Okay, talking to no one here, but has anyone considered the horror Vyse faced as her body turned to metal? Imagine the world shaking and the ground splitting open, precious metals pouring from its crust and engulfing the things around it, and your skin is doing the same. Imagine that she has to hold herself together in a fashion similar to Omen, but also imagine instead that this is her form now, unchangeable, unmalleable, constant for all time, where she’ll experience no bodily changes. Her weight doesn’t change; she doesn’t grow taller or shorter or get a crook in her back; she has no arthritis like that Brim talks of, and she’ll never lose pieces of herself like Sova. The only aspect of her that resembles a person is her ability to feel pain. In order to be human, must she be defined by that? If she refuses to be, instead leaning into her intellect and the way she can take down a team of trained agents and radiants, is she even human anymore? The First Light took everything from her. Has anyone even noticed?
Okay, remember that one time Claire fixed Cas’ tie and told him he should wear ties more often and after that he does? But like, he doesn’t wear them properly like in the beginning. And so every time Claire sees him, she tries to fix the tie. And it gets to a point where she knows it’s pointless but she still does it? Because Cas wearing ties is a reaction to something she said and it means something and it’s important to her even though she’d never admit it. So she shows her appreciation by fixing the tie
Ah ah wait that's actually a really great headcanon. We will definitely make a point of addressing this/dropping subtle hints about it. We're looking for ways to strengthen Cas and Claire’s relationship, because it's really great for both character, and they have an interesting dynamic. Thank you for the ask! (And once again, so sorry it's late.)
As they stand in her driveway Eda clears her throat then says, with her eyes averted and in a tone as casual as she can make herself sound, “She’s, uh, cooking tonight, right?”
Luz tries not to smile too knowingly. “Yup!” She can't help herself in adding, "Are you gonna keep your cool this time?
Eda snorts and stalks up to the house. "Kid, I always keep my cool."
Sleep is on the edge of your mind, just out of reach, and you focus on your breathing, letting whatever idle thoughts topple through come and go. You consider how much this ship, as cold and dark as it can be, has become your home. Once, it was an overarching shadow that made you tremble, but now it feels like a sanctuary, a respite from the outside world. As much as you miss the covert and yearn for that communal kinship, the desire to move, to wander, has planted itself in your breast. You can only hope that, once this is over, you might wrap your arms around Din’s neck as he pilots, resting your temple against his helm and trusting wherever you need to go next.
It’s unclear to you when you fall asleep, because suddenly the harsh knell of a fist against the hull’s door wakes you. It is slow, solemn, heavy.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Whoever it is wears armor upon their hands, not the soft leather gloves you are accustomed to. It is not a weapon or object being hurled against the hull either, and you suck in a breath upon the realization that someone is standing on the other side of the door. And it is not Din.
You are terrified to move, your back against the wall near the air vent. Your breath trembles with clouds in the cold air, and you bite on your lip to keep yourself quiet. The heating system has shut off, and you remember Din once mentioned that the systems would automatically expire after a period of inactivity-some kind of energy saving program to help conserve fuel.
The wind is howling outside, rushing against the metal siding, and you know if you don’t get the heat on soon, you’re likely to freeze to death. You push yourself up, slowly and carefully, pressing your palms flat against the wall behind you. Blood rushes through your limbs, waking them from rest, and you don’t hear any retreating footsteps from the door.
If it was Din, he wouldn't knock.
If it was Din, he’d call out for you.
If it was Din, you wouldn’t be afraid.
Your eyesight is poor in the dim lighting of the hull, and you don’t feel safe enough to try and turn on the overheads. You don’t need it, however, to find the release to open the Mandalorian’s weapon locker, nor do you need to look for the shined and oiled WESTAR-34 gifted to you by Rhalaz and Briinx. Your hands shake as you hold the weapon with both hands, bracing your back against the wall across from the door, and you draw your breath from deep in your stomach, closing your eyes and focusing all your attention on the sounds.
You hear the howling wind, the icy creaks of the ship settling and shifting, and then, you hear something else. Metal upon metal, as if an armored gauntlet is dragging across the outside of the hull, feeling for an opening, for a way to get in.
