[ Strangely, in this way, he reminds her of Luke. His tangents, though few, had been fervid and to a purpose. And so she waits this one out too, trusting that Thrawn has something he's returning to at the end of this one. ]

None. [ Said simply and with little thought. The obvious answer. ] It was scrap. Repurposed and sold off, as far as I could tell. History's just bones until one day it's just dust.

[ "Let the past die," Ben had said. This doesn't ring entirely true. So she puts further thought to it, clearly pursing her lips and reaching for something else in the pause that lapses her. She thinks of the Jedi texts tucked away on the Falcon, the ones she hadn't been able to let go of, even though she had let go of Luke. ]

Or ... [ And this hurts to dig into because she realizes it's not just about what she wants from the Jedi, but what she had hoped for from her parents. Disappointment after disappointment. ] It tells us where we come from, and helps us understand who we are. Our place in the universe. It's identity; it's a guidebook.

[ These are disparate thoughts. There's no apparent way to reconcile them, and in that way, Rey looks like she has confused herself. Because she holds them both as true, and yet they are seemingly paradoxical. ]

Can it be both of those things?