[ Rex breathes in, but doesn't outwardly respond, not right away. He came here to help. To be helpful. He didn't come here for Cassandra to hash out something that must weigh on her, some interminable fate she's marching towards with fury in her heart, for Rex cannot imagine she's marching towards it in any other way. It feels like a punch to the gut.
It's not fair. Nothing in life is, but these days, he's feeling it more keenly than ever before. He doesn't know why that is. Perhaps it's just that his eyes have been opened to what the future holds for him. Perhaps it's that he's had a taste of something better and it's spoiled him, weakened him, made him more susceptible to the emotions creeping along his ribcage and along the sides of his throat, less hardy than he ought to be. But it isn't. Cassandra's a good person. She doesn't deserve this. None of them do.
He could say that he knows what she means when she says that people don't get to be the centre of the universe forever, but --
No, he does know what she means, doesn't he? He was raised believing the Jedi to be the centre of his universe, and they will fall. He was raised believing the Republic to be the centre of his existence, and it falls as well. Even the one thing he had chosen to believe as a constant - he had seen Andy's skull get bashed in, for God's sake - had fallen. And he can't figure out for the life of him why, when all that he knows to be good and constant in this world, he's left standing. That, too, has always been a part of his life; no matter how many battles he's ground through, he always seems to be the last man standing. In times of self-pity, that seems to be the greatest injustice of them all.
Why not? He wants to ask. Why can't things just remain the centre of the universe forever? Why can't there be just one constant, one guarantee that somehow, everything will make sense at the end of the story? It's a childish thought, one that doesn't suit a soldier such as himself, but he thinks it anyway.
He swallows, sets the cloak aside. He makes the conscious decision not to look at her; even he cannot hide the fact that this is a blow, and his sadness at her hypothetical death isn't hers to bear. ]
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It's not fair. Nothing in life is, but these days, he's feeling it more keenly than ever before. He doesn't know why that is. Perhaps it's just that his eyes have been opened to what the future holds for him. Perhaps it's that he's had a taste of something better and it's spoiled him, weakened him, made him more susceptible to the emotions creeping along his ribcage and along the sides of his throat, less hardy than he ought to be. But it isn't. Cassandra's a good person. She doesn't deserve this. None of them do.
He could say that he knows what she means when she says that people don't get to be the centre of the universe forever, but --
No, he does know what she means, doesn't he? He was raised believing the Jedi to be the centre of his universe, and they will fall. He was raised believing the Republic to be the centre of his existence, and it falls as well. Even the one thing he had chosen to believe as a constant - he had seen Andy's skull get bashed in, for God's sake - had fallen. And he can't figure out for the life of him why, when all that he knows to be good and constant in this world, he's left standing. That, too, has always been a part of his life; no matter how many battles he's ground through, he always seems to be the last man standing. In times of self-pity, that seems to be the greatest injustice of them all.
Why not? He wants to ask. Why can't things just remain the centre of the universe forever? Why can't there be just one constant, one guarantee that somehow, everything will make sense at the end of the story? It's a childish thought, one that doesn't suit a soldier such as himself, but he thinks it anyway.
He swallows, sets the cloak aside. He makes the conscious decision not to look at her; even he cannot hide the fact that this is a blow, and his sadness at her hypothetical death isn't hers to bear. ]
...how long has it been?