( Darkness clouds his peripheral, narrows the world down to a slat of silver, duarsteel panels that reflect the angles of colorful light thrown by their lightsabers as Ji's head twists and her free hand comes up to dig gloved fingertips into the meat of his wrist through the ribbing of his armor that covers him head to toe. They scrabble, slip against leather, and find purchase across his knuckles, the blunt ridges of her fingernails pressed against the very tips of her gloves digging into the burnt skin across the back of his hand. It hurts, a bone-deep ache that sends shock waves rolling up and down his arm, bottoming out in his chest and making his grip around her throat jerk and his hand curl around the hilt of his lightsaber, still lit and spitting in time with his pulse. His blood sings, pounds hard in his ears, whites out all sound save for the modulator on Ji's helmet scrambling to mechanize the noise her mouth fails to produce every time she tries to take a breath.
Do it. The voice is back, whispering, and he still can't tell if it's a manifestation of something that always was there before or something else, something within him wholly separate from Snoke. It sounds like Snoke but doesn't, though if he were pressed to explain and list the differences, Kylo isn't sure that he would be able to. It rises in pitch and volume with the tandem rise of the darkness within him, drawing breath like a great storm about to crack on the nearby horizon. The tunnel seems to shudder with the anticipation of it, and Kylo himself feels heavier, somehow drunk with the power he clasps in his hand and yet steady enough at the same time to wield it. This is the perfect darkness that he had been looking for on the bridge, this is the clarity that he was promised. It lies in here, in this fluttering heartbeat, in this intake of breath, in his own hands. He is power, plain and simple, open and exposed like a stripped nerve.
This is Kylo Ren.
It's this that clouds everything, threatens to drag them all under. He feels an answering call in the girl he knows is still behind him, the same way that he had and has and, he knows, will continue to feel. His darkness eclipses hers but what builds in him recognizes like for like and sniffs it out in her like a bloodhound, magnetically pulled to her gravitational charge, feeding off of it and smothering it all at once. A fire consuming another fire to become larger, brighter, hotter. Whatever darkness there is in Rey that speaks to him is reduced by this, this onslaught, overpowered by these parts of him that he cannot deny, and it's this maelstrom that buzzes as hard and heavy in his head as the lightsaber in his grip that deafens the sound of Rey's sharp inhale, covers the tread of her boot, and muffles the rustle of fabric as she reaches out to grab his arm and pull him back. Someone is laughing, but Kylo ignores it and attempts to throw Rey off of him with a shrug. )
This is the only way it ends. ( He chances a glance back at Rey, eyes wild in the haze of green and blue and red. Kylo tries to reach for her, tries to make her see the inevitability, what happens next if they don't end it here and now: Ji pursuing them, the Knights regrouping, following them until they are eventually worn down, outnumbered, brought before Snoke; Kylo to endure the discipline necessary for his actions. Rey, forced to kneel. )
no subject
Do it. The voice is back, whispering, and he still can't tell if it's a manifestation of something that always was there before or something else, something within him wholly separate from Snoke. It sounds like Snoke but doesn't, though if he were pressed to explain and list the differences, Kylo isn't sure that he would be able to. It rises in pitch and volume with the tandem rise of the darkness within him, drawing breath like a great storm about to crack on the nearby horizon. The tunnel seems to shudder with the anticipation of it, and Kylo himself feels heavier, somehow drunk with the power he clasps in his hand and yet steady enough at the same time to wield it. This is the perfect darkness that he had been looking for on the bridge, this is the clarity that he was promised. It lies in here, in this fluttering heartbeat, in this intake of breath, in his own hands. He is power, plain and simple, open and exposed like a stripped nerve.
This is Kylo Ren.
It's this that clouds everything, threatens to drag them all under. He feels an answering call in the girl he knows is still behind him, the same way that he had and has and, he knows, will continue to feel. His darkness eclipses hers but what builds in him recognizes like for like and sniffs it out in her like a bloodhound, magnetically pulled to her gravitational charge, feeding off of it and smothering it all at once. A fire consuming another fire to become larger, brighter, hotter. Whatever darkness there is in Rey that speaks to him is reduced by this, this onslaught, overpowered by these parts of him that he cannot deny, and it's this maelstrom that buzzes as hard and heavy in his head as the lightsaber in his grip that deafens the sound of Rey's sharp inhale, covers the tread of her boot, and muffles the rustle of fabric as she reaches out to grab his arm and pull him back. Someone is laughing, but Kylo ignores it and attempts to throw Rey off of him with a shrug. )
This is the only way it ends. ( He chances a glance back at Rey, eyes wild in the haze of green and blue and red. Kylo tries to reach for her, tries to make her see the inevitability, what happens next if they don't end it here and now: Ji pursuing them, the Knights regrouping, following them until they are eventually worn down, outnumbered, brought before Snoke; Kylo to endure the discipline necessary for his actions. Rey, forced to kneel. )