[She breathes. Their minds are one, but their one is guarded -- not out of fear, but of preparedness. A mind that doesn't trust itself. The bird that perches in the mouth of the beast does not fear its jaws, and stubbornly stretches its wings as it finds a place to nest.
The memories of a child discovering their power makes her smile. A life she still remembers vividly, a life she has seen unfold hundreds of times before -- not only herself, but all younglings collectively. Proud parents, the arms of the people, she expects the Jedi to come any moment.
Her connection flickers with some confusion when her mother turns away, and ceases her constant presence. She is confused, she is hurt, but she thinks she understands. Duty before self, she would have made the same decision. Its a rationalization she can easily make as an adult, but their mind reminds her that she is not an adult, not even close. As a child longing for the comfort of family, of the people she was so bonded to even in distance, her distress (and Ren's) overrides reason. Calm comes from the touch of her father, and the engines of the Falcon run so vividly in Ren's memory that Ahsoka's grown kinship with starships finds easy comfort in their hissing. For a few easy moments, she can relax again. Her father's hands are strong, and his voice is like a lullaby among the stars.
But the hissing of the engines turns sinister when her father turns his back, it gains a voice, and it pings a once untouchable memory deep within Ahsoka's subconscious. She is not untouched by the Dark as she might believe. The whispering haunts, it slithers in like a bad dream, and it brushes against the back of her neck so simply that she very nearly recoils from Ren entirely.
(The bird's feathers ruffle uncomfortably. It flutters to a new perch, chirps soundlessly. Somewhere more physical, her grip on his hand tightens too powerfully for someone of her size.)
The Son raises his bat-like wings from her own shadow, his glowing yellow eyes pierce through her, and she turns wildly to confront him only to find there is nothing but the engines. A warning is whispered from her own voice, wise beyond many years, but it doesn't stay long enough to give sense to what she is seeing. There is silken laughter of amusement for her attempts to understand, and the sound turns to sludge, their blood runs cold with shared fear. Their heart pounds faster, she can feel their skin losing color from the stress of memories warring with one another.
There are other images the Son (No, not the Son, someone else) shows her, people he whispers about. Their lineage, presecendce for power and respect. A blood-born legacy, rage unmatched, the sound of a vacuum sealed respirator inhaling, and exhaling. A sleek black dome helmet that mirrors a reflection she doesn't recognize back at her. The helmet melts before her in a pit of fire, tied to memories she doesn't understand. Memories of an Empire, of a legion of white armor, and all of it crumbling downward at the feet of a man she doesn't quite recognize. In spite of that, she can feel anger well up within her.
Her father doesn't listen to her at first when she tries to ask about the visions -- Darth Vader is the name she gives him. Her frustration grows, the voice gets louder, she becomes more volatile. Slowly, her father begins to understand, and responds with disappointment and anger in return. But her anger is stronger than his, her sense of abandonment outweighs any attempts to control her with his guilt. When he fails, his anger becomes concern, and she feel a sense of righteousness flood through them. His concern comes too late, but the concern is there, and the righteousness bleeds back to fear.
(She wants it to go away. She wants their help that they won't give her. Its their fault that she's like this.)
Instinctively, she lashes out against it -- against her parents, against the hissing in the engines, and somewhere deep in her blood she is still the predator she was born to be. They fear her, and she understands that now -- remembers what Angel had said about collars and about the sirens, and the oppression they faced. Being given to the Jedi now feels wrong, feels as if she's being sent away because they want her to control the hissing she can't see. She is older now, but the pettiness is still there. She goes to spite them (because they don't give her any other option, any other choice). The hissing may frighten her, but it is her job to overcome it -- she expects other Padawans to struggle as she does.
But they do not. The Son's face shifts to something more twisted, his voice turns deep and booming, and it continuously moves like sand through sieve. The Son laughs loudly in her head, taunts her with the idea of a future she cannot change and cannot see, until she can't take it anymore, and when her eyes open they are yellow, she sees her own reflection and the vibrant orange color of her skin gone murky, her montrals so worn thin that they show the spidery blue veins that run across them and across her face. The blanket of security that Ren associates with the voice only lasts for a moment, for there is no peace to be found when Ahsoka turns to the face of the Dark Side, when she hears the decadence of the Son's doctrine. The predator in her blood bares its sharp teeth, the bird turns to a vicious batlike creature that screams and claws outwardly at the eyes of black beast it had been perching on.
And she lets go of Ren, recoils from him wildly and takes three long steps away. The nighttime air chills her sweat-soaked skin, and her pupils have nearly taken over curious bright blue eyes.
The dark. The bat. The Son. The hiss that was not the Son, the name is on her tongue despite not being given to her -- Snoke. Kylo Ren and his family. They all make her lungs burn, and she is forced to steady herself by gripping the wall of the shelter.]
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The memories of a child discovering their power makes her smile. A life she still remembers vividly, a life she has seen unfold hundreds of times before -- not only herself, but all younglings collectively. Proud parents, the arms of the people, she expects the Jedi to come any moment.
Her connection flickers with some confusion when her mother turns away, and ceases her constant presence. She is confused, she is hurt, but she thinks she understands. Duty before self, she would have made the same decision. Its a rationalization she can easily make as an adult, but their mind reminds her that she is not an adult, not even close. As a child longing for the comfort of family, of the people she was so bonded to even in distance, her distress (and Ren's) overrides reason. Calm comes from the touch of her father, and the engines of the Falcon run so vividly in Ren's memory that Ahsoka's grown kinship with starships finds easy comfort in their hissing. For a few easy moments, she can relax again. Her father's hands are strong, and his voice is like a lullaby among the stars.
But the hissing of the engines turns sinister when her father turns his back, it gains a voice, and it pings a once untouchable memory deep within Ahsoka's subconscious. She is not untouched by the Dark as she might believe. The whispering haunts, it slithers in like a bad dream, and it brushes against the back of her neck so simply that she very nearly recoils from Ren entirely.
(The bird's feathers ruffle uncomfortably. It flutters to a new perch, chirps soundlessly. Somewhere more physical, her grip on his hand tightens too powerfully for someone of her size.)
The Son raises his bat-like wings from her own shadow, his glowing yellow eyes pierce through her, and she turns wildly to confront him only to find there is nothing but the engines. A warning is whispered from her own voice, wise beyond many years, but it doesn't stay long enough to give sense to what she is seeing. There is silken laughter of amusement for her attempts to understand, and the sound turns to sludge, their blood runs cold with shared fear. Their heart pounds faster, she can feel their skin losing color from the stress of memories warring with one another.
There are other images the Son (No, not the Son, someone else) shows her, people he whispers about. Their lineage, presecendce for power and respect. A blood-born legacy, rage unmatched, the sound of a vacuum sealed respirator inhaling, and exhaling. A sleek black dome helmet that mirrors a reflection she doesn't recognize back at her. The helmet melts before her in a pit of fire, tied to memories she doesn't understand. Memories of an Empire, of a legion of white armor, and all of it crumbling downward at the feet of a man she doesn't quite recognize. In spite of that, she can feel anger well up within her.
Her father doesn't listen to her at first when she tries to ask about the visions -- Darth Vader is the name she gives him. Her frustration grows, the voice gets louder, she becomes more volatile. Slowly, her father begins to understand, and responds with disappointment and anger in return. But her anger is stronger than his, her sense of abandonment outweighs any attempts to control her with his guilt. When he fails, his anger becomes concern, and she feel a sense of righteousness flood through them. His concern comes too late, but the concern is there, and the righteousness bleeds back to fear.
(She wants it to go away. She wants their help that they won't give her. Its their fault that she's like this.)
Instinctively, she lashes out against it -- against her parents, against the hissing in the engines, and somewhere deep in her blood she is still the predator she was born to be. They fear her, and she understands that now -- remembers what Angel had said about collars and about the sirens, and the oppression they faced. Being given to the Jedi now feels wrong, feels as if she's being sent away because they want her to control the hissing she can't see. She is older now, but the pettiness is still there. She goes to spite them (because they don't give her any other option, any other choice). The hissing may frighten her, but it is her job to overcome it -- she expects other Padawans to struggle as she does.
But they do not. The Son's face shifts to something more twisted, his voice turns deep and booming, and it continuously moves like sand through sieve. The Son laughs loudly in her head, taunts her with the idea of a future she cannot change and cannot see, until she can't take it anymore, and when her eyes open they are yellow, she sees her own reflection and the vibrant orange color of her skin gone murky, her montrals so worn thin that they show the spidery blue veins that run across them and across her face. The blanket of security that Ren associates with the voice only lasts for a moment, for there is no peace to be found when Ahsoka turns to the face of the Dark Side, when she hears the decadence of the Son's doctrine. The predator in her blood bares its sharp teeth, the bird turns to a vicious batlike creature that screams and claws outwardly at the eyes of black beast it had been perching on.
And she lets go of Ren, recoils from him wildly and takes three long steps away. The nighttime air chills her sweat-soaked skin, and her pupils have nearly taken over curious bright blue eyes.
The dark. The bat. The Son. The hiss that was not the Son, the name is on her tongue despite not being given to her -- Snoke. Kylo Ren and his family. They all make her lungs burn, and she is forced to steady herself by gripping the wall of the shelter.]