inappropriately timed force bond moments (both nsfw and humor approaches)
dream-sharing
emotional bleed/transference (from rey, involving other parties)
inappropriate force bond voyeurism on rey/poe or rey/finn
mid-conversation force bond interruption
The Rise of Skywalker- Cross-galaxy chase of the Resistance
anything related to ben solo, but especially:
snoke confessionals with family or friends of family
returning to the light
smuggler life style
jedi knight ben
resistance-fighter ben
The Rise of Skywalker- Force Ghost communications w/ Rey
anything related to supreme leader kylo ren, but especially:
fall via coup
resistance fighter reconditioning (gen or nsfw)
force ghost visits from anakin/luke/rey/leia/snoke
defeat by the resistance, and subsequent aftermath
The Rise of Skywalker- Mole Discovery w/ Hux
canto bight:
shady weapons deals
picking up prisoners
recruitment
obligatory dinner party
general casino shenanigans
beach party
basically any reason you can think of to use canto bight as a setting piece
A note on romance: I will ship all of the new trilogy characters with Kylo Ren (except Snoke/Family). But I have no interest in exploring domestic-style takes on them. Thank you for understanding.
[ it is always hard to come home. that's what it feels like, setting foot in this open sore of a port. canto bight has always been the shining star of cantonica, but not to kira. as the supreme leader had been all too eager to remind her, the last time she had set foot here, she was still rey, a child lost in the wilds of jakku. a scavenger. nothing.
the supreme leader was wrong about one thing: she was not afraid to confront the place her parents had sold her. that day, those people, that girl she had been held no sway over her anymore.
and even if they did … there were matters of greater import here than her own fears. ]
Cover every port and hangar in this city. I want to know about every ship that enters the atmosphere.
[ she says it as soon as her black boots click on the marble floors of the casino, turning to address the masked troopers to her side. one of them — he must be new to command — turns towards her to ask, What will you do? the others flinch. they can feel the anger thrumming under her skin, the tension that winds into her just being here. they know better.
there is no emotion in her face as she lifts her hand. he sinks to his knees, his choked gasps amplified by the speaker in his helmet. the others do not flinch. only when he crumples does she release her phantom grip. the others salute and go about their business, one of them taking the risk to carry his fallen comrade.
he might live, this stormtrooper. if they bother to bring him back to the command shuttle. if he does, he'll have learned his lesson. she pulls back the hood on her thick, black woollen cape and lets it hang around her shoulders as she gets a good look now at the casino floor.
someone in this bauble of a town is arming the resistance. kira strides like a wraith across the casino floor, the loose skirts of her tunic a whip of black fabric in her wake. her shadow is barely noticed by the elites who gamble away their pocket change. and she does not think about how many of those bets are more than the supreme leader had paid to get his hands on her all those years ago.
it's stifling.
but somewhere in this blasted, beautiful city there is a seed of hope and she is going to snuff it out. ]
[The Falcon is too large to slip in unnoticed, so today, Ben sticks with his stolen shuttle and parks it far off on an empty beach -- parking in the bay would have required registration, and it would have been flagged as a stolen ship instantly. He's not quite confident enough in his fast-talking skills to talk his way out of an arrest -- especially not with the First Order already on high alert.
Canto Bight had become a bit of a pet project for him -- with the war going on, it was easy to offer his smuggling services without any eyes following him. He had enough credentials built up that he could slip in mostly undetected once his ship was on the ground. He'd been cursed with his father's genes (not his mother's altruistic heart -- perhaps if he had, he might have more formally joined her in the war after Han Solo's untimely death), and so there was absolutely no way he could stealth his way inside without at least pretending he belonged there.
And so, he adjusted his stolen cufflinks and fastened the clasp of his pressed jacket as he wandered into the casino straight to his usual table. He'd long since given up on properly combing his hair. Any facial recognition system would ping him instantly with or without it -- no amount of remapping would hide that nose.
There's an uncomfortable itch in the back of his head that he can't quite place the source of. Hopefully, his contact wouldn't be long. But in the mean time, he procures a set of dice until his usual drink comes to find him.
First shot hits its mark, earning him a tired sigh from the attendant. He's careful how much he shoots. Enough wins, and the attendant would no doubt toss him for cheating. All the while, he keeps his peripheral vision on the entrance.]
[ in the entrance walks a short, dark-skinned man with a high-collared jacket. unlike the rest of the patrons of canto bight, this man wears only one ring. one that hides a symbol of the resistance. he glances around, uneasy, then makes his way for ben's position.
he never makes it that far. into his path steps a woman. she has the kind of presence that makes it easy to mistake her as taller than him by a mile, although they're actually quite close in height. kira rests her hand on the man's arm, and pure panic overtakes his expression. ]
The prodigal stormtrooper, returned to us at last. [ she keeps her voice low, and it is lost in the din of the casino well before it ever makes it to ben. she leans in. the impression of intimacy to anyone who wasn't looking at his contact's face. ] You caused us quite a bit of trouble, leaving the way you did. [ her grip tightens. ] Where is it?
[ the panic turns to pain. kira digs her fingers into the meat of his arm as she digs into his mind. abandoning his post would be enough to get this stormtrooper killed out of hand. but stealing what he had, trying to find a way to smuggle it to the resistance. that deserved something more—
something more. no, not in the stormtrooper. she pulls back, suddenly aware. a ripple, elsewhere in the casino. she turns slowly, her eyes dark and searching. her hand loosens and slips, and finn is quick to take advantage. she barely marks the signs of him retreating.
what is it? that feeling. someone else touching the force. slight. so slight they may not even have noticed ... ]
[He spots Finn as he comes in and he can't help but smile a bit. Quick visit today. He wouldn't get more than one drink -- so he downs it, right before his vision is suddenly obscured by--
Karabast.
Ben is not so altruistic that he is going to stand up for Finn when Kira is right there. He's heard plenty of stories and whispers, but hearing things and being in the same room as a First Order enforcer was another thing entirely. He's unarmed and, if the rumors were true, she had the Force with her.
Immediately, he looks for an out, smoothing his hair out. The next crowd that walks by his table means he is disappearing inside of it, and headed for the lower levels. It would have been a clean exit, if not for the attendant asking if he was going to cash out his earnings.
He's panicking, but surely if he keeps moving, he can out run her.]
[yeah, yeah, boo hoo canto bight is a den of deceit and phonies and whatever rose said while she was being holden caulfield but you know what? the resistance is low on literally everything. supplies, ships, bodies, you name it. leia has a few connections left to try and reach out to, and this particular one wanted to meet at canto bight. so she sent poe to do the job. he's not exactly thrilled to be here, since it is a den of deceit and phonies, but he can put aside his personal feelings to do things for the resistance. ~the resistance is all that matters.~
and, unlike rose and finn, he's doing it right. he cleaned up, found (read: stole) appropriate formalwear, didn't park his ship in a no-parking zone. bb-8 is waiting on the ship for him, but he's sure he can handle this on his own.
or at least that's what he thought until he saw kylo ren across the casino. he's very hard to miss, on account of being a literal tree. but maybe … it'll be fine. maybe they'll ignore each other. maybe he'll ignore his innate desire to always Start Some Shit.
yep. that's definitely what's going to happen. i can just feel it.]
[Fortunately for Poe, it appears that Kylo is otherwise unfortunately engaged. His usual battle attire has been forcibly abandoned for something much more venue appropriate, much to his chagrin judging by the scowl he wears on his face (deeper than usual). The cape element hasn't disappeared, but rather than a battle worn tunic, he can be found in a pressed suit with chrome accents and tall boots.
He is ignoring his attendant, who has clearly gotten a bit out of control with their drinking habits. And it appears to just be the one man, no armed guard or anything else. Kylo Ren himself looks incredibly bored, enough to be neurotically tapping his half-empty glass of -- whatever it was.
That's when the loud BANG of the canon rattles the terrace, signaling the start of the next race. Several people clear out from around him to go watch, leaving him mostly alone with a space version of a blackjack table.
He has not had enough to drink for this nonsense.]
[ at first, his thoughts when the room clears is "oh good, i'll be able to spot leia's contact." but why would there ever be a respectable person on canto bight of all the places? he spots the contact, all right ... spots him running out with everyone else to watch the race.
are he and kylo ren seriously the only ones who don't care about this shit?
welp.
you know what? whatever. poe is literally incapable of not metaphorically poking a bear with stick. so he's just gonna go over to the space blackjack table to say howdy. that's not even that dramatic as far as his fuckery goes. he could do so much worse. but i guess we're only like two comments in so just wait for it. ]
[ the first weeks upon their return from hathaway's service had been ... rocky. snoke's death, and shortly thereafter luke skywalker's, had destabilized both the first order and the resistance. it was thrawn's guidance, not kylo ren, who had been the one to show them how to re-establish order.
as it turned out, kylo ren's ability for strategem capped out at "point every gun we have at that man." even rey could see the lack of wisdom in such a tactic.
from there, it had been easy to enlist her into the service of the first order. she had seen a need, and a power that if properly controlled might really do what thrawn had suggested it might. improve the galaxy. she knew little, yet, of politics and diplomacy, but she had the heart of a resistance fighter and the position of the now-deposed supreme leader ren and the prowess of her closest advisor, thrawn.
with these, she could do anything.
even bring poe, finn, and the remainder of the resistance to heel when they'd tried to turn against her, afraid that she had been lost to the promise of power. it had hurt her, but by the time it was through, she had seen the necessity. the ends justified the unsavory means by which she had been forced to persuade them.
the new empire — the first order carried too many unpleasant connotations, a reminder of another time — had begun to lay roots down on naboo. the heart of the old democracy, now the heart of the new empire. rey keeps busy for the most part, making arrangements, meeting with thrawn, learning. she is hungry to learn, eager to listen, more eager to do right by these far planets so far out of her reach. the sort of place where she had grown up.
they're distant now. half-forgotten.
she steps into the throne room — her intent is to get moving, remind herself of where she is and how far they've come and how far there is yet to go. ben's grandmother had once sat on that throne. she could remember poe telling her stories of dresses that leia had always imagined her grandchildren might wear. this place must hold — not memories, no, but something for him.
she's not surprised to find him here without her, but it does leave an oily unease sinking in her lungs. she does not want to watch her back for knives from him of all people. ]
[...he can’t help but lust to have a piece of it, even now. But that life was done. Rey was the Empress now, and frankly the galaxy was better for it. It was not his preferred outcome, but it was better than other alternatives. If only he could convince her to get rid of Thrawn.]
Do you? Or are you just here for the chair?
[He finally looks up at her, hands folded behind his back in deference.]
[ said to the tune of, "I can come here for it if I want." hell, it's her galaxy.
her eyes rivet briefly to where his palm had settled against the throne, as though concerned now that he might have done something to it. that he might be plotting something.
thrawn said this paranoia was the burden of every ruler. searching for enemies where there were none. she could not succumb to it. it was a new shape of the dark side, one she had never possessed enough power to brush up against before. ]
All I feel is ghosts, Ren.
[ it comes easier to her to call him this, now, than kylo or ben. some hybrid. some middle ground, as she is. she has felt the presence haunting this place, as though it were an ache aggravated across time. sorrow. and ... something else. ]
[With the amount of armored infantry present, the Vengeance often ran cold. The only time it turned out to be trouble was nights like this one, where Kylo Ren could not find the rest he so desperately sought, even after laying in bed for hours. Unsurprising, of course -- as it turned out, he was not a very fitting leader for the First Order.
Since the death of the Supreme Leader and Rey's refusal to join him, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what he could have done differently. He'd still been able to feel the bond, something that almost felt like a vestigial limb compared to what it had been when it was fresh and new. He'd never had the focus to properly bridge the gap, but Rey --
He's since forgotten what it had felt like, for the bond to fully manifest. Its been months since he's had a real conversation that wasn't him barking an order to a trooper. Their attempts to hunt down the last remaining pocket of the Resistance, his efforts to capture Rey alive and make another attempt to convince her to stand with him -- all thusfar unsuccessful.
By now, he had figured out what she was doing in the mean time. It was impossible that he was finding reminders of his past consistently littered about his ship -- things that didn't exist anymore, people who had forgotten him, and...things they'd shared together in their short time with one another. It'd never been something he'd admit, even privately to himself -- but the sentiment was always there now, in the wake of his realization.
He was starving. He did not think it would be this hard to move on -- and he had tried. Alone, with subordinates. He'd never found that emotional connection again, even if he'd since transcended the physical. Was that her goal?
It would have been a sound strategy -- her extended absence only made him more desperate to have that contact, any sort of contact from her back again, especially in hours like this where he could feel gooseflesh creeping up on his bare back. Perhaps it is that which draws her in from the other end of the galaxy. He is too busy messing with the waistband of his pants with one hand that the sudden increase of weight on the bed behind him does not even register.]
[ The vengeful, punishing thing to do would have been to cut him off completely, to surrender to the anger and hurt she felt following the Battle of Crait and make him suffer like she was. But it was petty, and his suffering would not bring him back to her. The mistake she had made in demanding too much of him too quickly was her own, and she would rather correct it than exacerbate it.
So instead, she held herself back from it. Her emotions ran too high, burned too hot — and so did his. It offered ample breeding ground for reminders, and she learned quickly how to manipulate the connection to provide them. If she listened, she could hear his aching loneliness rattling.
Sometimes, in meditation, she watched from a distance while he tried to smother it — never fully projecting, but reaching for his feelings.
Until tonight.
She can feel him, and as she reaches out to sense the edges of his loneliness, he reaches back, as if seizing upon her and rooting her there. That feels like some kind of victory, as if his will had started to bend under the weight of her warfare. Or maybe it's the Force, telling her that it's time. Either affirms her.
His eyes don't fix on her. He's somewhere else, still, opening his pants. She drinks the sight in with hungry eyes — it has been longer for her than him. Rey had not chased out shallow imitations. She doesn't say anything at first; instead she crawls closer and puts her hand on his back, her chin on his shoulder so she can look over it and watch what he does. ]
By all rights she shouldn't be, at least. Rey Sand had been born in Dorne, or so she'd been told before she'd been sold as a servant to a lordling in the Saltpans who'd set her to raiding the Trident for old war artifacts and, at the start of the war, stealing off King Snoke's armies who'd come through to clear out the last of House Organa.
She'd spent her life a vulture, picking the remains of corpses on the battlefields and making her living off the hard-earned purses of good soldiers when the war had escalated. At first she'd taken it as none of her business — it wasn't going to feed her, after all.
But then the Kingsguard had come through, all shiny and golden and unlike those other coarse soldiers. There'd had to be some reason they were so set on House Organa. And it had been Rey who, upon seeing a messenger fleeing Riverrun's direction, had taken them in to an old abandoned millhouse. And Rey who had discovered that he'd born a missive wearing the Lady Organa's seal.
Secrets. Secrets and politics and everything she knew nothing about. But she'd taken that scrap of a letter and the mission to get it to her allies in King's Landing and she'd run. Forgotten all about Lord Plutt and the Saltpans and the bodies she'd picked free and loaded up with her chest wrapped on a wagon headed for the port in Storm's End. They'd go to Essos from there to be sold to slavers.
No Kingsguard would ever care about what slavers were doing at a time like this, surely. They'd never look there, surely, for whatever missive Lady Organa had sent out. And Rey could get off in the Kingswood and make her way quietly into King's Landing to deliver it securely into the hands of one of Lady Organa's allies.
Propped against the cart where they'd stopped to rest, she popped open the wax seal. She'd be able to melt it back down — she'd practiced — but if she was going to risk her neck for this thing, she'd see what it contained, thank you. It was serious enough that the messenger, Finn, had run off and washed his hands of it.
Whose life was it really worth? A message couldn't save House Organa from the crushing grip of King Snoke's forces. That would take … a miracle.
She stared down at the script. It was clean. The sort of print a lady would have. Rey, by contrast, could scarcely read it, but she was nevertheless positive of what it said: Luke Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, Prince of Dorne and the Seven bloody Kingdoms, presumed dead, had been found in Essos.
Rey cursed. Loudly. She was bloody dead, holding a thing like that.
A runner returned to the camp, rustling through the brush, and she leapt to her feet. They'd found tracks. These woods were being patrolled — bandits, one of them suspected, but Rey knew better. Rey knew. There were no bandits near the Kingswood. And there were plenty of reasons to track a cart of slavers out of Riverrun if word had is that news of where to find Luke Skywalker, the only threat to King Snoke's claim, had slipped loose in the hands of some pitiful bastard girl. ]
[The hounds had picked up a scent, after days of nothing. Ser Kylo Ren had more than enough of the humidity that clung to the canopy of the Kingswood -- even on horseback, it was utterly unbearable. Heat on its own was never a problem for him, but this? Hang the bloody King for sending him on a wild goose chase.
It wasn't a goose chase, of course, and if asked the right questions, Ser Ren might have even admitted that the King had not really sent him on these errands. He was far beyond his patrol route, and his men knew it (though they knew better than to question him). Judging by the way the hounds bayed and snarled, all of his work would soon be paid off.
(If the information off that intercepted raven was worth its weight.)
Ser Ren urged his horse, a black mare, through the trees as fast as her legs would carry her. The hounds lead the charge, and his knights quickly filled into the perimeter. The baying had incited panic long before his horse had found the camp, but his men never minded a good chase. The two hounds tackled the two sellswords to the ground before they could unsheathe their weapons, and the knights chased off after the rest of the fleeing party.
Meanwhile, Ren dismounted, content to explore what was left behind in the camp. Whomever fled would never be able to outrun a knight on horseback for long -- if the missive was with one of them, they would be caught soon enough. His time was better spent rummaging here.
His armor clanked about as his boots sank into soft earth, nudging bedrolls over and spreading personal effects around in the foliage. One hand stayed on the hilt of his broadsword. Slavers traveled light, save for their cargo -- oddly enough, most of them had been cut loose, which lead him to believe that this wasn't a slave-trading party at all.
And yet...no missive anywhere in sight. Frustrated, he turned to glance off in the direction where the party had been chased, running one gauntlet through his long, black hair--
The snap of a twig somewhere to his left draws his attention, and the sword is pulled free in anticipation.]
[ If there was one thing a bastard from Dorne was any good at, it was surviving. When the knights came, she slipped back into the trees. She didn't feel particularly heroic, watching those sellswords and would-be slaves get cut down. Blood gurgled out of the throat of one who had tried to talk back to the knights who questioned them — she realized, quickly, on the whereabouts of a messenger.
She'd never seen anything like it. Not in action, anyway. All the corpses she looted were long since dead. Rotted or drawing real buzzards, most of them.
She slunk back into the woods, too keenly aware of what they would do to her if they got their hands on her. Worse, it wouldn't just be her. The King was a monster. Everyone knew it. If House Organa was the only house standing against him, the only hope any of the common people had lay in her. Her, and Luke Skywalker.
Rey's heart pounded in her chest. Skywalker. If it was really him …
She studied the script on the paper again, the name of the house he was staying in at Essos, the scrawled map of the dock in one of the free cities. And then she doubled back the way they had come, trying to avoid the Kingsguard's approach.
The fire was still going at their abandoned camp. She circled back around towards the smoke, stopping in the woods when she saw that the entire Kingsuard unit had not moved on.
Ren.
Her blood ran cold. No. He'd looked up. It was too late for her to keep him from seeing her. But the crumpled, opened parchment was already in her hand, and he was between her and the fire.
She tore the wax seal off of it and stuffed the parchment into her mouth. It was dry and thick and lacquered with some kind of sealant to keep it from weathering and she chewed through it anyway. They might have her, might have Finn too, but they weren't going to get Skywalker. The red wax, and Organa's seal on it, stuck out, bright and angry against the forest floor until Rey turned on her heel to run, kicking topsoil over it.
Somehow, it leaves Rey more unhinged than before she had encountered him, and not only for the way Snoke had punished for her the failure. She still bore the burns, crawling up her neck like a red and fleshy disease. She is ordered to leave it alone, to keep her focus on the Resistance, but there is no overselling Rey's grudge.
He had made her look a fool. Untrained and scrambling and — And he'd gotten under her skin, worst of all. She could excuse the rest. He had all that she did not: bloodline. Of course he would be a powerful Jedi, more powerful if he ever decided to train. But … The way they had connected made her feel weak and afraid. Worse, it made her feel cowardly for staying at Snoke's heels.
It did not make her want to follow orders and leave him alone. It made her want to find him, and — It takes her some time to put words to that and, but eventually she settles on bringing him with her. Turning him. Teaching her in her ways, Snoke's ways.
She touches the burn at her neck and winces. Still not healed.
The shuttle lands on Ryloth. The Resistance was said to be hidden there, under a sympathetic twi'lek leadership that feared occupation. It was no wonder that there were women with blasters there to greet her. It was probably every blaster they possessed in their village, and not a one of them would have done any good. ]
If I were coming to attack you, I'd bring more than one shuttle.
[Ryloth wasn't much better than Canto Bight, especially not after Imperial Occupation. The fact that they'd managed to stay away from the claws of the First Order was only thanks to the fact that the Supremacy was still so deep in the Outer Rim. But even Ben has to admit when its time to go, so -- here he is, on Ryloth, in the same atmosphere as the Resistance, but far enough away from their base to avoid any real association.
He's alone in the cantina, counting what's left of his credits from his last job, when he hears purposeful demands in Huttese. It only takes him a second longer to recognize Kira's cold.
Kriff.
Quickly, he downs the rest of his drink and scoops the majority of his credits into a small pouch before heading for the door in hopes of beating the landing security--but he'd done this once before already. If Kira was here, she knew that he was here as well. The most he could do was try and help drive her off Ryloth. Running would only promise that people would get hurt.
So, with an unease sigh, he pulls his blaster from his holster and turns to approach the gathering entourage at the landing platform. His eyes note the singular shuttle, and the lack of troops.
She'd been about to be cleared when:]
No, no -- you got the right idea. This one's trouble for sure. Best send her on her way.
[Both twi'lek throw Ben their own skeptical looks, blasters still trained on Kira.]
But first...don't tell me you came all the way out here just to see me.
[ She'd nearly missed him. It was, after all, Snoke's orders that brought her here. If she were to obey him, that little voice whispering in the back of her mind, tracking her, demanding obedience and punishing the unpredictable, she would put Ben down here and move through him. He certainly deserved it.
But her fury is equalled by fixation on that connection she'd felt, the first ever, and she can't surrender it.
Snoke has promised to make something of this worthless girl if she'll only do what she's karking told; she should be able to keep focused on that prize, that promise of purpose in this galaxy. Of punishing those who would see her hurt or forgotten. No one would be able to forget her now. Yet somehow he does. ]
Why is it that every time I find you, it's when I'm looking for rebels? [ She doesn't flinch at his blaster, but approaches him. The rest, she yanks out of the twi'leks' hands, letting them clatter to the ground without a care. It's the impression that counts as she swoops closer to Ben, predatory. ] For a man who claims to have no part in your mother's war, you can't seem to stay away from it. Tell me where they are, Solo.
[It had been raining for nearly a week, and suffice to say that Kylo Ren was tired of staying indoors -- even with the curfew in place and various areas of the lower city beginning to flood. They just couldn't drain the water fast enough. It is one of the few things keeping him from busting out into the streets: they couldn't afford to leave their newly found safe space until they absolutely needed to. Once they opened the door, it would flood up their calves and the space would be unusable.
Of course, it was convenient now -- with their names plastered as fugitives and the rest of Ophelia separated from them, the flood was the only thing keeping the Vakdir from chasing them down into the slums. It bought them time to mess with the tech they had stolen...or, it would have, if they hadn't been told not to activate it.
Kylo Ren cannot help his urge to pace, scratching at the presently useless magitek around his neck.]
The second we leave, they are going to be on us again.
[He is stating the obvious, of course -- but he'd never been cramped in one spot in his adult life for so long, let alone with another person. He does not know what to do but state the obvious. It's dark. It's cold. It's damp. And they are being hunted like animals.]
[ rey has the device in her hands. she has since they settled in this cramped space, and though she has not yet taken tools to it, or taken the risk of moving any components on it lest they risk activating it, she has been analyzing it in every way she can from the outside. searching it for answers helps her pass the time, just as rifling through star destroyers had passed it on jakku.
there is an art to waiting.
pacing isn't it. kylo ren's impatience at the edge of her awareness wears on her, but she keeps chewing on the inside of her cheek in that borrowed technique for keeping herself quiet, thoughtful, in place of some outburst.
rey knows, though, that you have to keep your head on the present moment and off the looming fear. the city is on the verge of ruin. the rebellion has only gotten worse, and if they stay, it will surely swallow itself. if she worries only about the device in front of her, she won't think about those things. but kylo ren breaks her spell by speaking. of course he does.
she lifts her eyes from where she sits on the floor with the piece of tech. ]
Not long enough for you to be asking that question.
[ not by her standards, anyway. not as long as she had waited on jakku. hardly even long enough for her to start thinking about their supplies, though they will need to soon. she hates it too, though. the rain makes it less tolerable than jakku had been. it's a different kind of poverty in the slums here. sicker. ]
[Kylo Ren's temper snaps like a rubber band when Rey gives him an order, and he whirls on her to loom over where she is sitting. His shoulders are tight, his fists are clenched, and there is something murderous in his eyes -- but it passes like a stormcloud once he gets a good look at her face. The tension doesn't quite bleed out of him all the way, but he turns it away from her before too long.]
Our time here was meant to be short.
[He starts to reach for the magitek again, but aborts the motion half way, opening and closing a fist in midair. Its an awkward gesture, especially when he is garbed as he is -- in threadbare clothing, arms scarred and on display.
Eventually, he turns back around and looks down at the tech in her hands.]
Perhaps we can exchange it for clearance to depart from here unmolested.
[ The Resistance's forces had never recovered from their devastating loss.
Brave souls would rally to their cause. Leia had reassured her of that despite the grim line of her mouth, the shaking in her fingertips, leaving Rey to wonder if the consolation had been aimed toward her or Leia's own method of coping with her life's work falling apart. With each hopeless rejection that came, whittling away at their chances.
No planet was bold enough to ally with them. No government was willing to offer its resources for fear of the First Order's might. Leia's faith had weakened, her resolve dwindling with her health, and Rey had been forced to watch her wither away — a beacon of rebellion reduced to a shell of what she once was. Gone, just like her dream of peace.
They had fought in spite of it — because of it. The losses, Rey told herself, had to matter, could not be in vain.
Until they were. Until the First Order, stalwart and flourishing, had found them. The years could not soften the memory of ash and smoke stinging at her eyes, the copper tang of blood in the air, the strewn bodies across ravaged terrain, the void in the Force that told her the Resistance had been run into extinction. Each night, it projected itself across her mind like a gruesome, inescapable holo.
In the end, she had run. The Last Jedi, the last surviving tie to the Resistance. The last glimmer of hope, if she did not grieve with the weight of what had been taken from her. Returning to her lonely existence once more, worse for how she now knew the taste of companionship.
The Doaba Badlands served as a painful, purposeful reminder of what Kylo Ren had stolen from her. Desolate, barren, as Jakku had been. The people of Soccoro did not blink twice at her, more often than not — unable to recognize her, she thought (how could she fault them when she hardly recognized herself?), from the picture in her bounty. Those that had did not return to their ships with their minds intact, unable to tell stories of the woman that lived beyond the city walls, dwelling in the desert like an exile.
Kylo Ren would not find her here. Three years of survival — because she knew nothing else, because she had not been able to do anything but continue — had assured her of that, no matter how desperate his attempts to locate her had become. No matter the Force poisoning her, infecting her — forcing her to become more sickly with distance, punishing her for her resistance, until even walking into the city without collapsing had become a monumental feat. Maybe, Rey thought bitterly, it would kill them both. A fitting end for them both.
She had nothing else to give him. Nothing else she could, or would, give.
That remained true, even on the day he found her. Time had passed, but Rey could still sense the nearness — vibrating in the threads of the Force like a warning. Gooseflesh seizes her arms, breath wrenched in her lungs, but Rey's pace quickens regardless — pulling at her cloak until her hood obscures her countenance, weaving through the crowd in her haste to wander back into Socorro's wastelands. ]
[Kylo Ren’s bond to the Force could never be called into question at the height of the war. But that had been when all of the threads binding him to it were in tact. With his mother gone and Rey sequestered somewhere far away, Kylo Ren’s power dwindled. No one ever saw, of course — if General Hux ever got wind of it, his reign would end overnight. Nobody was particularly happy with the new Supreme Leader, no more than they were with the previous. But as far as the galaxy knew, he held all the cards. There was no challenging him.
They were wrong, of course. Rey’s distance did not come without consequence. He was still a broad man, but where he had once been muscular, he had atrophied. Now he was simply lean, his eyes sunken and his skin pale. He suspected that, before long, the Dark would sap the last of his strength and he would be left looking just like Snoke had before he’d speared him.
Naturally, when he feels the first brush of their minds, Kylo Ren pursues Rey with a singular focus. He takes a few stormtroopers, in hopes that they will be able to do what he could not.]
I want her alive.
[He spits it feverishly at his troops (who promptly scurry off), desperately clawing on the opposite end of the bond in hopes to recouperate their shared strength before he runs out entirely.]
[ Like a wild animal — starved for too long and made more feral for it — she can sense him pace restlessly at the threshold of their minds. The Force recoils from it, a shrieking klaxon in her mind, even as it tentacles outward toward him. A traitorous parasite, uncertain if it means to restore balance through a peace that has shattered or balance it with their demise.
Rey winces with it, flinches from it. The warmth it promises, pouring back into her, is worse than any ringing in her skull — a special brand of cruelty after all that she has suffered. A reminder of what might have been.
At the very least, it offers her strength to zip through the crowd until there is nowhere to go but endless dunes. It's territory she knows better, a viper in its den. That has to be as much an advantage as the burst of power that surges through her, buzzing through her nerve-endings with an acute awareness. Returned to her, as Kylo Ren has.
She had never asked for either.
Swiveling her gaze over her shoulder, she turns to reach out toward the advancing troopers that have caught her scent. The grit of her snarling teeth is concealed in the dark shadow of her cloak as her fingers curl, all three choking for breath as they struggle, fingers clawing at their armor as if it might allow them to fight for oxygen.
Finn had been among them. There could have been others like him — lost, afraid, unable to know any other life. Now, all she can see is the embodiment of a prison waiting for her, his troops come to steal the only thing she has left in her possession: herself, and the freedom she has secured. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i'm here for some kind of jedi/smuggler/resistance ben + canto bight
the supreme leader was wrong about one thing: she was not afraid to confront the place her parents had sold her. that day, those people, that girl she had been held no sway over her anymore.
and even if they did … there were matters of greater import here than her own fears. ]
Cover every port and hangar in this city. I want to know about every ship that enters the atmosphere.
[ she says it as soon as her black boots click on the marble floors of the casino, turning to address the masked troopers to her side. one of them — he must be new to command — turns towards her to ask, What will you do? the others flinch. they can feel the anger thrumming under her skin, the tension that winds into her just being here. they know better.
there is no emotion in her face as she lifts her hand. he sinks to his knees, his choked gasps amplified by the speaker in his helmet. the others do not flinch. only when he crumples does she release her phantom grip. the others salute and go about their business, one of them taking the risk to carry his fallen comrade.
he might live, this stormtrooper. if they bother to bring him back to the command shuttle. if he does, he'll have learned his lesson. she pulls back the hood on her thick, black woollen cape and lets it hang around her shoulders as she gets a good look now at the casino floor.
someone in this bauble of a town is arming the resistance. kira strides like a wraith across the casino floor, the loose skirts of her tunic a whip of black fabric in her wake. her shadow is barely noticed by the elites who gamble away their pocket change. and she does not think about how many of those bets are more than the supreme leader had paid to get his hands on her all those years ago.
it's stifling.
but somewhere in this blasted, beautiful city there is a seed of hope and she is going to snuff it out. ]
baseball slides in here with that smuggler life
Canto Bight had become a bit of a pet project for him -- with the war going on, it was easy to offer his smuggling services without any eyes following him. He had enough credentials built up that he could slip in mostly undetected once his ship was on the ground. He'd been cursed with his father's genes (not his mother's altruistic heart -- perhaps if he had, he might have more formally joined her in the war after Han Solo's untimely death), and so there was absolutely no way he could stealth his way inside without at least pretending he belonged there.
And so, he adjusted his stolen cufflinks and fastened the clasp of his pressed jacket as he wandered into the casino straight to his usual table. He'd long since given up on properly combing his hair. Any facial recognition system would ping him instantly with or without it -- no amount of remapping would hide that nose.
There's an uncomfortable itch in the back of his head that he can't quite place the source of. Hopefully, his contact wouldn't be long. But in the mean time, he procures a set of dice until his usual drink comes to find him.
First shot hits its mark, earning him a tired sigh from the attendant. He's careful how much he shoots. Enough wins, and the attendant would no doubt toss him for cheating. All the while, he keeps his peripheral vision on the entrance.]
drags finn in here
he never makes it that far. into his path steps a woman. she has the kind of presence that makes it easy to mistake her as taller than him by a mile, although they're actually quite close in height. kira rests her hand on the man's arm, and pure panic overtakes his expression. ]
The prodigal stormtrooper, returned to us at last. [ she keeps her voice low, and it is lost in the din of the casino well before it ever makes it to ben. she leans in. the impression of intimacy to anyone who wasn't looking at his contact's face. ] You caused us quite a bit of trouble, leaving the way you did. [ her grip tightens. ] Where is it?
[ the panic turns to pain. kira digs her fingers into the meat of his arm as she digs into his mind. abandoning his post would be enough to get this stormtrooper killed out of hand. but stealing what he had, trying to find a way to smuggle it to the resistance. that deserved something more—
something more. no, not in the stormtrooper. she pulls back, suddenly aware. a ripple, elsewhere in the casino. she turns slowly, her eyes dark and searching. her hand loosens and slips, and finn is quick to take advantage. she barely marks the signs of him retreating.
what is it? that feeling. someone else touching the force. slight. so slight they may not even have noticed ... ]
i can't believe how rude you are
Karabast.
Ben is not so altruistic that he is going to stand up for Finn when Kira is right there. He's heard plenty of stories and whispers, but hearing things and being in the same room as a First Order enforcer was another thing entirely. He's unarmed and, if the rumors were true, she had the Force with her.
Immediately, he looks for an out, smoothing his hair out. The next crowd that walks by his table means he is disappearing inside of it, and headed for the lower levels. It would have been a clean exit, if not for the attendant asking if he was going to cash out his earnings.
He's panicking, but surely if he keeps moving, he can out run her.]
i'm here to make everything terrible always so ?? ? why are you surprised
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
in this family we love and respect canto bight
and, unlike rose and finn, he's doing it right. he cleaned up, found (read: stole) appropriate formalwear, didn't park his ship in a no-parking zone. bb-8 is waiting on the ship for him, but he's sure he can handle this on his own.
or at least that's what he thought until he saw kylo ren across the casino. he's very hard to miss, on account of being a literal tree. but maybe … it'll be fine. maybe they'll ignore each other. maybe he'll ignore his innate desire to always Start Some Shit.
yep. that's definitely what's going to happen. i can just feel it.]
damn straight
He is ignoring his attendant, who has clearly gotten a bit out of control with their drinking habits. And it appears to just be the one man, no armed guard or anything else. Kylo Ren himself looks incredibly bored, enough to be neurotically tapping his half-empty glass of -- whatever it was.
That's when the loud BANG of the canon rattles the terrace, signaling the start of the next race. Several people clear out from around him to go watch, leaving him mostly alone with a space version of a blackjack table.
He has not had enough to drink for this nonsense.]
no subject
are he and kylo ren seriously the only ones who don't care about this shit?
welp.
you know what? whatever. poe is literally incapable of not metaphorically poking a bear with stick. so he's just gonna go over to the space blackjack table to say howdy. that's not even that dramatic as far as his fuckery goes. he could do so much worse. but i guess we're only like two comments in so just wait for it. ]
Not your scene, either?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
what is this
as it turned out, kylo ren's ability for strategem capped out at "point every gun we have at that man." even rey could see the lack of wisdom in such a tactic.
from there, it had been easy to enlist her into the service of the first order. she had seen a need, and a power that if properly controlled might really do what thrawn had suggested it might. improve the galaxy. she knew little, yet, of politics and diplomacy, but she had the heart of a resistance fighter and the position of the now-deposed supreme leader ren and the prowess of her closest advisor, thrawn.
with these, she could do anything.
even bring poe, finn, and the remainder of the resistance to heel when they'd tried to turn against her, afraid that she had been lost to the promise of power. it had hurt her, but by the time it was through, she had seen the necessity. the ends justified the unsavory means by which she had been forced to persuade them.
the new empire — the first order carried too many unpleasant connotations, a reminder of another time — had begun to lay roots down on naboo. the heart of the old democracy, now the heart of the new empire. rey keeps busy for the most part, making arrangements, meeting with thrawn, learning. she is hungry to learn, eager to listen, more eager to do right by these far planets so far out of her reach. the sort of place where she had grown up.
they're distant now. half-forgotten.
she steps into the throne room — her intent is to get moving, remind herself of where she is and how far they've come and how far there is yet to go. ben's grandmother had once sat on that throne. she could remember poe telling her stories of dresses that leia had always imagined her grandchildren might wear. this place must hold — not memories, no, but something for him.
she's not surprised to find him here without her, but it does leave an oily unease sinking in her lungs. she does not want to watch her back for knives from him of all people. ]
What are you doing here?
just let it happen
I felt something.
[...he can’t help but lust to have a piece of it, even now. But that life was done. Rey was the Empress now, and frankly the galaxy was better for it. It was not his preferred outcome, but it was better than other alternatives. If only he could convince her to get rid of Thrawn.]
Do you? Or are you just here for the chair?
[He finally looks up at her, hands folded behind his back in deference.]
no subject
[ said to the tune of, "I can come here for it if I want." hell, it's her galaxy.
her eyes rivet briefly to where his palm had settled against the throne, as though concerned now that he might have done something to it. that he might be plotting something.
thrawn said this paranoia was the burden of every ruler. searching for enemies where there were none. she could not succumb to it. it was a new shape of the dark side, one she had never possessed enough power to brush up against before. ]
All I feel is ghosts, Ren.
[ it comes easier to her to call him this, now, than kylo or ben. some hybrid. some middle ground, as she is. she has felt the presence haunting this place, as though it were an ache aggravated across time. sorrow. and ... something else. ]
Their time is over. And ours has only just begun.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
nsfw image; happy international women's day
carries this AU into the light
Since the death of the Supreme Leader and Rey's refusal to join him, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what he could have done differently. He'd still been able to feel the bond, something that almost felt like a vestigial limb compared to what it had been when it was fresh and new. He'd never had the focus to properly bridge the gap, but Rey --
He's since forgotten what it had felt like, for the bond to fully manifest. Its been months since he's had a real conversation that wasn't him barking an order to a trooper. Their attempts to hunt down the last remaining pocket of the Resistance, his efforts to capture Rey alive and make another attempt to convince her to stand with him -- all thusfar unsuccessful.
By now, he had figured out what she was doing in the mean time. It was impossible that he was finding reminders of his past consistently littered about his ship -- things that didn't exist anymore, people who had forgotten him, and...things they'd shared together in their short time with one another. It'd never been something he'd admit, even privately to himself -- but the sentiment was always there now, in the wake of his realization.
He was starving. He did not think it would be this hard to move on -- and he had tried. Alone, with subordinates. He'd never found that emotional connection again, even if he'd since transcended the physical. Was that her goal?
It would have been a sound strategy -- her extended absence only made him more desperate to have that contact, any sort of contact from her back again, especially in hours like this where he could feel gooseflesh creeping up on his bare back. Perhaps it is that which draws her in from the other end of the galaxy. He is too busy messing with the waistband of his pants with one hand that the sudden increase of weight on the bed behind him does not even register.]
no subject
So instead, she held herself back from it. Her emotions ran too high, burned too hot — and so did his. It offered ample breeding ground for reminders, and she learned quickly how to manipulate the connection to provide them. If she listened, she could hear his aching loneliness rattling.
Sometimes, in meditation, she watched from a distance while he tried to smother it — never fully projecting, but reaching for his feelings.
Until tonight.
She can feel him, and as she reaches out to sense the edges of his loneliness, he reaches back, as if seizing upon her and rooting her there. That feels like some kind of victory, as if his will had started to bend under the weight of her warfare. Or maybe it's the Force, telling her that it's time. Either affirms her.
His eyes don't fix on her. He's somewhere else, still, opening his pants. She drinks the sight in with hungry eyes — it has been longer for her than him. Rey had not chased out shallow imitations. She doesn't say anything at first; instead she crawls closer and puts her hand on his back, her chin on his shoulder so she can look over it and watch what he does. ]
Thinking of someone?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
here is your game of thrones au
By all rights she shouldn't be, at least. Rey Sand had been born in Dorne, or so she'd been told before she'd been sold as a servant to a lordling in the Saltpans who'd set her to raiding the Trident for old war artifacts and, at the start of the war, stealing off King Snoke's armies who'd come through to clear out the last of House Organa.
She'd spent her life a vulture, picking the remains of corpses on the battlefields and making her living off the hard-earned purses of good soldiers when the war had escalated. At first she'd taken it as none of her business — it wasn't going to feed her, after all.
But then the Kingsguard had come through, all shiny and golden and unlike those other coarse soldiers. There'd had to be some reason they were so set on House Organa. And it had been Rey who, upon seeing a messenger fleeing Riverrun's direction, had taken them in to an old abandoned millhouse. And Rey who had discovered that he'd born a missive wearing the Lady Organa's seal.
Secrets. Secrets and politics and everything she knew nothing about. But she'd taken that scrap of a letter and the mission to get it to her allies in King's Landing and she'd run. Forgotten all about Lord Plutt and the Saltpans and the bodies she'd picked free and loaded up with her chest wrapped on a wagon headed for the port in Storm's End. They'd go to Essos from there to be sold to slavers.
No Kingsguard would ever care about what slavers were doing at a time like this, surely. They'd never look there, surely, for whatever missive Lady Organa had sent out. And Rey could get off in the Kingswood and make her way quietly into King's Landing to deliver it securely into the hands of one of Lady Organa's allies.
Propped against the cart where they'd stopped to rest, she popped open the wax seal. She'd be able to melt it back down — she'd practiced — but if she was going to risk her neck for this thing, she'd see what it contained, thank you. It was serious enough that the messenger, Finn, had run off and washed his hands of it.
Whose life was it really worth? A message couldn't save House Organa from the crushing grip of King Snoke's forces. That would take … a miracle.
She stared down at the script. It was clean. The sort of print a lady would have. Rey, by contrast, could scarcely read it, but she was nevertheless positive of what it said: Luke Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, Prince of Dorne and the Seven bloody Kingdoms, presumed dead, had been found in Essos.
Rey cursed. Loudly. She was bloody dead, holding a thing like that.
A runner returned to the camp, rustling through the brush, and she leapt to her feet. They'd found tracks. These woods were being patrolled — bandits, one of them suspected, but Rey knew better. Rey knew. There were no bandits near the Kingswood. And there were plenty of reasons to track a cart of slavers out of Riverrun if word had is that news of where to find Luke Skywalker, the only threat to King Snoke's claim, had slipped loose in the hands of some pitiful bastard girl. ]
no subject
It wasn't a goose chase, of course, and if asked the right questions, Ser Ren might have even admitted that the King had not really sent him on these errands. He was far beyond his patrol route, and his men knew it (though they knew better than to question him). Judging by the way the hounds bayed and snarled, all of his work would soon be paid off.
(If the information off that intercepted raven was worth its weight.)
Ser Ren urged his horse, a black mare, through the trees as fast as her legs would carry her. The hounds lead the charge, and his knights quickly filled into the perimeter. The baying had incited panic long before his horse had found the camp, but his men never minded a good chase. The two hounds tackled the two sellswords to the ground before they could unsheathe their weapons, and the knights chased off after the rest of the fleeing party.
Meanwhile, Ren dismounted, content to explore what was left behind in the camp. Whomever fled would never be able to outrun a knight on horseback for long -- if the missive was with one of them, they would be caught soon enough. His time was better spent rummaging here.
His armor clanked about as his boots sank into soft earth, nudging bedrolls over and spreading personal effects around in the foliage. One hand stayed on the hilt of his broadsword. Slavers traveled light, save for their cargo -- oddly enough, most of them had been cut loose, which lead him to believe that this wasn't a slave-trading party at all.
And yet...no missive anywhere in sight. Frustrated, he turned to glance off in the direction where the party had been chased, running one gauntlet through his long, black hair--
The snap of a twig somewhere to his left draws his attention, and the sword is pulled free in anticipation.]
no subject
She'd never seen anything like it. Not in action, anyway. All the corpses she looted were long since dead. Rotted or drawing real buzzards, most of them.
She slunk back into the woods, too keenly aware of what they would do to her if they got their hands on her. Worse, it wouldn't just be her. The King was a monster. Everyone knew it. If House Organa was the only house standing against him, the only hope any of the common people had lay in her. Her, and Luke Skywalker.
Rey's heart pounded in her chest. Skywalker. If it was really him …
She studied the script on the paper again, the name of the house he was staying in at Essos, the scrawled map of the dock in one of the free cities. And then she doubled back the way they had come, trying to avoid the Kingsguard's approach.
The fire was still going at their abandoned camp. She circled back around towards the smoke, stopping in the woods when she saw that the entire Kingsuard unit had not moved on.
Ren.
Her blood ran cold. No. He'd looked up. It was too late for her to keep him from seeing her. But the crumpled, opened parchment was already in her hand, and he was between her and the fire.
She tore the wax seal off of it and stuffed the parchment into her mouth. It was dry and thick and lacquered with some kind of sealant to keep it from weathering and she chewed through it anyway. They might have her, might have Finn too, but they weren't going to get Skywalker. The red wax, and Organa's seal on it, stuck out, bright and angry against the forest floor until Rey turned on her heel to run, kicking topsoil over it.
They didn't have her yet. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
this is a bad starter but it's for more smuggler stuff
Somehow, it leaves Rey more unhinged than before she had encountered him, and not only for the way Snoke had punished for her the failure. She still bore the burns, crawling up her neck like a red and fleshy disease. She is ordered to leave it alone, to keep her focus on the Resistance, but there is no overselling Rey's grudge.
He had made her look a fool. Untrained and scrambling and — And he'd gotten under her skin, worst of all. She could excuse the rest. He had all that she did not: bloodline. Of course he would be a powerful Jedi, more powerful if he ever decided to train. But … The way they had connected made her feel weak and afraid. Worse, it made her feel cowardly for staying at Snoke's heels.
It did not make her want to follow orders and leave him alone. It made her want to find him, and — It takes her some time to put words to that and, but eventually she settles on bringing him with her. Turning him. Teaching her in her ways, Snoke's ways.
She touches the burn at her neck and winces. Still not healed.
The shuttle lands on Ryloth. The Resistance was said to be hidden there, under a sympathetic twi'lek leadership that feared occupation. It was no wonder that there were women with blasters there to greet her. It was probably every blaster they possessed in their village, and not a one of them would have done any good. ]
If I were coming to attack you, I'd bring more than one shuttle.
no subject
He's alone in the cantina, counting what's left of his credits from his last job, when he hears purposeful demands in Huttese. It only takes him a second longer to recognize Kira's cold.
Kriff.
Quickly, he downs the rest of his drink and scoops the majority of his credits into a small pouch before heading for the door in hopes of beating the landing security--but he'd done this once before already. If Kira was here, she knew that he was here as well. The most he could do was try and help drive her off Ryloth. Running would only promise that people would get hurt.
So, with an unease sigh, he pulls his blaster from his holster and turns to approach the gathering entourage at the landing platform. His eyes note the singular shuttle, and the lack of troops.
She'd been about to be cleared when:]
No, no -- you got the right idea. This one's trouble for sure. Best send her on her way.
[Both twi'lek throw Ben their own skeptical looks, blasters still trained on Kira.]
But first...don't tell me you came all the way out here just to see me.
no subject
But her fury is equalled by fixation on that connection she'd felt, the first ever, and she can't surrender it.
Snoke has promised to make something of this worthless girl if she'll only do what she's karking told; she should be able to keep focused on that prize, that promise of purpose in this galaxy. Of punishing those who would see her hurt or forgotten. No one would be able to forget her now. Yet somehow he does. ]
Why is it that every time I find you, it's when I'm looking for rebels? [ She doesn't flinch at his blaster, but approaches him. The rest, she yanks out of the twi'leks' hands, letting them clatter to the ground without a care. It's the impression that counts as she swoops closer to Ben, predatory. ] For a man who claims to have no part in your mother's war, you can't seem to stay away from it. Tell me where they are, Solo.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
bringing it back to drakstaden because there's nothing here to stop me
Of course, it was convenient now -- with their names plastered as fugitives and the rest of Ophelia separated from them, the flood was the only thing keeping the Vakdir from chasing them down into the slums. It bought them time to mess with the tech they had stolen...or, it would have, if they hadn't been told not to activate it.
Kylo Ren cannot help his urge to pace, scratching at the presently useless magitek around his neck.]
The second we leave, they are going to be on us again.
[He is stating the obvious, of course -- but he'd never been cramped in one spot in his adult life for so long, let alone with another person. He does not know what to do but state the obvious. It's dark. It's cold. It's damp. And they are being hunted like animals.]
Do you know how long we have been down here?
no subject
there is an art to waiting.
pacing isn't it. kylo ren's impatience at the edge of her awareness wears on her, but she keeps chewing on the inside of her cheek in that borrowed technique for keeping herself quiet, thoughtful, in place of some outburst.
rey knows, though, that you have to keep your head on the present moment and off the looming fear. the city is on the verge of ruin. the rebellion has only gotten worse, and if they stay, it will surely swallow itself. if she worries only about the device in front of her, she won't think about those things. but kylo ren breaks her spell by speaking. of course he does.
she lifts her eyes from where she sits on the floor with the piece of tech. ]
Not long enough for you to be asking that question.
[ not by her standards, anyway. not as long as she had waited on jakku. hardly even long enough for her to start thinking about their supplies, though they will need to soon. she hates it too, though. the rain makes it less tolerable than jakku had been. it's a different kind of poverty in the slums here. sicker. ]
Not as long as we'll need to be. Sit down.
no subject
Our time here was meant to be short.
[He starts to reach for the magitek again, but aborts the motion half way, opening and closing a fist in midair. Its an awkward gesture, especially when he is garbed as he is -- in threadbare clothing, arms scarred and on display.
Eventually, he turns back around and looks down at the tech in her hands.]
Perhaps we can exchange it for clearance to depart from here unmolested.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
this is my late night offering of dark timeline w bonus tainted force bond
Brave souls would rally to their cause. Leia had reassured her of that despite the grim line of her mouth, the shaking in her fingertips, leaving Rey to wonder if the consolation had been aimed toward her or Leia's own method of coping with her life's work falling apart. With each hopeless rejection that came, whittling away at their chances.
No planet was bold enough to ally with them. No government was willing to offer its resources for fear of the First Order's might. Leia's faith had weakened, her resolve dwindling with her health, and Rey had been forced to watch her wither away — a beacon of rebellion reduced to a shell of what she once was. Gone, just like her dream of peace.
They had fought in spite of it — because of it. The losses, Rey told herself, had to matter, could not be in vain.
Until they were. Until the First Order, stalwart and flourishing, had found them. The years could not soften the memory of ash and smoke stinging at her eyes, the copper tang of blood in the air, the strewn bodies across ravaged terrain, the void in the Force that told her the Resistance had been run into extinction. Each night, it projected itself across her mind like a gruesome, inescapable holo.
In the end, she had run. The Last Jedi, the last surviving tie to the Resistance. The last glimmer of hope, if she did not grieve with the weight of what had been taken from her. Returning to her lonely existence once more, worse for how she now knew the taste of companionship.
The Doaba Badlands served as a painful, purposeful reminder of what Kylo Ren had stolen from her. Desolate, barren, as Jakku had been. The people of Soccoro did not blink twice at her, more often than not — unable to recognize her, she thought (how could she fault them when she hardly recognized herself?), from the picture in her bounty. Those that had did not return to their ships with their minds intact, unable to tell stories of the woman that lived beyond the city walls, dwelling in the desert like an exile.
Kylo Ren would not find her here. Three years of survival — because she knew nothing else, because she had not been able to do anything but continue — had assured her of that, no matter how desperate his attempts to locate her had become. No matter the Force poisoning her, infecting her — forcing her to become more sickly with distance, punishing her for her resistance, until even walking into the city without collapsing had become a monumental feat. Maybe, Rey thought bitterly, it would kill them both. A fitting end for them both.
She had nothing else to give him. Nothing else she could, or would, give.
That remained true, even on the day he found her. Time had passed, but Rey could still sense the nearness — vibrating in the threads of the Force like a warning. Gooseflesh seizes her arms, breath wrenched in her lungs, but Rey's pace quickens regardless — pulling at her cloak until her hood obscures her countenance, weaving through the crowd in her haste to wander back into Socorro's wastelands. ]
eyes emoji times ten thousand
They were wrong, of course. Rey’s distance did not come without consequence. He was still a broad man, but where he had once been muscular, he had atrophied. Now he was simply lean, his eyes sunken and his skin pale. He suspected that, before long, the Dark would sap the last of his strength and he would be left looking just like Snoke had before he’d speared him.
Naturally, when he feels the first brush of their minds, Kylo Ren pursues Rey with a singular focus. He takes a few stormtroopers, in hopes that they will be able to do what he could not.]
I want her alive.
[He spits it feverishly at his troops (who promptly scurry off), desperately clawing on the opposite end of the bond in hopes to recouperate their shared strength before he runs out entirely.]
💦💦💦
Rey winces with it, flinches from it. The warmth it promises, pouring back into her, is worse than any ringing in her skull — a special brand of cruelty after all that she has suffered. A reminder of what might have been.
At the very least, it offers her strength to zip through the crowd until there is nowhere to go but endless dunes. It's territory she knows better, a viper in its den. That has to be as much an advantage as the burst of power that surges through her, buzzing through her nerve-endings with an acute awareness. Returned to her, as Kylo Ren has.
She had never asked for either.
Swiveling her gaze over her shoulder, she turns to reach out toward the advancing troopers that have caught her scent. The grit of her snarling teeth is concealed in the dark shadow of her cloak as her fingers curl, all three choking for breath as they struggle, fingers clawing at their armor as if it might allow them to fight for oxygen.
Finn had been among them. There could have been others like him — lost, afraid, unable to know any other life. Now, all she can see is the embodiment of a prison waiting for her, his troops come to steal the only thing she has left in her possession: herself, and the freedom she has secured. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...