Phasma

by Delilah S. Dawson

“Morals? The Resistance? Are you joking? They advocate anarchy and destruction. Selfishness. Not morals.”

Anti-antifa arguments in a nutshell.

“It’s right there in the name. First Order. First, order. Fixing the mess left behind by the Republic and now the New Republic. Getting rid of bloated diplomats and lobbyists who don’t represent real people with real problems.

"Draining the swamp."

“I’ve never walked on sand,” Torben noted. “What’s it like?” Phasma’s people looked to her, but she nodded to Brendol. “It shifts under your feet. Coarse and rough. Irritating. Gets everywhere. Slips into your clothes and boots.”

oh my god

There is no greater enemy to justice than a little king on a little hill.”

It was hard, once someone had adopted a mask, to give it up,

Siv often forgot he was there, much less that somewhere under that helmet and armor was a human being with a history, thoughts, and dreams.

And as she looked down on it, perhaps she realized it was possible to both love and hate a thing in equal measure. “It’s beautiful from up here,” she said, in any case.

No one is ever just one thing.