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)
maskormenace2017-04-19 09:07 am
candor1) wrote in maskormenace2017-04-19 09:07 am
Entry tags:
- anakin skywalker | darth vader,
- archie | broceidon,
- † alfie solomons | n/a,
- † cassian andor | fulcrum,
- † cosima niehaus | n/a,
- † count dooku | darth tyranus,
- † han solo | n/a,
- † kotetsu t. kaburagi | wild tiger,
- † motoko kusanagi | the major,
- † nike lemercier | n/a,
- † normie osborn | n/a,
- † sabriel | abhorsen
[video]
[He's had plenty of time to toy with this gizmo (all technical terms, thank you mental projection of Kay that's moved back into his brain now that it's not too painful because there's a real Kay again, shush), but still hasn't put himself on it for more than a brief response to Catelyn Stark.
For all his well-[founded?]-honed mistrust of open networks, it has chastened him that he could have found Jyn and Kay much more quickly if he'd used it from the start. For all the research he does, it's unignorable that he's wasting a huge amount of this powerful resource by relegating himself to observer, not participant.
…And there's one or two other imPorts he's learned about that… have caught his attention. He's wondering if he'll catch theirs.
So, network, hello: months after his arrival (albeit a good percent of them spent unconscious): Human. Male. Age hard to tell: either in his thirties-forties or face prematurely hollowed and lined. Hair: dark, cut as if by himself with a tool not meant for such use and no mirror. Eyes: several galaxies' worth. Shirt doesn't look like anything specific to those who wouldn't know the style, instantly recognizable as Corellian to those who would.
Then he smiles—in a way that seems entirely effortless, genuine, and engaged—and some of the agedness falls away. The eyes crinkle and sparkle. He seems approachable and warm. Even the haircut is transformed into seeming less unloved and more boyish. It gives this stranger the face of a friend.
His accent, when he speaks, sounds Hispanic toEarth American ears.]
I was wondering, if you're willing to share—
[on an open network, though that's not necessarily a good barometer of the network itself]
Are you still in the job you were assigned? Yes or no, how is it going for you?
I've read the introductory material on this. I'm wondering about personal experiences.
[He's tried to go beyond the official literature, including as much of the backlog as he could find or slice. Which is also why he doesn't repeat Godric's question (to which the answers were exceedingly helpful—and a few that sent a shiver up his spine. But pull it together, don't apply superstitious thought to the superstitious thoughts: that's what common cosmological models do).
As if in afterthought, and as if with self-conscious awkwardness, he adds]
…and hello. My name's Cassian.
For all his well-[founded?]-honed mistrust of open networks, it has chastened him that he could have found Jyn and Kay much more quickly if he'd used it from the start. For all the research he does, it's unignorable that he's wasting a huge amount of this powerful resource by relegating himself to observer, not participant.
…And there's one or two other imPorts he's learned about that… have caught his attention. He's wondering if he'll catch theirs.
So, network, hello: months after his arrival (albeit a good percent of them spent unconscious): Human. Male. Age hard to tell: either in his thirties-forties or face prematurely hollowed and lined. Hair: dark, cut as if by himself with a tool not meant for such use and no mirror. Eyes: several galaxies' worth. Shirt doesn't look like anything specific to those who wouldn't know the style, instantly recognizable as Corellian to those who would.
Then he smiles—in a way that seems entirely effortless, genuine, and engaged—and some of the agedness falls away. The eyes crinkle and sparkle. He seems approachable and warm. Even the haircut is transformed into seeming less unloved and more boyish. It gives this stranger the face of a friend.
His accent, when he speaks, sounds Hispanic to
I was wondering, if you're willing to share—
[
Are you still in the job you were assigned? Yes or no, how is it going for you?
I've read the introductory material on this. I'm wondering about personal experiences.
[He's tried to go beyond the official literature, including as much of the backlog as he could find or slice. Which is also why he doesn't repeat Godric's question (to which the answers were exceedingly helpful—and a few that sent a shiver up his spine. But pull it together, don't apply superstitious thought to the superstitious thoughts: that's what common cosmological models do).
As if in afterthought, and as if with self-conscious awkwardness, he adds]
…and hello. My name's Cassian.
no subject
…Baker.
[It's a bit hard to even bring himself to say.]
no subject
I take it you don't know your way around a loaf of bread, then?
[He definitely doesn't have the look of a baker, or at least not the stereotypical image of an overweight cook who enjoys his creations a little too much.]
It could be worse, I suppose. There aren't really life or death stakes in the baking business as far as I know.
no subject
I know how to open a ration cylinder with a rock…
[…which is actually a very delicate skill without losing all the preserves inside. But the opener that's supposed to come with it is always the first thing to get lost. Or repurposed as a weapon. Or a ship-repairing implement. Or a splint. Or…]
Aren't there? I don't think I'd trust any food made by me not to make me sick.
[…also, what's a "loaf"?]
no subject
[She wants to say "How hard can it be?", but she has to admit, she's never had to learn the art of cooking herself.]
So, what are your skills? Other than opening cans. [Or a food cylinder? An odd way of putting it, but Imports are often odd themselves.]
no subject
[He knows how to pick truths and pitch them to sound dull. He'll leave off… almost everything.
He's determined not to lie again but he also doesn't necessarily want to be defined by his old job by advertising it, either.]
Or flying.
…by piloting a craft. I don't mean unaided.
[…something completely different… well, that is what they're giving him.
Creating. Rather than… the other.]
…Actually… perhaps I shouldn't scoff.
I just wish I knew what they're planning to cover in basic training or whether I should be seeking advance lessons.