( Kylo knows that what she says, just as when she'd called him out for being afraid, for being a coward, is a truth that he's long been reconciled with, despite his exhaustive efforts to deny it. He's just shoved it down so far underneath the responsibility that both the Jedi and Snoke had tasked him with that the idea of a middle ground easily became as ludicrous as any lingering notions he'd had about his past life as a Solo had been. Snoke had extinguished all of them with the same ease with which he had Kylo believing that there was only one path, one way. Even under Skywalker's leadership, he was never allowed to recognize balance as Rey presents it to him now, despite the sermons they all endured on the subject.
He's known it every time he peered into the warped, half-melted helmet that had belonged to his grandfather, every time he called out to Darth Vader in an attempt to ground himself in that life Kylo had so strove to emulate, only to find silence as his answer. The silence wasn't the distinct lack of an answer, but an answer in itself; he'd just been too unwilling to admit it. )
What you're saying - it sounds more like the definition of balance as I understood it at one point, rather than everything I've ever heard about it from anyone else. ( The far corner of his mouth tries to hitch itself up into the closest approximation of something resembling a trial run at a lopsided grin, not unlike that of a certain smuggler's, but the muscles have atrophied, and Kylo looks like he's frowning, more than anything. Dark eyes, still bloodshot with unshed tears and the heavy exertion of this particular mental jungle gym, come to rest on her face as she continues to invade his personal space. She's closer than he realized; he can see the star map of freckles dotting her nose. ) You've brought me this far.
( It's a statement that speaks legends in its simplicity. Layered underneath the syllables and hesitating consonants that scratch their way out of the back of his throat and somehow cross the barrier of tongue and teeth to manifest between them, the truth in that confession hangs like a specter, makes him feel small in the wake of her dedication to seeing this through. He hasn't felt small in over fifteen years, definitely has never let anyone see him sprawled on the floor, but then he's never come against an equal, a mirror, and looked long into it in this way. )
I'm afraid - ( There's an awkward lilt to his voice, an almost sing-song quality that seems somehow forcefully nonchalant on such a deep baritone. Kylo feels it reverberate all the way down into his solar plexus. ) - that I pushed it down too far. The light. The constant back and forth between the two has always been there. One was never stronger than the other, just more persuasive, easier. More accessible. Divorcing yourself of all emotion is so much harder than giving into it. ( Thumb and forefinger of his right hand encircle the wrist of his left, twisting. ) I don't know what the defining point was. When they sent me to train with my uncle, it became easier and easier to stop trying to hear what I was supposed to be listening to and just listen to what sounded better instead.
( He was stronger, he was better, he was more powerful than all of them. He didn't need to be held back by his uncle's foolish perceptions of what made a good Jedi. The Jedi weren't even that good. The Jedi were ignorant and weak and they had all died out for a reason. They deserved to be dead. They squandered their power. They wanted to put limitations on his potential. Why would they do that? Who would want to hold him back? Why, when he was capable, when he was special? Ben could be so much more than the rest of them. He could command them. He could rule them. He could rule the whole galaxy with his power. He could send them away, rather than get sent away.
They manifest now. He can hear them, drawing his attention down the long hallway to their left. Kylo looks again that way and braces a palm against the tile, intent on rising. )
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He's known it every time he peered into the warped, half-melted helmet that had belonged to his grandfather, every time he called out to Darth Vader in an attempt to ground himself in that life Kylo had so strove to emulate, only to find silence as his answer. The silence wasn't the distinct lack of an answer, but an answer in itself; he'd just been too unwilling to admit it. )
What you're saying - it sounds more like the definition of balance as I understood it at one point, rather than everything I've ever heard about it from anyone else. ( The far corner of his mouth tries to hitch itself up into the closest approximation of something resembling a trial run at a lopsided grin, not unlike that of a certain smuggler's, but the muscles have atrophied, and Kylo looks like he's frowning, more than anything. Dark eyes, still bloodshot with unshed tears and the heavy exertion of this particular mental jungle gym, come to rest on her face as she continues to invade his personal space. She's closer than he realized; he can see the star map of freckles dotting her nose. ) You've brought me this far.
( It's a statement that speaks legends in its simplicity. Layered underneath the syllables and hesitating consonants that scratch their way out of the back of his throat and somehow cross the barrier of tongue and teeth to manifest between them, the truth in that confession hangs like a specter, makes him feel small in the wake of her dedication to seeing this through. He hasn't felt small in over fifteen years, definitely has never let anyone see him sprawled on the floor, but then he's never come against an equal, a mirror, and looked long into it in this way. )
I'm afraid - ( There's an awkward lilt to his voice, an almost sing-song quality that seems somehow forcefully nonchalant on such a deep baritone. Kylo feels it reverberate all the way down into his solar plexus. ) - that I pushed it down too far. The light. The constant back and forth between the two has always been there. One was never stronger than the other, just more persuasive, easier. More accessible. Divorcing yourself of all emotion is so much harder than giving into it. ( Thumb and forefinger of his right hand encircle the wrist of his left, twisting. ) I don't know what the defining point was. When they sent me to train with my uncle, it became easier and easier to stop trying to hear what I was supposed to be listening to and just listen to what sounded better instead.
( He was stronger, he was better, he was more powerful than all of them. He didn't need to be held back by his uncle's foolish perceptions of what made a good Jedi. The Jedi weren't even that good. The Jedi were ignorant and weak and they had all died out for a reason. They deserved to be dead. They squandered their power. They wanted to put limitations on his potential. Why would they do that? Who would want to hold him back? Why, when he was capable, when he was special? Ben could be so much more than the rest of them. He could command them. He could rule them. He could rule the whole galaxy with his power. He could send them away, rather than get sent away.
They manifest now. He can hear them, drawing his attention down the long hallway to their left. Kylo looks again that way and braces a palm against the tile, intent on rising. )
Do you hear that?