[ Though groggy — or perhaps because her mind is slow to rouse — Rey does not flinch away from the touch on her shoulder. Rather, it seems to bring her some comfort, despite touching her wounded shoulder. In sleep, her expression is softer, and it stays peaceful even as her light snoring cuts off and her eyes open to fix on his face.
He's close. Looming over her, but not as broad in figure as she has come to think of him. She pushes herself up slowly, the silence keeping her suspended as though still halfway in dream. She can't put her finger on why the bleak hours of morning in Storm's End, with the light barely visible through the dreary weather, persists in surreality for her. Only that it does.
Until her eyes land on his armor, still piled before the door. ]
What's wrong?
[ She can feel it. In the past, he had only approached her the moment of their departure, expecting immediate obedience. This demands preparation out of her. And the eerie tension lingers at the edges of her awareness. For that reason, her question comes out in a whisper. ]
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He's close. Looming over her, but not as broad in figure as she has come to think of him. She pushes herself up slowly, the silence keeping her suspended as though still halfway in dream. She can't put her finger on why the bleak hours of morning in Storm's End, with the light barely visible through the dreary weather, persists in surreality for her. Only that it does.
Until her eyes land on his armor, still piled before the door. ]
What's wrong?
[ She can feel it. In the past, he had only approached her the moment of their departure, expecting immediate obedience. This demands preparation out of her. And the eerie tension lingers at the edges of her awareness. For that reason, her question comes out in a whisper. ]