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i found something in the woods somewhere.
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open post.
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[ it’s a staggering defeat - as much of a blow to the ego as a dent in their numbers, and they slouch homeward, he goes to collect the fallen apprentice (blood on the snow, black clad limbs spread across the forest floor - his hair congealed in the dark liquid, clumped and matted) as he is told to.
(He had recoiled, when he had first seen the other man - something about the quiver in the other’s hands, shoulders - it had been an instinctual reaction; witnessing something so unbridled; broken but livid - the anger was a heat haze, just short of visible).
Defeats for the First order are rarer than sunshine on Arkanis.
He retrieves Ren himself, hoists him onto the floor of the shuttle’s docking bay, his own uniform soaked with the dark blood that has pooled beneath the man’s body.
What a defeat indeed.
But this is a single battle in a season of wars, and it may sting now, but the First Order is as resilient as a parasite, and they will lick their wounds. ]
You are a damned fool.
[ He grits it out at the force-user, panting into the simulated air of the hanger, a strand of Ren’s hair caught in the cufflink of his greatcoat.
The man’s face is a wreck, streaming from a long cut that will inevitably scar. He imagines that Ren will like that - a proper mark to wear, the first component of a new mask. Who knows though, he’s as unbalanced as that lightsaber he carries (it sparks with glitches, he remembers, buzzing as if touched by water). ]
Can I get some assistance, or are you all going to stand around and look useless?
[ Hux barks his orders at the troopers. Some things do not change. Defeat or not. He looks down at Ren, taps him on the uninjured cheek. ]
Stay awake, you idiot, Snoke will have my head if I turn up with a corpse.
[ he untangles the strands of black hair from his cuff, but finds that they are wound tight. ]
(He had recoiled, when he had first seen the other man - something about the quiver in the other’s hands, shoulders - it had been an instinctual reaction; witnessing something so unbridled; broken but livid - the anger was a heat haze, just short of visible).
Defeats for the First order are rarer than sunshine on Arkanis.
He retrieves Ren himself, hoists him onto the floor of the shuttle’s docking bay, his own uniform soaked with the dark blood that has pooled beneath the man’s body.
What a defeat indeed.
But this is a single battle in a season of wars, and it may sting now, but the First Order is as resilient as a parasite, and they will lick their wounds. ]
You are a damned fool.
[ He grits it out at the force-user, panting into the simulated air of the hanger, a strand of Ren’s hair caught in the cufflink of his greatcoat.
The man’s face is a wreck, streaming from a long cut that will inevitably scar. He imagines that Ren will like that - a proper mark to wear, the first component of a new mask. Who knows though, he’s as unbalanced as that lightsaber he carries (it sparks with glitches, he remembers, buzzing as if touched by water). ]
Can I get some assistance, or are you all going to stand around and look useless?
[ Hux barks his orders at the troopers. Some things do not change. Defeat or not. He looks down at Ren, taps him on the uninjured cheek. ]
Stay awake, you idiot, Snoke will have my head if I turn up with a corpse.
[ he untangles the strands of black hair from his cuff, but finds that they are wound tight. ]
( It's possible that the wounds might not have bled so much had he not curled his hands into fists and beat them gaping and angry. Even through blurring levels of consciousness, sweat and melting snow running into his eyes, Kylo can feel the blaring anger and rage fed and fanned by the twisting vines of pain, dulling now to a low simmer that leaves him with little more than the echoing reminder of his failure and what will come about as a result of it. Not to mention the pain itself. His face is on fire.
He becomes keenly aware of Hux's voice dragging him through gallons of water and into acute consciousness. Kylo surfaces viciously from the hazy in-between that left him prone on the forest floor before Hux plucked him from sliding into the fissure in the earth, gritting his teeth and baring them, against the pain in his flank, bisecting his face, against overall frustration of having Hux hovering above him, against that loss. )
For once in your life, shut up.
( The sharp sound of his voice isn't a surprise, the scrape of rock against rock as he throws off the first stormtrooper with an outward pulse from the five-point star of his palm. It's a violent shove, and it sends the solider into the wall with enough force to crack open his helmet on the bulkhead. Kylo's shoulders surge with the effort of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. His vision slants under the strain of digging deep to find the necessary power to leave the trooper prone on the ground. )
Snoke is sure to be pleased with your latest endeavor.
( He means the Starkiller base, the entire weapon project itself. It brings a sense of satisfaction that dislodges some of the other rocks that make up the weight of his chest, never mind the punishment he knows waits for him at the hands of the Supreme Leader. )
He becomes keenly aware of Hux's voice dragging him through gallons of water and into acute consciousness. Kylo surfaces viciously from the hazy in-between that left him prone on the forest floor before Hux plucked him from sliding into the fissure in the earth, gritting his teeth and baring them, against the pain in his flank, bisecting his face, against overall frustration of having Hux hovering above him, against that loss. )
For once in your life, shut up.
( The sharp sound of his voice isn't a surprise, the scrape of rock against rock as he throws off the first stormtrooper with an outward pulse from the five-point star of his palm. It's a violent shove, and it sends the solider into the wall with enough force to crack open his helmet on the bulkhead. Kylo's shoulders surge with the effort of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. His vision slants under the strain of digging deep to find the necessary power to leave the trooper prone on the ground. )
Snoke is sure to be pleased with your latest endeavor.
( He means the Starkiller base, the entire weapon project itself. It brings a sense of satisfaction that dislodges some of the other rocks that make up the weight of his chest, never mind the punishment he knows waits for him at the hands of the Supreme Leader. )
[ That gets a snort.
Hux disentangles himself from the fallen apprentice, mouth pulling into a sneer of its own accord; leave it to Ren to be mouthy, even in a condition as poor as this one. And then, one of his troopers is being thrown back, and the noise of it rings through the hanger - collateral damage for carrying a wounded force-user on board (untrue; said force-user seems to attract collateral damage regardless of his state - this whole endeavor of the past few months seems to have been nothing but collateral damage). The rest of the stormtroopers linger between following orders and their natural fear of Ren - Hux does not flinch.
He stands, stiffly - just an inch off from his usual well-put-together self (slightly bloodied, slightly disheveled), and looks down at the wreckage of Kylo Ren. ] We will return to base, and report to Snoke as soon as you're capable of something other than bleeding on myself and the floor of my ship.
[ He begins to order the stormtroopers forward once again (and there is a good four second pause before they follow his instructions, causing the general to cast them a swift glare). ] We will both face disciplinary action, and we will both deserve it.
[ Turning to Ren, Hux bends down, meeting the other man's eyes (that cut does give him a certain viciousness now, but what a memory; defeated and wounded by the girl - pitiful). ] And you will stop attacking my troopers.
[ They have brought a stretcher. Hux's eyes flick from it, to Ren - one eyebrow arched in warning.
(He does not pity the other man, but something, he can tell, is off. He's uncertain of what precisely happened back on Starkiller base, and doubts that he will ever hear the truth (from Ren at least). It founds its mark, though, whatever it was). ]
Where's the helmet? [ Hux's voice is pitched low, it's almost said as a conciliation for the briskness of earlier - a neutral offering. ]
Hux disentangles himself from the fallen apprentice, mouth pulling into a sneer of its own accord; leave it to Ren to be mouthy, even in a condition as poor as this one. And then, one of his troopers is being thrown back, and the noise of it rings through the hanger - collateral damage for carrying a wounded force-user on board (untrue; said force-user seems to attract collateral damage regardless of his state - this whole endeavor of the past few months seems to have been nothing but collateral damage). The rest of the stormtroopers linger between following orders and their natural fear of Ren - Hux does not flinch.
He stands, stiffly - just an inch off from his usual well-put-together self (slightly bloodied, slightly disheveled), and looks down at the wreckage of Kylo Ren. ] We will return to base, and report to Snoke as soon as you're capable of something other than bleeding on myself and the floor of my ship.
[ He begins to order the stormtroopers forward once again (and there is a good four second pause before they follow his instructions, causing the general to cast them a swift glare). ] We will both face disciplinary action, and we will both deserve it.
[ Turning to Ren, Hux bends down, meeting the other man's eyes (that cut does give him a certain viciousness now, but what a memory; defeated and wounded by the girl - pitiful). ] And you will stop attacking my troopers.
[ They have brought a stretcher. Hux's eyes flick from it, to Ren - one eyebrow arched in warning.
(He does not pity the other man, but something, he can tell, is off. He's uncertain of what precisely happened back on Starkiller base, and doubts that he will ever hear the truth (from Ren at least). It founds its mark, though, whatever it was). ]
Where's the helmet? [ Hux's voice is pitched low, it's almost said as a conciliation for the briskness of earlier - a neutral offering. ]
( Kylo smiles, all teeth, a wolfish, ragged grin that doesn't touch his eyes. Hux should recognize the challenge in it. He doesn't smile often but when he does it's either a cause for serious, alarming concern or a justified warning for everyone within a fifteen foot radius to back up out of range of his grip if they value their windpipe. Lacking the energy to so much as swat at the general like an errant fly, Kylo resorts to pinning the other man in place with a sneer alone. It doesn't matter to Kylo whether or not Hux perceives him as a threat: they both know the only thing keeping Kylo from snapping his neck on a bad day is the Supreme Leader's insistence that he leave Hux alone and let the general do his job.
He turns his head to spit on the metal grating, surprised when it doesn't color pink with blood. It seems like that's all he can taste. )
Getting your hands a little dirty suits your complexion, General.
( As Hux orders them forward, Kylo refuses the troopers' assistance once again, though less violently this time. He won't be hauled up to sitting by a bunch of marvelously unpredictable - FN2187, he thinks, quite suddenly, unconscious in the snow - meatheads with blasters tethered to their belts like degenerates. Considering that makes him pause to consider his saber, and one look down at it once he's got his back up against the wall, long legs angled out in front of him with a curled fist pressed to the bowcaster burn in his side, tells him all he needs to know about the damage that's been done to it. )
Get off.
( The troopers back off, the stretcher bobbing nervously between the two that carry it. It takes serious effort, but he manages to pull the long lines and blunt edges of his body into a crouch, then a lean, until finally he's standing, knowing that the pain and discomfort he feels now will be nothing compared to what Snoke levels at him later. Hux will suffer, more than he has before probably, but his punishment will be a walk in a field of daisies compared to what the Supreme Leader will put Kylo through for losing the girl, the map, the last known link to Skywalker. Not to mention his defeat in general. His broken saber. Bile builds in the back of his throat, and he spits again. )
I removed it. Back at Starkiller. ( Which is about as forthcoming as he wants to be about that whole incident. Kylo turns his attention to the remaining troopers and lone medical officer dispatched to tend to a prone-to-tantrums Knight of Ren. He doesn't have to use the Force to get them to leave, but he does anyway, dropping his voice to an octave that doesn't run the high side of pain he's still feeling, saying, Leave. Now. Maybe it's just to prove to himself that he can still do it. He turns to Hux again once they've been left alone. ) Any word from our illustrious Leader?
He turns his head to spit on the metal grating, surprised when it doesn't color pink with blood. It seems like that's all he can taste. )
Getting your hands a little dirty suits your complexion, General.
( As Hux orders them forward, Kylo refuses the troopers' assistance once again, though less violently this time. He won't be hauled up to sitting by a bunch of marvelously unpredictable - FN2187, he thinks, quite suddenly, unconscious in the snow - meatheads with blasters tethered to their belts like degenerates. Considering that makes him pause to consider his saber, and one look down at it once he's got his back up against the wall, long legs angled out in front of him with a curled fist pressed to the bowcaster burn in his side, tells him all he needs to know about the damage that's been done to it. )
Get off.
( The troopers back off, the stretcher bobbing nervously between the two that carry it. It takes serious effort, but he manages to pull the long lines and blunt edges of his body into a crouch, then a lean, until finally he's standing, knowing that the pain and discomfort he feels now will be nothing compared to what Snoke levels at him later. Hux will suffer, more than he has before probably, but his punishment will be a walk in a field of daisies compared to what the Supreme Leader will put Kylo through for losing the girl, the map, the last known link to Skywalker. Not to mention his defeat in general. His broken saber. Bile builds in the back of his throat, and he spits again. )
I removed it. Back at Starkiller. ( Which is about as forthcoming as he wants to be about that whole incident. Kylo turns his attention to the remaining troopers and lone medical officer dispatched to tend to a prone-to-tantrums Knight of Ren. He doesn't have to use the Force to get them to leave, but he does anyway, dropping his voice to an octave that doesn't run the high side of pain he's still feeling, saying, Leave. Now. Maybe it's just to prove to himself that he can still do it. He turns to Hux again once they've been left alone. ) Any word from our illustrious Leader?
[ She's sent on a very low-key, quiet mission for the Resistance, testing her own newly acquired Jedi training, the Force a new and familiar thing all at once. The Falcon is exchanged for some non-descript ship, less noticeable, less conspicuous despite Chewbacca being her co-pilot, firmly stationed with the ship itself while Rey sets out to seek her own information. Her lightsaber ( it's Luke Skywalker's— it's Anakin Skywalker's ) is tucked securely at her left hip and entirely out of sight, her hair down and curled around her shoulders, seeking that certain junk dealer with the information she needs—
And then, she feels him: a burning in her veins, a throb in her temple, a hum in her ear she can't shake, hackles raised and immediately launched into the defensive, hissing a soft: We've got company, Chewie into the slim communicator at her wrist. Kylo Ren is here and if he doesn't doesn't realize she is as well, it won't take very long.
Evading him is improbable and she dreads and seeks it all the same, everything her new master wishes for her to avoid, everything she foolishly, actively seeks. She's not afraid of the adversary, a boy she's faced before, petulant and angry and flushed over the sharp bridge of his nose, too truthfully human to be a real monster, too much of a shade of his parents and she stupidly postpones the mission to find him, darting in and out of stands, eyes keen and watchful, feeling him near.
Rey reaches out with the fingers of the force, her touch gentle, prodding: ] Kylo? Are you looking for me?
And then, she feels him: a burning in her veins, a throb in her temple, a hum in her ear she can't shake, hackles raised and immediately launched into the defensive, hissing a soft: We've got company, Chewie into the slim communicator at her wrist. Kylo Ren is here and if he doesn't doesn't realize she is as well, it won't take very long.
Evading him is improbable and she dreads and seeks it all the same, everything her new master wishes for her to avoid, everything she foolishly, actively seeks. She's not afraid of the adversary, a boy she's faced before, petulant and angry and flushed over the sharp bridge of his nose, too truthfully human to be a real monster, too much of a shade of his parents and she stupidly postpones the mission to find him, darting in and out of stands, eyes keen and watchful, feeling him near.
Rey reaches out with the fingers of the force, her touch gentle, prodding: ] Kylo? Are you looking for me?
Edited 2015-12-30 13:49 (UTC)
As always, your input, Ren, is indispensable.
[ Have a sneer to go with that comment, although it does lack something of its usual brand of scorn. It is difficult to take the knight altogether too seriously in his current state, intimidating though he might be. But, he does not like that smile - there's a venemous quality to is and he wants to recoil, as if by some prehistoric impulse that warns him of danger. Technically, Ren is a predator; he is quite capable of snapping any one of their necks, even in his current condition. But, the impulse passes as quickly as it became present, and he watches the other man spit, half-expecting it to be bloodied.
What a thing it is, to watch Kylo Ren attempt to pull himself together.
The man is comprised of such a sheer force of will that Hux finds that the room crackles with it. Naturally, the stubborn creature does not accept the offer of the stretcher, he ought to have guessed that any attempts at assistance would be shaken off with the arrogance of a sulky teenager. Hux's mouth draws into a thin line; there will, he thinks, come a day in the future where he will spend the entirety of it not exasperated at Kylo Ren. That day, however, seems to grow more and more distant. All he needs now, is for the idiot to do something irreparable to himself, to bleed out in his priggishness, his reluctance to user a stretcher after being shot six ways to Sunday. The floor of the hanger is a mess of blood. Half of it is on Hux himself already, so he grimly steps forward to clamp a hand around Ren's upper arm when he rights himself (if listing dangerously to the left counts as such), supporting a small amount of the other's weight.
Hux watches him cautiously, a beat passing before he speaks. ] No word, not yet.
[ Hux chooses to avoid replying to the comment about the helmet. Whatever happened on Starkiller base will, undoubtedly, remain exclusive to Kylo. He does not doubt that the man will deliver some garbled account when he is forced to make his report, but he is aware that it will be a far step from the truth.
The troops leave, and there is a twitch of irritation in the general's jaw, but he remains silent.
Then, clearing his throat, still keeping a hold of the apprentice's arm in order to ensure that the man does not topple over onto the floor (which, he thinks, is a distinct possibility right now). Hux attempts to sound unphased, as well as commanding: ] Seeing as you've dismissed the medics, I'll be escorting you to the medbay myself.
[ Have a sneer to go with that comment, although it does lack something of its usual brand of scorn. It is difficult to take the knight altogether too seriously in his current state, intimidating though he might be. But, he does not like that smile - there's a venemous quality to is and he wants to recoil, as if by some prehistoric impulse that warns him of danger. Technically, Ren is a predator; he is quite capable of snapping any one of their necks, even in his current condition. But, the impulse passes as quickly as it became present, and he watches the other man spit, half-expecting it to be bloodied.
What a thing it is, to watch Kylo Ren attempt to pull himself together.
The man is comprised of such a sheer force of will that Hux finds that the room crackles with it. Naturally, the stubborn creature does not accept the offer of the stretcher, he ought to have guessed that any attempts at assistance would be shaken off with the arrogance of a sulky teenager. Hux's mouth draws into a thin line; there will, he thinks, come a day in the future where he will spend the entirety of it not exasperated at Kylo Ren. That day, however, seems to grow more and more distant. All he needs now, is for the idiot to do something irreparable to himself, to bleed out in his priggishness, his reluctance to user a stretcher after being shot six ways to Sunday. The floor of the hanger is a mess of blood. Half of it is on Hux himself already, so he grimly steps forward to clamp a hand around Ren's upper arm when he rights himself (if listing dangerously to the left counts as such), supporting a small amount of the other's weight.
Hux watches him cautiously, a beat passing before he speaks. ] No word, not yet.
[ Hux chooses to avoid replying to the comment about the helmet. Whatever happened on Starkiller base will, undoubtedly, remain exclusive to Kylo. He does not doubt that the man will deliver some garbled account when he is forced to make his report, but he is aware that it will be a far step from the truth.
The troops leave, and there is a twitch of irritation in the general's jaw, but he remains silent.
Then, clearing his throat, still keeping a hold of the apprentice's arm in order to ensure that the man does not topple over onto the floor (which, he thinks, is a distinct possibility right now). Hux attempts to sound unphased, as well as commanding: ] Seeing as you've dismissed the medics, I'll be escorting you to the medbay myself.
( Strangely enough, the first familiar presence that Kylo Ren hones in on during the First Order's summit on some planet is not Rey's but Chewbacca's. It could be imagined, once he picks up on it, but the scar tissue left behind as an echo of his old guardian's choice of weaponry and wide shot - he's gone over it a hundred times in his head: there's no way the Wookie would have missed if he'd meant to kill him - twinges and aches. It doesn't slow him down or give him pause, but it does angle his head away from the table and meeting he is standing in on, Hux droning on about the cost of repairs to his fleet and the assembly of a further amount of Star Destroyers and TIE fighters.
Militarized planning has never interested him as much as what Snoke has taught him, especially lately, given their path to the Supreme Leader's star system so that Kylo may complete his training. This is a pitstop, just a detour, which is why it thrills Kylo so completely to feel Chewbacca's presence and, then, winking into existence as if it had always been there, Rey's.
Underneath the heavy metal weaving of his helmet, his breath catches a little in his throat, popping through the modulator in a way that makes some of the people around him nervous. He can see it in the hackles that raise along the backs of their necks, the raw panic that rolls off of them like fog. Hux does not stop talking but casts a weary expression his way. Kylo stops himself from using the Force to crush his windpipe for that sort of display alone. )
Seems like I've found you, doesn't it?
( By his estimate, the connection links around the same time, with him picking up on her but not establishing contact just several seconds before she does. The palms of his hand itch, his saber clipped to his belt, and it takes a great deal of willpower not to turn and stalk from the room and seek her out and ignite the raw power in his saber immediately. )
Militarized planning has never interested him as much as what Snoke has taught him, especially lately, given their path to the Supreme Leader's star system so that Kylo may complete his training. This is a pitstop, just a detour, which is why it thrills Kylo so completely to feel Chewbacca's presence and, then, winking into existence as if it had always been there, Rey's.
Underneath the heavy metal weaving of his helmet, his breath catches a little in his throat, popping through the modulator in a way that makes some of the people around him nervous. He can see it in the hackles that raise along the backs of their necks, the raw panic that rolls off of them like fog. Hux does not stop talking but casts a weary expression his way. Kylo stops himself from using the Force to crush his windpipe for that sort of display alone. )
Seems like I've found you, doesn't it?
( By his estimate, the connection links around the same time, with him picking up on her but not establishing contact just several seconds before she does. The palms of his hand itch, his saber clipped to his belt, and it takes a great deal of willpower not to turn and stalk from the room and seek her out and ignite the raw power in his saber immediately. )
[ Forcing calm to roll through her own frame of mind in waves, she feels him out further, or at least as far as he allows her to. He's close but not exactly on her heels, the sharp peak of his excitement over their sudden proximity buzzing at he back of her head, her eyes glancing off the faces of the people she passes, wary of stormtroopers and First Order members alike. No one is paying a little scrap of a girl in neutral tones much notice, and she ducks into a dusty little alleyway to find her focus.
Chewie bellows at her over the comm, his own instinct sensing trouble, and she murmurs her reassurances before shifting her attention back to Kylo, shielding the location of their ship behind a well fortified mental block. ]
You weren't supposed to be here. [ Resistance intel had put Kylo Ren safely on his ship two star systems away, banking on the fact that the Order would skip over this little oasis, not exactly a hole-in-the-wall planet but nothing they might typically set their sights on for any political or military gain. Her back pressed to a wall, partially secluded in shadows, her hand falls with new instinct to her lightsaber, tucked beneath her tunic, fingers wrapping around the hilt but not removing it yet. ] I'm not interested in a rematch.
[ She means it— not particularly interested in dueling with him period, least of all in a saber fight. She leaves their connection open just enough for him to feel unthreatened, only wary, and still with that unwavering curiosity towards him. ]
Chewie bellows at her over the comm, his own instinct sensing trouble, and she murmurs her reassurances before shifting her attention back to Kylo, shielding the location of their ship behind a well fortified mental block. ]
You weren't supposed to be here. [ Resistance intel had put Kylo Ren safely on his ship two star systems away, banking on the fact that the Order would skip over this little oasis, not exactly a hole-in-the-wall planet but nothing they might typically set their sights on for any political or military gain. Her back pressed to a wall, partially secluded in shadows, her hand falls with new instinct to her lightsaber, tucked beneath her tunic, fingers wrapping around the hilt but not removing it yet. ] I'm not interested in a rematch.
[ She means it— not particularly interested in dueling with him period, least of all in a saber fight. She leaves their connection open just enough for him to feel unthreatened, only wary, and still with that unwavering curiosity towards him. ]
( A muscle works in Kylo's jaw, tendons scraping over teeth as he grinds his molars together. Whether against the pain or Hux's hesitation before answering Kylo's question is a mystery and likely a combination of the two. Like an injured animal, he would rather retreat privately to lick his wounds and resurface again with new anger bubbling up in him like boiling water, but for the time being it seems more prudent to save his energy and strength. It's unlikely the Supreme Leader will let him heal completely or even remain under the attention of the medical droids and officers very long before calling to him for a debriefing on the situation. If he hasn't sensed it already, he'll know then that the girl and the map are gone, that the Resistance has disappeared, and that he and Hux are failures.
He starts at Hux's tight grip on his arm, correcting his posture though he sags into the injury on his flank. Six feet and three inches is a huge height to be when your skin pulling taut from standing up straight opens a half-cauterized bowcaster hole in your side, and rather than tear the injury further, Kylo forces himself to allow it some breathing room. His skin is going to be black and blue around the injury, like some perverse imitation of a flower blooming across his abdomen, and the bones in his hand are sore where he pounded his ribs with enough strength to keep the anger and pain and hatred flowing strong, but none of it stings as sharply as needing Hux to guide him like an invalid from the hangar to medbay. )
How generous of you to take the time. I'll assume your retreat is running according to schedule.
( His tone is dry and flat, and he reaches a palm out to securely anchor himself to the wall. Every step is not agony - he's certainly felt a worse kind of pain in the past - but his feet feel sluggish, as if he's dragging them through thick, congealed mud. He pushes through it, and leads Hux rather than letting Hux lead him, pushing forward with greater speed than a medical officer might advise, although many of them have stopped advising him of anything on the rare occasion they have cause to. Kylo, for his part, takes care of most of his minor injuries himself, in one way or another.
It's a long time before he says anything else)
I assume Snoke must have sent you to retrieve me. Have you plotted a course yet?
( He must have barked some destination, given Hux's confidence in their disciplinary action. )
He starts at Hux's tight grip on his arm, correcting his posture though he sags into the injury on his flank. Six feet and three inches is a huge height to be when your skin pulling taut from standing up straight opens a half-cauterized bowcaster hole in your side, and rather than tear the injury further, Kylo forces himself to allow it some breathing room. His skin is going to be black and blue around the injury, like some perverse imitation of a flower blooming across his abdomen, and the bones in his hand are sore where he pounded his ribs with enough strength to keep the anger and pain and hatred flowing strong, but none of it stings as sharply as needing Hux to guide him like an invalid from the hangar to medbay. )
How generous of you to take the time. I'll assume your retreat is running according to schedule.
( His tone is dry and flat, and he reaches a palm out to securely anchor himself to the wall. Every step is not agony - he's certainly felt a worse kind of pain in the past - but his feet feel sluggish, as if he's dragging them through thick, congealed mud. He pushes through it, and leads Hux rather than letting Hux lead him, pushing forward with greater speed than a medical officer might advise, although many of them have stopped advising him of anything on the rare occasion they have cause to. Kylo, for his part, takes care of most of his minor injuries himself, in one way or another.
It's a long time before he says anything else)
I assume Snoke must have sent you to retrieve me. Have you plotted a course yet?
( He must have barked some destination, given Hux's confidence in their disciplinary action. )
Surprise. ( There's dull amusement in the tone he projects across to her. ) I'm more interested in your reasons for being here than I am tracking you down for a rematch. General Organa sending you on a scavenger hunt?
( The question might as well be rhetorical, given that he's sure he knows without having to dig deep what she's here for. While being more or less a hive for thieves, escaped convicts, and people with nowhere else to do, the planet serves as a central outpost for many traveling from one section of this system to the next. Having a heavy hand on it would be beneficial to the First Order's needs, and while those in charge - convicts in their own right - have not necessarily been amenable to talks regarding the military presence and ownership of their people, services, and homes in general, having three Knights of Ren gathered around the table has certainly ensured that these discussions transpire in a more favorable fashion than the last time Kylo set foot on this dumpster of a rock.
It strikes him belatedly how conversational his tone grows toward the end of his question, as if he's asking her what the weather's going to be like the next five or so days. He straightens his posture in the room and shoots a glance out of his peripheral at the Knight standing next to him, who sees fit to leave on the heavy claymore rather than the way Kylo is standing himself. Kylo neglects to make eye contact, which isn't an abnormality, in an effort to keep the others out. )
( The question might as well be rhetorical, given that he's sure he knows without having to dig deep what she's here for. While being more or less a hive for thieves, escaped convicts, and people with nowhere else to do, the planet serves as a central outpost for many traveling from one section of this system to the next. Having a heavy hand on it would be beneficial to the First Order's needs, and while those in charge - convicts in their own right - have not necessarily been amenable to talks regarding the military presence and ownership of their people, services, and homes in general, having three Knights of Ren gathered around the table has certainly ensured that these discussions transpire in a more favorable fashion than the last time Kylo set foot on this dumpster of a rock.
It strikes him belatedly how conversational his tone grows toward the end of his question, as if he's asking her what the weather's going to be like the next five or so days. He straightens his posture in the room and shoots a glance out of his peripheral at the Knight standing next to him, who sees fit to leave on the heavy claymore rather than the way Kylo is standing himself. Kylo neglects to make eye contact, which isn't an abnormality, in an effort to keep the others out. )
[ There hasn't been a moment when he isn't in her head, kept at a careful distance but still ever present, a dull flutter behind her eyelids, at her temple. Kylo keeps his thoughts just as guarded, constantly on alert of her presence and entirely capable of holding her at bay but still, Rey very privately finds herself growing used to it, to him. Not that she'd ever admit it, catching that hint of dry humor in his mental voice with some genuine surprise, feeling herself relax minutely. Never enough drop her guard. ]
You know I'm not going to tell you that.
[ And she isn't overly fond of the scavenger joke, either, but her reply lacks any malice or even ill will, tentatively feeling around his thoughts, catching the faintest glimpse of his environment. He's with his comrades ( if Kylo Ren considers anyone a comrade to begin with ) and he's keeping himself in check behind that helmet like always, still preferring him without, though she supposed it hardly matters when they're not face to face.
It might be just to grate at him a little, her own physical posture alert, if only to stay cautious of the surrounding populace, she adds with her own hint of humor, a healthy dose of sarcasm: ] —didn't miss me, did you?
You know I'm not going to tell you that.
[ And she isn't overly fond of the scavenger joke, either, but her reply lacks any malice or even ill will, tentatively feeling around his thoughts, catching the faintest glimpse of his environment. He's with his comrades ( if Kylo Ren considers anyone a comrade to begin with ) and he's keeping himself in check behind that helmet like always, still preferring him without, though she supposed it hardly matters when they're not face to face.
It might be just to grate at him a little, her own physical posture alert, if only to stay cautious of the surrounding populace, she adds with her own hint of humor, a healthy dose of sarcasm: ] —didn't miss me, did you?
( Observing with a sort of detached, bored interest, Kylo notes with relief the auditory torture of Hux's endless monologue drawing to a sharp close. Negotiations have not deteriorated, and there will be an installation of First Order troops on the planet before their departure the following morning. He's somewhat relieved not to have needed any of the Knights to step in and apply pressure where necessary, if only because their resources could be better spent elsewhere. Like the girl on the end of the tin can string.
If she's here, then it's for a reason, and if she's here, then he has a chance at reclaiming what he lost previously, both in terms of overall goals and in the Supreme Leader's standings. Unwilling to miss his chance at exploiting her tenacity, her curiosity, Kylo excuses himself without saying anything to anyone. It's been a handful of minutes since she inquired into his reasons for being planetside when he's meant to be traveling at light speed toward Snoke, and Kylo finds that he enjoys the idea that she might be sweating it out somewhere, wondering if he's cut the cord between them or if he's masked himself from her probing thoughts while honing in on her, ready to strike. )
You left a distinct parting gift the last time we were in the same star system.
( He doesn't cushion the flare of contempt that flashes her way across the channel, letting her feel the brunt of it while reaching out a hand to key open a door. The atmosphere on this planet is thick and heavy with smog and the constant smell of mixed spices from an open air market. It's filled with people who smell of sweat and dirt and the grit underneath fingernails. His mask filters most of it out, but he prefers the ventilated, metallic ring of the Finalizer. With so little for him to accomplish on the ground, Kylo resents the fact that he and his comrades were brought here as an intimidation tactic. It's beneath them. Better to make something out of nothing, though. )
Which begs the question: are you looking for me?
If she's here, then it's for a reason, and if she's here, then he has a chance at reclaiming what he lost previously, both in terms of overall goals and in the Supreme Leader's standings. Unwilling to miss his chance at exploiting her tenacity, her curiosity, Kylo excuses himself without saying anything to anyone. It's been a handful of minutes since she inquired into his reasons for being planetside when he's meant to be traveling at light speed toward Snoke, and Kylo finds that he enjoys the idea that she might be sweating it out somewhere, wondering if he's cut the cord between them or if he's masked himself from her probing thoughts while honing in on her, ready to strike. )
You left a distinct parting gift the last time we were in the same star system.
( He doesn't cushion the flare of contempt that flashes her way across the channel, letting her feel the brunt of it while reaching out a hand to key open a door. The atmosphere on this planet is thick and heavy with smog and the constant smell of mixed spices from an open air market. It's filled with people who smell of sweat and dirt and the grit underneath fingernails. His mask filters most of it out, but he prefers the ventilated, metallic ring of the Finalizer. With so little for him to accomplish on the ground, Kylo resents the fact that he and his comrades were brought here as an intimidation tactic. It's beneath them. Better to make something out of nothing, though. )
Which begs the question: are you looking for me?
I wasn't.
And then suddenly, I was.
[ The latter is meant to be private, but she's nowhere near fully trained and it bleeds out through their connection unintentionally, briefly cursing herself as she seemingly scowls at nothing in particular, swerving quickly to change the subject and more importantly, try and further pinpoint his location. To avoid him entirely or seek him out? Even Rey isn't completely sure now, despite how infuriatingly smug and self assured he echoes through her head and his, that channel open more broadly than it has since the afternoon in the council meeting, each of them refusing to bend to the other's will.
Belatedly, she realizes staying in one place is a decidedly foolish idea when he's silent for a few torturously long minutes, brow damp with anxious anticipation, from the heat and the mental focus required to keep some sort of track on him, noticeably relieved when he cuts into her thoughts again and very pointedly shoves ripples of derision in her direction, the briefest flash of the scar cut long ways down his face. She's already moving again, darting in and out between market stands, blending in with the crowd as she scoffs dryly back at him— as if he hadn't had it coming.
She's unapologetic but resents that pesky little nag of regret just the same, possibly too lenient, probably too foolish and she plays her part and buys some strange looking local fruit, a soft and shimmery bit of melon, gaze scanning back and forth, always watchful. ]
You would think— conquering planet after planet must get a bit tedious after awhile, but you lot just keep at it. [ Another First Order base, no doubt, their claws dug in to nearly every corner of the galaxy, a disease that spreads even when limbs are amputated. Her own sense of disgust is unabashedly filtered through to him, unrepentant and feeling vaguely justified. ]
And then suddenly, I was.
[ The latter is meant to be private, but she's nowhere near fully trained and it bleeds out through their connection unintentionally, briefly cursing herself as she seemingly scowls at nothing in particular, swerving quickly to change the subject and more importantly, try and further pinpoint his location. To avoid him entirely or seek him out? Even Rey isn't completely sure now, despite how infuriatingly smug and self assured he echoes through her head and his, that channel open more broadly than it has since the afternoon in the council meeting, each of them refusing to bend to the other's will.
Belatedly, she realizes staying in one place is a decidedly foolish idea when he's silent for a few torturously long minutes, brow damp with anxious anticipation, from the heat and the mental focus required to keep some sort of track on him, noticeably relieved when he cuts into her thoughts again and very pointedly shoves ripples of derision in her direction, the briefest flash of the scar cut long ways down his face. She's already moving again, darting in and out between market stands, blending in with the crowd as she scoffs dryly back at him— as if he hadn't had it coming.
She's unapologetic but resents that pesky little nag of regret just the same, possibly too lenient, probably too foolish and she plays her part and buys some strange looking local fruit, a soft and shimmery bit of melon, gaze scanning back and forth, always watchful. ]
You would think— conquering planet after planet must get a bit tedious after awhile, but you lot just keep at it. [ Another First Order base, no doubt, their claws dug in to nearly every corner of the galaxy, a disease that spreads even when limbs are amputated. Her own sense of disgust is unabashedly filtered through to him, unrepentant and feeling vaguely justified. ]
That is the primary goal of war.
( Dry, monotone, unaffected but acknowledging of her revulsion. Without the scramble of the modulator, Kylo just sounds bored. In reality he knows he should sound livid with the knowledge that she's here, should seek her out immediately and bring her back to the Order, but whenever he tries to hone in on her location she flits from standing still to shrouding herself in shadow and spice, a bird weaving in and out of branches expertly. It's unlikely that she's aware of her own finesse given how unpracticed and sporadic it feels, as if she's doing it based on instinct alone and without any real penchant for detail.
He gets the sense that she's running, too, not just hiding, disguising her whereabouts through artificial images and conjuring up scenery to deposit in his head as a distraction tactic. It wouldn't be that difficult to seek her out, but he holds ground where the Order is holed up, waiting to see what she does, if she comes running at him headlong or takes a step back into the shadows. She's trying to keep him out for a reason, whether it's the location of the Falcon, Chewbacca, or a general desire to put as much distance between them as possible, mentally and physically. The question remains of what she's doing here at all, although he doubts that Organa would send their new shining beacon of hope into an Order-saturated planet when she's still so wet behind the ears. Sometimes intel is bad, he supposes. )
Where are you going, Rey? ( His tone is patronizing, runs the gamut of amused in her head. ) Running scared?
( Dry, monotone, unaffected but acknowledging of her revulsion. Without the scramble of the modulator, Kylo just sounds bored. In reality he knows he should sound livid with the knowledge that she's here, should seek her out immediately and bring her back to the Order, but whenever he tries to hone in on her location she flits from standing still to shrouding herself in shadow and spice, a bird weaving in and out of branches expertly. It's unlikely that she's aware of her own finesse given how unpracticed and sporadic it feels, as if she's doing it based on instinct alone and without any real penchant for detail.
He gets the sense that she's running, too, not just hiding, disguising her whereabouts through artificial images and conjuring up scenery to deposit in his head as a distraction tactic. It wouldn't be that difficult to seek her out, but he holds ground where the Order is holed up, waiting to see what she does, if she comes running at him headlong or takes a step back into the shadows. She's trying to keep him out for a reason, whether it's the location of the Falcon, Chewbacca, or a general desire to put as much distance between them as possible, mentally and physically. The question remains of what she's doing here at all, although he doubts that Organa would send their new shining beacon of hope into an Order-saturated planet when she's still so wet behind the ears. Sometimes intel is bad, he supposes. )
Where are you going, Rey? ( His tone is patronizing, runs the gamut of amused in her head. ) Running scared?
Nowhere. I told you, I'm no one. [ It's admittedly a little coy, letting him see a vegetable stand across the gravel rough street from her but not in her actual general proximity, slipping around the backside of an empty canvas tent, nimble feet not even kicking up dust as she weaves in and out. No one pays her much mind, which is exactly what she prefers, surprised again to hear the vaguest hint of amusement from him in her head. She is unpracticed, some technique under her belt but no where near expert, and it's tricky to keep someone already disarmingly entrenched in mind out, but she manages well enough.
Strategy is another story— rushing him, presumably while tucked away in some Order base nearby is a little suicidal, pausing again for a moment to weigh her options. The obvious, wise choice is to hightail it out of there with Chewie in tow, back to the safety of the Resistance to live another day. But her curiosity drags her back through the streets in the opposite direction of safety. ]
What if I wanted to talk. In person. [ She puts that out there with an unusual brand of gentleness, force fingers careful against the nape of his neck, a ghost of a whisper to his ear, letting him in just enough to know she doesn't mean any funny business. She's not here for him, in truth, a simple reconnaissance mission and a test of her own capabilities ( she'd specifically asked for the assignment, despite the protests of a certain ex-stormtrooper, mollified only by Chewbacca's chaperoning. ) She asks and she clamps down on her location in case he says no, in case talking is the last thing he wants to do with her right now, crouching physically and mentally beside a creaky wooden cart, abandoned in some dusty corner. ]
Strategy is another story— rushing him, presumably while tucked away in some Order base nearby is a little suicidal, pausing again for a moment to weigh her options. The obvious, wise choice is to hightail it out of there with Chewie in tow, back to the safety of the Resistance to live another day. But her curiosity drags her back through the streets in the opposite direction of safety. ]
What if I wanted to talk. In person. [ She puts that out there with an unusual brand of gentleness, force fingers careful against the nape of his neck, a ghost of a whisper to his ear, letting him in just enough to know she doesn't mean any funny business. She's not here for him, in truth, a simple reconnaissance mission and a test of her own capabilities ( she'd specifically asked for the assignment, despite the protests of a certain ex-stormtrooper, mollified only by Chewbacca's chaperoning. ) She asks and she clamps down on her location in case he says no, in case talking is the last thing he wants to do with her right now, crouching physically and mentally beside a creaky wooden cart, abandoned in some dusty corner. ]
I could kill you.
( Even as he suggests it, he knows it's a poor farce to weave. Killing her would be the least prudent thing he could do, given the Supreme Leader's interest in collecting her, probably in the same fashion in which he collected Kylo when he was still a Solo. He isn't so idealist to believe that she would just let herself be collected without a struggle, and while he has little issue breaking a pact against all out warfare streets when it comes to clashing blades with the girl, politically speaking it would be better for the ink to dry before he engages in a battle that is sure to collect collateral. At the very least, he would have to listen to Hux a remarkable amount less if he just didn't engage.
The reassuring nudge she affords him, the suggestion of a touch at the back of his neck, bristles him more than it has any right to, a firm reminder that he is not the only one with the power here, though he's of the belief that his is the better honed and focused of the two of them, when she isn't tapping into some innate battle meditation to rival certain masters of long ago. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and he thinks to himself and, as a result of her presence, to her as well, You're hardly no one, in that same dry tone, clipped at the edges, that serves as sarcasm. )
Are your assignments for General Organa so unstimulating that you would seek me out in order to put a little jump in your adrenaline?
( He sees the cart and he sees the dirt and he can smell the piece of fruit where its perfume permeates through her pocket. She has her exact location shuttered down - likewise the location of the Falcon, though if he told someone to search the planet's perimeter and the outlying docking stations of the central city, he's sure they would find it; he doesn't, not immediately - but Kylo knows that she can't be far. He hasn't told her no, at any rate, but he won't be going anywhere blind when she almost killed him last time. )
( Even as he suggests it, he knows it's a poor farce to weave. Killing her would be the least prudent thing he could do, given the Supreme Leader's interest in collecting her, probably in the same fashion in which he collected Kylo when he was still a Solo. He isn't so idealist to believe that she would just let herself be collected without a struggle, and while he has little issue breaking a pact against all out warfare streets when it comes to clashing blades with the girl, politically speaking it would be better for the ink to dry before he engages in a battle that is sure to collect collateral. At the very least, he would have to listen to Hux a remarkable amount less if he just didn't engage.
The reassuring nudge she affords him, the suggestion of a touch at the back of his neck, bristles him more than it has any right to, a firm reminder that he is not the only one with the power here, though he's of the belief that his is the better honed and focused of the two of them, when she isn't tapping into some innate battle meditation to rival certain masters of long ago. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and he thinks to himself and, as a result of her presence, to her as well, You're hardly no one, in that same dry tone, clipped at the edges, that serves as sarcasm. )
Are your assignments for General Organa so unstimulating that you would seek me out in order to put a little jump in your adrenaline?
( He sees the cart and he sees the dirt and he can smell the piece of fruit where its perfume permeates through her pocket. She has her exact location shuttered down - likewise the location of the Falcon, though if he told someone to search the planet's perimeter and the outlying docking stations of the central city, he's sure they would find it; he doesn't, not immediately - but Kylo knows that she can't be far. He hasn't told her no, at any rate, but he won't be going anywhere blind when she almost killed him last time. )
You won't.
[ —with confidence, not because their last battle had ended with her standing on one edge of a gaping precipice, Kylo battered and on his back on the opposite side. It's part instinctual, part vaguely untrustworthy fact: the first time they'd met like this, in their minds, intangibly, he'd said as much, pointing out that she'd been the one with to grasp the upper hand and wield that primal calm with alarming ease. And she certainly hasn't forgotten, a distracting thought in those quiet moments before sleep, not alone in a vast wasteland of sand but surrounded by people she can call friend. It's possible that he has a point; maybe she isn't no one anymore, and maybe she never was.
Convincing him she's both unafraid and not looking for a fight is likely easier said than done, feeling that ripple of displeasure roiled back to her in response to her cautious touch, not meant to be a show of power but some offhanded display of goodwill, truthfully a little irritated by the response despite her understanding. Rey will still hold to the matter of the fact that he'd been the one stalking her across star systems, he abducted her, he forced his way into her mind and pursued her and Finn to the surface of the base. In short, this is all entirely his fault, and she lets it be known to Kylo, begrudgingly. ]
This isn't some thrill-seeking adventure, Ren. Do you want to talk or not? Last chance. [ This time, she opens her mind enough to allow him to pinpoint her exact location, extremely brief but accurate before she clamps down on the bond and moves, zipping through an empty alley way to the next street over and up; not a game of cat and mouse but a declaration: I'm here, and I'm not afraid of you. ]
[ —with confidence, not because their last battle had ended with her standing on one edge of a gaping precipice, Kylo battered and on his back on the opposite side. It's part instinctual, part vaguely untrustworthy fact: the first time they'd met like this, in their minds, intangibly, he'd said as much, pointing out that she'd been the one with to grasp the upper hand and wield that primal calm with alarming ease. And she certainly hasn't forgotten, a distracting thought in those quiet moments before sleep, not alone in a vast wasteland of sand but surrounded by people she can call friend. It's possible that he has a point; maybe she isn't no one anymore, and maybe she never was.
Convincing him she's both unafraid and not looking for a fight is likely easier said than done, feeling that ripple of displeasure roiled back to her in response to her cautious touch, not meant to be a show of power but some offhanded display of goodwill, truthfully a little irritated by the response despite her understanding. Rey will still hold to the matter of the fact that he'd been the one stalking her across star systems, he abducted her, he forced his way into her mind and pursued her and Finn to the surface of the base. In short, this is all entirely his fault, and she lets it be known to Kylo, begrudgingly. ]
This isn't some thrill-seeking adventure, Ren. Do you want to talk or not? Last chance. [ This time, she opens her mind enough to allow him to pinpoint her exact location, extremely brief but accurate before she clamps down on the bond and moves, zipping through an empty alley way to the next street over and up; not a game of cat and mouse but a declaration: I'm here, and I'm not afraid of you. ]
( The thought I don't have anything to say to you, crosses his mind but Kylo just as instantly dismisses it as petulant. It only occurs to him after the fact that there's a decent chance that he's broadcasted it as easily as thinking it, but he can't afford to get caught up over it. Their moments here are scant, and per Hux's command they'll be vacating the planet just as soon as the shuttle is refueled and deemed up to snuff. From there it's a non-stop trip to Snoke, wherever and however that may be. The next time that he crosses paths with Rey, he will likely be too powerful for her to contend with, worthy of his title and position as the leader of his fellow Knights. Then again, she may follow the inertia back to Skywalker to complete her own training, and the next time that their blades clash and spit sparks may be more of a match than their last lopsided encounter. He plans not to be injured, at the very least.
Other than the brief, fleeting, childish thought across their connection, he makes no indication that he intends to seek her out; he simply just goes. It's a rare occasion that any of Hux's officers and ground troops make moves to question or detain him, and it's not as if any of the planet's people are in any position to speak to him, let alone take issue with his sudden presence among the streets. There are few people out, now, anyway, and Kylo barely needs her to leave him breadcrumbs as to her location. His feet know where to go without having to be told or guided. The ramifications of the connection have not yet presented themselves clearly to him, although he knows without having to investigate internally too deeply what potential is there.
He doesn't appear so much as materializes, so that when Rey is turning a corner he is turning one catycorner and striding into view in a way not dissimilar to the manner in which he cornered her on Takodana. His helmet is still on, seeing no reason to remove it, and his saber - one of the quillons still in need of repair from the last time they encountered one another physically. The beam shakes and the grip vibrates with the implication that the entire thing might explode at any second, more so than it did initially. It needs repaired, badly, but he has the distinct impression that its status now will not be an issue. )
I can imagine neither Skywalker nor the general signed off on this particular brand of recklessness. ( Hard-packed dirt at his feet does nothing to stop the swirl of dust around his ankles. Were it not for the ventilation system built into the helmet, Kylo is sure that he would be breathing the taste of it now. It's under his gloves and worked deep into the creases of the leather pieces of his armor. He assumes that Rey finds some measure of familiarity in it, desert rat that she is, and he regards her carefully for a brief moment before taking a step further toward her, still separated by a good fifteen or so feet. ) What's to stop me from taking you to the Order right now?
( Nothing. There's nothing. And yet. )
Other than the brief, fleeting, childish thought across their connection, he makes no indication that he intends to seek her out; he simply just goes. It's a rare occasion that any of Hux's officers and ground troops make moves to question or detain him, and it's not as if any of the planet's people are in any position to speak to him, let alone take issue with his sudden presence among the streets. There are few people out, now, anyway, and Kylo barely needs her to leave him breadcrumbs as to her location. His feet know where to go without having to be told or guided. The ramifications of the connection have not yet presented themselves clearly to him, although he knows without having to investigate internally too deeply what potential is there.
He doesn't appear so much as materializes, so that when Rey is turning a corner he is turning one catycorner and striding into view in a way not dissimilar to the manner in which he cornered her on Takodana. His helmet is still on, seeing no reason to remove it, and his saber - one of the quillons still in need of repair from the last time they encountered one another physically. The beam shakes and the grip vibrates with the implication that the entire thing might explode at any second, more so than it did initially. It needs repaired, badly, but he has the distinct impression that its status now will not be an issue. )
I can imagine neither Skywalker nor the general signed off on this particular brand of recklessness. ( Hard-packed dirt at his feet does nothing to stop the swirl of dust around his ankles. Were it not for the ventilation system built into the helmet, Kylo is sure that he would be breathing the taste of it now. It's under his gloves and worked deep into the creases of the leather pieces of his armor. He assumes that Rey finds some measure of familiarity in it, desert rat that she is, and he regards her carefully for a brief moment before taking a step further toward her, still separated by a good fifteen or so feet. ) What's to stop me from taking you to the Order right now?
( Nothing. There's nothing. And yet. )
[ One moment, he's only in her mind and the next— she blinks and he's there, menacing as ever in all black and even more unpredictable, the malfunctioning saber lit in his grip giving her more than pause. Rey's hand falls to her own at her hip ( she's still growing used to calling it her's; Luke Skywalker had refused to take it back ) but she doesn't retrieve it fully, letting herself settle in the warring sensation of having Kylo Ren in her head and standing before her at once. A hundred escape routes are planned and she stands her ground, the little alleyway between them deserted, local folk instinctively keeping out of their way. ]
If you were going to, you would have already. [ Confident in that, at the very least, she regards him with a cautious brand of curiosity, distastefully glancing over his helm, a terrible sight to behold and get Rey doesn't feel rattled with fear the way she had the day Kylo had appeared abruptly from behind the right quarry of rocks, exactly where'd she'd feared he'd be but afraid just the same. Take off your mask, so I can see you— she urges with an unconscious fervor she wasn't sure she possessed, blinking briefly at her own insistence before tilting her chin towards his lightsaber, moving her mouth once more. ] And turn that off. I'm not here to fight you.
[ Rey is the picture of calm, calling on some endless well of focus as she holds Kylo in her gaze, her senses attuned to his every movement, and while he holds her expertly at bay in their mutual link, she doesn't sense a true threat, not to her life nor her physical safety. Cautious but not intimidated, she takes a few steps forward to cut the distance between them, feeling his presence in her mind grow heavier with his proximity. It isn't uncomfortable; he's simply there.
She takes a long breath and begins to speak. ]
I've heard what the Jedi way has to offer. And now I want your side of it.
If you were going to, you would have already. [ Confident in that, at the very least, she regards him with a cautious brand of curiosity, distastefully glancing over his helm, a terrible sight to behold and get Rey doesn't feel rattled with fear the way she had the day Kylo had appeared abruptly from behind the right quarry of rocks, exactly where'd she'd feared he'd be but afraid just the same. Take off your mask, so I can see you— she urges with an unconscious fervor she wasn't sure she possessed, blinking briefly at her own insistence before tilting her chin towards his lightsaber, moving her mouth once more. ] And turn that off. I'm not here to fight you.
[ Rey is the picture of calm, calling on some endless well of focus as she holds Kylo in her gaze, her senses attuned to his every movement, and while he holds her expertly at bay in their mutual link, she doesn't sense a true threat, not to her life nor her physical safety. Cautious but not intimidated, she takes a few steps forward to cut the distance between them, feeling his presence in her mind grow heavier with his proximity. It isn't uncomfortable; he's simply there.
She takes a long breath and begins to speak. ]
I've heard what the Jedi way has to offer. And now I want your side of it.
( He could try, but he knows without having to search through his feelings that she wouldn't let herself fall that easily, that any charge at her or attempt on her life or to take her back to the Order would be meant with resistance enough to rival the faction itself, both in namesake and actual power. The fact remains that he has no interest in killing her, despite his claims to the contrary; at least, not right now. The knowledge that they will more often than not encounter one another with sabers drawn and teeth bared does nothing to reassure him now, though it's hardly her confidence or her insistence that he remove his mask and hang up his blade that gives him pause. Rather, the admission of her calling him here at all inspires in him a full body pause, standing straight and still for a full ten seconds before he depresses the ignition switch on his lightsaber. The air is still charged with displaced where the red beam vibrated irregularly, and he does not do as she instructs in removing his mask.
The sound of Kylo snorting derisively is a strange one to filter through the modulator, and it sounds more like a static pop than an actual indication of amusement, dark or otherwise, but it's there, and he takes several steps further out of the shadow cast by the heavy outcropping of one building to stand in the open air of the alleyway. His fingers curl into fists at his side, one around the hilt of his lightsaber, ready. )
I find that hard to believe. ( And he does, given the last time the two of them were in such close proximity. The power in her had been undeniable, and he knows that if it were refined and focused she could be a formidable ally in a number of ways - or a damning opponent - but Kylo had also recognized the counterpoint within her, had known innately that she could have killed him if she wanted regardless of chasms opening up between them as a planet cracked and died. She should have, but she didn't. ) Given how strongly opposed you were to the suggestion the last time we saw one another. What has Skywalker been so unable to teach you that you would seek me out independently? I could have told you that the training you would receive under him would leave plenty to be desired, but you can't actually expect me to believe that you would turn traitor so easily.
The sound of Kylo snorting derisively is a strange one to filter through the modulator, and it sounds more like a static pop than an actual indication of amusement, dark or otherwise, but it's there, and he takes several steps further out of the shadow cast by the heavy outcropping of one building to stand in the open air of the alleyway. His fingers curl into fists at his side, one around the hilt of his lightsaber, ready. )
I find that hard to believe. ( And he does, given the last time the two of them were in such close proximity. The power in her had been undeniable, and he knows that if it were refined and focused she could be a formidable ally in a number of ways - or a damning opponent - but Kylo had also recognized the counterpoint within her, had known innately that she could have killed him if she wanted regardless of chasms opening up between them as a planet cracked and died. She should have, but she didn't. ) Given how strongly opposed you were to the suggestion the last time we saw one another. What has Skywalker been so unable to teach you that you would seek me out independently? I could have told you that the training you would receive under him would leave plenty to be desired, but you can't actually expect me to believe that you would turn traitor so easily.
I'm not. [ Plainly: Rey has no interest in betraying the Resistance, believing more steadfastly in their cause and ideals than nearly anything she's been taught regarding the Jedi way. Master Skywalker has been both patient and forthright and without him, she might never have even found the courage to stand before an intimidating Kylo Ren, very possibly out for vengeance and her blood. But there are too many nagging faults with the Old Republic Jedi that leaves something left open, gapingly unanswered, a blatant brand of self denial, the antithesis of everything she's ever wanted. They failed for a reason, she's sure, an answer Luke Skywalker isn't able to provide, either. It all seems so strangely self serving in a much different light than the conquering, dark passion the Sith wield and it leaves her uneasy, not meshing with who she is— or at the very least, who she wants to be.
Openly, she wonders if he leaves his helm on to hide his scar or simply to annoy her, but there's a twinge of relief when he holsters his saber, even as he cuts the distance between them a few feet, his physical presence vaguely dizzying. ] I said talk, not train. I'm simply weighing my options. I'm trying to learn.
[ Because she knows, she can feel it in him standing before now, from behind the blue and red burn of two lightsaber blades in a snowy wood, her poignantly clear moment of calm bleeding over into him just before she struck back: Kylo Ren is no Sith, try as he might. And maybe the answers lie in not forcibly choosing a side, but rather choosing your own path. The link between them feels stronger now, as though she can feel smooth leather against her palm, tightly wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber, how warm and sterile it is behind that mask, and she shifts her weight once, pausing before taking a few strides forward herself, stopping only a few feet from him. ]
I don't want what you aim to be. I don't want what Luke Skywalker wants me to be. There has to be something in between. The universe is too gray for these kinds of absolutes. [ Softer now, and not quite imploring but a few shades away, holding his gaze through a mask she thinks she can nearly see through. ]
Openly, she wonders if he leaves his helm on to hide his scar or simply to annoy her, but there's a twinge of relief when he holsters his saber, even as he cuts the distance between them a few feet, his physical presence vaguely dizzying. ] I said talk, not train. I'm simply weighing my options. I'm trying to learn.
[ Because she knows, she can feel it in him standing before now, from behind the blue and red burn of two lightsaber blades in a snowy wood, her poignantly clear moment of calm bleeding over into him just before she struck back: Kylo Ren is no Sith, try as he might. And maybe the answers lie in not forcibly choosing a side, but rather choosing your own path. The link between them feels stronger now, as though she can feel smooth leather against her palm, tightly wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber, how warm and sterile it is behind that mask, and she shifts her weight once, pausing before taking a few strides forward herself, stopping only a few feet from him. ]
I don't want what you aim to be. I don't want what Luke Skywalker wants me to be. There has to be something in between. The universe is too gray for these kinds of absolutes. [ Softer now, and not quite imploring but a few shades away, holding his gaze through a mask she thinks she can nearly see through. ]
( If he's being perfectly and plainly honest with himself, he's a little surprised at her attitude. Despite what he'd said, there wasn't a part of him that believed for one second that Skywalker wouldn't be enough for her. He could see it on Starkiller Base, even as she'd stood over him with her teeth bared and her shoulders heaving, reflected back at him in the look she pinned him to the forest floor with. A ferocity that could be brought to heel but wouldn't buckle. Of course, Kylo had been wrong about her then, had underestimated both her own vicious strength and her connection to the Force, but he knows without having to press into her mind and search for the answers himself that he can't be wrong about her now. If anything, her opinions regarding him should have solidified more firmly following that entanglement, not broadened to include him in her quest to learn how to utilize the Force.
Strange girl.
That isn't to say he doesn't view it as a potential boon, but he's careful not to let it bleed through the connection established between the two of them, one that he still knows too little about to treat so lackadaisically. He keeps his defenses preternaturally high, cloaking himself from the questing implications and questions she projects at him, unsure whether or not they are broadcasted with the intent of landing somewhere or if she's doing it without realizing it. Were the Supreme Leader any other master, Kylo might be able to turn to him for guidance regarding the issue, but it's as out of the question as answering Rey's inquiries at face value are. Not even necessarily because he has no interest in doing so but because there is no in-between. There is no gray area where one can hang, suspended indefinitely, without feeling like they are being ripped apart. He's felt the white-hot pull from both ends of the spectrum, hung in the infinite nothingness between the two extremes for long enough to know a thing or two about the pain associated with the struggle of railing against the force that pulls the strongest. Allowing himself passage to the Dark Side was like slipping under a coaxing current, warmed and comforted on all sides by the cradle of its promise and power.
Never mind that standing on that bridge and cutting down Han Solo had felt like trying to swallow a bag of broken glass. Never mind that the strength and power he was meant to have felt at severing one of the last connections tethering him to the light only flared when he beat his abdomen black and blue in order to propel himself forward, to drive out the weaknesses that remained within him and feed the rage that built up and exploded outward in a controlled but violent burst of adrenaline. )
Why are you so insistent that I remove the helmet?
( Is probably not the answer that she was looking for, but he's not eager to jump into this discussion whether she's serious or not. He thinks he can taste the dirt in the air on his tongue, and wonders if some of it has worked its way through the filters - unlikely - or if it's some byproduct, if she has a mouthful of the stuff coating the back of her throat. )
Strange girl.
That isn't to say he doesn't view it as a potential boon, but he's careful not to let it bleed through the connection established between the two of them, one that he still knows too little about to treat so lackadaisically. He keeps his defenses preternaturally high, cloaking himself from the questing implications and questions she projects at him, unsure whether or not they are broadcasted with the intent of landing somewhere or if she's doing it without realizing it. Were the Supreme Leader any other master, Kylo might be able to turn to him for guidance regarding the issue, but it's as out of the question as answering Rey's inquiries at face value are. Not even necessarily because he has no interest in doing so but because there is no in-between. There is no gray area where one can hang, suspended indefinitely, without feeling like they are being ripped apart. He's felt the white-hot pull from both ends of the spectrum, hung in the infinite nothingness between the two extremes for long enough to know a thing or two about the pain associated with the struggle of railing against the force that pulls the strongest. Allowing himself passage to the Dark Side was like slipping under a coaxing current, warmed and comforted on all sides by the cradle of its promise and power.
Never mind that standing on that bridge and cutting down Han Solo had felt like trying to swallow a bag of broken glass. Never mind that the strength and power he was meant to have felt at severing one of the last connections tethering him to the light only flared when he beat his abdomen black and blue in order to propel himself forward, to drive out the weaknesses that remained within him and feed the rage that built up and exploded outward in a controlled but violent burst of adrenaline. )
Why are you so insistent that I remove the helmet?
( Is probably not the answer that she was looking for, but he's not eager to jump into this discussion whether she's serious or not. He thinks he can taste the dirt in the air on his tongue, and wonders if some of it has worked its way through the filters - unlikely - or if it's some byproduct, if she has a mouthful of the stuff coating the back of her throat. )
Am I? [ Some small part of her hadn't entirely realized she'd been reinforcing that intention his way all the while, her chin tilting with genuine curiosity as she gazes over that face— she can see him, but it's like peering through a dimly lit room and trying to focus through a haze and she'd much prefer the real thing. A mental shrug, her mouth purses as she answers honestly and let's him know she means no other ulterior motive. ] Isn't easier to talk without it?
[ You're more human that way, and if he and his Supreme Leader ever wish to sway Rey truly to their side, it's pandering to her humanity that will win them the most leverage in her uncertain internal debate. Abruptly, she senses that he can feel the grit in her eyes, at the very back of her tongue, the connection between them tenuous but fortified all the same, quietly marveling over the backwards sensations, desperately needing to know more. Master Skywalker had sensed the presence of Kylo Ren in her mind, at her temples, behind her eyelids when she sleeps, pulling his perfected stoic face and being scant with his explanations behind it's conception. Perhaps the person to ask is standing just in front it her. ]
You can always feel me, can't you? Maybe it's not always so precise, but I'm here. [ Rey touches two fingers to her brow, just above the bridge of her nose, guaging his reaction carefully, body language and breathing rhythms alike, a flicker of uncertainty behind that stoic, fear inspiring helm. He already knows, so she trudges onwards. ]
You, too. For me. I can't shake you out, hard as I try.
[ You're more human that way, and if he and his Supreme Leader ever wish to sway Rey truly to their side, it's pandering to her humanity that will win them the most leverage in her uncertain internal debate. Abruptly, she senses that he can feel the grit in her eyes, at the very back of her tongue, the connection between them tenuous but fortified all the same, quietly marveling over the backwards sensations, desperately needing to know more. Master Skywalker had sensed the presence of Kylo Ren in her mind, at her temples, behind her eyelids when she sleeps, pulling his perfected stoic face and being scant with his explanations behind it's conception. Perhaps the person to ask is standing just in front it her. ]
You can always feel me, can't you? Maybe it's not always so precise, but I'm here. [ Rey touches two fingers to her brow, just above the bridge of her nose, guaging his reaction carefully, body language and breathing rhythms alike, a flicker of uncertainty behind that stoic, fear inspiring helm. He already knows, so she trudges onwards. ]
You, too. For me. I can't shake you out, hard as I try.
( When he'd removed his mask while trying to extract the contents of the droid from her, he had operated under the assumption that showing his face might offer her some measure of comfort as much as it might instill in her the knowledge that he wasn't so different from her. Certainly not in genetic make-up, just an average, every day person like herself, despite the fact that neither of them could be classified correctly as average. The look on her face had been pleasing enough in its own right, and the action itself had proved a point he hadn't known he needed to make until that moment, that despite the fact that he had shed the outer layer of himself like a second skin and emerged as something else, he wasn't a creature as she assumed him to be.
He's a little more monstrous, now, he thinks, when he does make the decision to remove the helmet. It isn't until she begins questioning him about what's transpired between them that he actually stops to consider doing it, armed with the understanding that she could very well stretch the capacity of her power and lick the inside of his skull clean without him ever lifting a finger to remove anything. Their close proximity makes it more difficult to shut her out, and sweat curls under the high neck of his cowl in an effort to keep her back. You're more human that way, she says into the thick coliseum of his skull, but when he removes the helmet it's not for her benefit or to appeal to the way in which she thinks she sees him. She's misguided, these days. )
I've spent the better part of the last month tasting salt and picking up on your downswing. ( The scar that cuts across his face is not yet rightfully a scar, still puckered in places and pink, new. Already he wears it like a badge, though whether it's a denotation of his failure or a mark of the progress he's made is unclear. He pays it no special attention when he catches glimpses of himself unmasked and thinks of it only when it aches. The fact that he elected to keep it remains a topic he hasn't considered due to its distinct lack of answers. ) Your footwork is sloppy. The longer you let yourself rely on putting your weight on your right leg rather than balancing it between the two, the more difficult it's going to be to break the habit. You'll be knocked down in your first actual duel.
( By him, most likely. He had been able to send her sliding back several feet on the snowy forest floor without being at full capacity. The next time they meet, regardless of anything else, he will not be pulling his punches. For now, he lets his helmet balance in the crook of his bent elbow, the weight welcome and reassuring in the hollow of his arm. He lets her get a good, long look at him before continuing. )
Have you mentioned the connection to Skywalker?
He's a little more monstrous, now, he thinks, when he does make the decision to remove the helmet. It isn't until she begins questioning him about what's transpired between them that he actually stops to consider doing it, armed with the understanding that she could very well stretch the capacity of her power and lick the inside of his skull clean without him ever lifting a finger to remove anything. Their close proximity makes it more difficult to shut her out, and sweat curls under the high neck of his cowl in an effort to keep her back. You're more human that way, she says into the thick coliseum of his skull, but when he removes the helmet it's not for her benefit or to appeal to the way in which she thinks she sees him. She's misguided, these days. )
I've spent the better part of the last month tasting salt and picking up on your downswing. ( The scar that cuts across his face is not yet rightfully a scar, still puckered in places and pink, new. Already he wears it like a badge, though whether it's a denotation of his failure or a mark of the progress he's made is unclear. He pays it no special attention when he catches glimpses of himself unmasked and thinks of it only when it aches. The fact that he elected to keep it remains a topic he hasn't considered due to its distinct lack of answers. ) Your footwork is sloppy. The longer you let yourself rely on putting your weight on your right leg rather than balancing it between the two, the more difficult it's going to be to break the habit. You'll be knocked down in your first actual duel.
( By him, most likely. He had been able to send her sliding back several feet on the snowy forest floor without being at full capacity. The next time they meet, regardless of anything else, he will not be pulling his punches. For now, he lets his helmet balance in the crook of his bent elbow, the weight welcome and reassuring in the hollow of his arm. He lets her get a good, long look at him before continuing. )
Have you mentioned the connection to Skywalker?
[ His scar is no surprise, remembering with vivid clarity how it had felt beneath her callused fingertips, despite never having touched it at all with her own hands and she has the good graces not to flinch in the face of her own handiwork. That day still feels like a hazy dream that happened to someone else, not her and yet she's taken apart each second, piece by piece, overanalyzing her own clumsy footwork, his unfocused, dizzying replies with his saber, snow blurring her vision. I can show you the ways of the Force. Nearly pleading. It still startles her.
There's a nagging sense of relief when he removes his helm, not unaccustomed to hearing his actual voice behind the modulator ( it's so often in her thoughts, in her dreams ) but somehow it feels like leveling the playing field. Kylo Ren looks older now, only weeks between their last meeting but something around his eyes has aged, a hidden weariness there. Killing his own father had hardly the effect he'd anticipated, and even if she hadn't caught glimpses of that uncertainty in him, sparse moments of self doubt at the back of her neck, a twinge from across star systems, their culminating duel after had been all the proof she needed.
His criticism nearly curves the corner of her mouth up, curbing it instead by pursing her lips together. It's a problem she's aware of, favoring her right side and leaving her left open and vulnerable, and he's not wrong, wondering now how often he's been there, feet bare in the greenest grass she's ever seen, a trusty stick in place of a lightsaber at first, and then— Luke Skywalker's brilliant blue blade again, unable to resist how right it feels in her grip, perched on her hip even now. ]
I've been working on it, thanks. I'm a quick learner. [ Dryly reassuring, as if he's truly concerned about her fighting form ( if he is, it's not out of worry for her ) the silence between them after heavy with the implication of a next time. Rey knows he won't try and strike her down, not today and maybe not ever, but she can only wonder why he hasn't drug her back to his master by now. His mind is a fortress she can only see through the cracks in his defenses, and still that is more than he'd prefer. ]
He could feel it, before I even had the chance. [ Being around Master Skywalker had helped steel her own defenses, keeping his location clouded in her mind lest Kylo attempt to reach in and pluck it out from her, a probable threat. ] Apparently— [ Here, she hesitates, uncertain: ] it's highly unusual.
There's a nagging sense of relief when he removes his helm, not unaccustomed to hearing his actual voice behind the modulator ( it's so often in her thoughts, in her dreams ) but somehow it feels like leveling the playing field. Kylo Ren looks older now, only weeks between their last meeting but something around his eyes has aged, a hidden weariness there. Killing his own father had hardly the effect he'd anticipated, and even if she hadn't caught glimpses of that uncertainty in him, sparse moments of self doubt at the back of her neck, a twinge from across star systems, their culminating duel after had been all the proof she needed.
His criticism nearly curves the corner of her mouth up, curbing it instead by pursing her lips together. It's a problem she's aware of, favoring her right side and leaving her left open and vulnerable, and he's not wrong, wondering now how often he's been there, feet bare in the greenest grass she's ever seen, a trusty stick in place of a lightsaber at first, and then— Luke Skywalker's brilliant blue blade again, unable to resist how right it feels in her grip, perched on her hip even now. ]
I've been working on it, thanks. I'm a quick learner. [ Dryly reassuring, as if he's truly concerned about her fighting form ( if he is, it's not out of worry for her ) the silence between them after heavy with the implication of a next time. Rey knows he won't try and strike her down, not today and maybe not ever, but she can only wonder why he hasn't drug her back to his master by now. His mind is a fortress she can only see through the cracks in his defenses, and still that is more than he'd prefer. ]
He could feel it, before I even had the chance. [ Being around Master Skywalker had helped steel her own defenses, keeping his location clouded in her mind lest Kylo attempt to reach in and pluck it out from her, a probable threat. ] Apparently— [ Here, she hesitates, uncertain: ] it's highly unusual.
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