( CLOSED )

[insurgent]

Who: Jyn Erso (insurgent) & various others
What: Catch-all log for the October event and related shenanigans
When: October
Where: Olympia
Warning(s): n/a for now

( CLOSED in that I'd love to plot with anyone on the event post or at locution so we can sort starters! )

Comments

rey. morning after the explosion.

[insurgent]

[ 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.

poe. early evening. day after the explosion.

[insurgent]

[ 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? ]

sansa.

[insurgent]

[ 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.

jean.

[insurgent]

[ 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?

rhys.

[insurgent]

[ 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? ]