milliways_bar | (no subject)

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ganymede

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Outside on the lakeshore there is a storm. It's only a spot of one, really, but the violent crack of lightning is hard to ignore. From the rain, only a second after it starts--and it started in a downpour, dark-skied with heavy drops leaving dimples in the sand and the incessant ominous roll of thunder--there steps through a young man.

Ganymede comes into Milliways like stepping through a tear in a fluttering curtain, seeming to straighten from an unknown weight as soon as he clears that invisible threshold, and immediately the heavy rain stops, sealing the passageway he came through. In one hand he holds an incredibly long golden feather, twirling it back and forth between his fingers. He looks up, face wet from the rain and clothes beginning to stick to his body, and his gentle huff of breath turns into a sigh at the last second. His travel has been quick and painless thus far: of course the interruption would come sooner or later.

He supposes going back to the city can wait.

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Cassian's feeling more like himself since he was able to change from his Willix disguise into his leather jacket. When he finds Milliways, he gets a drink at the counter and goes out to the porch to look at the stars.

He watches the storm, which is oddly localized but doesn't have scopes with him so can't tell if there's more to it. His small blaster's at his hip so if its something dangerous, he'll be prepared. Since this is Milliways, he waves to the figure.

Edited 2017-07-31 16:25 (UTC)

Ganymede sees the wave, the motion being eye-catching, and turns, sweeping his hair off his face.

He waves back, arm extending above his head as he comes nearer.

The wave is reassuring and then he spots the long feather as he registers its Ganymede, "That's beautiful."

"I can't take credit for it," he says as he comes closer, steps slow and measured. "I only picked it up from where it fell."

He isn't sure it was a wise decision, at that. "Hello, Cassian."

"It won't be missed? Evening, Ganymede,"

Its beautiful and striking, it seems like something that would be prized. Cassian nods in greeting from where he's leaning against the porch.

"No," he says softly, shaking his head. "He has others just like it." Ganymede turns the feather's shaft between his fingertips, shading from white to cream and gold to deep brown at the tip. It's quite large: even for a primary feather it would have to have come off of a magnificent bird, straining the bounds of belief.

Cassian's from a galaxy with large and strange aliens but he's still never seen a feather like that before, he's usually not looking at the wildlife,

"Oh yes, feathers fall off and grow back. Did you get caught in that storm?"

"The storm caught up to me in my world, yes," he says. "I could see it coming, but...I've always liked thunderstorms. Being in the middle of them, even if it's not considered safe."

Fatal flaw. Ganymede loves the thing that signals someone he doesn't like admitting to still caring about is near. "The unharnessed power attracts me. It always has." But now that the storm is over, or he's no longer in it, he's just wet, and getting cold.

"I don't mind them when I'm inside. They're awful to fly through, too many uncontrollable variables,"

Most of his near crashes have been in atmospheres with bad storms.

Ganymede smiles, though not much. "It's the lack of control that I've always liked. The feeling of riding something you can't quite tame."

Cassian sips his drink before he answers, he's always been wary of what he can't control, "It doesn't scare you? What might happen if something goes wrong?"

"It's rarely fatal," he says lightly. "For me, at least." It's also why he's so often alone in storms.

"That must be helpful," From what Cassidy said, being almost indestructible allows him to do whatever he wants.

"Sometimes," he admits, and it's more of an admittance than most people take it for.

"Sometimes I miss the possibility of something going wrong enough that it could hurt."

"Nothing damages you? I know someone else here who's fairly indestructible but they heal quickly. I'm used to hurts, its be odd not to have them. That's how I know I survived."

"Nothing leaves any permanent damage," he explains. "It'll hurt for a while. It just doesn't last."

"But you last?"

He sips his drinks and looks up at the stars, they last, nothing else seems to but then in Milliways, people do.

"I do."

So simply answered, so very not simple at all. Ganymede pulls absently on his braid, long and laying down the furrow of his spine, still wet. "I have for more than three thousand years."

It shouldn't be a surprise he likes pain after that revelation. Anything to feel sharply, something that hasn't lost its edge and surprise.

"Kriff," Cassian says quietly, "I hope I can live to thirty."

"How old are you now?" Ganymede asks.

"Twenty-one, I think, dates are tricky to pin down around the galaxy,"

After his father's death, he didn't count that much, every year he's alive means one more year he can do something for the Rebellion.

"You're much calmer than most twenty-one year olds I've ever known," Ganymede says. "Do you feel young?"

"I've had to be," Panic and acting without thinking is how something goes wrong.

There have been times that he's felt young when he talks with Clone Wars' veterans and notes how tired the leaders of the Alliance look. Then he sees new recruits and children and feels old, "Not now, no."

"That's a pity," Ganymede murmurs. "Young people should feel young."

"I haven't had time to though I did more a few years ago,"

There were times but they don't last.

"You haven't had time?" Ganymede echoes. "You have all the time there will ever be, while you're here. You don't ever stop to do something completely foolish?"

"I know, I appreciate the time here and use it. I can do things here with slightly more freedom, but I could never stay with no plan to leave. No, that has a way of turning bad quickly,"

His self control is what keeps him safe.

Edited 2017-08-03 03:33 (UTC)

"Are you usually this pessimistic?"

"I've lived most of my life under the thumb of the Galactic Empire. I'm facing up to the galaxy I live in and the risks I take on in it. I have hope for a better world but know what it will take to get there."

"I don't know of anything called a Galactic Empire. I assume you oppose them, but I don't know why."

Short of the obvious imperial tendencies.

"They enslave the galaxy for their own needs and don't care who they crush along the way. I think I'm going to get some dinner. It was a nice speaking to you again, Ganymede,"

He finishes his drink with a nod.

Sinric looks up from his meditation, perched on one of the large flat stones by the shore. He cocks his head. "How do you do that? Open a door where there is no door."

Ganymede sweeps his hair out of his face as he clears the storm, which closes behind him; the feather in his fingers twirls as he lifts his head at the voice.

"It's...just that I wanted to be away," he says softly. "From where I was."

Sinric rises to greet him. "Are you well, my friend?"

"I am unharmed," he says softly, not having looked up from the feather he's holding between his fingers.

"That's not the same as well." He points out. He holds a hand out to Ganymede. "Is there anything I can offer to help?"

Ganymede lets out a short huff of breath and lifts his chin, unsmiling. "No. It's just...an orbital decay."

Ganymede likes that term. It's the closest he's found to accurately describing the tension and desire and reticence and attraction between himself and Zeus, that still continues to this day. "There's nothing to do about it."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asks softly, holding out a hand in offer to ease any physical pain Ganymede may carry. "Even if it is only a ear to listen."

"I don't know," he says breathlessly, as if having not anticipated speaking at all. He's unfocused, staring at nothing as he shakes his head slowly.

"I don't think so. What do you do for someone still in love with...a monster?"

"I suspect I'm the wrong person to ask." Sinric shrugs. "Hannibal might not be even close to as monstrous as Zeus but I understand what you mean."

He lowers his hand, standing close should Ganymede need support. "You told me once that we are not as others are. And so our passions are unlike those of others."

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