MoM IC Inbox

[flightforfreedom]

You've reached Poe Dameron. I'm off flying something or trying not to get killed, so go ahead and leave a message and I'll get back to you eventually.

 

Comments

[reexamined]

Your assumptions are incorrect.

[Humans are particularly bad at assessing their own feelings when their feelings are guilt-driven. He's fallen for this sort of trap too. Experiencing guilt was awful, and he hated it.]

...I would not like to see you broken, Poe. I am not an expert on emotions by any means. But I know that repression will cause more damage overall than finding a real form of coping.

You can't hurt me physically. If you mean emotionally, I assure you, I have already "gone through worse."

[He can't look sad, or empathetic, or anything that might convey how worried he is...]

Please let me help you. Or find someone who can.

Wow I feel so attacked right now that was right in the feels

[flightforfreedom]

[He swallows again and looks forcefully away, brows knit tightly. He isn't sure how to respond. He'd always managed to breeze through his psych evals before - laugh with the medics and carry on like nothing had happened. Even after his capture, he had been "fine", though that had likely more to do with the fact that he had seriously downplayed his torture than his actual mental state.

Except that he had been fine, compared to this. Sure, it had given him nightmares that still cropped up, months later, but Ren was evil and it was easy to shove everything in him back to the war effort. It just gave him more fuel to stay committed to taking Ren and Hux down.

But this?

He kept trying to concentrate on the evil behind it, but it wasn't easy. There was no army, no massive force or threat. Just random, near haphazard violence that he could not easily fight, let alone protect his friends from.

And he still couldn't let Shara go. The guilt over leaving her, despite the fact that she was a pure figment of his imagination, weighed on him heavier than any he'd ever felt. All the deaths he had caused were nothing compared. It had been war. People die. But this?

He had killed a part of himself he hadn't known was there.]

... So what exactly is a real form of coping.

[That was as close to a yes, as close to a 'please help me', as Kay was going to get.]