and through their veins in ice and fire, fear contended with desire.

[realists]

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some say the world will end in fire, some say ice

[realists]

Jyn Erso is no stranger to grief, especially not recently. She lost her mother when she was eight, Saw only a couple days prior, and now her father. Her father whom so many thought was a traitor but was only trying to protect her. Her, specifically. The grief freezes her veins, turns her green eyes to ice, tears freezing like snowflakes one her eyelashes, it holds her steady when she feels like she is falling apart.

Chirrut grabs her wrist, but pulls his hand away when frost spreads over his fingers like a frozen spiderweb.

She stops in front of Cassian, watching steam rise from his damp clothes, and her fingers curls into small fists. "You were never going to bring him back." She wants her voice to be sharp, hard, but it is brittle and fragile and she hates it. Her father just died and it wasn't at the hands of the enemy, but friendly fire, an absurd phrase.

As if fire could be friendly.