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Where blew a flower may a flower no more

Lift its head to the blows of the rain;

Though they be mad and dead as nails,

Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;

Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,

And death shall have no dominion.

- Dylan Thomas

 *:･ﾟ we are doomed by our past  ◥

◣  for memories slice through flesh *:･ﾟ 

✧･ﾟ: * ═══════ SYNOPSIS ═══════ *:･ﾟ✧

The galaxy is right to fear those who wish more than anything to forget.

For them - sculpted monsters so wretched they are beyond pity - even the sky is nihilistic, as speckled and untouchable as the chest of a corpse. Silver-strung stars are too bright for their swollen eyes, fairytales hold not the slightest comfort; they would give up every ounce of flesh on their bloodless bones to begin again.

Eryn Kryze has her own trickery, her own deceptive illusion to cast ghosts away: she imagines each memory turning to ash, whisked away in tendrils of breeze like flecks of vapid, inconsequential dust against the endless sky. They'd find solace there, as particulates within the clouds of her mind, pulsing alongside cyclones and raging among hurricanes in their quest to disappear alongside all regret. But they always returned, just as bright, just as vengeful.

The cinders of Mandalore itself could never be erased, for its destruction was a plague, an instinct, an elegy at the periphery of Eryn's lasting existence. The once mighty planet had become scorched and shredded, shining civilization devolving into treacherous wasteland. So much pain for a mass of stone suspended in gravity and cursed by war. So much hurt within the bloodlines which bound its palpitating heart.

Even as the Empire clawed past sacred legacy into power, the heart and voice of an ancient culture refused to be extinguished. Eryn had lived through the carnage of Mandalore a hundred times over, her planet reduced to hideous grey cinders by outsiders and its own people alike. The dead hunted her, sprung up in her most vulnerable moments, hooked so deeply within her consciousness that their will was inescapable. The ashes of her people indeed burst with the same iron which flooded through veins as living blood; the two were united opposites of morphing light and brittle dark - yet she could not live without them both being part of her.

As the youngest Kryze in a generation, Eryn's fearful curse was born of a legacy bound by forbidden bloodlines. Her first haunting memories weren't of pleading strangers as one might suppose, but of a mother who died before her eyes and a father who had no knowledge of her existence. But loss was not forever; she had long since discovered the little reminders in all things, the universe's secret, cautionary fable. Every moment held a hundred second chances, a thousand rediscoveries, a million different endings terrifyingly within reach. Still, it was never enough. Nothing could prevent her transformation into a mad artist's final portrait - veins of ichor encased in a carapace of ash, bitter iron sheathed in wretched irony.

History's shattered bonds rained down upon her like shards of crystal, cutting through skin like swords through silk, rattling like gunshots through half-hollow bones. It was as if they could fly right through her ribcage and out the other side, crafting gaping wounds, puncturing lungs, but leaving her heart untouched as cruel salvation. Only a heart woeful and intact could feel the unabridged extent of their agony. And they never left, still sparking within her conscience like rippling bullets lodged beneath her spine. She remembered her mother's eyes, clear and blue, refracted with caustic light like the sun's rays on glittering water. She remembered the crackle of fanatical energy shredding through matter with no mercy, not even for a child's tears. She remembered the sounds of so many blaster bolts jolting into the world that they became the echoes of a million piano chords, a song of carnage - ponderous and melancholy and deeply inevitable, like the life draining from a condemned soul. It was rather fitting that the rawest notes of desperation formed harmonious, devotional verses in her ears. Strange, she would think, for a moment fancying herself a poet or artist, even as the world is dead, draped with falling bodies and final whispers, the battlefield sounds like a symphony.

But when Caleb Dume saw her for the first time, he did not find a ghost looking back at him. Though her eyes belonged to the only Jedi he'd ever seen cry, though her face was littered with pink scars and smudged with inky smoke, though she smiled too much for someone with missing teeth, he too wished more than anything to forget. There was an unspoken solace there, buried beneath shared ruins, even between two reactionary forces who would never stop running.

But it was never enough. For all she had tried, Eryn could never escape the memories which so ceaselessly pursued her, calling out to her with all their agonies and delights, their hideous rusts and luminous stardusts. She could not help but to reach out, guided by the irreversible fulfillment of her own curse as untapped sorrow smothered her senses and pooled in her heart. Everything wanted to share its burden, crying and rejoicing with relief as her shoulders helped to carry the pain, just as each generation of psychometrics had for millennia. The Force had great expectations of its chosen bearers.

Is it not a gift to remember, to be the one who feels what others cannot? 

But for a girl saturated with tragedy, the weight of the material galaxy's virtue and vice was too much to bear. From the moment her power blossomed, she already knew what most were lucky enough never to learn: fate had always been cruel and it would never cease to be.

Entranced by those she could never truly love, still searching the past for what she was unable to find within herself: Eryn had nothing more to lose. Yet nothing could convince destiny to let her go. She could slash at the cosmos with scarlet blades, crush meteors in her fists, scream at every forsaken moon in the heavens, and yet it was those beside her who become nothing but memories before her eyes, crumbling into relics and detritus, slipping through her fingers though she held on as tightly as she could.

After all, life was always doomed to never be enough. True beauty could not be recognizable without the knowledge that, in time, nothing would ever stop it from breaking.

 *:･ﾟ death serenades us ◥

◣ for we have lived in his arms *:･ﾟ

✧･ﾟ: * ═══════ STARRING ═══════ *:･ﾟ✧

 ― Eryn Kryze ―

the heartbroken

portrayed by Charlotte Vega & Vanessa Kirby ･ﾟ

*: ╔═══  moodboard by @silksabers  ═══╗

 ― Caleb Dume, Kanan Jarrus ― 

the lost

portrayed by Aramis Knight & Sidharth Malhotra ･ﾟ

( voiced by Freddie Prinze Jr. )

*: ╔═══ moodboard by @silksabers  ═══╗

In which a woman alone in the galaxy finds those just as broken as her,

and realizes that love shall prevail even when people do not.

 *:･ﾟ you cannot break us ◥

◣ for we are already ruins *:･ﾟ 

*:･ﾟ✧ ══ THE LIGHT'S DOMINION SERIES ══ ✧･ﾟ: *

Ruins

(eryn kryze & kanan jarrus) ･ﾟ: * (solo - rebels)

Light Years

(miriam fesik & cassian andor) ･ﾟ: * (andor - rogue one)

Phantom Whispers

(xaeli soren & luke skywalker) ･ﾟ: * (original trilogy)

Embers

(amelia hux & poe dameron) ･ﾟ: * (sequel trilogy)

*:･ﾟ✧ ═══════ DISCLAIMER ══════ ✧･ﾟ: *

I do not own Star Wars or its respective characters, however original plots and characters do belong to me. 

This work will contain spoilers for the media that it takes place within (described in the author's note below), though you will not have to have knowledge of the original sources to understand this plot (which will be different in many ways).

tw: contains mature themes, including violence, war, disturbing images, trauma, mental illness, substance misuse, mild language, and major character death.

*:･ﾟ✧ ══════ AUTHOR'S NOTE ══════ ✧･ﾟ: *

ahhhhhhh....... so i finally got my act together and series + layout time!!! (im too busy/lazy to revamp my other books as of now but... it's coming!)

I'm so pumped to share Eryn (my psychometric love!) with you guys!!! she's existed for a while but i only recently watched all of solo and started rebels (im late, i know, but i fell for Kanan in like 5 minutes - hopeless? yes -) ... as for these faceclaims, they aren't rly attributed to specific acts in the story just a snapshot of the characters in earlier and later parts of in their lives  ...this should take place through some of the events of solo, a new dawn, and rebels with a few flashbacks to clone wars + me messing with plots a lot... hopefully slowburn with a few impulsive decisions along the way? ... and this story is gonna hurt, i'll just say it from the start--

Anyways, I'll be quiet now but welcome, thanks so much for reading, and you guys are amazing! 

( && a special thanks to Nat for the gorgeous cover and Emma for the stunning moodboards, i love you sm <33 )

- Jynni :)

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