I'm not. [ Plainly: Rey has no interest in betraying the Resistance, believing more steadfastly in their cause and ideals than nearly anything she's been taught regarding the Jedi way. Master Skywalker has been both patient and forthright and without him, she might never have even found the courage to stand before an intimidating Kylo Ren, very possibly out for vengeance and her blood. But there are too many nagging faults with the Old Republic Jedi that leaves something left open, gapingly unanswered, a blatant brand of self denial, the antithesis of everything she's ever wanted. They failed for a reason, she's sure, an answer Luke Skywalker isn't able to provide, either. It all seems so strangely self serving in a much different light than the conquering, dark passion the Sith wield and it leaves her uneasy, not meshing with who she is— or at the very least, who she wants to be.
Openly, she wonders if he leaves his helm on to hide his scar or simply to annoy her, but there's a twinge of relief when he holsters his saber, even as he cuts the distance between them a few feet, his physical presence vaguely dizzying. ] I said talk, not train. I'm simply weighing my options. I'm trying to learn.
[ Because she knows, she can feel it in him standing before now, from behind the blue and red burn of two lightsaber blades in a snowy wood, her poignantly clear moment of calm bleeding over into him just before she struck back: Kylo Ren is no Sith, try as he might. And maybe the answers lie in not forcibly choosing a side, but rather choosing your own path. The link between them feels stronger now, as though she can feel smooth leather against her palm, tightly wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber, how warm and sterile it is behind that mask, and she shifts her weight once, pausing before taking a few strides forward herself, stopping only a few feet from him. ]
I don't want what you aim to be. I don't want what Luke Skywalker wants me to be. There has to be something in between. The universe is too gray for these kinds of absolutes. [ Softer now, and not quite imploring but a few shades away, holding his gaze through a mask she thinks she can nearly see through. ]
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Openly, she wonders if he leaves his helm on to hide his scar or simply to annoy her, but there's a twinge of relief when he holsters his saber, even as he cuts the distance between them a few feet, his physical presence vaguely dizzying. ] I said talk, not train. I'm simply weighing my options. I'm trying to learn.
[ Because she knows, she can feel it in him standing before now, from behind the blue and red burn of two lightsaber blades in a snowy wood, her poignantly clear moment of calm bleeding over into him just before she struck back: Kylo Ren is no Sith, try as he might. And maybe the answers lie in not forcibly choosing a side, but rather choosing your own path. The link between them feels stronger now, as though she can feel smooth leather against her palm, tightly wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber, how warm and sterile it is behind that mask, and she shifts her weight once, pausing before taking a few strides forward herself, stopping only a few feet from him. ]
I don't want what you aim to be. I don't want what Luke Skywalker wants me to be. There has to be something in between. The universe is too gray for these kinds of absolutes. [ Softer now, and not quite imploring but a few shades away, holding his gaze through a mask she thinks she can nearly see through. ]