( He recoils from the glass as soon as he can see the lines in her hand pressed flush against it, not a harsh, jagged stumble back but the slow slouch of gently withdrawing, as if physical distance might impede the surge he feels within him. His eyes remain momentarily on the splay of her fingers, the width of her palm, and then raise to look at her directly. He searches her face for any signs of betrayal and after a moment of finding nothing but quiet, earnest determination, lowers the fortified walls in his mind that he has built brick by brick through the Force alone to check for cracks in her armor that way. It's a brief moment, but it is enough, not only to assure himself that she isn't lying but to also be flooded with the warmth of her acknowledging what's left of the light in him. Kylo feels her anticipation, her apprehension, her hardwired determination and moral righteousness. Compassion. Worry. Morality. Fear.
Whatever happens, now or ever, there will always be a line that splits them, from each other and from everyone else. Deep down, he knows that whatever she manages in her attempts to walk the hills and valleys of his mind, the fundamental aspects of him will not change. Her concerns regarding his rewiring are not so realized within his own thoughts. He's known since he was a child the kind of person that he was, even without Snoke's steady, unbroken stream of manipulations and promises and dark secrets there to guide him in the right direction. He's known without having to stumble upon the hidden image in his mind of the two of them turning to face Snoke that he would one day raise his hand against his master the way that the Sith who came before even Darth Vader had done. Kylo Ren may not be Sith, but the verse repeats all the same.
Her argument is compelling, even if she argues for reasons that do not necessarily resonate within him. He hasn't been able to remember silence since before he was five-years-old, that hazy point in childhood where memories could be memories or imagined realities designed to substitute them.
Kylo does not move for a very long time, stretching into the territory of minutes with the two of them simply standing and staring at one another. He reassembles his defenses brick by brick, piece by piece, not to keep Rey out necessarily but to delay the inevitability of Snoke's arrival for one minute longer than it might take otherwise, and then presses the bare flat of his hand against the glass where her palm has been placed. The surface is cool and solid, and the burn threaded into his skin grins back at him lopsidedly. )
Why?
( It's a question he had not anticipated asking, and it's raw in its genuine honesty. She could have killed him, back in the woods. She could have killed him on Starkiller Base. She doesn't want to exert power over him, doesn't want to control him or utilize his abilities for her means to an end. The reward of navigating his framework to cut Snoke's cord is directly proportional to the risk. She must realize the potential for this to go disastrously wrong in so many ways regardless of what they - she and Organa and Skywalker - hope to gain, and yet she remains. )
no subject
Whatever happens, now or ever, there will always be a line that splits them, from each other and from everyone else. Deep down, he knows that whatever she manages in her attempts to walk the hills and valleys of his mind, the fundamental aspects of him will not change. Her concerns regarding his rewiring are not so realized within his own thoughts. He's known since he was a child the kind of person that he was, even without Snoke's steady, unbroken stream of manipulations and promises and dark secrets there to guide him in the right direction. He's known without having to stumble upon the hidden image in his mind of the two of them turning to face Snoke that he would one day raise his hand against his master the way that the Sith who came before even Darth Vader had done. Kylo Ren may not be Sith, but the verse repeats all the same.
Her argument is compelling, even if she argues for reasons that do not necessarily resonate within him. He hasn't been able to remember silence since before he was five-years-old, that hazy point in childhood where memories could be memories or imagined realities designed to substitute them.
Kylo does not move for a very long time, stretching into the territory of minutes with the two of them simply standing and staring at one another. He reassembles his defenses brick by brick, piece by piece, not to keep Rey out necessarily but to delay the inevitability of Snoke's arrival for one minute longer than it might take otherwise, and then presses the bare flat of his hand against the glass where her palm has been placed. The surface is cool and solid, and the burn threaded into his skin grins back at him lopsidedly. )
Why?
( It's a question he had not anticipated asking, and it's raw in its genuine honesty. She could have killed him, back in the woods. She could have killed him on Starkiller Base. She doesn't want to exert power over him, doesn't want to control him or utilize his abilities for her means to an end. The reward of navigating his framework to cut Snoke's cord is directly proportional to the risk. She must realize the potential for this to go disastrously wrong in so many ways regardless of what they - she and Organa and Skywalker - hope to gain, and yet she remains. )