( Rey's anger permeates the atmosphere like a cloud, hanging low and bloated and heavy. He hones in on it like a bloodhound, his head turning to catch the blunt force of the ripple through the Force that she lashes out with and catching instead the gunfire of her retaliation. She's a child with her father's ammunition, armed to the teeth with no idea how to use it. He understands that power, the feeling of it struggling to breathe and flutter like a bird caught in your fingers, an ember still trying to catch and ignite low in the coals. All she - someone - needs to do is blow on it with the right amount of pressure and it will flare to life.
Kylo isn't anticipating her presence there, as much as he isn't anticipating her sticking around for further verbal abuse on his part. Foolish. Reckless. Stupid. Weak. She doesn't so much as push back into his thoughts, his mind, as much as she's suddenly there, and he reacts the only way that he knows how: pushing back. The sun is hot on his neck, pooling sweat in the small of his back and under his arms, his feet sinking into sand up to his ankles, the grit of it sharp on his tongue and crunching between his teeth as he grinds them together. Just as quickly, the cold, polished durasteel of Hux's flagship reflects her face from every surface, the overhead lighting shining dully on the scuffed tips of his boots. Her voice in his head like a battering ram, and every door he tries to close between them, to keep her out, stutters behind him just a moment too late, allowing her passage through until finally, finally he slams her out and -
Another room, cold and dark, raised sides and a platform like a dais. Light streams in from up above and the architecture crumbles, stones shifting underfoot. Beyond the immediate landscape, a blood orange sun sets and casts long shadows over old monuments, falling into disarray. In the darkness there, something shifts and then looks up. Sunken eyes, a concave skull, an inhale that rustles and scratches like leaves.
Kylo finds himself with his feet planted firmly in the dirt and his breath stitched together in his chest a moment later, heart hammering hard. The sweat on the back of his neck is cold and Rey is several paces from him, tired and unfocused and unsteady with the weight of her own power. For a long, quiet moment, he says nothing, does nothing other than to turn on his heel the remainder of the way so that he can face her directly. )
It becomes more and more difficult not to kill you every time we cross paths.
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Kylo isn't anticipating her presence there, as much as he isn't anticipating her sticking around for further verbal abuse on his part. Foolish. Reckless. Stupid. Weak. She doesn't so much as push back into his thoughts, his mind, as much as she's suddenly there, and he reacts the only way that he knows how: pushing back. The sun is hot on his neck, pooling sweat in the small of his back and under his arms, his feet sinking into sand up to his ankles, the grit of it sharp on his tongue and crunching between his teeth as he grinds them together. Just as quickly, the cold, polished durasteel of Hux's flagship reflects her face from every surface, the overhead lighting shining dully on the scuffed tips of his boots. Her voice in his head like a battering ram, and every door he tries to close between them, to keep her out, stutters behind him just a moment too late, allowing her passage through until finally, finally he slams her out and -
Another room, cold and dark, raised sides and a platform like a dais. Light streams in from up above and the architecture crumbles, stones shifting underfoot. Beyond the immediate landscape, a blood orange sun sets and casts long shadows over old monuments, falling into disarray. In the darkness there, something shifts and then looks up. Sunken eyes, a concave skull, an inhale that rustles and scratches like leaves.
Kylo finds himself with his feet planted firmly in the dirt and his breath stitched together in his chest a moment later, heart hammering hard. The sweat on the back of his neck is cold and Rey is several paces from him, tired and unfocused and unsteady with the weight of her own power. For a long, quiet moment, he says nothing, does nothing other than to turn on his heel the remainder of the way so that he can face her directly. )
It becomes more and more difficult not to kill you every time we cross paths.