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i found something in the woods somewhere.
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open post.
▬ action ▬ prompts ▬ continuing threads ▬ force shenanigans |
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open post.
▬ action ▬ prompts ▬ continuing threads ▬ force shenanigans |
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no subject
She wonders for the first time if his master is aware of the bond, then immediately doubts it. If Kylo Ren's so called Supreme Leader knew he could exploit someone so close to the leaders of the Resistance and wield the talents of another Force sensitive being, he likely would have cashed in on that good fortune already. Or at the very least, Kylo would have attempted another kidnapping rather than a tense conversation without lightsabers in a dusty alleyway.
Pressing that irritation down for another time, she realigns her focus and holds his gaze, plainly and calm. ] I called you out here for nothing, then. I suppose I'll figure it out on my own. Since you don't seem too highly concerned. [ Too busy conquering star systems, she adds mentally, her own brand of sarcasm and no where near veiled enough to keep him from hearing, taking a few steps backwards to widen the gap between them. This isn't the first, nor she suspects, the last time she'll be bent on doing something on her own, far from expecting a partner or even an ally in Kylo, but something— different. A puzzling train of thought in itself and she keeps a steady grip on the hilt of her saber. ]
I'd really appreciate if you didn't try to track me. [ Casually, as though they're lightyears away from being on two sides of very opposing lines, Rey tilts her chin downwards just slightly, half heartedly disrespectful. ]
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( A muscle stands out along his jaw as he grinds his molars together, a combination of the effort it takes to keep her staring for so long at that closed door in his head and the effort it takes not to take several long strides and throttle her where she stands. It's hardly a fantasy born of a desire to kill her - despite entertaining the idea, he's still fairly sure that what he wants from her would be an impossibility were she dead, never mind what Snoke wants of her - but at the frustration of knowing that there's little he can do to change the current outcome of the situation.
She won't let herself be taken so easily, despite her willingness to seek him out in its own right, and he certainly isn't going to give her pointers on the finer aspects of using the Dark Side as a weapon when it seems so inherently unlikely that she will turn that direction any time soon. This isn't a game to be played, he thinks and does not take a step in her direction but shifts his weight in a way that belies his impatience with her. The helmet in the crook of his elbow is a heavy but welcome weight but also a reminder of the question mark standing tall at the end of inquiry as to why he actually removed it in the first place. )
You think that there are lines to be straddled, that you can put your own spin on tapping into the power that I have in a way that won't leave you open to the suggestion that Skywalker warns you so strongly against. It's one or the other.
( Unless what she's searching for is the same pain that was supposed to be washed away following Han Solo's death at his hands, a constant pull between one direction and the next, caught between two violent currents and burned at both ends by two incessant flames. It's only because his legs have gotten free that he's been able to stomp one out to a dull flicker, but it's still there, embers burning, waiting and begging for a little bit of breath to call it roaring back into life. Kylo feels it licking at him constantly, and the fear of hearing that call, of feeling that pull, is enough to inspire in him rage and panic enough to keep it snuffed out. Keeping it off of Snoke's radar when he stands before him is another matter entirely, the preoccupation of his thoughts, affording him little time to consider tracking her when there's the strength of the connection between them to keep in mind. )
I'm hardly in the mood to do you, of all people, any favors. ( He lets go of his saber, finally, to work his helmet back on over his head, heavy, thick steel pressing against both palms as it clicks back into place. His face is a blank slate both above and below the mask. ) Tracking you is the last thing that I'll be interested in doing in the following weeks. I'm sure that will relieve your frustrations somewhat.
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She watches him for another long moment, tempted to take off running without another word ( convinced even further that he won't pursue her ) but tilts her chin upwards instead, looking past that mask and letting him know she is. ] You straddle that line. You thought you'd pushed above and beyond it but you're still there, even worse now, grating at you when you aren't looking. You aren't who you think you are.
[ Another pause; she's shifting into risky territory now, and then she lifts an arm straight out in front of her, summoning her saber from it's holster, turned horizontal in her palm and clearly neither defensive or offensive, keeping it off : ] And you haven't paid attention to history, Kylo Ren. The role model you so hope to be turned to the good side at the end, for your uncle and your mother. Or have you forgotten?
[ She makes no move to threaten or shift into a sparring position, holding his gaze through the dulled sheen of his helm, nearly daring. ]
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Up close, she will be able to see the new steel of his helmet, less worn and tarnished than its predecessor, but also the little tears and fine stitching committed to the fibers of his clothing, made bulkier by the armor that he wears. The helmet offers absolutely nothing by way of his expression, and his posture doesn't change enough to offer any indications of his ire but Kylo throws open his mind to let the swirling mass of his thoughts overwhelm her as the grip that he has on the cross section of her tunic tightens and threatens to tear the fabric at the shoulder. )
You. ( His voice pitches low underneath the modulator, some cold and dark thing crawling out of a hole to stalk into the underbrush. The current of his anger is a harsh undertow, black water lapping high tides over the buoy he anticipates her holding fast to in the sea of his thoughts. ) You have no idea what you're talking about. You're a runt pulled out of the wasteland, out of Jakku, and you're playing a game you're ill-suited and even less prepared for. You play with matches and think that you won't get burned, even though your hands are covered in oil.
( Perspective is everything. Where Organa and Skywalker and Rey, now, see a man who emerged from the Dark Side triumphant at the end, Kylo Ren sees a sad and sorry seduction away from the path of righteousness, sees a weakness that was seized and exploited until Darth Vader fell and fell hard, at the cost of his own life. Skywalker used to tell Ben as a child what a hero his grandfather had been, how he had died doing what was right, but Kylo had never seen it that way, in the end. He was strong and powerful and had a command that Kylo envies now, with Rey's tunic caught in his grip and his lightsaber burning a hole in the ground. )
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But when her feet hit the ground, she manages to scramble for her own mental footing, gasping sharply when she realizes she's ignited her lightsaber at her side, opposite the searing red he wields, blinking rapidly up at him as he spits venom down upon her. Her free hand whips up to grasp tightly at his wrist, noticeable still aware she's far less experienced than Kylo Ren, but unafraid to stand her ground. Instinctively, she thinks to retaliate in kind, so inform him that she is not a native of Jakku but it would reveal far too much to be wise, ripping open another gaping wound in the loneliness she'd nearly sunk away into all those years. ]
And yet, if what I just said was wrong, you wouldn't be so furious with me now. [ It's not a question but a statement, her voice leveling out to some wavering but well managed calm, even as her eyes flash with fire as she glares back into the face of his helm, sifting through their connection to find his face. The link between them burns as this proximity, highly attuned to the fact that she might be giving him more than she'd prefer. There's the ocean again, soothing waves lapping at a soft shore, the sprawling sand dunes of Jakku, endlessly long, solitary evenings with an empty belly, counting stars to pass the time. She shakes her head sharply once but he's there, like always, a futile effort. The blunt of her nails digging into his wrist, pitch black material dragged upwards until she catches skin. It surprises her to find him so warm, her expression betraying none of it but her thought process stumbling again with the reminder of how human he is.
Leaning upwards, she draws herself in even closer against the arm that holds her both hostage and at bay, gritting her teeth, the smell of burnt ozone and superheated dirt filling the air. ] Now, let me. Go.
no subject
His attention is back on Rey in an instant, on the humming pulse of the saber in her hand, pushing his own displeasure at his own distraction to the back of his mind in the wake of dealing with her directly, on the lapping of waves and the shifting of dunes that spring to the forefront of her mind almost immediately. He wonders if it's a crutch or if it's something that, now that he's seen it, she can't shake him away from, if they will wander her wastelands and utopias until she learns to repel him once and for all. Until she learns to push back. Her nails biting his skin, digging into the bones of his wrist. There is so little distance between them now that if he were to run her through with his blade from behind he would have no hope but to impale himself as well. He can see the scorching sand and sun reflected back in her irises, cutting at him through the visor of his helmet.
Kylo tosses her back physically, strong enough to knock her off balance without the use of the Force but employing it somewhat to send her sprawling. He trips the switch of his lightsaber and cuts it off, not belting it but holding it so tightly that he knows his knuckles are white under the leather. )
We're done here.
( He doesn't wait for her to pick herself up before turning away. )
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[ Her brow already damp with the effort of holding him there, she shoves her way back into his mind, engulfed instantly in the murky, suffocating fear he has roiling around inside him, anger, self loathing, rage; but she can feel that modest little spark, too, buried deep but there, warm and bright as an ember, flickering but not fading. I see you. Suddenly she's standing in his mental landscape, looking up into his face plainly, mask discarded even as they stand locked, feet from each other in the physical world, his back to her. Stop running from it. The landscape shifts and they're bathed in scorching sunlight on the sands of Jakku, miles and miles of dune sea spread before them. It wavers again and they're face to face at the viewpoint on the Finalizer, cold, unyielding steel, the murmur of voices busy and indistinct around them. Alone.
Rey holds his gaze, something imperceptible filtering between two minds so closely mingled together for one perfect moment that she can't tell where she begins and he ends, and her hand wavers and she loses her grasp on him— or unconsciously releases, she isn't certain, drawing in a deep breath sharply as she pants, unsteady but still on guard. He might kill her now, or try. ]
no subject
Kylo isn't anticipating her presence there, as much as he isn't anticipating her sticking around for further verbal abuse on his part. Foolish. Reckless. Stupid. Weak. She doesn't so much as push back into his thoughts, his mind, as much as she's suddenly there, and he reacts the only way that he knows how: pushing back. The sun is hot on his neck, pooling sweat in the small of his back and under his arms, his feet sinking into sand up to his ankles, the grit of it sharp on his tongue and crunching between his teeth as he grinds them together. Just as quickly, the cold, polished durasteel of Hux's flagship reflects her face from every surface, the overhead lighting shining dully on the scuffed tips of his boots. Her voice in his head like a battering ram, and every door he tries to close between them, to keep her out, stutters behind him just a moment too late, allowing her passage through until finally, finally he slams her out and -
Another room, cold and dark, raised sides and a platform like a dais. Light streams in from up above and the architecture crumbles, stones shifting underfoot. Beyond the immediate landscape, a blood orange sun sets and casts long shadows over old monuments, falling into disarray. In the darkness there, something shifts and then looks up. Sunken eyes, a concave skull, an inhale that rustles and scratches like leaves.
Kylo finds himself with his feet planted firmly in the dirt and his breath stitched together in his chest a moment later, heart hammering hard. The sweat on the back of his neck is cold and Rey is several paces from him, tired and unfocused and unsteady with the weight of her own power. For a long, quiet moment, he says nothing, does nothing other than to turn on his heel the remainder of the way so that he can face her directly. )
It becomes more and more difficult not to kill you every time we cross paths.
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And yet, [ She exhales and inhales deeply, mentally willing her pulse and breathing to shift back to normal: ] Here we are. Both still living and breathing. [ Rey risks lifting a forearm to swipe the sweat gathered at her brow, stray loose curls gathering at her temples as she shifts her stance and relaxes minutely. The mental exercise has taken much from them both but particularly from Rey, muscles weakened and feeling awkward, as if from lack of use or distrophy, and she grips her lightsaber tightly before pressing it off, a sharp pain at her temples, just behind her eyes. She wonders if he can feel it, too. ]
Do you think we might call it a truce? You're too much— [ in here, and vice versa and it's... a lot. Rey gestures between them, haphazard and less sharp than usual, her focus split and frayed at the edges, caught up in thinking too closely about Kylo Ren's bottomless gaze, of Chewie's mournful cry and accompanying crossbow fire, the sound of Finn's screams muffled through a snowy wood echoing in her ears relentlessly, unable to shake it. And he could very well likely take advantage of the situation, of her weakness now, vulnerable and open to attack and willfully admitting it. ]
no subject
The beginnings of an ache in his head transmute to the healing pain in his abdomen, where a droid-treated hole in his side is still barely healed. He can feel the exhaustion pooling within her, rippling off of her in waves, and he knows that if he were to exploit it he could overpower her easily, definitely has the compunction and the power to do so - though there is always the risk of her surprising him in that way, again - and could bring her to kneel at the mercy of his master. The problem inherent in that solution is the possibility that she will one day overpower him in a way that leaves him at her mercy, and that, were she to train alongside him under Snoke and best him, it would be the end of Kylo Ren and all that he has worked to achieve. Snoke would demand it, and Rey, so strong and connected with the Force, intertwined enough that she could stand toe-to-toe with him and not back down, would win. )
I believe I was the one who said we were done here, just a moment ago. Call that a truce if you like.
( He keeps his voice detached, made that much easier by the helmet, though he has the distinct impression that, regardless of how hard he tries to seem unaffected by both her presence in general and her presence in his head, she can tell without trying very hard that he's lying. It unnerves him to know that she's always there, enough that he can sense her just existing through billions and billions of stars. Even if he can't pinpoint where she is and only gets snatches of what she's doing or how she's feeling, it's there, ever present at the back of his mind, a boon and a hindrance. If he can see fragments of what she's learning, can suss out fractions of how her power grows with each day under proper but misguided tutelage, there's no telling what she will be able to glean from him once he touches down with the Supreme Leader and begins the painstaking process of completing his own apprenticeship. And though he approaches that horizon with a swollen and heavy sense of pride and satisfaction, it will be done with the knowledge that one of the greatest assets to the Resistance has what seems to be a permanent pass to his thoughts, only growing stronger with each day that passes, with each attempt they make toward each other.
Abruptly, Kylo inclines his head, sensing an incoming transmission from Hux before it's broadcast to him. While he despises the implication behind coming to Hux when called, a nudge not dissimilar to what he senses when Rey is casting about through the Force in an effort to look for him comes rolling in as well. One of the other Knights casting about for him. Time to go. Kylo is a shroud to them at the best of times and a verifiable black hole when he's feeling particularly displaced from them, better than the rest of them despite the way he knows they turn their nose at him following his defeat on Starkiller Base. He cloaks himself now in the same manner, though only long enough to offer Rey an exaggerated, patronizing bow. )
Scavenger.