#fightpilot

things ben organa-solo did:

          - killed a bunch of people and probably some ewoks.          - destroyed his uncle’s jedi academy.          - broke his mother’s heart.          - went to the dark side.          - formed the knights of ren, joined the first order, and terrorized the galaxy.          - killed his own father.

things poe dameron did:

          ❛   face it, you need all the help you can get. just let me go.  ❜

▋FRANK SINATRA:// ACCEPTING

          ( @fightpilot )

          ❝I'm almost positive General Organa would see that as cause for concern.❞

         Of course he starts off with a joke; it makes it easier for him to slip into conversation. If he's not taking orders he's strutting around with his colorful feathers all on display. Conversations are simple enough to fall into when there's no connection. Sometimes Adrala was a giant fool and broke stools when he leaned on them the wrong way, but other times he could practically talk a devout Jedi out of their robes ( if ever he truly met a Jedi he'd like to believe, anyways ).

         Poe presented a difficulty in the Shasca's usual fortress level layer of charm and humor; it just didn't work on him. There was a connection. They grew up together and Poe knew his idiosyncrasies and flaws and habits, he knew him before he towered over nearly everyone in the Resistance; he knew Adrala before he was the weapons expert that did solo stints and left a blazing trail of destruction and obliterated Stormtroopers in his wake.

         Poe knew him as Adie, and Adie had cared for him since before he even know what affection and wanting was.

         It really faltered his whole steadfast allure routine and had him leaning against the guard rail of the rooftop landing pad ( dimly lit but practically glittering with city lights ) looking down at the night scene below; a rare and somewhat relaxing trip into cityscapes, surrounded by life, people, walls, music, and light. He was a little out of his element here; there were no bunker or base walls scarred with blaster bolts and the smells reaching his nose weren't of used up power packs or ashy armor. Maybe that's why he kept looking down and instead of at Poe; that damn pilot would probably unconsciously bite his lip and he'd have to deal with Adrala flinging himself over the guardrail.

         ❝Prob'ly because we just get reckless-------- with each other,          I mean. Some of the stunts we've pulled----❞        he laughed,          awkwardly, turning to rest the back of his thighs against the rail. 

         ❝Poe! Any other gunship --- Any other gunship --- and I         will make it happen! You find me a ship that isn't the entire         length of one of my legs, and I will be more than happy to         appease you!❞

▋ BLUE NOON:// ACCEPTING

           ( @fightpilot  )

                 ❝Honestly, you’re friends with me—–❞          The words leave his mouth with a deceptive level of calm, despite the firefight that would otherwise warrant a slightly more chaotic or panicked response. They had been here before, though, many times; blaster rounds had flown over their heads since before they could fire weapons of their own. Even in the middle of a fight, behind cover and reloading, the exchange could almost have been as easy as a regular conversation.

                ❝My only modes are crisis, food, and sex.❞         Raising from cover, rifle rests over duracrete, blue gaze finding and making quick work of the opposing Stormtroopers in range through his scope. Ducking behind cover once more, a hail of fire erupting overhead, he offers the pilot a smile.

                ❝Feel free to volunteer for the other two any time.❞

        An attempt to reload and fire lends discovery to a JAM or some other malfunction of the weapon in his hands, which has him drawing back with a hiss and cussing under his breath, inspecting the weapon with a scowl. His blasters would never betray him like this. Patience is already worn out, though, and he wants to get this little firefight over with already; a quick sigh, he handed the defunct blaster off to Poe. ❝Alright, pray for me.❞

▋FUCK YEAH ANGST :// SELECTIVELY ACCEPTING

        ( @fightpilot )

         Most everyone was sitting down in the mess hall for lunch when the attack started.

        Their small base had been discovered and overrun by Stormtroopers. It wasn’t particularly well armed as it was more of a pit stop between major locations, but it was theirs therefor the First Order wanted to sink their claws into and eliminate everyone inside. Adrala was one of the unlucky few who happened to be there at the time; this base had the best radio signal he’d come across yet, and he was waiting for a chance to get a hold of his parents again.  As the chaos started to envelope everything he dove for cover and hid; he was terrified.

        But he was in the Resistance, rebel born and raised, he shouldn’t hide. He had to fight! Right? Why was he doubting, of course he had to! No matter the odds.

        He was a Shasca, the fifth to inherit the name of Adrala, he had to do this! If he didn’t he would be failing the generations of his family that rose, fought, and fell before him. His parents were off planet fighting valiantly somewhere, and just because he was stuck in a bunker and possibly surrounded didn’t mean he wasn’t going to fight just as hard as they were. One way or another he was going to make them proud.

        He couldn’t tell you how long the actual fight went on, but it felt like far longer than forever when other Resistance forces finally arrived and made quick work of the Stormtroopers; the few Rebels that survived the initial onslaught were still fighting them tooth and nail. Adrala’s hands were numb, whether it be from the cold or how hard he was gripping the blaster in his hands he didn’t know, but feeling didn’t register to the teen until a pair of hands settled over him.

        Voided gaze jolted from it’s place staring across a room of equal Stormtrooper and Rebel bodies littering the ground to look up to whomever it was. It was like he was in a daze; it was Poe but his mind was fogged and he couldn’t recognize him. He didn’t even know he was hurt until the older boy started tending to his wounded arm, talking to him, trying to get Adie to talk back, but his mouth only opened and closed; he was trying, but the struggle of processing all that had happened was too much.

        Poe tried to take Adrala’s blaster, probably to check him for further injuries, but he clung to it and suddenly sprung back, scooting himself into the counter that had been his makeshift cover for one hellish night.

        Was this what his ancestors did? What his parents did? Were they fighting a battle like this right now?

        ❝There…..❞

        His voice croaks, and tears finally begin to build in his eyes after being held back for so long; he looks to Poe, and his hands start to tremble.

                ❝There were so many of them…❞

▋FUCK YEAH ANGST :// SELECTIVELY ACCEPTING

         ( @fightpilot )

                   He was different.

         The instant Adrala got wind of even the possibility that Poe was captured he dropped everything, picked up all of his guns, and was ready to abscond with a plane to fly off to Force-Knows-Where and blow up anything in his path. Generally speaking, it was comparatively easier to trespass into a Vorn tiger's territory and live than it was to keep Adrala from doing something he was determined to see through. While he didn't go after Poe himself ( largely because he couldn't fly and every pilot was under orders not to give in to his demands ) he certainly wasn't docile about it, and every assignment given to him in that time was done so bitterly.

         'The bigger mission must be our objective', they would say. They had to find Luke Skywalker before the First Order did. Problem was he didn't care about Luke Skywalker, he cared about Poe Dameron.

         Of course that fucker would make his own miraculous return, smiling despite looking like he had been through the grinder in more ways than one. Maybe Adrala should have had a bit more faith, but when people were taken or had gone missing it was the one time his arrogant optimism crumbled into ashes. Needless to say, the giant of the pair was stuck to the pilot's side like glue for a good while afterwards.

                   But he was different.

         When he was kept busy and engaging with others it was easy enough to mistake the pilot as fine ( something to keep the mind distracted and the body busy, Adrala imagined ) but in the quieter moments when there was naught left to do in the night but rest Poe was just ---------- different. He had been captured by the First Order, and though he'd tactfully avoided details it seemed obvious that no one got in and out of that kind of ordeal without first being given a few things to remember the Darkside by.

         They grew up together, little Resistance Battle Babies, and one didn't go through years and years side by side and remain ignorant to the suffering of their friend; no matter how silent they attempted to be about it. Problem was he wasn't a kid with an open heart and golden mind to readily accept and give affection anymore, even to his closest friend, so when it came down to it the gunslinger was no better at trying to comfort Poe than he was at flying a starship.

         Even now when the cuts and bruises had since healed Adrala couldn't help but look at Poe and still see wounds, wounds that he had absolutely no clue how to treat.

           ❝I wish there was something I could do to help you...❞

         The singular haunting mantra that had been trapped on repeat in his mind since Poe's return left his lips in a quiet mumble, and only when the pilot looked up with a questioning 'HM?' did Adrala realize his verbal mistake and retreat.