Jyn Erso (kybercrystal) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2018-08-28 22:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, r * chel, r: grace rojas |
WHO: Grace Rojas
WHEN: Today and thoughts about the past year
WHERE: Her house
SUMMARY: Grace continues to try and find some footing with Jyn and vice versa
WARNINGS: N/A
Jyn Erso did not want to die. Grace knew the desperation of her grip upon Cassian, she understood the insistence that she take on a measure of his weight to support his injuries. She knew the darkness behind Jyn’s eyes and all the secret hopes and dreams that flashed and played upon them as the light roared toward them. Perhaps that was a part of Jyn’s insistent need to be acknowledged and counted amongst the many lives that Grace regularly accounted. Lay out clothes for Molly and Hannah. Stave off the memories. Read a chapter in Organic Chemistry while completing the laundry. Get lost in the similarities between Jyn’s father and her own father. Count out $129.55 at the bank and get it wrong five times. Account for all the times seeing Diego's face made her start to say Cassian. And on and on it went until Grace, exhausted, would let her guard down for moments. Then, Jyn would come crashing through to remind her that she sacrificed some small bit of potential happiness to save a galaxy in a different world from Grace, from Diego, from Finn and Molly and Hannah, from Charlie. But Jyn wanted to matter. She wanted Grace to feel like she mattered. And so they struggled with one another. Grace, with attempting to live her own life and Jyn, with attempting to prove that being a part of Grace’s consciousness was a meaningful reality. Upon occasions, Grace would pull the journal Diego gave her from the nightstand and slide from the bed to write at the window sill. When she did, with shaking hands from boring her weight into the paper, she felt as though she had to prove her worth to the woman whose memories shared her consciousness. You exist, I get it. I don’t think you’re fiction. I understand a little physics and the way that time can be bent into multiple realities. I know that it’s really unlikely that Earth is alone in the universe. I’m not stupid. When my dad gave me the necklace – a necklace like you had – it was the bridge. Then, all this started. All of the dreams of your rebellion, your secrets, your signal. But I deserve to exist. My children need their mother. My husband needs someone to help him keep up this house. My son needs someone to talk to so he knows he isn’t alone with the memories that aren’t his. The memories he struggles to bear. He should be worried about his next classes, not Han’s next tragedy. So I get to be mad at you. I get to be mad at the way your memories have stolen into my life and sometimes makes it impossible to be Grace Rojas. I get to be mad that I haven’t had a good sleep in over a year because every time I relax, you’re right there. Maybe if you started trying to help me instead of fight me, we could … I don’t know. I don’t know what to … And Grace, finally, succumbed to the exhaustion. Slumped against the wall, she slept with the journal in her lap and rested heavily. Sweet, dreamless, restful sleep. |