#forceoned

[astrafide-blog]

@forceoned from [x]

even in the company of allies; friends even some might say - there is a limit to what sabé is willing to part with. the question should be simple; it’s direct and forthright enough, but it brings with it a VULNERABILITY she doesn’t want to acknowledge. it reminds her somewhat of being schooled on interrogation as a child, of the behaviours drilled into her to avoid divulging information that could so easily be turned against her. it’s hard not to feel the parallels with her younger self when presented with the lecture she knows is coming.

❝ my dream DIED a long time ago ❞ the bitterness is evident, her tone cool and the truth unmistakably blunt. she’d wanted to spend her life at the side of the woman she loved. to smile together. to grow old together. but look at where that dream had gotten her - one of them was DEAD and the other ALONE.  it isn’t what he’s asking though is it? he speaks of the present not of the past, of the motivations now that guide her actions, that speak to her very soul and offer hope amidst penance.

there is a pause before she corrects herself, that little wall of defiance crumbling as she admits that at the end of this fight, when the war is won and liberty is no longer a luxury they do not possess, she still has one goal, even if slightly mundane. ❝— to go HOME, chirrut. to go back to the start. ❞

[astrafide-blog]

' to stay true in the face of evil is a feat of strength. '

Daughter Of Smoke and Bone Sentence Meme {½}

it’s been a long time since WISDOM has touched so dormant a part of her. a voice of reason that sounds strangely reminiscent of the diplomacy on which she’d been weaned. the rebellion is a far cry from the days of senatorial debates or stately addresses; once peaceful nations now sullied with blood or left half strangled under the chokehold of a tyrannical rule. sabé isn’t so sure that it’s entirely strength these days, but rather a sense of STUBBORNNESS that simply will not die. she knows her place. knows her loyalties. evil should quite rightly be quaking in it’s boots if it were a matter of sheer willpower alone, but evil is still relative. a matter of opinion some might argue; of a wrong path taken that can still somehow be undone.

❝ and yet strength alone does not win wars. ❞ the exhale that follows is world weary, a softened soul now hardened through perpetual LOSS. she still feels the bite of time against her skin, the sacrifices made etched in every bruise and every scar. she swears even now, she can still hear her departed friend’s voice in her ear. the reminder that there is always another way. a better way. it opens a wound she doesn’t ever intend to close. ❝…it just seems to start them. ❞