Did I? [ Undeterred by his ever present irritation with her, she sits still in her bunk, narrowing in on her focus on him and likewise, leaving herself open enough to let something pass through their link without her notice— I hadn't meant to. Her nightmares, she realizes, must have inadvertently shifted between them, just as the echo of his fading wounds transposed to her. The force bond is a strange anomaly Rey continues to try and parse through privately and publicly keep at bay; General Organa will give her a passing glance every now and then, a flicker of a different sort of recognition passing over her lovely face, gone an instant later, an afterthought. It truly leaves Rey wondering if she can feel the nudge of her son's presence, lingering quiet in the back of her mind.
She touches her face again, fingertips creeping up a non-existent slice up her cheek, pausing at her brow bone, mirroring his own actions just before she'd heard his voice in her head. She can see him— standing at the mirror, cool water at the back of his tongue, muscles only vaguely tense with a few degrees less annoyance than usual. His hair is ruffled from sleep, or lack thereof, curling around a sharp jawline, and not for the first time does Rey wonder why he's kept the scar she's given him ( she doubts it has anything to do with being sentimental. ]
Not to nitpick the details, but this is really your fault. Maybe you'll think twice the next time you feel like rifling through someone's head without their permission. [ That, she also remembers with a startlingly uncomfortable clarity, an unexplainable pressure at the base of her skull, waves of something dark and suffocating rolling over her, memories clawed out of her mind at force— until she'd shoved him handily out and ricocheted back into his mind.
She's quiet for a moment, balancing the warring sensations of her warm cot, her hair spilling over her shoulders undone, Finn still snoring away on the otherside of the wall versus the chill of cold black tile beneath his feet, his large hands gripping the sink, how dark his eyes pool as he looks back at his own reflection and sees her, too, the faintest crease between her eyes. The nausea settles some. This shouldn't feel so normal. ]
no subject
She touches her face again, fingertips creeping up a non-existent slice up her cheek, pausing at her brow bone, mirroring his own actions just before she'd heard his voice in her head. She can see him— standing at the mirror, cool water at the back of his tongue, muscles only vaguely tense with a few degrees less annoyance than usual. His hair is ruffled from sleep, or lack thereof, curling around a sharp jawline, and not for the first time does Rey wonder why he's kept the scar she's given him ( she doubts it has anything to do with being sentimental. ]
Not to nitpick the details, but this is really your fault. Maybe you'll think twice the next time you feel like rifling through someone's head without their permission. [ That, she also remembers with a startlingly uncomfortable clarity, an unexplainable pressure at the base of her skull, waves of something dark and suffocating rolling over her, memories clawed out of her mind at force— until she'd shoved him handily out and ricocheted back into his mind.
She's quiet for a moment, balancing the warring sensations of her warm cot, her hair spilling over her shoulders undone, Finn still snoring away on the otherside of the wall versus the chill of cold black tile beneath his feet, his large hands gripping the sink, how dark his eyes pool as he looks back at his own reflection and sees her, too, the faintest crease between her eyes. The nausea settles some. This shouldn't feel so normal. ]
Could you see what I was dreaming?