[ Chyler feels goosebumps ripple along her arms, prickle up the back of her neck, chase across her scalp. Could she do it, if she were called on to murder civilians? She doesn't know, and that scares her. That it could even be a possibility, that there's some circumstance under which she would consider those orders, scares her. ( She would shoot an Innie commander through a hostage, she thinks, and she can't decide whether or not to recoil from the thought. )
In the space of days she's losing her grip on everything that she thought she knew. About the world, about herself.
It scares her. ]
Why would they do that?
[ She shouldn't be asking for a reason. What reason do Innies have to murder innocents? But then, if she's willing to consider it, what does that make her?
( Buried under it all, so deep she can't see it herself, is a faith in the system that was supposed to protect her planet. A faith fractured, not yet beyond repair, a faith she's trying to hold together with both hands. It's what she has left of home. It's what she has left of her family. It's all she has left. She's putting too much of her own situation on Finn, thinking too much of his commanders as her own. ) ]
no subject
In the space of days she's losing her grip on everything that she thought she knew. About the world, about herself.
It scares her. ]
Why would they do that?
[ She shouldn't be asking for a reason. What reason do Innies have to murder innocents? But then, if she's willing to consider it, what does that make her?
( Buried under it all, so deep she can't see it herself, is a faith in the system that was supposed to protect her planet. A faith fractured, not yet beyond repair, a faith she's trying to hold together with both hands. It's what she has left of home. It's what she has left of her family. It's all she has left. She's putting too much of her own situation on Finn, thinking too much of his commanders as her own. ) ]
You don't... you don't have to answer that.