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Sep. 7th, 2017 01:13 amIt's the practice, the blur of metal, that first catches Jyn's eye.
She's only using the park as a shortcut, cutting through on her way to pick up food from one place that, for whatever reason, doesn't deliver until dinner hours. She gets it, sort of, but it's inconvenient when her sleep is irregular at best, a few hours grabbed wherever she can manage them, her meals generally the same. Besides, she could use the fresh air anyway, and she sure as hell won't be getting it at the beach, not when it's still warm enough that there are families and surfers and people playing volleyball out there. She prefers it when it's quiet, when she can be alone with her thoughts and get wrapped up in sand and the smell of saltwater, reminding her instead of a different beach entirely. It's a little masochistic, maybe, but she would rather face it herself than deal only with unwelcome reminders of it. Usually, it's easy enough to get drawn back to the present, anyway.
This is easier. It turns out that it's fascinating, too, the weapon being used not quite like any she's seen or used before, and she's used a lot of them. More than that, though, once she's stopped to look, it's the woman using it who really holds Jyn's attention. Lincoln showed her his sketches of Victra a while back, and described her, too — tall and gold and easily recognizable for it. There's no doubt in her mind that that's who this is. It seems like it's about time, too, when she's been meaning to meet the woman for whom one of her few and closest friends here has feelings for what feels like ages.
Jyn is just grateful that she's never let her height bother or deter her, when Victra looks to be nearly fifty centimeters taller than her.
"You're good," she calls from the path, voice lilting slightly with interest. "What is that?"
She's only using the park as a shortcut, cutting through on her way to pick up food from one place that, for whatever reason, doesn't deliver until dinner hours. She gets it, sort of, but it's inconvenient when her sleep is irregular at best, a few hours grabbed wherever she can manage them, her meals generally the same. Besides, she could use the fresh air anyway, and she sure as hell won't be getting it at the beach, not when it's still warm enough that there are families and surfers and people playing volleyball out there. She prefers it when it's quiet, when she can be alone with her thoughts and get wrapped up in sand and the smell of saltwater, reminding her instead of a different beach entirely. It's a little masochistic, maybe, but she would rather face it herself than deal only with unwelcome reminders of it. Usually, it's easy enough to get drawn back to the present, anyway.
This is easier. It turns out that it's fascinating, too, the weapon being used not quite like any she's seen or used before, and she's used a lot of them. More than that, though, once she's stopped to look, it's the woman using it who really holds Jyn's attention. Lincoln showed her his sketches of Victra a while back, and described her, too — tall and gold and easily recognizable for it. There's no doubt in her mind that that's who this is. It seems like it's about time, too, when she's been meaning to meet the woman for whom one of her few and closest friends here has feelings for what feels like ages.
Jyn is just grateful that she's never let her height bother or deter her, when Victra looks to be nearly fifty centimeters taller than her.
"You're good," she calls from the path, voice lilting slightly with interest. "What is that?"
