the future is already here - just not evenly distributed

[candor1]

WHO: in order of appearance: Cassian Andor, Kotetsu T. Kaburagi, Jyn Erso, K-2SO, Veronica Sawyer, Revan, Anakin Skywalker
WHERE: HOPE, De Chima #3, Revan's shop, somewhere between
WHEN: various (whenever's best for you?)
WHAT: All the stuff—work developments and CR developments and thematic schtick and usual R1 "why can't the universe be simpler" stuff…? Making a megalog instead of many indie ones to avoid commspam.
WARNINGS: (both in thread #2) the further adventures of Smutly O'Smuttington; then (ironically, but not unrelatedly) unintentional sex-shaming

0. Prelude…

Cassian has tabulated all the data he's so far received of their own galaxy's history. From every representative currently here, willing to talk to him, or not but having already contributed intel over open channels. He's written it up in such a way that will minimize ability to identify his sources. Patterns can be assessed, of course, but there's no delineation drawn between the primary source/anecdotal and what's recounted from later. (Only in Cassian's mind and Kaytoo's circuits to try and track… objectivity. If there can ever be such a thing in politics and history.

My work is not necessarily to identify objective truths. My work is to identify what enough people believe to be true. What we believe drives our choices and perceptions, which in turn form much of the reality around us. I need to understand these things so I can work with them toward what I hope might be higher truths.
…Again… in the absence of Draven, who knew who Cassian would actually try to emulate… but it was because understanding war as intimately as he did meant knowing how extreme the costs of avoiding it had to become in order to be less than the costs of embarking on it. But as long as that balance made one choice clear over the other, he would emulate Mon Mothma. And try everything else first.

Perhaps amassing this history is an act with that goal. Geared to those who seemed inclined toward war not in reaction to reality but in their own imagined reality, and/or for its own sake.

They'd tried to throw the futility of the Rebellion in Cassian's face.

The history might show the futility of all power-mongering.

So have an outline of their history. The Old Republic. The Separatist movement. The Clone Wars and how they ended. The rise of Empire. The rumblings of resistance. The onset of Galactic Civil War. The Rebellion's first major victory. …But how several decades later, either the Empire still exists or a new iteration arises. He knows the least about the last… and wants to find out…

It's obviously a work in progress. He would normally never submit anything other than a fully detailed and finished report to his superiors. …But this is not to (official, committed, allied) superiors. It's… something. Voluntary and…

It's an opening.

But Cassian hesitates. A player recognizes a player. And he knows he's particularly vulnerable to Count Dooku. …Unless he's particularly forewarned…?

He waits.

1. Heropa Organization for imPort Education [Kotetsu]

2. De Chima #003: housemates' morning after fallout [Jyn, Kay, Veronica]

3. De Chima #003: fallout-fallout [Kay, Veronica]

4. Maurtia Falls: droidcraft workshop [Revan]

5. Heropa or De Chima, a darkened street [Anakin]

6. …Conclusion [set up for June logging]

It decides him. Cassian sends two messages: one to General Grievous, and one to Count Dooku.

ready to present preliminary report

Comments

1. Heropa: Heropa Organization for imPort Education [w. Kotetsu]

[candor1]

The interview had boiled down to: Will you work for the healthy and positive care and development of these kids.

I hope so.

And he'd been very careful that for every after-school session the focus was never on combat. Never on learning to focus on violence. Even in the self-defense sessions. (Easier but still deliberate with the survival skills.) It was to counteract whatever violence might ever be imposed on their lives, from without or from within. So they wouldn't have to be prey to it, shaped into its image. They could be given tools and confidence and choices to do other things.

In other words: try to use the skills he'd been given as a child soldier to help other children do the opposite. See if wartime knowledge could, rather than keep war relevant, serve also in peace.

…So far… it felt… like it was working.

And reserved as he still was around children, like Linnë and Dyv, the students who showed up for his courses seemed to actually like him. It helped that they were older. And best, seemed to be bonding with each other over the activities.

So Cassian was looking… not effusive but certainly not grim, walking down one of HOPE (yes, cosmic winkage of the acronym not wasted on him)'s hallway and seeing the person responsible for Cassian having the job at all. And Cassian greeted Kotetsu by name.

2. De Chima #003: housemates' morning after fallout [w. Jyn, Kay, Veronica]

[candor1]

[Morning after this]

It was still an uncustomary endeavor, trying to get himself to eat in the mornings. (…or a "full", by local standards, meal at any time). But. Despite having barely slept, between the… dream… memory… vision… (…soul?) …-sharing; the conversation; and… (there has to be a more galaxy-encompassing word than just "sex")… activities that had followed… Cassian wakes, impossibly easily, unreasonably clear-headed, and hungry. —More strangely: inclined to actually heed the hunger.

He turned to look at Jyn. Kept looking for a while. Just… immersing himself in the peace of the view of her. At last he shook himself (decided this was creepy) and he should get moving.

It was very tempted to slip out of bed quietly and let her stay asleep. But whether they'd ever said it aloud or not, they literally knew one another's minds. He knew both of them had a sickening horror of waking to simply find the other gone. So he moved gently to kiss her.

(In a way, as they'd thoroughly worked to find, to wake the other without triggering either's defensive reflexes. They'd given each other a few bruises in their first week of sharing a bed. It was worth it.)

It helped, also, to have a pass phrase:

"I love you."

And a countersign.

[couldbebeautiful]

Meanwhile, downstairs:

Veronica takes the chilled pâté out of the fridge, spreads it onto some crackers and pours out a few slushies. She's pretty sure Jyn and Cassian are going to be a while coming down, which gives her more time to prep on the impromptu "Congrats on the Sex" party. Because Veronica is both a nice housemate who wants to be Supportive and a very tired girl who's wondering how to best say calm down a little so I can attempt to sleep.

She turns to Kaytoo, asks, "Should there be a banner? Do we even have time to make a banner?"

[reexamined]

"This is ridiculous," is the unhelpful response he gives on the banner subject. "Why go through all of this when you just want to tell them to quiet down? I'll just say it. We don't need to make snacks."

If he sounds a little more annoyed than usual, it's because- surprise- he is. On top of this weirdness of whatever Veronica's doing in some attempt at a party, he's running out of patience for humans already today and it's not even 10AM.

[couldbebeautiful]

"Because I want to be supportive," is the excuse that Veronica gives. It's a very transparent excuse, so she adds, "And because they'd probably be more amenable to being asked to quiet down if there's food around." She leans over the crackers, rearranges them some more so they look a little more presentable and not like she whipped them up while running on about three hours of sleep.

"But fine. I'll take that as a no on the banners." They probably would've been a bit much anyway. "Hey, are they awake yet?"

[reexamined]

"They'll quiet down if I also just say 'you were loud, kept Veronica up, and made me turn off my auditory sensors for prolonged amounts of time.' It's not like they don't have shame." But, you know, the blunt and rude approach is what he's always going to default to, even when Cassian's involved sometimes. He doesn't get to be an exception all the time, you know.

"And yes, they are. They'll be coming down shortly, I imagine."

And while Veronica is doing her best to be nice, Kay is doing his best to finally sit in one of those kitchen high chairs. It's so far, not going great. Better than previous attempts, but not great.

[kestreldawn]

She's felt the rustling beside her, had tried to acknowledge him in her hazy state, but was quickly snatched back by the long-reaching fingers of sleep. Somewhere in her consciousness, though, she'd felt him watching her; hadn't felt threatened or creeped out by it, but rather, protected. Cared for.

She dreams of a memory - Papa, sitting at the side of her bed on Coruscant. Placing another toy delicately at her side, one of the many he'd bring home every week for her. His had always been a quiet sort of love, one shown in gestures of new non-sentient friends and hair brushed back from her forehead as she slept. Back when the slightest movement didn't rouse her to her defenses in a breath, back when she could dream whimsical things rather than have the ghosts of her past haunt her. She might murmur something about Papa in her sleep while in this dream, maybe something about her best friend Beeny, and she might smile peacefully as her Papa presses his lips to her forehead while she sleeps before turning over in real life.

But Cassian's voice rustles her from the dream, takes her out of the bed on Coruscant and into the bed in De Chima. Consciousness comes back to her gently, subtly. A nice change from how she'd been used to waking on Wobani. She blinks her eyes open slowly, allowing them to adjust to the flood of light and the beautiful sight of Cassian's face. She remembers the night before almost immediately, still undressed and tangled in the sheets. She lets out a quiet murmur of something like a giggle, rubbing at her eye.

"I love you, too," she whispers, voice still thick with sleep. "Good morning."

[candor1]

Another sound she makes that makes his head feel like the oxygen's running low. …In a good way.

He smiled and kissed her again.

"I'm going downstairs," he murmured. "Just letting you know."

[kestreldawn]

"Food?" she asks immediately, feeling the gnawing at her gut. Although she'd gotten used to existing on what would fill her for the longest stretches of time rather than what had tasted the best, she still craves food. Especially first thing in the morning. Her body had adapted to a ration cube upon waking while on Wobani, in order to prepare itself for the intense amount of labor she'd be doing for the bulk of the day.

She stretches her arms overhead, lets out a quiet yawn while pressing the back of her hand to her open mouth. She rubs her eye again as she sits up in bed rather lazily, legs bent and soles pressed into the mattress. She rests her forearms on her knees.

"What time is it?"

[candor1]

"Food," he agrees, pushing himself out of the bed to find something to wear.

He finds the chrono. "O-eight-hundred." Which might count as oversleeping for both of them, but by much less than it felt like. For him, anyway. He looks over at her while pulling on pants. "How are you feeling?"

3. De Chima #003: fallout-fallout [multi: w. Kay / w. Veronica]

[candor1]

It's not clear if Cassian returned to the kitchen because he knew Kay would still be there or not. Everyone else, obviously, is gone. …And obviously, the answer is of course, Kay because Cassian never does just one thing when he can accomplish multiple things at once.

But when he does come back in, he doesn't initially stop for Kay. Just limps over to the sink, turns on the hot water, and does a bit of a stretch to get his foot up into the water. He'd run out after Jyn without waiting to put on shoes—prioritizing Jyn and Veronica over his own feet—and must have stepped on something in the street. Because his bare sole is currently bleeding.



[prompt w. Veronica TBD]

[reexamined]

"You know putting your shoes on only takes about thirty seconds." And that's if they're ones with laces. He makes a note to get Cassian slip-on shoes incase running out of the house without proper footgear becomes a habit.

Affecting a sigh, Kay finally gets out of his seat and heads over towards the bathroom to get a few supplies. "Go sit down, and put your foot on the counter. You're not going to clean it right like that." The hot water might feel good, but it's not going to disinfect whatsoever. Meanwhile, he's grabbing bandages, tweezers, and actual disinfectant.

From the slight glance he took to the floor, there's also a small blood trail into the kitchen, probably since the front door. So that's going to need cleaning as well.

[candor1]

Cassian's move, now, would be to snap or grumble or otherwise point out I know how to dress a wound. And insist on doing it himself.

But he didn't.

He did as Kay suggested, taking a seat and bracing his foot up on the table, all in silence.

…Which was somehow worse.

Especially with the unreadable set of his back and face.

[reexamined]

Kay returns, with the medical supplies and places them on the counter, while Cassian remains silent. "This is usually the part where you complain," he comments, wetting a washcloth, "and insist on doing it yourself."

But Cassian doesn't even look up at him. "Cassian?"

[candor1]

Cassian's crossed one arm over his chest. Propped the other elbow up onto it. And using that raised hand to cover his face.

That enfolding of limbs and the subvisible tremor in his abdominal muscles… it could have been pain… but a splinter of glass in the foot was nothing. Not that it didn't hurt—superficial injuries could hurt more, because focus and adrenaline didn't bother overcompensating for them. But for that same reason, Cassian would usually indulge in hiding his reaction to them less. Grimace and complain about a small wire cut, the way he wouldn't over near-fatal impalement.

This discomfort was more like wanting to fold himself, limbs, ribs, everything, into something inorganically geometric, and stop being a person for a while.

It was in such a mood, if he didn't withdraw from everything entirely, that he usually could only tolerate the company of Kaytoo.

But right now, neither was quite an option.

"What did you really want to talk to me about?" Cassian says at last, voice coming out from behind his hand flat and distant. "That's why you were so annoyed I haven't been alone, isn't it?"

It's not necessarily one of Cassian's most accurate guesses. But there's an edge to his voice of I really hope there's a strategic explanation.

Beyond Kay just being Kay.

Even for what should have remained one of the most transcendently sacred moments of Cassian's life. With a person who should never, never have been hurt for giving it to him, being in it with him.

Because if it was just Kay being his usual self… Cassian, usually the one person not only unbothered but refreshed by any of Kay's undiluted bluntness, is not ready to try and process this level of…
anger
at his best friend.

4. Maurtia Falls: droidcraft workshop [w. Revan]

[candor1]

Cassian had been meaning to see Revan's workshop ever since their conversation. Many reasons… ranging from the coldblooded (get in on the ground level of anything that could potentially go ominous) to the practical (might be able borrow some tools for giving Kay some overdue maintenance) to the frivolous (despite it not having been his intention in reformatting Kay, the endeavor did leave Cassian more intrigued by droids than he'd given thought to, before).

Another reason presented itself as Cassian found himself finally there. Being brain-burningly upset with Kay and gut-wrenchingly worried about Jyn, both on personal levels and the ongoing theoretical conflict, more intense all the time, perhaps jump-restarted by blasted "Constellation" and with every new imPort that made it feel like their old life was following them, but never gone… the balance between the preciousness of actual life, and living it, versus the risk of ignoring the things that could hijack it or take it away entirely… how much to sacrifice this new chance at life (which could be self-defeating), to getting involved in the politicking of those who threatened, consciously or not, to unnecessarily bring back the war (which could be self-fulfilling)… and believe it or not it's even more tangled and jumbled in his mind…

Cassian had grown up believing the Jedi to be his enemy. He'd gone on from there to let them fall into the category of probably exaggerated myth. Here, he's gotten to know, a bit, the profoundly amiable and trust-inspiring Luke Skywalker. He has a good feeling about Revan. Maybe it's just profoundly desiring not to have to try and do everything alone. But… Cassian finds himself craving the perspective of this Jedi.

[exsithstential]

Tinkering had always been a way for Revan to pass the time, clear his mind of any nagging negative thought processes. And to date there were plenty.

Dooku and his guaranteed machinations, state of affairs in this world, his own impending death in his universe should he port out...

Something like fretting over getting a small business up and running, or troubleshooting why one of his newest droids likes to expel it's coolant fluid all over everything like an animal marking it's territory, was a welcome distraction. Albeit a messy one. ...Maybe he shouldn't let them watch TV while they're still in their 'natal' phase.

A chime on a nearby console perks him up, and he looks at the juxtaposed view screens just above it where his security system.

Ah, a familiar face. Revan muses, about Cassian's visit casually while he waves a hand at the door. The slighest force push on a release causes the front door of his office to slide open into the cool air of his shop.

Really, he was pleased to see him, someone from his own world. Someone with answers. But there was just the slightest ambivalence when it came to just what those answers might entail.

"Well hello there." Revan leans over his counter like a true shop keep and nods. "Wondered when you'd make your way down here."

[candor1]

It was still a bit disconcerting, but nice, being greeted. By someone who knew who he really was, at that.

"Thanks for inviting me," said Cassian, eyes roaming the shop. He wasn't able to identify all that much, but it was a bit exciting when he actually could. "My droidcraft education was… not formal." A preemptively apologetic look in Revan's direction. To contrast his first introduction, he's going for laying all cards on the table straightaway. "Or my knowledge of Jedi."

[exsithstential]

"I must say it was a disappointment to learn I wouldn't be able to fully talk shop with you." Revan chides, though with enough joviality to show he's only teasing. "Though I can... respect your discretion. It's been my experience that not everyone who comes here from our universe... is respectable company.

Coffee or tea?"

[candor1]

"Thank you," said Cassian. For understanding and not letting it color everything that might come next. "I'm still navigating what methods may apply to the new context."

He'd learned to play that game very well. Now there was a new game and he was back to square one. Especially in trying to decide whether or not the approach was even to 'play'.

Coffee was caf, essentially; they tasted remarkably alike (possibly with fewer synthetics and less cross-contamination with ship maintenance oils). And he'd made and tasted teas brewed from more things than he'd care to remember, for various purposes on various planets.

"I haven't tried any of the local tea varieties," said Cassian. "What sorts of things are they made of?"

5. Heropa or De Chima [w. Anakin]

[candor1]

Cassian's journey from work to home started to take a little longer. The walks to and from the porter got less direct. He wasn't ready to call this an… objective. But… he was data gathering again. With a new idea.

It was dark out when he was finally turning his steps to home. And saw or heard something that made him pause.

:D

[prophesiedone]

There was a dark figure approaching the man, the hood of a Jedi cloak drawn up to obscure his features. Any streetlight would faintly catch and shine on the metal of his prosthetic hand, but otherwise his identity was difficult to ascertain.

At least until he spoke.

"I know you."

[candor1]

"You have the advantage," said Cassian, idiomatically and in literal assessment. Metal gleam but he thinks OLF with prosthetic not droid… cloak like Luke's but not someone Cassian's seen in person…

…but in person wasn't the only way here. He quickly flips through mental audio files, and extrapolition of 2-D to 3-D form recognition.

…I am, I was, I always will be.

Recognition doesn't necessarily yield relaxation.

Carefully, hands remaining loose at his sides (not that he has a weapon to go for anyway), Cassian amends, "I remember our conversation. But never got your name."

[prophesiedone]

Briefly. Anakin trusts Cassian's memory won't fail him. He watches the other man's mind working, recalling details, remembering conversations and the edges of his lips quirk upwards.

"That is easily remedied." he pauses perhaps for effect, "I am Anakin Skywalker."

If Cassian is from his future - which seems likely - he will know him by another name. However he has encountered those - even from the future - who recognize the name he gives.

"Care to return the favor?"

[candor1]

Cassian doesn't know the connection. It wouldn't have been in any the files that the Alliance would have been able to capture, shunted to the deepest of the Emperor's personal vaults. Darth Vader himself was a figure whose objective existence Cassian had never been able to technically verify. No Alliance contact had seen him (or lived to report it). Politicians who swore to his existence could, for all Cassian knew, be being presented with theater: a disguised figure to anchor the propaganda of someone with such power.

After all, Cassian had never seen a Jedi in person.

…And when he had known of them, from intermittent broken reports of very, very far away…

They'd been his enemies.

(Not that he could claim to be theirs. They'd never have heard of him. But the Glorious Grievous was the one the CIS would cheer for in reports. If the cheers got sparser and more uncomfortable as reports of Grievous's own savagery spread.)

Shake all that for now. Anakin Skywalker. He searches deep in his memory.

…There's something. Subsumed by another title.

"The 'Hero with No Fear'?" said Cassian, watching for the other's reaction, from whatever physical signs were visible in cloak and shadow.

And yes, of course. Cassian had only given his first name. "Cassian Andor. No popular title."