( He snorts but jumps, too - or flinches, one or the other, despite the invitation inherent in his own movements - as she winds one arm around his midsection, as uncertain as to what to do with this blatant display of intimate affection as he had been when she'd reached out to him that first time, as he had been when Han Solo had traced that long, shallow line down one half of his face. Sometimes he wonders if the puckered scar Rey had left behind hadn't been some form of predetermination stitched into him by that moment on the bridge, doused in the red emergency lights from overhead, but it isn't something that he's interested in considering for too long given the present circumstances, so he leaves it there, cutting those memories off like pinching off the open end of a vein.
After a moment wherein she doesn't immediately move away from him, he relaxes, letting go of a long-held tension in his stomach, a small stone dissolving, replaced with a pervasive warmth that feels as threatening as it does familiar, comforting. His fingers curl further underneath her leg where it stretches to accommodate the way she shifts around him, and Kylo can feel the ligaments and tendons moving underneath his fingertips, his palm. It's very distracting, as is the added weight of her leaning into his shoulders, his spine, every vertebrae a lightning rod exposed to the material of her blanket and the electric pulse of her bare skin where said blanket slips with her movement. )
I do think they're wrong. ( For a number of reasons, but right now most of those reasons pale in comparison to how dry his mouth suddenly feels -and how badly it tastes, consequently - and how warm her arm is where it presses against his middle, despite her earlier complaints attributed to growing up on a planet comprised entirely of sand and sun. ) That doesn't mean I don't find the asinine artifacts or manuscripts or information, in general, that they left behind useful to some degree. Everything has an origin, and origins exist for a reason. The problem starts when you begin putting those origins on a pedestal and treat them as gospel.
( He can feel the annoyed expression on his face, years of searching, endlessly hunting for answers, for relics, for something old to build something new on top of burned into his brain like an after image. And so much else tied up with it, a tangled ball of barbed wire and exposed circuits. Ignoring it would be hypocritical, though. As if he isn't trying his best to seek out and find the same things she is, albeit for different reasons. ) Historically, that hasn't exactly worked in the Jedi's favor, as you're probably well aware by now. ( A beat, and he threads the fingers of his free hand through hers where they curl over at his torso. It would be a tentative, unsure motion, if not for the resolute way that he goes about it, as if convincing himself more than anyone else. )
Attachment was forbidden, I'm sure you know. ( Which begs the question - ) I'm not sure what would have been made of this.
( This being - well. This. He knows (now) what happened the last time someone from his family got in over his head, after all. )
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funnily enough i listened to her christmas song this morning
Date: 2020-12-26 01:25 am (UTC)After a moment wherein she doesn't immediately move away from him, he relaxes, letting go of a long-held tension in his stomach, a small stone dissolving, replaced with a pervasive warmth that feels as threatening as it does familiar, comforting. His fingers curl further underneath her leg where it stretches to accommodate the way she shifts around him, and Kylo can feel the ligaments and tendons moving underneath his fingertips, his palm. It's very distracting, as is the added weight of her leaning into his shoulders, his spine, every vertebrae a lightning rod exposed to the material of her blanket and the electric pulse of her bare skin where said blanket slips with her movement. )
I do think they're wrong. ( For a number of reasons, but right now most of those reasons pale in comparison to how dry his mouth suddenly feels -and how badly it tastes, consequently - and how warm her arm is where it presses against his middle, despite her earlier complaints attributed to growing up on a planet comprised entirely of sand and sun. ) That doesn't mean I don't find the asinine artifacts or manuscripts or information, in general, that they left behind useful to some degree. Everything has an origin, and origins exist for a reason. The problem starts when you begin putting those origins on a pedestal and treat them as gospel.
( He can feel the annoyed expression on his face, years of searching, endlessly hunting for answers, for relics, for something old to build something new on top of burned into his brain like an after image. And so much else tied up with it, a tangled ball of barbed wire and exposed circuits. Ignoring it would be hypocritical, though. As if he isn't trying his best to seek out and find the same things she is, albeit for different reasons. ) Historically, that hasn't exactly worked in the Jedi's favor, as you're probably well aware by now. ( A beat, and he threads the fingers of his free hand through hers where they curl over at his torso. It would be a tentative, unsure motion, if not for the resolute way that he goes about it, as if convincing himself more than anyone else. )
Attachment was forbidden, I'm sure you know. ( Which begs the question - ) I'm not sure what would have been made of this.
( This being - well. This. He knows (now) what happened the last time someone from his family got in over his head, after all. )