Looking at “Rising Malevolence” and “Mercy Mission” together, you can see how much Wolffe and Sinker evolve over the course of four seasons. What’s fascinating to me is that their character arcs move in opposite directions.
"Rising Malevolence" brings them face-to-face with death for the first time; they couldn’t be in a worse situation. Of the four survivors, Wolffe is the most vulnerable and the least useful. Nevertheless, he stands fast. His strong spirit enables him to put forth his best conduct: he’s steady, trusting, even good-humored. Sinker is not. His spirit has been depressed for a long time already, so he can’t help succumbing to negativity in the heat of the moment.
The massacre roots a new fear in both of them: fear of loss. It’s their responsibility to keep their men alive, and yet they both failed. What’s to stop it from happening again? They have no control over who survives and who doesn’t, when and where and how their troopers will die, whether it’ll be a few casualties or an entire battalion.
Amidst this fear, both of them are confronted by Plo Koon. A general who vows to share that responsibility with them. Who, through actions and not just words, commits to the kind of leadership that not only values their men’s survival but also their wellbeing.
This is the crossroads where their arcs diverge.
Sinker, against all his instincts, vices, and traumas, decides to trust General Plo. It doesn’t come easily, or all at once, but, as the Jedi continues to make good on his promise, he learns to ease up. Gradually, his spirit heals and grows stronger. By “Mercy Mission,” he’s noticeably more lighthearted, invested, and confident: a man transformed for the better.
Wolffe, however, can’t let go of his fear. It’s proportionally greater than Sinker’s; he has lost, and stands to lose, much more. He does trust General Plo, deeply, but he also harbors the disturbing knowledge that the Jedi isn’t invincible. For all his power, General Plo can still die—and that can’t happen. The 104th would go adrift without him, so he must be protected at all costs. Wolffe takes up this extra burden in secret. He becomes vigilant, overprotective, strained, insular. He won't acknowledge it, but his spirit is staggering under the weight. “Mercy Mission” shows us a glimpse of this transformation: a man who’s bone-weary and so preoccupied with the status of his absent comrades that he has no patience or sympathy for the Aleena.
Maybe it was never in the cards for him, to be healthy and flourishing and secure. Maybe his path would've always led down a darker road than Sinker's despite experiencing the same profound kindness. It's such a shame, for if any clone needed a little hope, it's him. I'm halfway through his story now, the beginning of the end, and he's about to enter the darkest valley of his life.
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there’s been like half a dozen episodes where Spock is put in a situation where Vulcan emotional repression is lifted or neutralised by some external force and he immediately becomes happy and carefree but like he’s clearly overwhelmed in a he’s-never-been-outside kind of way like he says things about his own emotions like is this happiness such a wrong thing to admit? and specifically in the All Our Yesterdays episode McCoy is being racist to him and Spock slams him up against a wall and says I don’t like that and I don’t think I ever have. like emotions are clearly emancipatory for him in a lot of ways. and then the episode ends and he goes back to normal and it doesn’t come up again until the next time this happens
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dropping this hhau mini rp snippet out of context and running—
(screenshot text:)
death loop. that's a phrase grian didn't think will ever again apply to them. because dying was meant to only happen once.
an electric current runs down his spine as the phrase bounces around in his head, with all its held-in possibilities. they can die over and over and over again. and they'd still be here. alive through it all.
grian pauses in his attack, pulls a little higher, supporting his weight with his arms braced by each side of scar's head as he looks down at him. (he just wants to see him.) grian's face is flushed, eyes bright, but his expression shifts, from unbridled joy to something more tamed. tentative and soft and incredibly, irresistibly hopeful.
"we're going to live," he says suddenly, with so much unprecedented clarity in his voice.
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