helloeverybunny | OPEN RP POST • STAR WARS MINGLE ⭐️

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OPEN RP POST • STAR WARS MINGLE ⭐️

whatever it is you've been doing
you are now in Canto Bight!

That's right. It's just like those jamjar games. One moment you're minding your own business, and then... poof!
You're in Canto Bight for no apparent reason.
(Or you've always wanted to be here, and you finally did it. Whatever, we're not the cops.)

That's not the weirdest part, though. Because you might be seeing double.
It's like the time-space continuum collapsed over the city
and now doubles and multiples of you or people you ~~like~~ ~~hate~~ ~~want to kill~~ know are appearing.
So go have fun with that!

HOW TO PLAY:

Toplevel your character. Different version/AU, different toplevel please.
Add a short background or link to an info post, and indicate prefs. TELL US WHAT KIND OF SHENANIGANS YOU'RE LOOKING FOR. Shipping, smut, family reunions, dark side shenanigans, murder, a Ben Solo smackdown...
~~Troll~~ Reply to others.
Lather, rise, repeat.
Please note that while the intent of this post is for characters from various Star Wars verses to mingle, you don't need a Star Wars character to play! All characters are welcome — characters AU'd into SW, characters having interacted with SW characters in games and memes, fandom OCs, ship babies, etc.
Have fun and be excellent to each other! ♥

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Closing the vault door now.

Goodbye.

(No, Kay, please)

Cassian's vision doesn't waver; but he doesn't hide the gravel in his voice. "Kay's not here.

"But there, again, I've given you a name."

And his blaster was in his hand and aimed at the other man. Possibly a poor move—escalation—but feke it. "Bring something to mind. Or I'm done talking."

"--I'd hate to think I was slipping that badly after a couple of years." He stands very still, refuses to react. Watches the minute calculations behind his own eyes, fascinated. You won't do it. Not quite yet. You know I can tell, and you know I can't be certain, and I hit something just now, didn't I, you don't show it but I can tell that too--

Abruptly he says, "That first question, that was just to get a rise out of me. See which way I'd jump. The answer wouldn't have proved anything to you. You don't need proof now, but you know you're going to get an answer anyway, because you know exactly how far I'll push you. Yeah?" And he raises his hands carefully, unhurried, to buy the moment he needs to steel himself.

"I got drunk when I was ten. Cried myself to sleep. Hated myself for that in the morning." He manages a thin half-smile. "Still do, sometimes."

Not unguessable, that… but okay. Cassian exaggeratedly took his finger off the trigger and shifted the aim of the muzzle away from the other man's face. (Though didn't reholster.) " 'A couple of years'? When is it?"

(Was this something like the kyberblast dropping him through space-/time-, or…? He and Kay had talked about the infinite dimension model, once… he hadn't really allowed himself to entertain it… what ifs were pointless enough as it was…)

Cassian represses a sigh. "Like I said. End of seventy-four. Or it was, ten minutes ago." He flicks a glance sideways toward the door he came through, and back again, faintly wry. "I assume you know the rest. So: where are we?"

End of seventy-four. Sira, then. But again: shouldn't Cassian (now) remember this—meeting himself?

Cassian finally lowered his blaster, shaking his head and frowning. "Looks like Canto Bight. And I was here in '74. But I can't remember how I got here just now. I was just in the Outer Rim. Abrion sector." Still wasn't keen to give names that could affect things, like 'Scarif'. "And by 'just in' I mean literally—like ten minutes ago."

That gives him pause; he frowns sharply, straightening. "Well, I wasn't." He casts another look down the alley toward the open street, but the heap of whatever, if it is in fact sentient, plays dead very convincingly. "Unless that's what this is, but I'm guessing not. I hope not, that kind of thing gets recursive fast. What do you mean, can't remember?"

The latter is almost casual, except of course that it isn't. They both know it. He does it anyway, reflexively, trying to fit the pieces together in his head.

Kay's not here. In that repressive, toneless voice. And, I was with her, as though it should be self-explanatory.

"Sorry…" Maybe it was disorientation, but other!him had lost this!him. "What's what this is?"

"I mean I can't remember. I was there. I blacked out. Then I was here. I'm missing half my gear; I'm suddenly uninjured when I should have broken ribs, a bruised spine, fractured limbs, internal bleeding and a concussion; yet I'm still wearing these feking things—" He indicated the Imperial uniform trousers and boots, "—like I was, there; I have no idea if I have a ship, a mission, or any allies here… none of this makes sense. Unless I'm hallucinating or… the thing that happened to me right before I blacked out… augh, I don't know, created a hole in space-/time- and dropped me through." He gestured vaguely at the other!him. "Not sure which seems more likely given… this."

Well, that's... a lot of uncomfortable implications to be going on with. Cassian eyes his double narrowly, torn between conflicting instincts: to press for more details while they're forthcoming; to back off the subject before he hears more than is good for him. That faint hesitation sends ice creeping down his spine.

He bites his lip, considering, and presently says, "So it might not actually be ten minutes. You don't know how long you were out."

"That's true. Fair to say I didn't get here under my own power. If someone dropped me off—they had to keep me fully out and heal all my injuries and then not leave a trace of themselves… still doesn't make sense."

"No," he agrees. "But neither does walking into a building and then walking out half an hour later onto a completely different planet. I don't have time for this," suddenly exasperated. "I have work to do, this is crazy."

(Walking onto a beach, actually. Never mind.)

Cassian closed his eyes and exhaustedly gestured. "Of course. Never put yourself ahead of a mission before. Why start now." Moment to rub temple, then—what the hell: "Sira, right? Don't suppose I could help." 'Cause what the Fest else should he do right now?

"What's that supposed to mean?" sharply. He's used to that sentiment coming from well-meaning colleagues; it's acutely disconcerting to hear it in his own voice. "Is this a vacation, am I supposed to be enjoying this?"

Flicker of movement at the far edge of his vision, a shadow across the mouth of the alley: it registers as a chill down the back of his neck before any conscious thought. "And no, I don't see how you could." He shoots a glance at the newcomer - burly, reptilian, flashy dresser, moves with assurance - and adds in a sulky tone, "You don't know everything just because you're older."

(We're not here, there's nothing here worth noticing, just a petty family squabble between humans.)

Did he really distrust himself this much? …Well, sometimes, yes. When he suspected himself of being compromised. Not terribly often, but this was pretty extreme.

This!Cassian followed the line of That!Cassian's eyes to the newcomer, and also adopted a more casual stance, slipping his blaster inconspicuously under his sleeve.

"It's supposed to mean," he muttered back, "I'm not ready to let you off my radar just yet. And not liking my chances of being turned lose without you. If helping with your prior commitment"—not gonna call it mission with someone else in hearing range—"keeps me on you and speeds things along, that's good for me, too."

"It's not like you can do anything about it now, I'm already way behind schedule--"

"Hey," a deep rasp interrupts. The newcomer is looming over them, tongue flicking irritably as xe looks them over, unimpressed: the one still windblown in his shirtsleeves and shiny boots, the other looking clean-cut and drably respectable. "You boys got business here or what?"

Kriff. Cassian folds his arms, shoulders hunched defensively, and directs a pointed look at Cassian. Your move.

Fine. "Yeah," Cassian said, looking back at the newcomer with [deliberate] openly matching irritation. "Do you?"

"I'm the manager, softshell," jabbing a heavy digit at his chest. "And I didn't engage any double acts, so--"

"Great," Cassian says, aggrieved, and turns his shoulder to xem. "Now look. I'm not gonna hang around for this." He starts to edge between them toward the exit, catching the other's eye for a moment. Let's get out of here.

More easily done for this Cassian, probably. He spread his hands to the manager and turned away, following his double.

"Anyway," he says as they emerge into the street and the hoarse muttering ("rassin' humans... like they own the place...") recedes behind them. "So what, you think you've come back? Not that I went ahead, or - sideways, or something?"

He eyes the distant roofline again. It's remotely possible, he supposes, that he's been maneuvered halfway across the planet, instead of halfway across the galaxy, but not much more likely. Besides, his... companion seemed pretty confident, and he's always had a good memory for places. Places he's actually been. "Or we both did."

Cassian shook his head. "I don't know. I just…" He stopped. Looked hard at his counterpart for a while. Finally shook his head. "I don't know."

Not going to say Unless you've been hit by a world-splitting blast of kyber radiation recently— Not going to touch on it at all. Not up on reliable theories of time travel but not mentioning certain things seems the safest bet. (Not just for himself but in case anyone else is listening.)

"But you're still where you're supposed to be. So…" Cassian rested his temples in his hand for a moment, then gestured. "If you need to get on with things, I understand. Maybe give me a heads up before you go offplanet…?" Who else should he stick with if not himself? Unless he was about to vanish away again. Was just here to deliver some sort of message…? …No. There was no purpose to anything in the universe. Don't start being superstitious now.

Oh. "I'm not where I'm supposed to be, that's my problem. You were here three years ago; I wasn't. I was in the Inner Rim, dealing with - anyway, I'm just as lost as you are. If not more."

He studies the other closely for a minute: it's still surreal, but the first shock has passed, and he's able to take in more details. Half in and half out of the damned grays, on the ragged edge of exhaustion despite his apparent good health (he knows the look, he's seen it reflected), and - off balance, in a way he can't put a name to. The thing that happened to me. He doesn't think that's just his usual caginess.

He frowned. "You're—" Okay. That was the half-formed nonsensical theories he'd had getting shot to hell.

He gave a long look at… really: reality. The sky around them and nothing or everything in particular.

Finally, he hung his head and let out a breath. "Then I guess our job is to find a way off this damn planet. Yes?"

(Because there always had to be a job. Otherwise…)

What if Jyn's here somewhere? …Then she wouldn't be waiting around for him to find her. He had to proceed too.

"Yeah. Looks like." He considers a moment, weighing his options. It's one thing to talk yourself into something; he's good at that, he's got experience - and another to try and talk around a self who's standing bodily in front of you, with his own agenda, looking like he's not convinced that dealing with you is worth the headache.

Which... okay, fair enough, but.

Cassian gives it up. "First we've gotta find you some real clothes," he says, straight to the point. "And a horizontal surface for the next few hours. I don't know what you've been doing, but whatever it was took it out of you, I can tell that much."

Cassian's shoulders slumped a little. Just like that, the subtext had shifted, and they'd committed to sticking together. That was… a relief. In some deeper way than just feeling obligated not to let this strangeness get away from him.

The next level, of feeling cared for… also extremely unusual. Including by himself.

He (other he) was entirely right on both counts, though. He (this one) could use some sleep. And he would love to be pfassking rid of these hateful clothes. The trousers could be burned, but good boots were not to be wasted, wherever they came from. …His mouth twitched a little at the thought of finding a homeless person, preferably someone nonhuman and/or female—basically: someone the Empire wouldn't be able to stand—and giving the boots to them.

"I don't have any credits," said Cassian, grimacing again. (Thing about being ready and expecting to imminently die…) "Do we know Ymya yet?" She ran a local escort agency (the only one he'd vetted that actually took care of its employees), where he'd become a favorite for several times hiring a companion for show, not sleeping with them, and still paying as if he had. She had a cot in the attic she might be inclined to let him collapse on for a few hours.

"I haven't been introduced, no." He reads some of his own body language there, and that in itself, he thinks, is a tell; he doesn't think he'd let on even that much, if he weren't at the end of his tether. (Would he? Watch that tendency, he thinks, distantly.) He starts them moving again, checking his pockets discreetly. "We should find that out. I've got something, but in a place like this I'm not sure how far it'll go."

This whole thing is strange enough that he feels a little like a kid again, a small person adrift in an unfamiliar universe; feels an echo of that old, directionless, frightened rage lighting up his nerves like a building storm.

But that kid didn't know what he was doing, was short-sighted and inexperienced and hard put to defend himself, didn't really understand, even, what he was looking for. He's not that kid now - whenever now is - and (he thinks, glancing sideways with a faint twitch of his own) he's not, precisely, on his own.

"All right." Step one was probably finding out what year it actually was. They could probably access a dataport in the casino without any trouble, despite this!Cassian looking a bit worse for wear. …And both of them looking alike. That part was strangely easy to forget. How quickly could either of them change their hairstyle…? Forget it. "Let's go into the casino long enough to find out the date. Then, if it's late enough she'll know us, we can go see Ymya and recoup a bit before figuring out the next move." Which would probably end up being stealing a ship, but it would be good if it were something else: hence, wanting a few hours' rest to get his brain back together. "Okay?"

occupational hazard with our guy ;-)

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cw: bit o' convenient headcanon - hope s'okay and please feel free to throw any of yours in anytime

I love headcanons almost as much as I love donating clothes out of spite

Mwah! ^_^