“Good luck” is not something she likes to say, it’s not a word that cross her mind when she opens her eyes. They’ve survived Scarif and it’s enough. It wasn’t luck, it came with blood, burnt flesh and painful memories. It wasn’t luck.
Jyn often thinks about it, dreams about it even, and surviving seems harder than dying.
She had found her luck though - in her new family. In Baze’s laugh, in Chirrut’s wisdom, in Bodhi’s sweetness, and Cassian’s embrace. That’s where her luck is. It helps her getting up in the cold morning of Hoth, to keep fighting.
She squeezes the stone around her neck, thinking of all the people who were out of luck.
Once upon a time @granpappy-winchester and I dreamed of a world where Red Dragon’s Will Graham crossed over into the television universe of Will and Hannibal, because he deserved an ending far sweeter than the one he was given. A few days ago Sara was inspired, which in turn inspired me, and now here it is, our very first fic baby together!
Akrona quietly walked through the halls of the ship with a smile and light spring in her step. She made her way to the galley and found Vette rummaging through the compartments.
Taking a few more steps toward Vette, Akrona tapped her on the shoulder. “What—”
“GAH!” Vette nearly jumped out of her skin, her lekku curled, and the bags she retrieved from the cabinets flew out of her hand. Spinning around as the bags fells around and behind her, Vette’s lekku unfurled themselves as she tried to collect her breathing. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“I’m sorry,” Akrona giggled, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You Sith and your quiet, sneaky ways…” Vette muttered under her breath, recollecting the bags, setting them aside, and went over to the conservator.
Akrona made her way to the water heater, starting it up before looking for the tins of loose tea leaves and two cups. “What are you doing so late anyway?”
“Huh?” Vette looked over the conservator door she had opened. “Oh!” She closed the door and bounced up to Akrona’s side. “Slumber party!”