I made a choice

            TREMOR RUNS THROUGH SOLDIER’S HAND ;      he touches her with reverence ;       a worshipper seeking  sanctity  in her embrace.       tears that will never spill turn eyes to mirrors    r e f le c t i n g   her concerned gaze.       a breath      two ::                    one to stall,            one to steel  for what   must be done.           ❛       I HAVE TO GO   ❜     words ripped from shredded throat ;;         tone wrecked with emotions he struggles to push down.     they have only just been reunited but the sirens BLARE and people scream into comms ;;        the mission is failing.            ❛       they need me more than you            ❜

   ❛    SO  THE  LOGICAL  THING  TO  DO  WAS  to  betray  the  obvious  winning  side  for  the  side  whose  numbers  of  casualties  reach  massacre  proportion  on  a  weekly  basis  to  escape  death   ?    ❜ 

starter call ! / @inchoatc

              ❝      YOU  KNOW  RATS  ARE  RENOWNED  for  deserting  a  sinking  ship  before  it  becomes  their  demise;  it makes  me  wonder  what  that  makes  you.    ❞

hmm…. probably because he does ??cue my very long winded, probably unwanted explanation

harry potter books starters || accepting [ x ]

    smile falters   ;;      bright, radiant JOY that had transformed battle-weary face the moment poe’s voice sounded in the COMMS,       blasts falling true upon the hoard that had threatened to engulf the HAGGARD, worn ground team before already diminished numbers FELL all the more,        flickering out.                  the other cannot see the shadow that descends in its wake, the haunted look in slightly manic eyes.       MEMORIES flit through his mind ;;      wretched screams tear their way through him, rake down his spine in agonizing blaze that makes synthetic synapses misfire ;;          PSYCHOSOMATIC PAIN racks his body to match the mental anguish.  

                mouth is dry as the deserts of JAKKU.          a heavy swallow.    two.          throat parched and cracked STRUGGLES to voice words through it all,         voice rough and battered             ❛        not too many rescues. before.     ❜              before he’d defected, before he’d joined the resistance.    before.             ❛     or if they did send an air strike in,           they weren’t always so good about avoiding friendly fire.     ❜      

harry potter books starters || accepting [ x ]

    the world is aflame   ;      earth turned crimson mire,       they wade through the MUD and rot stained vermillion           by friends and foes alike.             boots squelch with each step and he wonders whose blood wets the ground each time,            if they had a NAME or a designation                  if they were a person or just another soldier          (               the cacophony of  WAR  & the encroaching embrace of  DEATH  make him sentimental apparently                ).               fingers clench where they wrap around the stabilizing handle of his blaster,                trigger finger ever steady despite the adrenaline   c o u r s in g    through his veins and the ringing in his ears.             eyes dart too and fro as he and his partner flit through the battlefield,          looking hoping praying to find their UNIT               to warn them of what’s to come.

                       dorcas is ever calm at his side, as ruthlessly competent as he has come to expect her to be.                   but he sees the fear shine in her eyes when she looks to him,           the metallic glint of it like the tapetum lucidum of a PREDATOR backed into a corner.               fingers curled around the gun like claws and teeth glint like FANGS                              she is at her most LETHAL during moments like this             (           but also at her most vulnerable               ).                     he wonders if she can still hear the muffled shout from alastor before the comms went down,             the sickening SNAP echoing over and over in his head.              poe ! poe ! poe !             his own mind chants, FEAR burning acrid in the back of his throat.                poe ! poe ! poe ! 

           ❛        then let’s at least take as many of these fuckers down with us as we can.     ❜

          “ finn! ” he calls, as stumbling, anxious and eager feet lift him out of his x-wing, dropping him the short distance to the ground, where he springs up and chases after the figure in in the hallway.  his gaze drops to the leaking tubes and he attempts to stem the flow of liquids currently spilling in all directions. a warm smile cracks his features, soothing some of the tension in his brow, though the worry remains in his eyes. 

          “ you’re awake. ” he nearly smacks himself in the face at the obvious statement, but given the battle and the swift evacuation from jakku and the first order breathing down their necks, he hasn’t had a chance to check up on him beyond the first night.  the run on the dreadnought has adrenaline spilling through his veins, and he sucks in a few deep breaths to attempt to ease himself out the intensity of battle; to focus on finn, focus on now.  

         “ you must have so many questions. things have been —— ” a short pause, his mouth chewing over the next words. “  — moving faster than expected. ” he’d apologize for not being there, but war hadn’t allowed for much respite, always moving from one thing to the next, faster and faster, that all he can do is attempt to stay one step ahead. the best he can do now is to look out for finn, get him set up with some fresh clothes and let him figure out what he’d like to do.

        his fingers hover over the machinery, unsure if he should stop the tubes or where to properly proceed as liquid drips down to the floor of the ship and onto his flight boots, but he doesn’t move away. “ how are you feeling? that was quite the injury you got, buddy. i don’t know if you should be standing up right now. ”

     his name is finn   ;       that is his name,        given to him by the first only person to look at him and not see a designation,        a SOLDIER with no identity and no purpose but to FIGHT and to DIE at the will of the first order.             poe ! poe ! poe !             mind sings              because finn had woken cold and ALONE     (         alone ! alone ! ALONE !         the corpses of ‘troopers dead chant from the PYRE,           waiting to add him to their ranks once again        )           but now there’s poe,          standing in front of him smiling bright and pure as he had when they’d reunited before.                 this time finn was the one assumed DEAD and he shudders,       remembering the profound feeling of LOSS that had turned heart to lead and body to    r u b b l e                    and that was before.                     before              before                before   ::                                                                            before poe was more than just the resistance’s best pilot in his mind.                                                   before poe had smiled          and held him so TIGHT          and rejoiced at the knowledge that finn was not DEAD                                                   before poe had trusted him not just with his LIFE but with the resistance, something even more valuable and precious to the man. 

        ❛        I’m awake     ❜          he affirms,             feeling like it’s true for the first time since eyes first opened on empty medbay with CHAOS churning around him.                he wets his lips and misses some of what poe says,       too focused on looking at HIM,          looking around,            looking back        (      to him,       always back to him         ).       he hears the concern in poe’s voice,              catches the tail end of his sentence and a flare of PAIN shoots down his spine,         r e v e r b e r a t i n g   through his entire frame with a vengeance, DEMANDING to be felt.            he pushes it all    DOWN    down    down          calling upon the years of training to do just that,        to work through the agony no matter the cost,          and allows himself one shuddered breath.          ❛     I’m fine.     ❜      he assures and truly feels it because he’s alive and he’s not ALONE and poe is here.                                   a thought occurs to him then,         an ache,            an absence,        a VOID.         POE is here                        but another is not.                  he is missing one of the pieces,       the instrumental players that have turned him from       fn-2187    to    FINN.                 head   s w i v e l s   around, trying to catch the familiar staff and hair buns amidst the crowd.        when she doesn’t reveal herself,     he looks once more to poe.