( Kylo says nothing for the time being, allowing the stone wall of his silence to serve as an effective response. He hadn't thought of it that way initially. Rather, he'd viewed it as a more reckless way of approaching the possibility that one of them might die in the next handful of hours and what it would mean for the one left alive. His confidence in his own ability and his pride along with being very confident in knowing that Snoke will want him alive means that Kylo doesn't stop to consider the idea that he might be the one to fall, but he doesn't know what it will mean in the event that Rey does, and he's uncertain what it says about his position on the board that he chooses to step in front of her, now, when she's already indicated that she believes he will later. This is a less direct method of approach, to be sure, more convoluted in their prolonged survival, but it exists as much as the disregard for his own safety. He knows Ji, at the very least, and he isn't afraid of her.
Glancing over at Rey once the blast radius of her shock clears the air and begins breaking up into the atmosphere, he doesn't doubt her ability for survival in the slightest, but that doesn't stop the thought from crossing back and forth over his mind all the same. What happens if one of them dies? How strong is the link that they have not only forged but strengthened between them in the days since Starkiller, since Corellia? If he exposes himself to Ji through the Force, does he risk exposing Rey where she lies in wait at the same time? How deeply within one another have their talons sunk? Questions for a master, no doubt, but he'd never shared his connection with Rey or anything about her at all, and now, as it all threatens to come crashing down around them, Kylo can't determine whether or not he's glad.
There's no time to imagine a world in which these questions are realized, though, and he distracts himself from it for the time being by steadfastly refusing to answer her, turning his back to peer in the direction that they came from, beyond the belly of the Falcon and cringing when the sound of rusted iron scrapes over his ears with a loud scream. Rey has moved several paces away from him, but he is behind her once more in half the time it takes her to cross the threshold on her own. And the threshold is every bit as decrepit and ancient and imposing as he would expect it to be. Not even the breath of ghosts stirs the dust that fills his head and coats the back of his throat, threatening to choke. Their boots are the first to have stepped here in decades, and the skeletal framework of the mine itself stretches up and down and ahead, reminding him of some of the ancient temples he has perused on his personal quest to eradicate the memory of the Jedi from the galaxy.
Rey's footsteps call him to attention as they tap up a staircase he isn't sure can hold the both of them, despite looking less affected by the slow decay of time as the rest of the mine is. He doesn't follow up the stairs after her until she's cleared the landing, and even then he's slow going, his footsteps naturally much heavier and louder than her own. His weight makes the steps groan, but the staircase holds, and when he emerges on the next level, the bright blink of her eyes in the dark is the first thing to catch the high, warm glow of the lamp in his hand. )
Out in the open, I think. I don't know that any of these buildings would be able to support the added stress if we were to draw her indoors, even if it would be more convenient. Here. ( He glances around, holding out the glowrod for her to take while striding to a spot that creaks and squeals ominously. Rey's weight seems supported for the most part, but it's entirely positive that between his body and the added weight of the clothing that he's wearing, she'll be able to go places on lighter, quicker feet that he will not. The path across the floor that he is able to take leads him to the broken framework of a busted window, jagged clari-crystalline jutting like canines. Through the web of fractured glass, the entrance to the mine proper sags. ) Or we could draw her into one of the actual mining shafts.
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Glancing over at Rey once the blast radius of her shock clears the air and begins breaking up into the atmosphere, he doesn't doubt her ability for survival in the slightest, but that doesn't stop the thought from crossing back and forth over his mind all the same. What happens if one of them dies? How strong is the link that they have not only forged but strengthened between them in the days since Starkiller, since Corellia? If he exposes himself to Ji through the Force, does he risk exposing Rey where she lies in wait at the same time? How deeply within one another have their talons sunk? Questions for a master, no doubt, but he'd never shared his connection with Rey or anything about her at all, and now, as it all threatens to come crashing down around them, Kylo can't determine whether or not he's glad.
There's no time to imagine a world in which these questions are realized, though, and he distracts himself from it for the time being by steadfastly refusing to answer her, turning his back to peer in the direction that they came from, beyond the belly of the Falcon and cringing when the sound of rusted iron scrapes over his ears with a loud scream. Rey has moved several paces away from him, but he is behind her once more in half the time it takes her to cross the threshold on her own. And the threshold is every bit as decrepit and ancient and imposing as he would expect it to be. Not even the breath of ghosts stirs the dust that fills his head and coats the back of his throat, threatening to choke. Their boots are the first to have stepped here in decades, and the skeletal framework of the mine itself stretches up and down and ahead, reminding him of some of the ancient temples he has perused on his personal quest to eradicate the memory of the Jedi from the galaxy.
Rey's footsteps call him to attention as they tap up a staircase he isn't sure can hold the both of them, despite looking less affected by the slow decay of time as the rest of the mine is. He doesn't follow up the stairs after her until she's cleared the landing, and even then he's slow going, his footsteps naturally much heavier and louder than her own. His weight makes the steps groan, but the staircase holds, and when he emerges on the next level, the bright blink of her eyes in the dark is the first thing to catch the high, warm glow of the lamp in his hand. )
Out in the open, I think. I don't know that any of these buildings would be able to support the added stress if we were to draw her indoors, even if it would be more convenient. Here. ( He glances around, holding out the glowrod for her to take while striding to a spot that creaks and squeals ominously. Rey's weight seems supported for the most part, but it's entirely positive that between his body and the added weight of the clothing that he's wearing, she'll be able to go places on lighter, quicker feet that he will not. The path across the floor that he is able to take leads him to the broken framework of a busted window, jagged clari-crystalline jutting like canines. Through the web of fractured glass, the entrance to the mine proper sags. ) Or we could draw her into one of the actual mining shafts.