#gnrxl

      He’s been staring at the floor in front of him for at least twenty minutes at this point. It isn’t until he feels the container he’s sitting on shift and a shoulder bump his that he looks up to the side, Hux’s ginger hair flooding his vision. He offers him a small inclination of his head, before he looks forward at the busy hangar he’s perched in the corner of.

      They’re both REMARKABLY out of place. And whilst no one is outright saying anything to that point, the side glances they receive aren’t subtle. Still, Ben supposes that’s justified. Between he and Hux, they’ve probably been responsible for more rebel deaths than most. 

     “Settling in?” 

The sound of the stormtroopers march was paced and in time behind their Captain. FN-2437 was among them. They were headed out onto a transport for a landing mission. He couldn’t help but notice how little he’d been alone lately. If he wasn’t behind Kylo Ren’s shoulder he was behind Captain Phasma’s, He didn’t have any desire to complain about his placement but he had noticed there were more eyes on him.

He trusted that they knew what they were doing, although neither of them were speaking quite the same about it. That was something he needed to keep to himself. For some reason he’d been allowed to live. It went against everything he’d always know. The empire raised him from infancy. The walls of the absolution and eventually these walls were all he’d ever known of home. The First Order was his home and he was loyal to it despite whatever plagued him.

He hadn’t even fully disclosed the things that he felt were happening and he’d carry that guilt with him. It ate away at him and kept him up at night. Sleepless night after sleepless night to remind him that something was making him restless here.

The trooper was lost in thought about it all. He’d felt drained from another fitful night before. They had become less frequent but the intensity wasn’t any less severe. He wished he could remember exactly what happens but each time he just couldn’t recall. A weight dropped in his chest as they rounded a corner.

FN-2437′s quick march had slowed until it completely halted. He was staring at an empty hall. The trooper looked behind him and around him. How had he lost them? He was right behind them. A panic set into his chest and he moved quickly down the hall to see if they had just somehow gotten away from him. Upon another turn he found himself staring down the familiar imperial hall way but with an out of place door at the end. This was not the corridor he knew and he knew every single one on the ship.

With caution he approached, looking over his shoulder ever so often. He could only hear the familiar hum of the lights. However much it used to soothe him, it couldn’t help him now. His chest tightened as he approached the door and something was calling him through it.

His armored hand lifted to touch the front of it. It looked as if it had been fashioned together with some organic material from a planet, something that would never be found on a ship. They didn’t put this here. With too much easy his hand was able to push the door opened and he walked in to study the room in front of him. His heart was speeding and he didn’t know why. It was just an empty home of some civilian. The shack was small and poorly managed. Things were strewn about the home like there had been a struggle. He didn’t understand.

As he stepped further in he turned his head to where he felt like he was being drawn. Two steps forward and he felt a sudden rush pull through him. The room had changed again and the trooper found himself in an unfamiliar room. A very unfamiliar room, because he wasn’t supposed to be in it. He panicked as he thought about the layout of where he was until he saw him, standing there.

He was in the generals private quarters.

His head flooded with confusion. How did he get in here? He didn’t even have the clearance to get into the room. It was physically impossible for him to be standing in this room. If he hadn’t known better he’d have thought he’d slipped into another vision.

“Sir.” FN-2437 stood straight and saluted his general because he was in his presence. However he’d gotten in, he doubted it would work the same way going out. Trapped for the moment he tried hard to come up with a significant amount of answers in his head very quickly.

SOLITUDE WAS all that was afforded to Kylo in the weeks that pasted since ARMITAGE’S rise to power. He had come to LOOK FORWARD to the faint buzzing of the droid who would deliver his next meal--it was the only thing that broke the SILENCE of his holding cell. He anticipated the contact, ever hoping for the day it would be someone here to RELEASE him. Armitage had said he would harness his power--SO HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE ??

There was not even a window to occupy his mind. Each passing day he felt less and less himself. He had peeled off his dirty shirt, using it as a makeshift pillow. The STENCH that surely filled his room no longer affected him. He hardly noticed it, only growing used to living in such wretched conditions. He had begun keeping track of the days, though eventually they all started to bleed together. Kylo had no concept of how much time had passed since being before his SUPREME RULER. The only hope he had to cling to was that one day, the buzzing of an approaching droid would be the footsteps of a HUMAN. A trooper. Another inmate. ANYBODY.

This is what Hux had meant when he promised Kylo would bow before him. So DESPERATE for any contact. Any NEWS. Even if he could just look at something other than the grey walls of his holding cell. He would have given anything.

THE DAY FINALLY COMES--when he can hear the faint clicking of BOOTS approaching. Kylo’s heart races, clinging to the bars that imprisoned him, hopefully to even be granted a GLANCE at the company. 

      Elijah’s gaze follows his brother’s retreating form for a moment as he exits Rousseau's; another day, another squabble between brothers. Niklaus is, as always, insufferable. Pressing his lips together for a moment, Elijah sighs through his nose and reaches for his drink to take a sip, his eyes landing on a redheaded man currently trying not to be caught staring. Arching a brow, Elijah circles around behind him, leaning against the bar to his right to catch his gaze. “Good evening. I don’t believe we’ve met, have we?”