( If he's being perfectly and plainly honest with himself, he's a little surprised at her attitude. Despite what he'd said, there wasn't a part of him that believed for one second that Skywalker wouldn't be enough for her. He could see it on Starkiller Base, even as she'd stood over him with her teeth bared and her shoulders heaving, reflected back at him in the look she pinned him to the forest floor with. A ferocity that could be brought to heel but wouldn't buckle. Of course, Kylo had been wrong about her then, had underestimated both her own vicious strength and her connection to the Force, but he knows without having to press into her mind and search for the answers himself that he can't be wrong about her now. If anything, her opinions regarding him should have solidified more firmly following that entanglement, not broadened to include him in her quest to learn how to utilize the Force.
Strange girl.
That isn't to say he doesn't view it as a potential boon, but he's careful not to let it bleed through the connection established between the two of them, one that he still knows too little about to treat so lackadaisically. He keeps his defenses preternaturally high, cloaking himself from the questing implications and questions she projects at him, unsure whether or not they are broadcasted with the intent of landing somewhere or if she's doing it without realizing it. Were the Supreme Leader any other master, Kylo might be able to turn to him for guidance regarding the issue, but it's as out of the question as answering Rey's inquiries at face value are. Not even necessarily because he has no interest in doing so but because there is no in-between. There is no gray area where one can hang, suspended indefinitely, without feeling like they are being ripped apart. He's felt the white-hot pull from both ends of the spectrum, hung in the infinite nothingness between the two extremes for long enough to know a thing or two about the pain associated with the struggle of railing against the force that pulls the strongest. Allowing himself passage to the Dark Side was like slipping under a coaxing current, warmed and comforted on all sides by the cradle of its promise and power.
Never mind that standing on that bridge and cutting down Han Solo had felt like trying to swallow a bag of broken glass. Never mind that the strength and power he was meant to have felt at severing one of the last connections tethering him to the light only flared when he beat his abdomen black and blue in order to propel himself forward, to drive out the weaknesses that remained within him and feed the rage that built up and exploded outward in a controlled but violent burst of adrenaline. )
Why are you so insistent that I remove the helmet?
( Is probably not the answer that she was looking for, but he's not eager to jump into this discussion whether she's serious or not. He thinks he can taste the dirt in the air on his tongue, and wonders if some of it has worked its way through the filters - unlikely - or if it's some byproduct, if she has a mouthful of the stuff coating the back of her throat. )
no subject
Strange girl.
That isn't to say he doesn't view it as a potential boon, but he's careful not to let it bleed through the connection established between the two of them, one that he still knows too little about to treat so lackadaisically. He keeps his defenses preternaturally high, cloaking himself from the questing implications and questions she projects at him, unsure whether or not they are broadcasted with the intent of landing somewhere or if she's doing it without realizing it. Were the Supreme Leader any other master, Kylo might be able to turn to him for guidance regarding the issue, but it's as out of the question as answering Rey's inquiries at face value are. Not even necessarily because he has no interest in doing so but because there is no in-between. There is no gray area where one can hang, suspended indefinitely, without feeling like they are being ripped apart. He's felt the white-hot pull from both ends of the spectrum, hung in the infinite nothingness between the two extremes for long enough to know a thing or two about the pain associated with the struggle of railing against the force that pulls the strongest. Allowing himself passage to the Dark Side was like slipping under a coaxing current, warmed and comforted on all sides by the cradle of its promise and power.
Never mind that standing on that bridge and cutting down Han Solo had felt like trying to swallow a bag of broken glass. Never mind that the strength and power he was meant to have felt at severing one of the last connections tethering him to the light only flared when he beat his abdomen black and blue in order to propel himself forward, to drive out the weaknesses that remained within him and feed the rage that built up and exploded outward in a controlled but violent burst of adrenaline. )
Why are you so insistent that I remove the helmet?
( Is probably not the answer that she was looking for, but he's not eager to jump into this discussion whether she's serious or not. He thinks he can taste the dirt in the air on his tongue, and wonders if some of it has worked its way through the filters - unlikely - or if it's some byproduct, if she has a mouthful of the stuff coating the back of her throat. )