( This close, there is nowhere to look but at Rey. He can feel the trepidation rolling off of her in slow, shallow waves but can't determine whether or not they are a result of his proximity in general, the potential that he has to simply reach out and snag her, or something else, something in her intention that he can't read and that she isn't telegraphing to him. It puts him on edge, his back straight as an arrow under the thick padding of his armor, the scratchy material of the clothing underneath sticking to his back and neck with sweat and damp. His hands at his sides, so loosely contorted, ball themselves into tighter fists when she's close enough to reach a hand out toward him. It takes a concentrated amount of effort not to recoil immediately, step back and away from her instinctively, the way that he had feinted almost imperceptibly and unconsciously away from Solo before catching himself and realizing the mistake made in that moment of weakness.
He won't make the same mistake again, holding still as her small hand, dirt under her fingernails, reaches out to tap against his temple. Her hesitation and uncertainty is evident in the way her fingers jump and then adamantly settle against his skin, as if she's reassuring herself that this is something she's capable of doing. It doesn't make sense to him right away, given her need for proximity when they have been able to peel back the other's mind and stare hard and searching into one another's thoughts without physical contact. Rey is the only thing that he can see, brown eyes wide open and peering into him as if she's seeing through him and beyond him and before him, navigating the timeline of his histories and possibilities with alarming accuracy, the set of her jaw and the line of her mouth a determined contrast to the fear that he feels pulsing through her veins, reaching spindly fingers out to curl around her convictions. She presses onward, but she never goes deep, doesn't take the plunge, reaches instead for the switch and -
Oh.
Something in his gaze shifts and though he hasn't looked away from her in the time it's taken the two of them to arrive at this point, Kylo's eyes harden and the muscle in his jaw goes, jumping all the way down into his neck as he tenses. She panics in his head like a bird, flooding into him with a speed he's not felt before, and he can see the deception and determination written across her face like it's been painted there. Her eyes tell a different story, but there is conviction in them, too, and Kylo, not so completely at her mercy, uncurls one fist from his side to wrap his fingers around her wrist with force enough to bruise. It doesn't jolt her out of his head enough for either of them to forfeit the gamble, but he holds onto her there for as long as he can, smothered under the weight of her influence in his head and unable to surface enough to drive her out.
He drowns. What feels like a cold grin starts at the corner of his mouth, and he thinks Ah before he can stop himself, angry and annoyed and oddly pleased in one way or another. That she would fall to this.
It had been so easy for him before, on Takodana, but now they are so much more evenly matched. He tries to reach down inside himself and utilize the raw anger that he feels stoking the fire burning throughout, but by the time he grits his teeth and digs deep enough to call on it, Rey has gotten in too far and poured too much water down for anything to catch. His fingers wrapped at her wrist loosen, holding her in a semi-circle of finger and thumb, the web spanning the distance between the two pressing tight to her skin in an effort to hold on. His other hand palms at his saber, feeling the weapon as if through layers and layers of wool and cotton. Nothing catches, ignites. Rage swells, expands, bursts. There is no channel available for it to travel, and it beats relentlessly, uselessly, against his breastbone. He fights back, takes a half-step toward her, dark head bowed in her direction, and then falls sharply to one knee under the meditative weight of her power.
He smells smoke and earth and sweat and blood and ozone on the ground, and a blurred, vague impression of her shadow hovers above him before Corellia becomes darkness. )
/sits on this tag for 100 hours
He won't make the same mistake again, holding still as her small hand, dirt under her fingernails, reaches out to tap against his temple. Her hesitation and uncertainty is evident in the way her fingers jump and then adamantly settle against his skin, as if she's reassuring herself that this is something she's capable of doing. It doesn't make sense to him right away, given her need for proximity when they have been able to peel back the other's mind and stare hard and searching into one another's thoughts without physical contact. Rey is the only thing that he can see, brown eyes wide open and peering into him as if she's seeing through him and beyond him and before him, navigating the timeline of his histories and possibilities with alarming accuracy, the set of her jaw and the line of her mouth a determined contrast to the fear that he feels pulsing through her veins, reaching spindly fingers out to curl around her convictions. She presses onward, but she never goes deep, doesn't take the plunge, reaches instead for the switch and -
Oh.
Something in his gaze shifts and though he hasn't looked away from her in the time it's taken the two of them to arrive at this point, Kylo's eyes harden and the muscle in his jaw goes, jumping all the way down into his neck as he tenses. She panics in his head like a bird, flooding into him with a speed he's not felt before, and he can see the deception and determination written across her face like it's been painted there. Her eyes tell a different story, but there is conviction in them, too, and Kylo, not so completely at her mercy, uncurls one fist from his side to wrap his fingers around her wrist with force enough to bruise. It doesn't jolt her out of his head enough for either of them to forfeit the gamble, but he holds onto her there for as long as he can, smothered under the weight of her influence in his head and unable to surface enough to drive her out.
He drowns. What feels like a cold grin starts at the corner of his mouth, and he thinks Ah before he can stop himself, angry and annoyed and oddly pleased in one way or another. That she would fall to this.
It had been so easy for him before, on Takodana, but now they are so much more evenly matched. He tries to reach down inside himself and utilize the raw anger that he feels stoking the fire burning throughout, but by the time he grits his teeth and digs deep enough to call on it, Rey has gotten in too far and poured too much water down for anything to catch. His fingers wrapped at her wrist loosen, holding her in a semi-circle of finger and thumb, the web spanning the distance between the two pressing tight to her skin in an effort to hold on. His other hand palms at his saber, feeling the weapon as if through layers and layers of wool and cotton. Nothing catches, ignites. Rage swells, expands, bursts. There is no channel available for it to travel, and it beats relentlessly, uselessly, against his breastbone. He fights back, takes a half-step toward her, dark head bowed in her direction, and then falls sharply to one knee under the meditative weight of her power.
He smells smoke and earth and sweat and blood and ozone on the ground, and a blurred, vague impression of her shadow hovers above him before Corellia becomes darkness. )