isn't the kind of person to want to admit it if she isn't. maybe not to him, maybe not to anyone. ]

I'm not sick. [ he smiles a little. it's honest. ] I'm worried about people, though. [ and just worried in general. he hasn't seen quite what she's seen: there's more distance for a pilot than for most, at least some of the time. he still knows enough to know that the gas won't just be the common cold. ]

[ she knows how to survive — which parts of herself to lock away and which to saw off entirely. the moments that she isn't all right are private, typically reserved for soaring alone in deep space. of course, as he often does, poe understands her enough to notice but say nothing.

if she knew, she would be grateful. ]

I'm glad you're okay.

[ the words stumble out quickly, more sincere than she usually allows. she's genuinely relieved by his wellness. there are only so many people she can afford to care for around here. she takes a sip of her drink. ]

The sickness is getting worse. [ lowering her voice. ] I heard it might be spreading elsewhere, too.

[ the man didn't say where, but she knows of but one other place on the map: Wyver. ]

Yeah. I'm glad you are, too.

[ he means that. with rey's arrival, jyn isn't the only link he has to his galaxy anymore, but that doesn't make her mean any less to him, doesn't make her any less important. for a moment, he reaches across the bar to touch her hand, then he withdraws it again. contact for the sake of it; confirmation of his words in physical form. ]

Spreading where?

[ poe also only knows one place: ] Wyver?

[ she neither embraces nor flinches from the contact: she accepts it for what it is. a touch that anchors the moment. her mouth quirks momentarily. ]

Must be.

[ hardly any other locations are mentioned in the city chatter. ]

The insurgents may be there, too. [ the bombers, the engineers of the sickness. ] A bigger network than people expect.

[ like the partisans and the rebel alliance. ]

Did you hear anything about that?

[ insurgents. poe had a certain sympathy for insurgents just by virtue of his own experiences, but rebellion for the sake of it carries little value. rebellion for the sake of freeing people, for the sake of more justice, that's a different matter. ]

[ when jyn first arrives at the stark abode, she encounters robb. she knows this brother less than jon (jon, who easily takes to her for reasons she doesn't understand or feel she deserves; and a good man, too) but his initial coldness fades to warmth when she lifts the basket of supplies (various things suited for treating illness, from cans of soup to tissues) and a smaller bag (a gift, she had whispered quietly). people have been disappearing (bodhi, mercy, clary) and only one has returned to her. some friends are on the run, her housemates have fallen ill — the peace jyn enjoyed in olympia has now gone.

she won't take what remains for granted.

having overcome her obstacle to entry (a protective big brother), she finds sansa in the house. jyn looks no different than any other day, with her dark appearance easily masking any additional tiredness, though she carries two bags in her arms, more cargo than her usual satchel. ]

[ neutrally — ] Hey.

[ she hears Robb's voice, hears him open the door, but the voice that answers is too faint for her to hear — and so it comes as a surprise when it is Jyn that walks into her room, but perhaps a happy surprise... she minds far less that she finds her in bed still, though propped up with a couple of pillows, with a embroidery project on her lap. exhaustion takes to her easily, these days, but remaining idle is not good for her mind.

where Jyn's greeting is casual, understated, Sansa answers with a smile and with warmth in her tone. ]

Asta! I would rise to greet you, but I think it's best not to give Robb any more reasons to stop people from seeing me.

[ the light Sansa shines her way warms Jyn more than anything else, tugging the corners of her mouth into a soft smile. she takes in the upright status and crafting with noticeable relief. Sansa may be ill, but she's not overwhelmed just yet. ]

Mm. [ an acknowledgment of the truth in Robb observation (Robbservation?). she settles on the corner of Sansa's bed, not wanting to disturb her comfort. ] Not unlike a guard dog. [ well. ] Guard wolf?

[ with an amused arch of her brows, she dangles one of her bags (a brightly coloured thing with the insignia of a local bakery in the center) on two fingers, extending it to Sansa. ] I brought treats, [ for all the wolves, get it. ] so I could get past the perimeter.

[ and because she cares too much. ]

( i'm so so sorry for this ridiculously delayed response -- i got back from my hiatus early this month and it's taken me a while to adjust to regular life and tagging rhythm. if you'd rather leave this here, don't hesitate to poke me on plurk and we can talk about handwaving the rest! but if you want to keep this thread going, i'm game for that too c: )

[ she can't help the amused laugh that bubbles on her lips as she nods. ] Guard wolf, yes. It is only by chance you find me without an actual wolf... Ghost is with Jon, today.

[ because in their house, she is safe enough to not require Ghost by her side at all hours of the day... Robb is danger enough to anyone who might try to enter the house without good intentions. ]

I see the strategy worked well, as you're here, now. [ she takes the bag offered, her movements slow and careful. ] Thank you. You didn't need to.

[ on her way home from sansa's (shortly after she exits the door, in fact, carrying two empty bags for reuse), jyn encounters someone who is most definitely not sansa and yet — do the orbiters have a thing about redheads? perhaps. despite her surprise, her movements are swift and sure, indicative of a quiet confidence. she closes the door behind her and allows herself to stare, if only for a moment.

then, she arches her brows. ]

Are you here to visit Sansa?

[ After finding out what had happened, how could she stay away. She had to check on her. She just didn't expect to run into someone right out on the doorstep (though she was glad to see other people visiting Sansa, as well). It wouldn't be good for her to be alone during all this.

Still, she stops short at the sight of Jyn and nods at her question. ]

How is she?

[ She hesitates, wondering how much to say of Sansa to someone unknown. Their likeness would suggest a closeness between the girls, but Jyn can't say that for certain.

Ultimately, she decides to tell the truth, if only because the girl will visit Sansa shortly, anyway. ]

Exhausted but not too sickly. [ a beat. ] Are you also family?

[ Not Arya, to be sure, as divergent as she is from the wild description of the youngest Stark daughter. ]

[ She nods, frowning at the news, still concerned. Exhaustion could easily become something far more serious. But the question pulls her out of her own worries for a moment and she shakes her head, ]

No. We just... happen to look alike.

[ Lookalikes, hm? One more thing to kriffing worry about. ]

Charming.

[ in a dry tone that suggests it isn't terribly charming. ]

I'm Asta. [ she pauses. then — ] A friend.

[ of Sansa's, not of many others, to be sure. ]

[ She doesn't need to read the tone but it's definitely the first give away. That and what else she's picking up from Jyn. She tries not to let it bother her but extends a hand towards her instead. ]

I'm Jean. I can't say it's "nice" to meet you considering the circumstances but I'm glad to know she has more friends.

[ It's complicated to explain but she hopes better for Sansa than herself. She shouldn't be alone. ]

[ She doesn't mean to be standoffish, but making friends has never been in her skillset. ]

Me, too. [ Her features soften, suggesting she means that. ]

Maybe things will be better, the next time we meet, Jean.

[ As requested, Jyn arrives at the flat with the takeaway of Rhys' choosing (baked chicken, grilled corn, and fresh-baked dinner rolls) as well as a separate bag of food for herself (containing noodles). Did she go out of her way for Rhys? A little, perhaps. The restaurants were close enough to each other, really, so she doesn't think anything of it.

The nature of her work mandates irregular hours and equally irregular payments. For the past three days, she has been working a job at odd intervals, observing and awaiting her opportunity to strike. Nothing too difficult, to be sure, but she enjoyed it all the same. Now, having jacked and delivered a particularly rare bottle of liquor for one of Koralle's ritzy patrons, her pockets are heavier than usual. The success lifts her mood, despite the chaos and illness reigning in the city. ]

Rhys! [ She calls out his name as she wanders into the living room, expecting to find him exactly where she left him — lounging somewhat tragically on the sofa. ] I'm home.

[ God, she thinks of it as home, doesn't she? ]

[ She isn't wrong in her assumptions: Rhys is right where she expects him to be, albeit perhaps not lying down resting like he should be? There's only so much wallowing he can do in a day before he gets bored, and in this particular moment his activity of choice is scrolling through the network on his palm display, fingers flexing commands as he scans through the most recent posts and messages he's received. His ECHO eye is lit up and glowing a faint yellow when he hears her call, and it stays that way when she walks through the door.

Doofus of course meets her with a fatigued but pleased smile as he catches a brief readout from his eye: Jyn Erso, 22, female etc etc--Rhys shuts that down too and sniffles.

He already feels better for her being there, how nerdy is that? ]

Hey.

[ "Welcome home." ]

[ Only as nerdy as she feels when he looks up at her with a doofy smile, jeez. She settles on the sofa, dropping the takeaway bags on the coffee table. In truth, she's relieved that he sits upright. Rumours have started flying about the sickness in the city that have her worried.

Both the Partisans and the Empire engaged in indescribably bloody warfare. The memories of it make her stomach turn, so she locks them away with every other horrible thing she wishes neither to remember nor to forget.

She gives him a sideways smile, expression softening. ]

How are you feeling?

As good as ever so...not actually good. But I think my fever's down a little, I don't feel as weird in the head as I did this morning.

[ He's going to consider that progress and a sign that he doesn't have whatever's going around right now. He'll be on the mend in no time! Being sick is for people who don't deserve swanky promotions. Rhys had never called in sick while working at Hyperion, a fact he'd been incredibly proud of...and frustrated with. You couldn't afford that kind of thing with everyone around you scrambling for the top too. ]

Thanks again for bringing stuff back by the way... How much was it? I can cover half.

[ At the updates, she nods. She would never consider herself an optimist, but a little bit of hope isn't unwelcome, especially if Rhys' condition is improving. ]

Don't bother. [ She busies herself unwrapping her food and cosying up, pulling her legs up on the sofa so she can face him. With a sly smile — ] You can pay next time.

[ because there's always a next time, with how regular meals with Rhys have become. She remembers the first time he brought home food for her. And all the times since then, when he hovered in the kitchen while she cooked. She brushes aside the thoughts of becoming too comfortable. ]

What did you hear about Rocket and the others?

Oh, the usual. They all listened to some Shady Guy in a back alley who wanted them to go ambush a carriage, Told them it was to protect Olympia and then asked them to bring back a bunch of peoples' head. It definitely didn't seem at all suspicious so they went right on ahead and helped him out.

[ The flippant, amused sarcasm in Rhys's tone makes his view on the matter rather obvious. He even accompanies it with a grand roll of his wrist and eyes as he gather up one of the boxes of take out and a fork. ]

He and Giovanni are fine for the moment. They're on the run playing fugitive.

[ As she finishes a bite, she hums in thought. It's the sort of work she'd do, really, regardless of the suspicion and danger — in fact, it's work she has done before and continues now. On Five Points, it landed her on a ship with human cargo and forced her to rebel for the first time years.Perhaps, then, she would have learned her lesson.

Now, she completes shady tasks for Koralle, a largely unknown quality despite her forward nature. In her eyes, Rocket and Giovanni's actions are understandable. ]

I suppose. [ a non-committal reply. ] What's Giovanni like?

[ because Rocket's clever enough to survive. She wonders if the others will be. ]

That guy? A total pain.

[ Rhys r o l l s his eyes and wipes at his nose a little again, settling back into the cough. A gripe session doth cometh. ]

He's some sort of...bioweapon something? But he's full of himself like you wouldn't believe. It's impossible to get along with him and his default reaction to most things is violence, like, can you believe it?

He does have good taste in suits, sure, but that's not a free pass.

[ Rhys goes on and could probably keep going on, but he's tired and despite how much he has to say about the guy he doesn't actually sound that upset or annoyed by it all. More like vaguely irritated, but to a degree that he's willing to tolerate.

Which may or may not have something to do with the fact that Giovanni told Rhys that he doesn't hate him and they may have gotten a little handsy that one time in the Red Light District.

So yes. Rhys lets out a breath. ]

He could stand to be a little more friendly you know?

[ A bioweapon. When Jyn is at her most melodramatic, she thinks of herself as a tool — something Saw sharpened and the Rebellion later deployed.

Rhys doesn't paint a flattering picture, but he appears to tolerate this Giovanni. For whatever reason. She does bark a laugh when he asks if she can believe he resorts to violence. A weapon would do that, yes. ]

Hm. A mercenary type, then? [ like Rocket, though the comparison isn't entirely flattering. She doesn't mind mercenaries, for the most part. ] Maybe the fugitive experience will humble him.

[ joking. kind of. ]

You know I hope so. I've tried to tell him to turn himself in at least twice? So now I'm just calling him to give him a hard time. It's fun.

[ Also featured in this thread: Rhys being both petty and a dick.]

Hilariously he works with the city guard or something so you'd think he would've known better.

( CLOSED )

rey. morning after the explosion.

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poe. early evening. day after the explosion.

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sansa.

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jean.

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rhys.

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