apparare | i found something in the woods somewhere.

[ With curiosity gleaming in her eyes, she plunders his feelings as if they're her own, a simple mental nudge made easier by proximity, though by rights such closeness should have no tangible impact. Not for nothing. She needs to know that under his question ostensibly about the Resistance's stasis is not some deeper, more personal insecurity.

She's relieved when there's not, but that also means she has to put real thought into the question he does intend. More than that, it means a more serious conversation than she'd been vying for, but she resolves herself to it.

The trouble isn't with the Resistance itself. That engenders no feelings of restlessness, but a feeling of being found: this is her home, her family. Leia Organa and Han Solo have (and had, she modifies sadly) done more than any forgotten parents fifteen years gone. In her connection to them, she could not feel more content, but on this base… She sighs. ]

I try to keep myself busy. [ But it's not easy, and it's not a luxury that Kylo can take for himself. Responsibilities come with trust. Her leash extends much farther than his (though, she has noticed, not as far as it once did). ] But war is tiresome and slow. I didn't think there'd be so much waiting.

[ Waiting for intelligence, waiting for the fleet to return, waiting for the right moment to strike, waiting to see what the First Order does, always waiting. She's used to waiting, true, but that's what makes her so tired of it. It's not the Jedi way to need action, but Kylo Ren is not a Jedi, and so she affords him an honesty that she would not offer Luke or his sister the General. ]

And you as well, I take it.

( It's a brand of honesty that he leaves him feeling more centered than he expects, despite the lack of deeper meaning involved in asking it in the first place. She reads him, and Kylo reads her and detects no deceit or ulterior curiosity, just as he presents and offers no strategic interpretation of his own restive tendencies. They have both been bred to fight in their own ways, and acknowledging that in each other has always given him peace of mind in some capacity, for however warped and convoluted it had started, despite what he had shown her on Yaga Minor or offered her on Starkiller. One thing they can see eye to eye on, at least. )

Mm. ( And then, because a hum does not constitute as an actual reply, Kylo parts his mouth to open it enough that he can tumble down the sarlacc pit and into bittersweet memory. ) There was always some errand, some undertaking to see through. We were kept busy. I assume because Snoke probably believed that if I was bored enough I might start thinking a little harder about the way things were. ( The string at her hip wraps around his finger and breaks with a soft sound. ) Eventually something will happen again, and it will be another mad scramble, and there will be little time for being bored, but in the meantime -

( Because just as well as Rey can sense the severity of his thoughts without waiting for him to express them, Kylo can follow the tangent of less serious routes of her own where her intentions are concerned. And because she weighs next to nothing to him, it's very easy to curl an arm behind her knees and around her back and stand without stumbling or knocking anything over, hitching her up in one fluid motion. ) - I could tell you all about the article on Mandalorian armor that I've been reading while you were scolding me all afternoon.

[ Startled by the suddenness of the decision and movement, she draws a sharp breath, but she's quick to steady herself by looping her arms around his neck, and she can't say she's sorry for the closeness offered by the grab. He's right, of course. The mad scramble will come. It's important to be grateful for moments like this one, knowing how soon they can be gone.

She turns her head into the crook of his neck and breathes in the staleness of the base that clings to him to remind them both that he is an inmate, not a guest. The reminder makes it a short-lived indulgence. ]

I was only teasing. You take everything so seriously. [ Her crinkling nose affords some honesty to that effect, but how much remains uncertain. Maybe he really wants to talk about Mandalorian armor but maybe he just wanted an excuse to bring it up again. She traces her fingertips up the ridges of his spine, a worrying gesture designed to sooth not him, her distant concern that his recollection of his time under Snoke's hand is only academic, not wistful. ]

( He doesn't want to talk about Mandalorian armor - or the can of worms that his interest in it would open up - and it seems easier to implicitly agree with her as opposed to insisting otherwise when they both know that her assessment would be correct nine times out of ten. It's that outlier, that random tenth variable that throws the correlation out of whack where severity is concerned, though it's just as likely that Rey would be the only one to pick up on it as it is that it would never occur. If a Knight of Ren makes a joke and only a scavenger is around to hear it, does a punchline even occur? )

You say serious. I say wise. ( Not so much a stretch of the truth as a complete obliteration of it, though the case could be made in its favor, given her assembly of his lightsaber under his observation only moments ago, but that is going down a path that neither of them are likely to admit to or acknowledge for their own reasons. Kylo is much more interested in the tactile stimulation along his spine, little points of contact that warm his skin and connect them at the seams, a quiet unease that spreads out along the tracery veins despite how good it feels to be touched. It doesn't radiate from him, and so he must dispel it. )

I'm older than you, remember. You should respect your elders. ( This broken up by the break in his voice as he adjusts her - as though she weighs little more than a flimsiplast - and holds her in stasis for a moment, as though trying to decide what to do with her now that he has her. Truth be told, it's something he's been trying to decide for quite a while, now. )

Is that what you're hoping for?

[ By the sound of her voice, only two shades shy of a scoff, she finds the notion absurd. In fact, the corners of her mouth turn up, as though she's barely restraining a laugh or a full grin at some joke that he's made in thinking that she would defer to him in any meaningful fashion for the mere sake of it. ]

"O, Wise Elder …" [ There's reverence there, but only to mock him, and in her hyperbole she makes him sound a great deal older than he actually is—by no accident. ] Calling yourself my elder just makes you sound like a pervert.

[ And there's those desert-buffed social skills, put to the test. She crinkles her nose, as if measuring whether she's into that or something like it. ]

( Judging by the lofty expression that he fixes her with as a response, he very much does consider respect something worth hoping for - if not outright demanding, but Rey is hardly made of the sort of mettle that would allow him to conflate fear with respect without her smacking him over the head with the business end of her quarterstaff as a result. Still, there is a distinct lack of oppressive seriousness in the delicate way that he exhales, as if offended, that gives away the belying amusement lurking underneath the surface, and as if to remind her of the precarious situation that he holds her in, Kylo pivots toward the narrow mattress that he tries to sleep on - as if anything of the sort could be done on something so uncomfortable and as if he was actually planning on going anywhere else with her - and threatens through gesture alone to drop her unceremoniously in retaliation. )

I would argue that's primarily because you're using the word elder in the same way that most people would try to cast some kind of ancient magic spell. ( When he dumps her on the mattress, almost as if using the weight of her body as a punctuation mark on the point that he's trying to make, he finds himself half-sprawled over her legs, one knee on the edge of the bunk, after failing to account for her arm left thrown over his shoulder and reaching down his back. If he notices that her social skills could use some polishing, there's no mention of it or pause to highlight it. They're both a little stunted, in that regard, and her social skills fit fine with his own even when she's got her teeth bared and her lightsaber up over her head, trying to knock his legs out from underneath him.

Fortunately, both of their blades are on the desk, this time. ) And you're the one saying it. Maybe you're the pervert.

( Kylo Ren is a delicate flower. )

[ Too practical for a yelp, she tightens the bend of her elbow around his neck when the support falls out from under her, and in doing so, bows him over with her so they both tumble half-supported to the bunk. By then, she's laughing and releasing him, sprawling out with the pleasant ease of someone who's taken much worse spills and consider this one not even faintly uncomfortable.

The splayed pile of limbs articulates in a way that she could not what she would smuggle him to the ends of the universe in his father's ship for. It brings a peace and comfort to her—one found not in their cramped surroundings, but in him—that she had gone most of her life without. And it's true enough to say that she feels something similar, if tinged differently, for the whole Resistance, but the Resistance is not what's in jeopardy.

She reaches out and scrambles one hand in his hair, mussing it until it hangs knotted in his face or until he swats her away—whichever comes first. ]

I know you are but what am I? [ It's hard to tell if she's saying it herself or offering it as some mock-translation of his own words. Probably a mix of both, to be safe. ]

( It's the swatting that comes first - well, an approximation of it, if wrapping a hand around her wrist and yanking his head, and hair, out of her immediate reach, this being so far beneath him, counts as swatting. Laughter has not often been a contagious thing where Kylo is concerned, and while he doesn't do it outright in that moment, the inclination to join in some capacity is, enough that underneath the tangle of hair that has fallen across his face and into his eyes, something like a resigned smirk stamps itself into the corner of his mouth before he can clear his throat around the urge to do it in the first place. He leaves his hair that way for half a beat as if offering her the opportunity to take in her handiwork before hastily jerking a hand through it and settling more solidly on the mattress, still warding her hand off with one of his own. )

Are you going to stick your tongue out at me, too? ( Because he will stoop to that level if need be and possibly even further beneath it. Rather than waiting for a response, however, Kylo loops his arms through her legs and yanks her down the bunk until she is nearly beneath him, kneeling between the splay of her thighs. ) I don't appreciate your attitude.

( The only frame of reference that he has for this are memories that have been locked away in a cold, dark space for years but which come unbidden and unexpected as soon as his fingertips attempt to carve out little nooks and alcoves in Rey's sides, trying to eek out more laughter by tickling her whether she's interested in it or not. Revenge doesn't normally take such an innocuous stance, and he's less practiced at this than he at pretty much anything else he ever could be, but memory helps soften a touch that's more practiced in aggression than it is in negotiation. )

[ When she opens her mouth, it's to answer him, too used to surrendering to the brush of his fingertips against the plane of her waist to think twice about it, but an unprecedented yelp comes out instead, and she kicks to free herself from his weight, twisting to paw her way further up the bunk again as though it might pull her from his grasp. Her breath comes in short wheezes seized only when she has the opportunity between half-whines, half-laughs.

Conceptually, it isn't foreign to her at all. She knows tickling. But she hasn't felt it that she can recall, too long without intimate touch, longer still without something usually reserved for the gentle hand of a parent. She flinches more than necessary, but staves off the prickling instinct that tells her to jam her elbow into his face and end it quickly. That response is for the wrong kind of vengeful pounce, and she knows it, if distantly. ]

Stop! [ She howls through her laughter, sputtering over the word. ] That's cheating!

( Kylo has very little frame of reference to work off of - Captain Phasma is literally a sheet of chromium, and he is at least ninety percent sure that Hux has never done anything other than sneer in his entire life - but he imagines that Rey laughs the way that most other people do not: violently and with her whole face, maybe even her whole body. Her smile is often comprised mostly of flashing teeth and narrowed eyes, and while that's an arrangement of features that he's more than used to seeing from her - usually charging at him with a blue plasma beam raised overhead - this is a version of it that he prefers much more than the usual. The only problem is that it's infectious and spreading quickly, like a plague, and although she might have the wherewithal not to punch him in the face, that doesn't stop her foot from planting right in the middle of his face, striking his nose with enough force to make him see a flash of light, though not nearly enough to do any real damage.

The sound that he makes in response is undignified, a garbled yelp that sends him back on his haunches for just as long as it takes him to wrap his hand around her ankle. From behind the protective shield of his other, Kylo glares at her with exaggerated offense - if his eyes are watering, that's nothing he can help where his brain and body's traitorous impulses are concerned. )

Are you trying to break my nose? ( The problem with infectious laughter, however contrived or forced it might be, is that it doesn't always fade away even when the fun stops. Even Kylo can hear the lingering hint of a grin in his voice, from behind his curled hand where he grips his nose. ) That sounds like cheating.

Don't be ridiculous. If I were trying, it'd be broken.

[ Somehow, her laughter does little to temper the aggression of the assurance, and in fact sounds unnervingly disparate beside her message. But it dies off in a few short moments, realizing that despite the hints of glee that survive in his tone and expression, he truly is nursing an injury.

She sighs as though put out by it, and sits up straighter, leaning towards him and reaching one hand up to pull his away from his face so she can get a better look. It's too early still for any evidence of injury, but her other hand goes to gingerly prod at the area around his nose for bruised sensitivity.

Despite the gentle touch, her expression criticizes his sensitivity in volumes. ] Let me see.

Edited 2017-01-25 01:34 (UTC)

( Nursing an injury might be a relative way of categorizing what it is he's actually nursing, giving their penchant for earning actual injuries through various burns and abrasions, to say the least. What he is nursing is some slightly injured pride, though it's hard to say if it's anything worse than what he's dealt with in the past. A betting man would argue in the negative. )

So you can rip it off next? ( Kylo is acutely aware of how petulant he sounds and how critical of his attitude Rey is based on expression alone, never mind her tone, but the benefits far outweigh the risks in this case. He would rather have her pay attention to him than not pay attention to him, when the stakes aren't exactly high. The upturned angle of his chin is accompanied by a sharp sniff as though testing the functionality of the appendage in question, and Kylo sounds gravely serious when he continues. ) At this rate, there won't be anything left when you're done with me.

( Fortunately for them, there's more than enough of his nose to go around. )

[ She makes no effort to mask the roll of her eyes that earns him; in fact, she puts her neck into it, lolling her head somewhat to emphasize the expression. That he feels justified in acting like a child does not obligate her to put up with it, thankfully. ]

Fine. [ It is the huffy 'fine' that it is not fine, that she didn't really want to have a look anyway, and even if she had, she's not sure what she would have done about any genuinely grievous injury dealt to him. What little skill she had mastered in healing could be infrequently replicated, at best. Mostly, though, it says that she hadn't really believed that he was so bad off in the first place anyway, and he deserved to mope. ] If you don't want to take that risk, I can always leave.

i found something in the woods somewhere.

i need 7 days of no human contact

that sounds like my ideal vacation so why is work a thing i still must do idgi

it took me four days to write this terrible tag

just imagine i'm kris jenner 'you're doing great sweetie!' + it took me two days to write this one

this must be how it feels to be old. everything takes twice as long.

one day i will not be too tired to juggle three threads at once again. ONE DAY.

one day i will return a tag on the same day i get it. one day.

i will also live that good life again one day. meanwhile this thread has completely derailed

i mean how surprising is that really

on a scale of 1 to 10 about a -7. also i have never been happier for a day off work

mmmm days off. i'm like ... 5 weeks out from my next one

puppy brain does not make for good tagging skills

i don't remember what not being tired was like