[Ren, on the other hand (in spite of his own resilience) takes to withdrawing at a slow, aching pace. Palms to the slick earth, crawling no more than a step or two off before sinking down to sit. Nausea rises in his throat, the horizon is shifting at its seams and all he manages in trying to stop the rush of blood is to smear a mess of silt across his own mouth.
This is not what he wanted.
So far from the newly comforting reassurance of either Cathaway or the Nest itself, rejected and despised rather than embraced for the power he wields, forced to pick over scrap like a scavenger-- he feels...spent. Diminished. Too little to do with his own physical pain and too much to do with the fear perpetually coiled around his shoulders, holding out for a single moment of buckling weakness.
He says nothing. Waits for his vision to clear and his breathing to fall in line.]
no subject
This is not what he wanted.
So far from the newly comforting reassurance of either Cathaway or the Nest itself, rejected and despised rather than embraced for the power he wields, forced to pick over scrap like a scavenger-- he feels...spent. Diminished. Too little to do with his own physical pain and too much to do with the fear perpetually coiled around his shoulders, holding out for a single moment of buckling weakness.
He says nothing. Waits for his vision to clear and his breathing to fall in line.]