( Similar to Rey's inspection meters and meters from where Kylo attempts to untangle his boot from the bed sheet, he runs the flat of his tongue over the inside of his cheek, searching for the culprit while getting unsteadily to his feet. His legs are liquid: an unfortunate side effect of having lain in a cramped position for the better part of two hours and an embarrassing result of being completely disoriented from the draining quality of the dream he had experienced. The wobble in his step leaves him reeling and angry, one hand reaching out to steady himself against the nearest surface that he can find as he wills some of the blood flow to return to traitorous appendages.
Weak boy, that voice says again. Kylo tells it to shut up and punctuates the command with a sharp, open-handed slap against metal paneling, stinging his palm and making the bones that run the length of his fingers vibrate with the impact. It also has the unfortunate result of bouncing around the walls of his own mind and tumbling across the bond that he shares with Rey. )
Shut up. ( The only benefit is that it doesn't sound as petulant as it might given the criticism that she's tossed so casually at him prior to him replying at all. It sounds like a command, an order, and while Kylo doesn't expect Rey to take it lying down, he also - perhaps falsely - expects her to listen to him as a result of the harshness of his tone. Everything that follows has a brusque quality, half a manifestation of his heightened sense of awareness and half because he's busy trying to get out of the ship. He has no idea where Chewbacca is, if he's gone to the hangar to watch the general's arrival or gone for more parts or if he has two massively hairy arms buried in the innards of this ship's underbelly, but he spares no time to wonder or search him out. He stops only in the hold to pull the tunic he had been wearing earlier over his head, cinching his waist with the broad swatch of leather that makes up his belt so that he can clip his saber to it. Kylo realizes that he looks ridiculous, but he can't shake the feeling that he's going to need it. Hapan prejudices be damned. ) Something is wrong. I can sense it. Can't you?
( His lightsaber smacks into his thigh as he takes long strides down the cargo ramp, and Kylo slips his hand down to his hip to wrap his fingers around the hilt, a measure of comfort and security. Knowing that it's there makes him feel more at ease, even if a cold prickling sensation has begun working its way up his spine. The immediate area is devoid of Hapans, leaving the docking bay filled with a sparse smattering of mechanics and Resistance pilots still working on getting their own ships space-worthy again. Kylo ignores them all, ignores the way they watch him move, hating him and marveling at him and some of them looking away discreetly as he stomps by. He lets his feet and the incessant pull of Rey's great sunspot within the Force pull him where he needs to go. More strongly, whether he wants to admit it or not, he feels Organa, a gathering of glimmering stones on a long distant shore, a lighthouse encased on either side by craggy rock. )
I had a dream. ( Kylo realizes how stupid that sounds the minute that he says it, but there's no changing it. The only word that wants to manifest on his tongue is Dryx. DryxRenDryxRenDryxRen. Rey's feelings, her perceptions of something coming, something bad, flood him. ) Where are you? ( He asks it even though he doesn't have to, hoping to cut down on arrival time by not forcing himself to sift through the present consciousnesses of every person around him. Eyes track him when he leaves the docking area, they track his blade. ) Tell me what you see.
YOUR RESPONSE WAS PERFECT /discreetly tags while in class la la la
( Similar to Rey's inspection meters and meters from where Kylo attempts to untangle his boot from the bed sheet, he runs the flat of his tongue over the inside of his cheek, searching for the culprit while getting unsteadily to his feet. His legs are liquid: an unfortunate side effect of having lain in a cramped position for the better part of two hours and an embarrassing result of being completely disoriented from the draining quality of the dream he had experienced. The wobble in his step leaves him reeling and angry, one hand reaching out to steady himself against the nearest surface that he can find as he wills some of the blood flow to return to traitorous appendages.
Weak boy, that voice says again. Kylo tells it to shut up and punctuates the command with a sharp, open-handed slap against metal paneling, stinging his palm and making the bones that run the length of his fingers vibrate with the impact. It also has the unfortunate result of bouncing around the walls of his own mind and tumbling across the bond that he shares with Rey. )
Shut up. ( The only benefit is that it doesn't sound as petulant as it might given the criticism that she's tossed so casually at him prior to him replying at all. It sounds like a command, an order, and while Kylo doesn't expect Rey to take it lying down, he also - perhaps falsely - expects her to listen to him as a result of the harshness of his tone. Everything that follows has a brusque quality, half a manifestation of his heightened sense of awareness and half because he's busy trying to get out of the ship. He has no idea where Chewbacca is, if he's gone to the hangar to watch the general's arrival or gone for more parts or if he has two massively hairy arms buried in the innards of this ship's underbelly, but he spares no time to wonder or search him out. He stops only in the hold to pull the tunic he had been wearing earlier over his head, cinching his waist with the broad swatch of leather that makes up his belt so that he can clip his saber to it. Kylo realizes that he looks ridiculous, but he can't shake the feeling that he's going to need it. Hapan prejudices be damned. ) Something is wrong. I can sense it. Can't you?
( His lightsaber smacks into his thigh as he takes long strides down the cargo ramp, and Kylo slips his hand down to his hip to wrap his fingers around the hilt, a measure of comfort and security. Knowing that it's there makes him feel more at ease, even if a cold prickling sensation has begun working its way up his spine. The immediate area is devoid of Hapans, leaving the docking bay filled with a sparse smattering of mechanics and Resistance pilots still working on getting their own ships space-worthy again. Kylo ignores them all, ignores the way they watch him move, hating him and marveling at him and some of them looking away discreetly as he stomps by. He lets his feet and the incessant pull of Rey's great sunspot within the Force pull him where he needs to go. More strongly, whether he wants to admit it or not, he feels Organa, a gathering of glimmering stones on a long distant shore, a lighthouse encased on either side by craggy rock. )
I had a dream. ( Kylo realizes how stupid that sounds the minute that he says it, but there's no changing it. The only word that wants to manifest on his tongue is Dryx. DryxRenDryxRenDryxRen. Rey's feelings, her perceptions of something coming, something bad, flood him. ) Where are you? ( He asks it even though he doesn't have to, hoping to cut down on arrival time by not forcing himself to sift through the present consciousnesses of every person around him. Eyes track him when he leaves the docking area, they track his blade. ) Tell me what you see.