( He wants viciously to point out that the Resistance, for all its pomp and circumstance, touts the same beliefs while chasing the same results, that they, too, have had their fair share of propaganda filth with which to sway opinions in their favor. Neither side has a clean hand. General Organa is not so altruistic in her relentless and dogged pursuit of the First Order's desire to bring law and progress back to the galaxy, and when all is said and done, none of them are any more blameless than the other, mired in their individual quests for order and stability. He wants to bite it back at her, grind it in with salt and anger, another turn in which they are not so dissimilar, but he can't.
The sudden presence of her in his mind coupled with the strength and concentration needed to keep his boots from slipping too far in the topsoil and sending him to his knees, literally, makes it impossible to speak without sacrificing ground. Every muscle strains at attention, teeth tightly ground together, a long, drawn out exhale of frustration breaking apart in his throat and coming out through the modulator like a wordless shout. The beam of his blade shakes all the way down into his hands, where he holds the hilt white-knuckled. Rey finds a niche and shoves in a way that he has not encountered in anyone else he has ever come across, finding it as easy and natural to slip into someone's mind and sniff out answers, hurt them, as it is to keep them out in turn. She is like a wall of water, hammering against him without relent, wave after wave, but in the end all it takes is one tiny crack in the dam and she slips by effortlessly, a small rivulet at first and then more and more until his head is full of her, flooded with sunlight and sand.
Kylo Ren is on his knees in his own mind, thoughts a thunderstorm possessing an enormous amount of power. Aggressive, unchecked rage swirls and rises, fear builds and buffets it, whipping it into a frenzy that so often explodes outward. There is always, always, a shadow stretched over him, the tall and deformed silhouette that is sometimes-Snoke and sometimes-Darth Vader, both just ghosts, husks, of what they were and are, potential that he envies and craves and is terrified to fall short of. They are on a bridge - the bridge - that extends infinitely in either direction, a swirl of light beneath them that claws steadily upward until it slips over the edge of the bridge and spills like meltwater, pooling around the soles of Rey's boot heels and lapping up at Kylo's knees. Smoke hangs heavy and dark and thick, the result of some explosion, the smell of engine fire and motor oil heavy in the atmosphere.
There are whispers: Solo and Organa and Skywalker most prevalent among the many; Snoke is the loudest, with a voice like gravel disintegrating, rough stone grinding. Black smoke obscures his vision, and Kylo breathes deep, inhaling a great gulp of smog, letting it fill his head and lungs and consume him. The water at Rey's ankles now is bitterly cold, glacial pure and bright, and it floods his mouth and nose and ears as it drags him under its current, turning murky gray as both light and dark claw at him, pulling him down and ripping him apart before pulling Rey under to submerge her as well. Bright, cold water and cloying darkness turns to ash falling like snow, covering them both and making it hard to breathe. She stands above him, and he kneels in dead leaves and dirt, and she extends her hand. Once he has the conviction to reach for it, the ground opens between them, a gash in the landscape. )
End this? ( His voice is a loud echo without a mask in the cavernous space that they have carved out in one another. ) There is no end to this.
( Back in actual reality, an X-wing and a TIE fighter collide like a massive firework in the sky above them, and the resulting explosion and impact with Corellia makes the ground shake. Kylo stumbles with the force of the crash, close enough that trees several hundred yards away from them catch fire, and manages to miss Rey's lightsaber just enough to send them both sprawling in the mud. )
PLEASE DO NOT WORRY. i just started back at school myself so I FEEL YOU
The sudden presence of her in his mind coupled with the strength and concentration needed to keep his boots from slipping too far in the topsoil and sending him to his knees, literally, makes it impossible to speak without sacrificing ground. Every muscle strains at attention, teeth tightly ground together, a long, drawn out exhale of frustration breaking apart in his throat and coming out through the modulator like a wordless shout. The beam of his blade shakes all the way down into his hands, where he holds the hilt white-knuckled. Rey finds a niche and shoves in a way that he has not encountered in anyone else he has ever come across, finding it as easy and natural to slip into someone's mind and sniff out answers, hurt them, as it is to keep them out in turn. She is like a wall of water, hammering against him without relent, wave after wave, but in the end all it takes is one tiny crack in the dam and she slips by effortlessly, a small rivulet at first and then more and more until his head is full of her, flooded with sunlight and sand.
Kylo Ren is on his knees in his own mind, thoughts a thunderstorm possessing an enormous amount of power. Aggressive, unchecked rage swirls and rises, fear builds and buffets it, whipping it into a frenzy that so often explodes outward. There is always, always, a shadow stretched over him, the tall and deformed silhouette that is sometimes-Snoke and sometimes-Darth Vader, both just ghosts, husks, of what they were and are, potential that he envies and craves and is terrified to fall short of. They are on a bridge - the bridge - that extends infinitely in either direction, a swirl of light beneath them that claws steadily upward until it slips over the edge of the bridge and spills like meltwater, pooling around the soles of Rey's boot heels and lapping up at Kylo's knees. Smoke hangs heavy and dark and thick, the result of some explosion, the smell of engine fire and motor oil heavy in the atmosphere.
There are whispers: Solo and Organa and Skywalker most prevalent among the many; Snoke is the loudest, with a voice like gravel disintegrating, rough stone grinding. Black smoke obscures his vision, and Kylo breathes deep, inhaling a great gulp of smog, letting it fill his head and lungs and consume him. The water at Rey's ankles now is bitterly cold, glacial pure and bright, and it floods his mouth and nose and ears as it drags him under its current, turning murky gray as both light and dark claw at him, pulling him down and ripping him apart before pulling Rey under to submerge her as well. Bright, cold water and cloying darkness turns to ash falling like snow, covering them both and making it hard to breathe. She stands above him, and he kneels in dead leaves and dirt, and she extends her hand. Once he has the conviction to reach for it, the ground opens between them, a gash in the landscape. )
End this? ( His voice is a loud echo without a mask in the cavernous space that they have carved out in one another. ) There is no end to this.
( Back in actual reality, an X-wing and a TIE fighter collide like a massive firework in the sky above them, and the resulting explosion and impact with Corellia makes the ground shake. Kylo stumbles with the force of the crash, close enough that trees several hundred yards away from them catch fire, and manages to miss Rey's lightsaber just enough to send them both sprawling in the mud. )