( The longer he goes into the day cycle, the more he feels as if he's having an out of body experience. Chewbacca spends the overwhelming majority of his time repairing the shields, taking breaks every now and then in order to make sure Kylo has not jumped ship or sabotaged something on purpose - or on accident; he has a baseline understanding of what he's doing but the Falcon is old, and there's a strange marriage ceremony in coaxing some of the newer parts bought and paid for on Hapes to cohabitate with the older parts that have yet to be replaced - and Kylo makes the executive decision not to follow after Rey's signature in the Force as she spends time in the company of the Queen Mother, leaving her to her own tasks and Kylo to his own foul mood.
Paying attention to what his hands are doing requires more attention than he has to spare, besides. He can't pay attention to the task at hand in a legitimate effort not to muck up the mechanics too badly and also hope to be able to search through the Force in the delicate way required to snag a Knight's blip on the proverbial radar and also pay attention to what Rey is doing while contending with the mood that he has descended into and the thoughts that come along as a consequence. It doesn't help that the first thing Chewbacca says to him once he's returned from the ramp, after explaining where Rey has gone, is that General Organa is en route, leaving Kylo's mood, if possible, even fouler. He spends a long moment staring into the paneling that he's working with, trying to manipulate some broken piece to bend so that he can snap it out of the cooling system without damaging anything else around it, and he considers, as Chewbacca meanders back down in the direction he had come once Kylo has no response for him, just breaking the piece in order to exert a little control over something.
He works it free with care regardless, knowing how it would be perceived and wondering if it matters all the same, wondering what he's doing here in the first place. They don't trust him, and Kylo knows they have more than enough reason not to, and he isn't sure why it perturbs and disgruntles him so much to know that they likely never will. Because you've defected, admit it to yourself, a voice says in the back of his head, when he is elbow deep in a white hot heating unit, long gloves pulled up to his biceps and a pair of goggles with a too-loose strap clouding his eyes, steam obscuring his already limited vision. Kylo doesn't recognize the voice, so he doesn't answer, too used to unfamiliar voices encouraging him in one direction or another, although he can't deny that whoever is saying it, whether it's real or not, isn't strictly telling a lie. He sees stretched before him the potential of the future like a rolling plain, pockmarked with his failures and ravaged by unrelenting winds. Behind him, the fields stretch in the opposite direction, razed to the ground and blackened, the scorched earth running deep enough to burn red in some places.
You can't erase the things you've done, another voice says, lower, deeper, softer, familiar but still alien. Not Snoke's then, but someone else's. They'll never trust you, no matter what you do. You can never be trusted, it says, just as Kylo straightens up and leans back, shoving the goggles out of his eyes as the steam clears with a wave of his hand, sweat pouring down his face and pooling in the neck of the flight suit, bleeding through at the base of his spine and under his arms. His concentration elsewhere as it has been, it's the first time that Rey gets the jump on him that he can remember, and in turning to find her waiting at the door, he does a slight double take as he realizes what it is he's looking at. )
Move. ( He gestures to her and begins stripping the long gloves off of his arms, wiping at his face with his sleeve as he shoulders out of the box of a room he's been working in to step into the cooler air of the hold. ) Enjoy your time with the locals?
hahahah my gift to you was passing out so maybe we can be even
Paying attention to what his hands are doing requires more attention than he has to spare, besides. He can't pay attention to the task at hand in a legitimate effort not to muck up the mechanics too badly and also hope to be able to search through the Force in the delicate way required to snag a Knight's blip on the proverbial radar and also pay attention to what Rey is doing while contending with the mood that he has descended into and the thoughts that come along as a consequence. It doesn't help that the first thing Chewbacca says to him once he's returned from the ramp, after explaining where Rey has gone, is that General Organa is en route, leaving Kylo's mood, if possible, even fouler. He spends a long moment staring into the paneling that he's working with, trying to manipulate some broken piece to bend so that he can snap it out of the cooling system without damaging anything else around it, and he considers, as Chewbacca meanders back down in the direction he had come once Kylo has no response for him, just breaking the piece in order to exert a little control over something.
He works it free with care regardless, knowing how it would be perceived and wondering if it matters all the same, wondering what he's doing here in the first place. They don't trust him, and Kylo knows they have more than enough reason not to, and he isn't sure why it perturbs and disgruntles him so much to know that they likely never will. Because you've defected, admit it to yourself, a voice says in the back of his head, when he is elbow deep in a white hot heating unit, long gloves pulled up to his biceps and a pair of goggles with a too-loose strap clouding his eyes, steam obscuring his already limited vision. Kylo doesn't recognize the voice, so he doesn't answer, too used to unfamiliar voices encouraging him in one direction or another, although he can't deny that whoever is saying it, whether it's real or not, isn't strictly telling a lie. He sees stretched before him the potential of the future like a rolling plain, pockmarked with his failures and ravaged by unrelenting winds. Behind him, the fields stretch in the opposite direction, razed to the ground and blackened, the scorched earth running deep enough to burn red in some places.
You can't erase the things you've done, another voice says, lower, deeper, softer, familiar but still alien. Not Snoke's then, but someone else's. They'll never trust you, no matter what you do. You can never be trusted, it says, just as Kylo straightens up and leans back, shoving the goggles out of his eyes as the steam clears with a wave of his hand, sweat pouring down his face and pooling in the neck of the flight suit, bleeding through at the base of his spine and under his arms. His concentration elsewhere as it has been, it's the first time that Rey gets the jump on him that he can remember, and in turning to find her waiting at the door, he does a slight double take as he realizes what it is he's looking at. )
Move. ( He gestures to her and begins stripping the long gloves off of his arms, wiping at his face with his sleeve as he shoulders out of the box of a room he's been working in to step into the cooler air of the hold. ) Enjoy your time with the locals?