[ An inky mass of shadow bubbles up, a tumultuous bog of unfettered darkness that lashes out at her and seeks purchase against her skin, as if desperate to overwhelm her. The turn of his head floods her with a series of rapidly fired images, sparking behind their eyes together in the span of a single heartbeat.
She can see the final, tiring blow levied against him reflected in his eyes, a monolith toppled in a heap of heavy black robes, as similarly dressed masked figures haul her away from him despite her screams. She can hear her own screams tangle with Kylo Ren's howls of pain as the bond exacts his punishment in equal part on her, and it's that empathy that drives her onto her knees before the husk-like phantom that carries the stick. It is all very real, a three-dimensional nightmare projected into the hollow of her mind as vividly as the promise of their unified front had been, the one that had bent her to the belief that she needed him.
Now, it feels manipulative, and Rey growls, anger burning wet at the corners of her eyes as she tears herself out of the visceral experience Kylo projects through their mental link. ] Get out!
[ Rebuffing him comes hard, and it leaves her adrift in a numbing void, still latently aware of him in some distant way. Rey is positive that she will never be able to fully extricate her mind from his, no matter how hard she pushes, but she needs to save some part of her mind as her own and free herself from his influence and the haunting whisper that pervades it.
She knows the whisper—Do it, it suggests to him, in a voice that does not belong to Leader Snoke—because she has heard it in her mind as he tried to urge her towards his tutelage, towards his partnership, towards him, and Rey feels suddenly sick, the sour taste of bile stinging her mouth before she can choke off her own dizzied nausea.
When she sought to free him from that bond, from Snoke's influence, it was under the belief, the assumption made on what she'd seen there, that it was Snoke's whispers and nurturing alone that had turned Ben Solo away from his family and made him a tool for the Dark Side, the sharp edge of a blade that they pressed to General Organa's throat. But Snoke isn't down here with them, when the inferno of Kylo Ren's dark methods burns hotter and brighter than she has ever seen it, a firestorm of hate and vengeance.
Abject horror floods Rey as, in that moment, she accepts the terrible reality: she was wrong.
A staggered half-step carries her away from him, the weight of the blow flagging her resolve as she realizes that it's too late to see him for what he really is, lightyears from anyone who might help her muzzle him. She can feel the way he revels in it, and the way he tries to share that thrill with her, and disgust aside, it confuses her because she can hear him also trying to rationalize it—two sides at war with one another, one that demands to know that its actions are right, and one that celebrates them regardless. ]
No. [ She balls her hands into fists. ] It's not. If you're going to kill her, then do it, but I won't let you justify succumbing to fear by pretending it's the only way. [ The words come out in a snarl, unforgiving and accusatory, wide hazel eyes recognizing him for precisely what he is, probing unnervingly into him, and buried in him are all the reasons that this one act will make him into the coward she's accused him of being. ]
no subject
She can see the final, tiring blow levied against him reflected in his eyes, a monolith toppled in a heap of heavy black robes, as similarly dressed masked figures haul her away from him despite her screams. She can hear her own screams tangle with Kylo Ren's howls of pain as the bond exacts his punishment in equal part on her, and it's that empathy that drives her onto her knees before the husk-like phantom that carries the stick. It is all very real, a three-dimensional nightmare projected into the hollow of her mind as vividly as the promise of their unified front had been, the one that had bent her to the belief that she needed him.
Now, it feels manipulative, and Rey growls, anger burning wet at the corners of her eyes as she tears herself out of the visceral experience Kylo projects through their mental link. ] Get out!
[ Rebuffing him comes hard, and it leaves her adrift in a numbing void, still latently aware of him in some distant way. Rey is positive that she will never be able to fully extricate her mind from his, no matter how hard she pushes, but she needs to save some part of her mind as her own and free herself from his influence and the haunting whisper that pervades it.
She knows the whisper—Do it, it suggests to him, in a voice that does not belong to Leader Snoke—because she has heard it in her mind as he tried to urge her towards his tutelage, towards his partnership, towards him, and Rey feels suddenly sick, the sour taste of bile stinging her mouth before she can choke off her own dizzied nausea.
When she sought to free him from that bond, from Snoke's influence, it was under the belief, the assumption made on what she'd seen there, that it was Snoke's whispers and nurturing alone that had turned Ben Solo away from his family and made him a tool for the Dark Side, the sharp edge of a blade that they pressed to General Organa's throat. But Snoke isn't down here with them, when the inferno of Kylo Ren's dark methods burns hotter and brighter than she has ever seen it, a firestorm of hate and vengeance.
Abject horror floods Rey as, in that moment, she accepts the terrible reality: she was wrong.
A staggered half-step carries her away from him, the weight of the blow flagging her resolve as she realizes that it's too late to see him for what he really is, lightyears from anyone who might help her muzzle him. She can feel the way he revels in it, and the way he tries to share that thrill with her, and disgust aside, it confuses her because she can hear him also trying to rationalize it—two sides at war with one another, one that demands to know that its actions are right, and one that celebrates them regardless. ]
No. [ She balls her hands into fists. ] It's not. If you're going to kill her, then do it, but I won't let you justify succumbing to fear by pretending it's the only way. [ The words come out in a snarl, unforgiving and accusatory, wide hazel eyes recognizing him for precisely what he is, probing unnervingly into him, and buried in him are all the reasons that this one act will make him into the coward she's accused him of being. ]