( He is on the floor, hands and knees pressing hard into the metal grating that hides cabling, power couplings, and the hidden compartments that, he knows, Han Solo used to smuggle spice in his days before becoming a general in the Rebel army. Kylo's fingers spasm around whatever he can find to hold onto, halfway to catatonic with pain that bursts like blown star systems behind his eyelids. His head is on fire, skin hypothermic, every beat of his heart pumping metallic blood through his circulatory system as he struggles to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide and not throw up at the same time. Blood floods his mouth where he grinds his teeth down into the meat of his cheek in an effort not to cry out, to ground himself in the vertigo-inducing sensation of Rey's piloting skills as she steers them away from Corellia.
Kylo lets Snoke feel the shaking of the ship around him, the floor vibrating under the length of his palm as something takes a hit. In his mind, General Organa barks orders for updates, and Skywalker, despite his innate desire to be behind the wheel of the Falcon's controls, remains as a guard to flank his nephew in the event that he tries to utilize any power in order to escape. Rey is called away, to the cockpit for assistance, and he imagines that he can feel her footsteps pounding away down the hall enough that the echo of them resounds perfectly in the dome of his head. Snoke stands in his mind's eye, and the helmet in Kylo's vision falls away so that long, spindly fingers can thread through his hair like wisps of smoke, like clouds of vapor made corporeal, trailing motor oil down the back of his neck in rivulets.
He only realizes that it's sweat that's congealing under the strain of the illusion when Rey actually does bark at him, breaking through the haze of heat and bringing him away from the summit of the experience with a barrage of her own presence against the sheer cliff wall that he has constructed in an effort to keep her out of this. Teeth gnash, lined with bright red blood, and he makes a noise not unlike something savage and wild, a sharp grunt that might be a shout were his teeth not pressed so tightly together. Stay out, he hits back, shoving at her with a burst of strength that would upend her and send her sprawling back the way she had come were it made physical. It's a peer back at her through a crack in the door, the wild white of his eye visible before he slams it shut in her face and looks up at the beckoning hand of the Supreme Leader, extended toward him as if in conciliatory acceptance.
The Outer Rim, Kylo says simply, eyes tracing the sunken, misshapen face that he has looked to time and time again for understanding and guidance, for wisdom and respect. Twin eyes, black as Ilum's glacial plains, curve in the darkness toward him. In the projection of his projection, the bulky width of his frame straightens and stares ahead at the general, meeting the softness of wide brown eyes. Snoke says to him, I will not abandon you as they have, boy.
And then he's gone. The pressure on Kylo's head and neck swells to a paralyzing crescendo before it abates and washes away like the faltering of the tide, and he is left to blink his way back to full consciousness like coming out of a stupor. He breathes loudly, each inhale and exhale punctuated with a half-choked scratch of sound that rolls outward from his larynx like it's being ripped out of him. Alarms blare in his ears, the floor swimming into focus where his face has nearly pressed into it. Something is burning, melting, and when he swallows his mouth is full of saliva and blood. He fights with the urge to vomit, blinking black spots out of his eyes, curls his hand into a fist and strikes viciously at the floor before pushing himself back onto his hands and knees. The wall separating himself from Snoke slides back into place, allowing Rey to once again tumble face-first into his mind as he frees up her end of the connection. )
hahahah totally applicable to every day situations absolutely
Kylo lets Snoke feel the shaking of the ship around him, the floor vibrating under the length of his palm as something takes a hit. In his mind, General Organa barks orders for updates, and Skywalker, despite his innate desire to be behind the wheel of the Falcon's controls, remains as a guard to flank his nephew in the event that he tries to utilize any power in order to escape. Rey is called away, to the cockpit for assistance, and he imagines that he can feel her footsteps pounding away down the hall enough that the echo of them resounds perfectly in the dome of his head. Snoke stands in his mind's eye, and the helmet in Kylo's vision falls away so that long, spindly fingers can thread through his hair like wisps of smoke, like clouds of vapor made corporeal, trailing motor oil down the back of his neck in rivulets.
He only realizes that it's sweat that's congealing under the strain of the illusion when Rey actually does bark at him, breaking through the haze of heat and bringing him away from the summit of the experience with a barrage of her own presence against the sheer cliff wall that he has constructed in an effort to keep her out of this. Teeth gnash, lined with bright red blood, and he makes a noise not unlike something savage and wild, a sharp grunt that might be a shout were his teeth not pressed so tightly together. Stay out, he hits back, shoving at her with a burst of strength that would upend her and send her sprawling back the way she had come were it made physical. It's a peer back at her through a crack in the door, the wild white of his eye visible before he slams it shut in her face and looks up at the beckoning hand of the Supreme Leader, extended toward him as if in conciliatory acceptance.
The Outer Rim, Kylo says simply, eyes tracing the sunken, misshapen face that he has looked to time and time again for understanding and guidance, for wisdom and respect. Twin eyes, black as Ilum's glacial plains, curve in the darkness toward him. In the projection of his projection, the bulky width of his frame straightens and stares ahead at the general, meeting the softness of wide brown eyes. Snoke says to him, I will not abandon you as they have, boy.
And then he's gone. The pressure on Kylo's head and neck swells to a paralyzing crescendo before it abates and washes away like the faltering of the tide, and he is left to blink his way back to full consciousness like coming out of a stupor. He breathes loudly, each inhale and exhale punctuated with a half-choked scratch of sound that rolls outward from his larynx like it's being ripped out of him. Alarms blare in his ears, the floor swimming into focus where his face has nearly pressed into it. Something is burning, melting, and when he swallows his mouth is full of saliva and blood. He fights with the urge to vomit, blinking black spots out of his eyes, curls his hand into a fist and strikes viciously at the floor before pushing himself back onto his hands and knees. The wall separating himself from Snoke slides back into place, allowing Rey to once again tumble face-first into his mind as he frees up her end of the connection. )
The Knights are coming.