[ Absently, in the back of her mind, she can feel him stir and pace, an aimless sort of wandering that comes not from need for anything in particular, but from insolence and impatience, and for that reason, Rey doesn't let it rile her. Strangely, it offers something familiar and understandable in him, a reminder of the man that he claims is one with the monster she'd seen that had frightened her to defensiveness. This is something she recognizes, at least, so she lets the pendulum of his pacing search soothe her nerves with the familiar before she hikes down the ramp of the Falcon and back into view.
The effort of suppressing her injury keeps her gait stiff as she approaches, none of her breaths quite expanding her chest to its full capacity before the sting sets in and blocks her, but pride keeps her stubborn. She finds him there, pale face glowing orange as the flames reflect in his features, casting long shadows that exacerbate the already awkward proportions of his face, and she looks down at the crackling, mechanical sound of the circuits of the helmet frying, a death rattle of its own for the mask that Aurren Ren wore.
For the first time, it occurs to her that Kylo Ren never really chose to leave that particular symbol behind on Corellia, but was forced to by circumstance and her. She doesn't pity him or wish for anything less, but it does give her some idea of why he'd demanded she leave the other Knight of Ren's helmet on her disappearance.
Quite suddenly and without a word, she crouches in front of him, granules of dirt digging into scuffed and half-bared knees as she reaches for his pant leg to assess the wound for herself. Her head tilts briefly and she gets brief hold of the material—enough to see the hole left in it—and lifts her gaze, not bothering to straighten her spine or extend her legs, for she'd never reach near his height anyway. Instead, she just nods to the mound of earth beside her. ]
Sit down. [ She doesn't deliver it like a command, yet the advisement brokers no argument. ]
no subject
The effort of suppressing her injury keeps her gait stiff as she approaches, none of her breaths quite expanding her chest to its full capacity before the sting sets in and blocks her, but pride keeps her stubborn. She finds him there, pale face glowing orange as the flames reflect in his features, casting long shadows that exacerbate the already awkward proportions of his face, and she looks down at the crackling, mechanical sound of the circuits of the helmet frying, a death rattle of its own for the mask that Aurren Ren wore.
For the first time, it occurs to her that Kylo Ren never really chose to leave that particular symbol behind on Corellia, but was forced to by circumstance and her. She doesn't pity him or wish for anything less, but it does give her some idea of why he'd demanded she leave the other Knight of Ren's helmet on her disappearance.
Quite suddenly and without a word, she crouches in front of him, granules of dirt digging into scuffed and half-bared knees as she reaches for his pant leg to assess the wound for herself. Her head tilts briefly and she gets brief hold of the material—enough to see the hole left in it—and lifts her gaze, not bothering to straighten her spine or extend her legs, for she'd never reach near his height anyway. Instead, she just nods to the mound of earth beside her. ]
Sit down. [ She doesn't deliver it like a command, yet the advisement brokers no argument. ]