I wanted to explain myself to myself in an
understandable way. I gave shape to my fears
and made excuses. I varied my velocities, watched
myselves sleep. Something's not right about what
I'm doing but I'm still doing it-- living in the worst
parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of
black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling.
Everything happens for a reason.
* PAACIFIST โธป an independent galen walton erso portrayal of star wars, heavily headcanon based. influences from movies, novels ๏น . comics. mature themes. please read guidelines before interacting. est. 2022. of vik's hand. she/they. 23 yo.
โ because i'm your only hope of getting out of here alive. โ
key card is briefly held against electronic lock, opening yet another blast door leading to the escape pods. patrol troops steps in the distance, resonating in a perfectly coordinated staccato.
loud ringing, cranium feeling like strained into forging metal press. ashes covered palm is raised to feel for burning sensation right above brow bone, crimson soon staining fingers. well, that explained the stinging pain.
โย i feel like i don't really have a choice here. โ
slight grimace as his restraint harness is unfastened, still trying to recover from the stranger's brutal crash-landing procedure.ย
also, random headcanon : the eadu events (which he survived), left galen with hearing loss due to acoustic trauma caused by the multiple blasts and explosions. whispers are very difficult for him to perceive and he very often has this "long and constant ringing in the ears." (tinnitus)
black and bitter waves swaying, roaring, menacing in all their glory; raging seas &. swelling streams, krennicโs inflection nothing but a swirling tempest. he knew perfectly such storm was laying bare the pebbles on the shores of his soul, reflecting with striking symmetry the furor out. but even though heavy waters ghosted over his feet, soaking very edges of linen fabric, his own mind was as still as surface of a lake, mirror-like, quiet in a breakable way. his back was pressed against cold wall of prison cell of his own, feet deeply rooted into stone floors, as if it was the only thing maintaining him afloat, [as if drowning would be his only fate if soles were to slip even just a little.] how ironic and twisted that they would find each other imprisoned right in front of the other, carrying the weight of their crimes, one with pride and the other with infinite guilt [and unbearable pain].
ย โ โฆ thanking you โฆย โ
words rolled down his tongue like he hated the way they tasted in his mouth. another day, another universe, ersoโs aloof and detached temperament would have cracked and dissolved in ashes only to let every cutting memory heโd turned away, every tear heโd forced back, every scrap of hope heโd ever held inside, every cry of pure anger heโd silenced pour over him at last. but not today. not ever.
he had so much to tell her. so many stories to unravel, so many hopes to share. and yet, all he could find within these nebula eyes of hers was bitterness, torment โ repulsion. he had to close his lids for a short instant, go back to the farm, to her clay dolls and the sun on her hickory braids, to the chime of her laugh and the warmth of her hands as her small fingers used to reach for his โฆ
โ not a single day goes by without the weight of my guilt crushing me. โ
# @acharnemcnt said : you're not a very convincing liar.
lips are pressed into thin line, features bathed in blue as alphanumeric data fields and complex research plans wavered above holoprojectors. nothing in his attitude showed insolence or disrespect, posture straight and still, enunciation clear and calm.
โ we need time to initiate more test sequences, general. โ
caution, even more. truth intertwined with deceit โ never deal with absolutes. as hux had previously noticed, dishonesty was far from being his strong suit.
