FINISH

     Such a smile and the accompanying intent would be expected to bring about some measure of unease. Instead, though Rownei knows the truth of the words, it manages a small coy smile of his own. Row can’t remember the general making such a mistake already, and this time he doesn’t try to push the question away. “ — Again?” 

A shake of head proceeds the question ( he’s not completely expecting an answer ). It’s a physical recognition of the stupidity the General would exemplify if he were to continue on that path, but Rownei can hardly imagine him presenting a truly challenging threat. The situation doesn’t require Row’s presence; he could remain in the field as Kylo would allow. The choice does give him pause though his answer has always been assured. If he is expected to believe the girl killed Snoke ( though the odds of that cast doubt ), to know that the general isn’t loyal as he should be, then — 

     “I’d prefer to go with you.” The words come simply, only a beat after the other had finished speaking, gaze flicking from the tabletop to Kylo. It’s a decision made without inquisition, odd for Rownei whom has rarely ignored his own curiosity. Idly, he hopes that oddity isn’t brought up; he wouldn’t have an explanation if it was mentioned. But the answer is earnest, felt more than thought on, and that’s enough to lay to rest any of his questions.

                    ----------he hadn’t been expecting an immediate answer. quick. only intending to plant a seed of consideration and yet Rownei already has his mind made. it surprises him, encouraging one dark brow to rise for only a moment. perhaps inquiring with the knights would be easier than he intended. it may seem that some already had intentions in place. Kylo found no need to ask him to reconsider or take any further time on the question, he nods lightly instead, grateful for the swift response.

a moment of quiet, and his gaze drifts towards the shots of liquor sitting idle. it is less out of curiosity and more out of coincidence. he blinks, not intending to stare. he has far too much of a distaste for drinking to try another. and really, their relationship of master to apprentice was too careful to inquire as to why, but it was bothering him now. it was the reason as to why he hadn’t left just yet. 

“Your head’s swelled more than I’d assumed if you think you’re fine.”

 Sevlyn mused, clocking his unnaturally bristled behaviour. She gathered that crash-landing upon an unknown planet can set most composures off to an erratic setting, and this man was bridled, disoriented. Her stomach rumbled beneath her cross-collar gown- continuous paddling against briny seafoam stirred upon a monstrous appetite, but then again, her penchant for food has always been monstrous.  The shell was tilted at her lips, and down the creamy flesh of the oyster goes, washing the salt-burned walls of her throat with a satisfying cold only gained from the sea. 

 “And no, unfortunately. Not a spit of technology on me, at least, not the kind that can get a message across galaxies.” 

The storm beyond had only begun its precipitate. A little disgruntled by the pour, she wondered if the roiling currents would sweep away her underwater supply of oysters; the pearl harvest thus far had been a little less than exceptional, though it would seem there is now, even littler time for that. Once the storm passes, she surmised that he would require help in transport and navigation to the nearest coastal village that offered any kind of communicative help, which would come in the form of a localized transceiver. It strikes her that all radars installed are painfully provincial, for no fisher’s soul who lived along the coast would have any business communicating with aliens beyond the skyline. 

Well, the least she could do was offer him that rudimentary solution. Then he’d be out of her hair. Then it’s back to oyster-shucking before a missive demands her prompt return to Tuman. 

“We could trek to Kitzmatan Village after, it’s the closest- and they have an elementary transceiver that enables the people to speak over a fair distance. You look like you’re savvy with instruments of the sort; perhaps, if resourceful enough, you could find a way to say hello to your alien mates?” 

                        ----------it was unnecessary to make a comment towards her muttering on about his condition. there were no supplies to aid the wounded within this barren cave of stench. nor did they seem to have the momentary freedom to seek out any medics nearby. circumstances would force him to do as necessary, as he would do anyways, which would to heal on his own accord. some time, a little concentration, and perhaps he’d look less ragged than he did currently. however that might be. he had nothing for the bleeding on his knee, of course, other than to apply pressure with his hand, and so that is just what he does. perhaps he silently asks the Force to give him favor in it.

the most helpful this woman has been is her offer of this newfound information. this surely seems like favor to him. their meanings of elementary are likely to vary, but her surely hopes hers is nearest in line to his. he’s appreciative. more than he lets on. Ren gives her an appreciative nod, settling into his small corner as best he can. it is true that he would have to tinker with the device by any means. there were particular signals he would need to reach.

“What system is this?” he asks after a moment of consideration. it would help if he knew where he was in order to properly achieve contact. “And also-- what planet?” there was a chance that this planet was relatively distanced from the others, given how far the outer rim stretches. this was surely not Sith Space. disappointing really. but he’s fortunate not to be stranded.

              he wakes angrily, arms immediately shooting up to defend himself from some unseen attacker.       so used to the paranoia and violation of privacy, his movements are mostly instinctual.       but it’s a mistake and his left arm howls with pain    /     shooting needle sharp pricks across his shoulder and down to the tips of his fingers.       he can’t hold back a yelp at the influx of tenderness scattered beneath his skin.      his glance at the limb is hesitant, and he exhales heavily when he turns his head.       fuck.       it’s not the first time he’s dislocated a limb, an arm specifically.      hux knows the feeling.       it’s the blood that’s new, barely visible against the obsidian of his uniform.      if he was at the right angle, maybe, he’d be able to pop it back into place.      it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that either.               palm presses across the wound on his shoulder and he winces at the pressure, hand placement ambiguous at best   ;   he has no idea if he’s actually stopping the bleeding or just uselessly tiring his out his good arm.       usually meticulously observant, it takes him far longer than usual to understand what’s happened.      sporadic clips of memories flash in his mind     —    the sequence of serious alarms, the shifting of the shuttle, the almost slow motion way everything spun on its axis as the ship tilted.       and that’s it.       he must have been knocked out by something when they’d crashed.      but he’s been displaced, not among the wreckage.       at first he assumes it’s the stormtroopers that have dragged him away, loyal to the last, but he doesn’t see them around.       he doesn’t see anyone around, until a suddenly looming figure crashes back into his line of sight a few yards away and hux can’t tell if he’s panicked to be so isolated with such a volatile being, or relieved not to be alone.       ren.

              had ren carried him from the rubble?       hux snorts, torn between embarrassment and sheer shock at the image he’s trying to take in.      the smoldering shuttle looks like a dying beast, coughing up plumes of black, caustic smoke.       it’s a joke, but his laugh is hollow.       were he a better man, he’d be more concerned for the troopers.      but one thought circulates his mind relentlessly   ;   they shouldn’t have crashed.       nothing in the log showed any type of error with the ship previously, it shouldn’t have happened.       it wasn’t supposed to happen.       it cycles through his brain, annoyance growing each time it loops around, and hux has to pry himself from the thought.       ren is coming his way, hardly looking pleased   (   though when did he ever?   ).       sitting, he’s more prey than anything, so hux leans against the base of the tree and forces himself upright.       knees weaker than he’d like to admit    /     throbbing in his shoulder only increasing     /    he has to catch his breath for a moment before he speaks.               ❝      i suppose you’re expecting a ‘ thank you ’ then,    ❞      he can’t just ever just say what he means with his opposition, it has to been distorted     /     hostile  ;   can’t ever just be what should be said.      that’s an action of surrender.       ❝    are my men dead?    ❞

                        ----------though he had wanted to take his time gathering the needed and proper supplies from the shuttle, he was careful to remain alert in case the ship decided to deteriorate further and explode what little was left of it. he was grateful that the medkit was still intact and in its rightful place, and unfortunately, there wasn’t many of the ration bars left beside it. they may have to improvise if help comes later rather than sooner. his arms were full when he left the shuttle, trudging his way through the debris and back to where he had left the general. at a distance he could tell that Hux was awake. disappointing.

Kylo dropped the supplies onto the forest floor somewhat unceremoniously. seeing as he hasn’t any idea what planet this was or the dangers that were likely lingering, he was uncertain as to what the temporary plan of action may be. they would need to remain close to the ship, yet not out in the open. but Hux’s movement and voice distracted him. turning, he saw the other attempting to stand. a terrible idea, but there was no satisfaction in stopping him. sore arms fold across his chest, head tilting to the side as he takes in the general’s state. he can’t decide how he feels about it yet. particularly when he’s so quick to make a smart ass comment.

"Our men, yes." he corrects. there’s no point in mentioning that one of the bodies were missing, he considers that there was more potential for flying out with the other half of the shuttle than desertion. the longer Hux stands the worse he’s going to feel. now wasn’t a time a play their odd little game of wits. Kylo bends to retrieve the medkit, ignoring how the world seems to spin a little more than it should and moves back towards the general. "Sit," he points to the ground just below where he originally set him. “Or you’re going to become well acquainted with the ground again.”

                         ----------he wakes to the smell of smoke and ash. it’s a slow come to. not his usual jolt into consciousness. wearily stirring, lagging in thought. it takes a moment for eyes to adjust to notice metal debris surrounding him. his head was spinning. the issue at hand was rather clear, they had crash-landed. the partial gap of memory gave a further hint at the diagnosis of a concussion. it isn’t his immediate worry. Kylo moves, having been somewhat trapped between the chair and the control panel, but when he turns the entire latter half of the shuttle was torn apart. the ship was in shambles. a pause, he tentatively touches his forehead and lip, his glove came away wet, the black of the leather too dark to differentiate the color to tell whether he was bleeding.

finally, he remembers he hadn’t been the only passenger on the ship. a handful of troopers, and the General. there was a stormtrooper beside him, but it was apparent to him that he was dead. weak legs finally stand upright, turning back to the control panel, or what’s left of it, in attempts to tap a few controls-- nothing. again. nothing. the entire board was shot, but he should have known anyways due from the smoke pouring out from the shuttle’s nose outside. he swears under his breath, slams a fist against the console. bad idea. and swears again, retracting his hand from the pain. reinforcements would come, they would. for now it was likely better to leave the ship--

he shuffles through towards the ripped opening of the shuttle, taking notice of another dead trooper laying in his own blood. this was beginning to look worse and worse. should he bother with anyone else if he was the only the survivor? however, he did sense that he wasn’t alone and followed it. Hux, half-laying beneath a piece of debris, still breathing. the Force thought itself a comedian, always leaving him in precarious situations just to aggravate him it would seam. Kylo sighs, pulls away the sheet of metal and bends to pick up the General. he leaves to walk a safe distance from the ship, just in case it decided to explode. as he places the General down, leaning him against the tree, Kylo remembers that there had been a third stormtrooper, but he was nowhere to be seen. for now they would have to wait, wait for the ship to stop melting it’s own insides to try to force a signal out. for now, he’d have to salvage the ship of whatever resources were still available. given the blood seeping from Hux’s shoulder, and his own injuries, a medkit would be preferred.

reign sentence prompts                                                                status: accepting                                                                                           @cnuasach

                         ———-yes.

                                            well, no…

yes. his immediate answer trumps that of the second, only because of his own consistent doubt. maybe he had never put it into any words, but here they were, years late. but he doesn’t feel the question was entirely for him. Kylo never said any of it out loud but the mingling of thoughts made it as if he should have. she was contemplating, and oddly enough he feared it. feared where this was going. 

“Is it wrong to want something?”                                was it really so wrong to fear too?

reign sentence prompts                                                                status: accepting                                                                                           @cnuasach

                         ———-she’s cross with him. evident in more ways than one and he’s far removed from being an idiot and making it worse. and really Ben was trying his best. of course it was likely that Rey wouldn’t see it that way, but he was. really. travelling wasn’t going to be easy. not with… not with whatever the hell was going on with her. "Oh, am I?" he is truly unimpressed by her stomping off, and he’s obviously going to follow her.

reign sentence prompts                                                                status: accepting                                                                                           @redwhips

                         ———-to him the answer seems dry in response. she may have meant it in her heart but the repetitive nature of these loyalties seem to fall flatter on his ears. not that he doubts her, no. not that he suspects anything outside of her truth. all of their truths, the Knights of Ren sort of truth of calling and duty. something shifts in him, and he can’t quite put his finger on it. a gentle worry for her, now extended to the rest. of course he hoards it. wouldn’t dare show that maybe… just maybe there would be something better than this life.

he nods anyways, trying to muster the same appreciation he’s given to her all the times before. it was just his own doubt, clouding judgment. sometimes he misses that guidance, the cold hand always resting on his shoulder. sometimes Kylo still feels it. maybe ignorance is bliss, but he isn’t all too sure how blissful this allegiance had come to be.