( Dark brown eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, eclipsed under the dilation of his pupils, track her movements as his breathing bottoms out as well as it can. It's difficult to catch up to where he would normally be with the injury to his leg and the weight that he has to support while trailing the damage done between himself and Rey as a result of their shared experiences above and below ground. The bond sags between them like a mutilated, gored thing, a damaged and torn limb eking black blood and sporting an assortment of mottled, blue-purple bruises. The Dark Side. It swelled in him and looked for an outlet within Rey and when it couldn't find one as productive as it might like, it turned the connection between them septic. He can still feel her, but it's a peripheral awareness unlike what he's experienced before. There's a bad taste not unlike bile in his mouth. )
Burn it. ( His agreement with her choice of words aside, it's still bestowing honor where Kylo isn't entire sure that honor is due. The other Knights wouldn't see it that way, given the strength of their opposition following the destruction of two of their own here on Concordia, but he very much doubts that he will win back any favor for disposing of Aurren in this way as opposed to letting him rot at the cave entrance. Kylo won't leave him much by way of accessories - he's already taking stock of what they can use between them other than the blaster that Rey has shouldered - and Aurren is roughly the same height as Kylo but not quite as broad about the shoulders and back. At the very least, they can afford to leave the armor, if Rey is not interested in it.
He eyes her now, at the dark spill of blood across her abdomen and the dirt that colors her face a darker bronze than it is naturally, a thin sheen of sweat making her shine somewhat sickly. The dirt and dust offers her artificial color but underneath it, she's paler than usual, whether from bloodloss or pain or something else entirely, Kylo isn't sure. He doesn't ask, just gives Aurren's heavy corpse a hard tug that has the frayed muscles in his legs screaming now that he no longer needs the pain to drive him forward, push him on. Sweat curls down the back of his neck and beads into his high collar. )
Grab his other arm. ( His voice is dry but firm, commanding, unyielding and unwilling to admit that he needs assistance while conceding the fact that he won't get far without it. Pride won't let him fall so far as to hand the bulk of this responsibility over to her, admit that the injury he's received is impeding him in any way, but at this point he knows better than to argue with her inclination to help in the interest of preserving whatever amicability they can generate between the two of them. He's too preoccupied with not falling over or stumbling to consider the harsher realities of what he's done here as they relate to his arrangement with Rey, what it might mean once they're out of immediate danger and back with the Resistance, the way she looks at him. As for Rey's question, Kylo finds that he has no answer suitable for discussion when he's half-dragging, half-carrying a dead Epicanthix behind him. Simplicity works best. ) She's a Knight of Ren. The explanation begins and ends there.
( For most. For all. But not for him, apparently. It's a thought that rests heavy in his sternum, making the already laborious task of breathing even more difficult. Kylo watches his feet as they retreat closer to the heap of administrative buildings that they have dismantled in their skirmish, ready to see this deed done and behind him. As behind him as it might ever be. He glances up once at the opening to the mine shaft once they have left it behind, listening to the muffled clatter of rock that still settles in the wake of their disruption. On an impulse, he casts out a wide net through the Force as well as he can in the condition he's in, looking for a trace, a ping on his radar. But there's nothing. He glances over at Rey. )
Your form leaves something to be desired - ( He grunts, stops a moment to press his palm against the hole in his thigh, then continues. ) - but you're impressive in a fight.
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Burn it. ( His agreement with her choice of words aside, it's still bestowing honor where Kylo isn't entire sure that honor is due. The other Knights wouldn't see it that way, given the strength of their opposition following the destruction of two of their own here on Concordia, but he very much doubts that he will win back any favor for disposing of Aurren in this way as opposed to letting him rot at the cave entrance. Kylo won't leave him much by way of accessories - he's already taking stock of what they can use between them other than the blaster that Rey has shouldered - and Aurren is roughly the same height as Kylo but not quite as broad about the shoulders and back. At the very least, they can afford to leave the armor, if Rey is not interested in it.
He eyes her now, at the dark spill of blood across her abdomen and the dirt that colors her face a darker bronze than it is naturally, a thin sheen of sweat making her shine somewhat sickly. The dirt and dust offers her artificial color but underneath it, she's paler than usual, whether from bloodloss or pain or something else entirely, Kylo isn't sure. He doesn't ask, just gives Aurren's heavy corpse a hard tug that has the frayed muscles in his legs screaming now that he no longer needs the pain to drive him forward, push him on. Sweat curls down the back of his neck and beads into his high collar. )
Grab his other arm. ( His voice is dry but firm, commanding, unyielding and unwilling to admit that he needs assistance while conceding the fact that he won't get far without it. Pride won't let him fall so far as to hand the bulk of this responsibility over to her, admit that the injury he's received is impeding him in any way, but at this point he knows better than to argue with her inclination to help in the interest of preserving whatever amicability they can generate between the two of them. He's too preoccupied with not falling over or stumbling to consider the harsher realities of what he's done here as they relate to his arrangement with Rey, what it might mean once they're out of immediate danger and back with the Resistance, the way she looks at him. As for Rey's question, Kylo finds that he has no answer suitable for discussion when he's half-dragging, half-carrying a dead Epicanthix behind him. Simplicity works best. ) She's a Knight of Ren. The explanation begins and ends there.
( For most. For all. But not for him, apparently. It's a thought that rests heavy in his sternum, making the already laborious task of breathing even more difficult. Kylo watches his feet as they retreat closer to the heap of administrative buildings that they have dismantled in their skirmish, ready to see this deed done and behind him. As behind him as it might ever be. He glances up once at the opening to the mine shaft once they have left it behind, listening to the muffled clatter of rock that still settles in the wake of their disruption. On an impulse, he casts out a wide net through the Force as well as he can in the condition he's in, looking for a trace, a ping on his radar. But there's nothing. He glances over at Rey. )
Your form leaves something to be desired - ( He grunts, stops a moment to press his palm against the hole in his thigh, then continues. ) - but you're impressive in a fight.