( He suffocates. Sweat rolls down the back of his neck and bleeds into his collar under the careful, scrutinizing gaze that Skywalker and Organa fix him with from across the room. They are a unified front despite the quiet argument preceding Rey's arrival with him in tow. He hangs back a moment, and Rey takes point as she has the entire duration of their hike across the mile long stretch of Resistance territory in leading him to them. No amount of uncertainty paralyzes him, and he realizes after Rey has taken exactly three steps in the general and her master's direction that what he's been carrying with him, tucked up behind his ribs and hiding in behind the solid wall of his sternum, is fear.
He's carried his gloves this far in the large span of one hand, and he crumples them tighter under the pressure of his fingers as he strides forward after her.
Kylo can't decide if he should choose one of them and maintain eye contact or look at neither of them to show that he isn't intimidated, that they hold no sway over his decision to see this through. In the end he settles for staring Luke Skywalker down with all the weight of what has transpired between them trapped within a short distance of ten feet or so. He cannot and will not look at the general, even if he feels her staring at him so intently that he's sure she wouldn't notice if Rey broke down the act of a dutiful soldier that she's putting on and stood on her head. He does not even entertain the notion of trying to slip into either of their minds and see what's going on inside of them, but he does let loose some of the latent frustration he feels at being this close to the man he had hunted across the galaxy only to lose because of the girl at his elbow.
Organa retreats to lead them away from the main area with a clipped platitude in his direction that he does not return, following them all while still refusing to meet the general's eye even as she very overtly and resolutely continues to commit the angles and lines of his face to memory, tries to reconcile them with the image that she must have of him locked in her head from years ago. Han Solo had worn the same expression for a moment, and recalling that he had summons the image of him speared through the middle with a burst of red light. Skywalker turns his face in Kylo's direction abruptly, and he feels oddly speared himself to be on the receiving end of that gaze, rife with sentiment that he can't read and doesn't want to. So he ignores it, maneuvering through a set of elbows and stepping around a small command post where a couple of officers pour over traffic reports while sipping on something that he can smell even from his distance.
As Organa shows them into the room they have set aside for whatever is to happen next, Kylo gets the distinct impression that he is living in a dream, for all the absurdity of the situation. She approaches him, and he can see the word Ben on her mouth before it even has a chance to be fully formed. Don't, is all that he says, finding his tone less cruel for all its brevity than he had anticipated. It strikes him how small she is next to him. Ironic, given how large she looms in the eyes of the Resistance and the Order, not to mention his memories. Despite her unquestionable strength of character and conviction, Organa does not plunge recklessly ahead by completing the thought he had quelled before it had a chance to be finalized. The risk she takes is greater, reaching a surprisingly smooth hand up to catch the scar tissue running nearly the length of his face with the tip of her thumb. Kylo smells powder, oil, rainwater and something else, something new. )
Rey. ( He pulls away from the general's questing touch and moves toward her, keeping Skywalker in his peripheral like he's waiting for an attack to come from any angle. With no saber at his belt - Kylo suspects that it's with Skywalker, though he can't be positive - he feels naked and exposed, doubly so without the helm, leaving his expressions bare for the world to see. Finally, he turns to his uncle and says with no affection - ) Your move.
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He's carried his gloves this far in the large span of one hand, and he crumples them tighter under the pressure of his fingers as he strides forward after her.
Kylo can't decide if he should choose one of them and maintain eye contact or look at neither of them to show that he isn't intimidated, that they hold no sway over his decision to see this through. In the end he settles for staring Luke Skywalker down with all the weight of what has transpired between them trapped within a short distance of ten feet or so. He cannot and will not look at the general, even if he feels her staring at him so intently that he's sure she wouldn't notice if Rey broke down the act of a dutiful soldier that she's putting on and stood on her head. He does not even entertain the notion of trying to slip into either of their minds and see what's going on inside of them, but he does let loose some of the latent frustration he feels at being this close to the man he had hunted across the galaxy only to lose because of the girl at his elbow.
Organa retreats to lead them away from the main area with a clipped platitude in his direction that he does not return, following them all while still refusing to meet the general's eye even as she very overtly and resolutely continues to commit the angles and lines of his face to memory, tries to reconcile them with the image that she must have of him locked in her head from years ago. Han Solo had worn the same expression for a moment, and recalling that he had summons the image of him speared through the middle with a burst of red light. Skywalker turns his face in Kylo's direction abruptly, and he feels oddly speared himself to be on the receiving end of that gaze, rife with sentiment that he can't read and doesn't want to. So he ignores it, maneuvering through a set of elbows and stepping around a small command post where a couple of officers pour over traffic reports while sipping on something that he can smell even from his distance.
As Organa shows them into the room they have set aside for whatever is to happen next, Kylo gets the distinct impression that he is living in a dream, for all the absurdity of the situation. She approaches him, and he can see the word Ben on her mouth before it even has a chance to be fully formed. Don't, is all that he says, finding his tone less cruel for all its brevity than he had anticipated. It strikes him how small she is next to him. Ironic, given how large she looms in the eyes of the Resistance and the Order, not to mention his memories. Despite her unquestionable strength of character and conviction, Organa does not plunge recklessly ahead by completing the thought he had quelled before it had a chance to be finalized. The risk she takes is greater, reaching a surprisingly smooth hand up to catch the scar tissue running nearly the length of his face with the tip of her thumb. Kylo smells powder, oil, rainwater and something else, something new. )
Rey. ( He pulls away from the general's questing touch and moves toward her, keeping Skywalker in his peripheral like he's waiting for an attack to come from any angle. With no saber at his belt - Kylo suspects that it's with Skywalker, though he can't be positive - he feels naked and exposed, doubly so without the helm, leaving his expressions bare for the world to see. Finally, he turns to his uncle and says with no affection - ) Your move.