forcewith:
she wears pain like it’s a cloak meant to shield her – using damage to reflect damage. it makes her invulnerable. but chirrut hadn’t been fooled back on JEDHA, and it doesn’t fool him now in her most sensitive state. the cloak had been removed when she had held her father in her arms. the real jyn erso sits next to him now, dwelling in her loss and anger and everything in between. how much she has grown in such little time.
the spiritual purity of THE FORCE had been compromised by unprovoked violence. his face wrinkles in thought at the weight they carry and have yet to face. with one hand placed firmly on his staff, chirrut slips his other arm firmly around her shoulders and pulls her closer. it’s the last reminder of hope: trusting in each other and believing in the greater good.
she does not allow herself SADNESS without FURY ---- it sits on her shoulders until her frame sinks. grief radiates out from the center of her chest & crawls to calloused fingertips. it is TIGHT & ALL-CONSUMING, a kind of villain she doesn’t know how to fight.
---- and then she feels the WARMTH of chirrut’s hand around her shoulder. it’s ... strange. DIFFERENT. jyn doesn’t know how to work it out in her head at first, mainly because a kind touch has never been easy to come by, but damn her if she won’t melt into it all the same. fists clench as she glances up towards the cockpit.
