[ She didn't pause to be surprised with his show of humanity when he left the meat behind on his way into his tent — instead, like a hungry animal, Rey just reached for it greedily. Some parts were such gristled fat that after some time sucking and gnawing she realized that she couldn't actually swallow it, and spat it aside. But she'd had worse meals in her life.
She'd had days with no meals, in her life.
But she finished the meat parched, her dirty fingers dirtier for the grease that made the soil and the tree rot stick to them. Only then did she pay attention to the fact that he had recused himself from his men.
Too good for them too, probably, she thought unkindly. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, a useless gesture for neither her face nor her hand were any cleaner than the other. Eventually she gave up and found a way to wiggle her pants down, relieving herself in a shallow crevasse she dug on one side of the log.
If the men, distracted by playing with their dogs, caught glimpse of her bare ass, they didn't show it. She thanked the gods for that when she curled up on the other side of the log, struggling to get comfortable with the chains. She'd never slept in manacles before. She'd never committed a crime before.
He'd called her treasonous. That was a high crime. She'd be executed, for sure — no matter what he'd insinuated he'd offer her for turning on House Organa now. Gods, a craven and a turncoat. She rubbed her hands against her face and soon found that she had begun to cry, these thoughts closing in now that the twilight had passed and she tried to welcome sleep. She was left alone with the consequences of what she'd done.
Where the call of nature hadn't drawn the attention of Ren's men, her weeping seemed to. They nudged each other and some of their cackling quieted to muttering amongst them. ]
no subject
She'd had days with no meals, in her life.
But she finished the meat parched, her dirty fingers dirtier for the grease that made the soil and the tree rot stick to them. Only then did she pay attention to the fact that he had recused himself from his men.
Too good for them too, probably, she thought unkindly. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, a useless gesture for neither her face nor her hand were any cleaner than the other. Eventually she gave up and found a way to wiggle her pants down, relieving herself in a shallow crevasse she dug on one side of the log.
If the men, distracted by playing with their dogs, caught glimpse of her bare ass, they didn't show it. She thanked the gods for that when she curled up on the other side of the log, struggling to get comfortable with the chains. She'd never slept in manacles before. She'd never committed a crime before.
He'd called her treasonous. That was a high crime. She'd be executed, for sure — no matter what he'd insinuated he'd offer her for turning on House Organa now. Gods, a craven and a turncoat. She rubbed her hands against her face and soon found that she had begun to cry, these thoughts closing in now that the twilight had passed and she tried to welcome sleep. She was left alone with the consequences of what she'd done.
Where the call of nature hadn't drawn the attention of Ren's men, her weeping seemed to. They nudged each other and some of their cackling quieted to muttering amongst them. ]