closed ( ☄ ) gravity is a habit that is hard to shake off

[realists]

WHO: Jyn Erso, Victor Nikiforov, & Bodhi Rook
WHERE: Training gym
WHEN: Sometime after their research trips to Oros
WHAT: Jyn recruits Bodhi to help her train Victor in zero-g
WARNINGS: Presumably Rogue One spoilers and Jyn being mean about figure skating not being a real sport.

--

[ ANTI-GRAV ROOM ]

It's strange that the tied for most unsocial of the Rogue One rebels is the one that keeps getting roped into helping people. First Yuuri and his Aurebesh tutoring and now Victor and his zero-g training. They're just so friendly, she has no idea what to do with herself. She'd much rather be beat up by Shaw as a form of highly violent stress relief, but here she is.

Which is what finds her pulling Bodhi with her to the training room. Well, half that, half her abandonment issues running wild with Cassian and Kay on the planet beneath them. The planet full of sand and oppressive heat. It's fine. She's fine.

At least zero-gravity is something she's used to, something from her life that has translated just as well across galaxy. It's not exactly like the Palace of Light but that was huge and intricate and full of games with unsuspecting people just waiting to be hustled by a little girl in team wars or mini speeder go-cart steeplechase. Look, she didn't have a job, she had to get credits somehow and if it meant she had to play the equivalent of laser tag with stun guns, well, that was perfectly acceptable to the angry adolescent version of Jyn.

(It's also perfectly acceptable to the angry adult version of Jyn.)

She's busy tucking all of her hair into her low bun when she spots Victor and elbows Bodhi to point the lanky giant out, chin lifting in some semblance of a dude nod as he approaches the pair of them.

"Hello Victor."

Comments

[realists]

She's a constant ball of stress.

Contrarily, she floats freely, hair suddenly out of her face as it halos out around her head. Jyn is not a graceful creature in general, she's not soft, all hard edges and purposeful movements, but without gravity she does has a sort of grace. A fluidity.

"How did you get into ice skating?"

[genice]

He relaxes himself, allowing himself to simply float. He makes himself turn his head toward her in a slow, controlled fashion, watching Jyn as she floats freely without the gravity that worlds generate holding her down. He's studying her body language for cues, if he's honest; Victor is usually honest with himself.

"Back when I was seven or so, it was something I tried. Then realised I liked. The twenty years that followed were simply chasing the dream of showing the world what I loved about the athletics of figure skating. The speed, the grace, the stories, the jumps... hah, even the exhaustion."

Carefully, he lets go of the rung, letting himself float without pushing off anything in that particular moment. "There wasn't anything else I thought of doing, not when it called to me like it did."

[realists]

This is absolutely foreign to Jyn -- nothing calls to her. Admittedly, she hadn't had the luxury of play since she was a little girl, before violence and survival dominated her life. Victor was getting into ice skating, his life's passion, at the same time Jyn and Cassian were learning to survive war. Maybe nothing with Victor will ever be a fair comparison.

A strange twist of her body, a roll of her hips like she's hula hooping or like a cat turning over in midair, and she twists, reaching out to touch her fingertips against the side of the chamber to still herself.

"I can't imagine," she offers with fleeting honesty.

[genice]

He watches her intently, curious as to the way she moves. He knows he can mimic that; gently, he sees about rolling himself over so he can look at the arbitrary direction dictated as "up."

"I was lucky," he admits in turn. "I was good enough they were willing to sponsor me. Back in my country, it isn't easy to do well. You could say figure skating ended up being my way out." Of all kinds of things he doesn't mention, because he loves his country; loves and critiques his country, like he supposes any person does.

"Rolling your hips that way helps you control which direction you turn?"

[realists]

"Yes, it's like rolling over in bed." Except with nothing to push off of or to give you momentum but if he can do his ice skating thing (she is still uncertain it's a real thing), then he can probably manage to roll over like a cat.

"What is... your country?" What is a country to begin with, really, but she assumes it is like anything in the galaxy -- a planet with a singular environmental system because that's not absurd at all. Country is just a strange word for it, context makes it clear he means his home and what else would home be but a planet.

[genice]

"My country?" He moves his arms just enough to help stabilize him, pulling out of the gentle roll so he's facing one way without continuing to circle. "Russia? It's my... I'm not sure what you're asking, actually. Russia is the name of my home country back on Earth. The Russian Federation. We're a very old, very long historied people."

One who did and did not always find themselves winning on a world stage, though he's been proving otherwise in figure skating for the last five plus years.