Cassian Andor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
candor1) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2017-04-20 11:05 pm
candor1) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-04-20 11:05 pm
Entry tags:
Little ghost [closed]
WHO: Opal, Cassian
WHERE: The woods around the suburbs of DeChima
WHEN: Now?
WHAT: Forest child and space man gotta meet
WARNINGS: None planned or foreseen!
Cassian's been walking.
Everywhere he can.
It's the best way to familiarize most concretely with any area. (Rule one of any new station: learn your territory. …Still a good idea even if kriff those karking rules…) It's also good physical therapy—has always been even when not recuperating from [but for the Porter, fatal] injuries. He rarely planned to have to contort himself to hide or get the shot or scale a wall, but he'd always been ready to do so. And just in general… a way to get out of himself that's… benignly productive.
If he'd really been trying to integrate into the community, he should have stuck with De Chima proper.
But ever since he discovered those woods just outside imPort housing… he's been going back regularly.
There's a kind of peace he was only ever able to find on Yavin. There's no ziggurat to climb here, but the woods…
Cassian may have trouble sleeping through the night, but he can lean back against a tree and rest better than almost anywhere else. Alertness for danger notwithstanding. He didn't tend to have flashbacks or nightmares here under the trees. (…Part of why forests are soothing. Almost none of his work—or life—had taken place in them. In addition to the miraculous lifting of cranial pressure to let the mind fly somewhere free of himself that came with leaves and sky; it's untainted and other.)
He's in such a position when he hears something that causes him to open his eyes. And silently, smoothly, shift a position he could stand from quickly. But it sounds like hooves, and this planet's—rather, this bit of this planet's—indigenous subsentient life tended to have the hoofed ones be prey, not predators. Might still cause damage to a human if provoked, but unlikely to attack if not?
But he starts looking around for it regardless. Because… he'd simply like to see it.
WHERE: The woods around the suburbs of DeChima
WHEN: Now?
WHAT: Forest child and space man gotta meet
WARNINGS: None planned or foreseen!
Cassian's been walking.
Everywhere he can.
It's the best way to familiarize most concretely with any area. (Rule one of any new station: learn your territory. …Still a good idea even if kriff those karking rules…) It's also good physical therapy—has always been even when not recuperating from [but for the Porter, fatal] injuries. He rarely planned to have to contort himself to hide or get the shot or scale a wall, but he'd always been ready to do so. And just in general… a way to get out of himself that's… benignly productive.
If he'd really been trying to integrate into the community, he should have stuck with De Chima proper.
But ever since he discovered those woods just outside imPort housing… he's been going back regularly.
There's a kind of peace he was only ever able to find on Yavin. There's no ziggurat to climb here, but the woods…
Cassian may have trouble sleeping through the night, but he can lean back against a tree and rest better than almost anywhere else. Alertness for danger notwithstanding. He didn't tend to have flashbacks or nightmares here under the trees. (…Part of why forests are soothing. Almost none of his work—or life—had taken place in them. In addition to the miraculous lifting of cranial pressure to let the mind fly somewhere free of himself that came with leaves and sky; it's untainted and other.)
He's in such a position when he hears something that causes him to open his eyes. And silently, smoothly, shift a position he could stand from quickly. But it sounds like hooves, and this planet's—rather, this bit of this planet's—indigenous subsentient life tended to have the hoofed ones be prey, not predators. Might still cause damage to a human if provoked, but unlikely to attack if not?
But he starts looking around for it regardless. Because… he'd simply like to see it.
no subject
She didn't have to worry about her hooves making her stand out here and before today she hadn't happened to run into anyone else while she made her explorations, singing off key songs to the trees and birds and other critters around the forest.
She didn't notice at first that he was there, starting a new song quietly and nibbling on a stick even though that's hardly food that's never really stopped her. When she notices him, her dark eyes widen slightly, the stick hanging from her mouth and she's quick to slip behind a tree to hide, peering towards the man both curiously and cautiously.
She's not as terrified as she once would have been but she's still quite skittish. So she doesn't move to get closer or say anything merely stares at him as if trying to determin his purpose.
no subject
He could track whoever it was, perhaps… but he doesn't want to hunt; doesn't want to impose or encroach or frighten.
But he does have that feeling like he's being watched.
He pauses to consider what to do.
At last, he turns, as if giving up, and returns to his tree to sit down.
But—though music is not something he has much of a relationship with, certainly not to create—he clears his throat, and starts passably humming the song he'd heard, as if trying to remember the right notes.
Mimicry, body language or otherwise, can subliminally say: we're the same. I'm a friend.
no subject
Eventually, still partially hidden and peering at him. She says speaks.
"What are you doing?" She questions because why was he trying to mimic her song? It couldn't be that he had known it and it was clear that he had been trying with the similarities heard.
no subject
(…Kind of the same principles as hostile questioning, really. Only the answer the questions put to you, as directly and briefly and plainly as possible. Only ask straightforward questions back that advance grasp of the situation.)
"I heard music," he said. "I was trying to remember it. Was it you?"
no subject
"It was me," she confirmed, not giving him more information than that.
"Why did you want to remember it?"
no subject
and it was strangely refreshing to mean it
—"to see if whoever was making it would introduce themselves. That's what I do in conversation, sometimes. If I don't understand, I might repeat."
no subject
"It wasn't a real song," she then informed him as if that is important to note.