under starry skies (we are lost)

ruby-red-inky-blue:

@hoofgirl, first of all, I hope you had a great week! Secondly, no need to reveal myself because I am an idiot who can’t send asks on anonymous *sigh* Thirdly, I have good and bad news; good news: your gift is going above and beyond the word count I thought it would be. Bad news: not finished. I promise this won’t turn into a ridiculous multi-chapter, but it will be a two-parter!

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“This doesn’t fit right.”

“Yes, it does,” Syrah says, entirely unimpressed.

“It’s too tight,” she gives back through gritted teeth. “I can’t inhale.”

The Twi’lek fitting her dress makes an impatient little sound. “The fabric will give.”

“I doubt that.”

Jyn
throws a dark look into the mirror and eyes where the shimmering green
fabric wraps around her ribcage. “It’s too tight, I can’t move –“

“It’s
supposed to fit this way, sergeant,” the Twi’lek gives back
impatiently. “The skirt should give your legs enough room to move.”

Jyn
very much doubts that, and besides she worries that her breasts might
fall out of the low neckline if she bends over. Not because the dress is
loose, on the contrary – there is so little room for any part of her that the only way for her breasts to go is up. Perfect. She
neither has a lot of cleavage nor affection for people staring at said
cleavage, and the extreme discomfort is just making her more irritable.
She’s going to punch someone on this stupid party, she just knows it.

She tugs at the strands of hair falling into her face in annoyance. Force, this whole thing is just the worst. She’s squeezed into a stupid shimmery dress that somehow manages to reveal an uncomfortable amount of skin and restrict
every movement she has attempted so far, and on top of all that if they
run into trouble, she won’t see a damn thing because her hair will be
in her face.

Not to mention the shoes. The shoes might have to be where she draws the line.

“Why can’t I just wear something else?”

“So
you don’t get both of you noticed and shot by a ‘trooper, Lianna,”
Arin’s voice comes from the door, making her flinch. “This is what they
wear at these things.”

Jyn sighs and turns around to their contact, somewhat wobbly. “Yeah, I see that, but –“

“You
gotta be wearing the kriffing dress if I’m supposed to get you in
there. I ain’t risking my neck if you don’t even look the part,” Arin
says gruffly and enters with heavy steps, Cassian right on his heels,
quiet and pale with a datapad in hand. A common occurrence, as of late.

[keep reading on Ao3]