( When he has the chance to hazard a glance down at himself in the dark, Kylo half-expects to see a long line of snapped tendon and sinew trailing from an open wound above his lungs, a puncture that gapes and sags like the hollowed eyes of the mask that burned with Starkiller. There is, of course, nothing, but in that nothingness is a great void that threatens to suck the air out of his lungs. It staggers him as he meets Ji's parry - she always leads with a parry, knowing that he will always lead with an aggressive slice - and his grip falters under the strength of her answering thrust. He's quick enough to deflect it and reprise the offensive position, but the cost of Rey's absence in the void of absolute darkness is surprising.
It feels like he's died. Or she's died. Even in knowing that they both still live yet - he can feel her eyes in the dark, even if he can't see them - the ache is substantial and alarming, and he can't immediately pinpoint the reason for it as he drives Ji back again and again with a series of hard, brutalizing blows meant to decimate her. She stumbles under the weight of one, and Kylo grits his teeth and almost growls through the unbroken barricade of white washed red-orange from the colliding light of their blade, but Ji slips free and swings wide and hard at his head, knowing that he will duck before she's able to score a blow but also knowing that it will put him on the ground.
It's so hard to see in the dark, and he can't sense either of the women in the tunnel the way that he should be able to. Kylo lets intuition guide him as he throws a hand up with the express purpose of shoving Ji and knocking her aim off only to find that the heavy ripple through the Force that he sends her way is not his own but Rey's, whose presence seems to roar to life the moment she manipulates energy and air and dirt and dust and debris to stop Ji's green blade from burning a hole three inches deep into his shoulder: a nice finishing piece to complete the set that Rey began on his opposite shoulder.
Kylo stares at her.
The coalescence of their blades creates a ripple effect of color along the wall, lighting the tight lines of Ji's shoulders as she struggles for a moment too long to break free of the hold that Rey - face cast in heavy shadow and wrists twisted under the force of her own ability - exerts over her. Kylo feels his pulse race with some unknown rush. No time to examine it, he takes a hurried breath as he propels himself to his feet with his saber in hand and slides in close to Ji's throat with the burning, shaking flat of his lightsaber. )
Drop it. ( His voice is low, rumbling up from somewhere deep, and he casts a quick glance at Rey to determine the state of her remaining strength, trying to gauge how long she can keep Ji held against the web of her power. When the Knight does not react with the speed he's looking for, the sharp edge of the anger that he has been keeping at bay since the Falcon splits open right down the center and spills everywhere. It fills the hollow ache in his chest and the hole in his mind where Snoke used to be and the bitterness of tasting dirt by the strength of Ji's reinforced swing. He replaces the smell of burning hair and melting fabric, heating metal, with the sharp curl of his hand around Ji's throat, throwing most of the innate physical power that he has without the assistance of the Force to back it up into the thrust of his arm as he pins her against the wall behind them. The toe of his boot snaps the ancient cord torn from the wall and a lightbulb bursts underneath his heel. He squeezes his hand. ) Drop it.
( Eventually, green falls away. Kylo doesn't - can't, won't - let go. )
no subject
It feels like he's died. Or she's died. Even in knowing that they both still live yet - he can feel her eyes in the dark, even if he can't see them - the ache is substantial and alarming, and he can't immediately pinpoint the reason for it as he drives Ji back again and again with a series of hard, brutalizing blows meant to decimate her. She stumbles under the weight of one, and Kylo grits his teeth and almost growls through the unbroken barricade of white washed red-orange from the colliding light of their blade, but Ji slips free and swings wide and hard at his head, knowing that he will duck before she's able to score a blow but also knowing that it will put him on the ground.
It's so hard to see in the dark, and he can't sense either of the women in the tunnel the way that he should be able to. Kylo lets intuition guide him as he throws a hand up with the express purpose of shoving Ji and knocking her aim off only to find that the heavy ripple through the Force that he sends her way is not his own but Rey's, whose presence seems to roar to life the moment she manipulates energy and air and dirt and dust and debris to stop Ji's green blade from burning a hole three inches deep into his shoulder: a nice finishing piece to complete the set that Rey began on his opposite shoulder.
Kylo stares at her.
The coalescence of their blades creates a ripple effect of color along the wall, lighting the tight lines of Ji's shoulders as she struggles for a moment too long to break free of the hold that Rey - face cast in heavy shadow and wrists twisted under the force of her own ability - exerts over her. Kylo feels his pulse race with some unknown rush. No time to examine it, he takes a hurried breath as he propels himself to his feet with his saber in hand and slides in close to Ji's throat with the burning, shaking flat of his lightsaber. )
Drop it. ( His voice is low, rumbling up from somewhere deep, and he casts a quick glance at Rey to determine the state of her remaining strength, trying to gauge how long she can keep Ji held against the web of her power. When the Knight does not react with the speed he's looking for, the sharp edge of the anger that he has been keeping at bay since the Falcon splits open right down the center and spills everywhere. It fills the hollow ache in his chest and the hole in his mind where Snoke used to be and the bitterness of tasting dirt by the strength of Ji's reinforced swing. He replaces the smell of burning hair and melting fabric, heating metal, with the sharp curl of his hand around Ji's throat, throwing most of the innate physical power that he has without the assistance of the Force to back it up into the thrust of his arm as he pins her against the wall behind them. The toe of his boot snaps the ancient cord torn from the wall and a lightbulb bursts underneath his heel. He squeezes his hand. ) Drop it.
( Eventually, green falls away. Kylo doesn't - can't, won't - let go. )