mental link, v important questions;

[narcissithstic]

(Tell me, have any of you spoken to Cathaway within the last two months.)

[The newer Hosts are the most likely suspects, but perhaps through the link—

Perhaps he feels nothing not because of distance, but because she's chosen to keep him locked out. The possibility is a nagging itch at the base of his skull; he'd rather know for certain.]

Comments

[headinjuries]

[ He remembers when it happened. It hurt, more than he thought anything should be able to hurt. But that had passed, and there was a point where he was pretty sure whatever of it lingered was just echoes from the people who really had been closer to Anakin. It wasn't his brood.

And most of the others in the nest are better than Sam at not projecting their feelings like they're yelling all the time, he realizes. ]

( It still hurts. ) [ He's not talking about himself, but it's not a question. ] ( What it felt like for the rest of us, when it happened - is that what it's like for your brood, all the time? )

[ Time is supposed to help. Adding distance between yourself and whatever happened. He knows that well enough; he'll never forget the Watcher's death, but it doesn't feel as sharp as it used to. It's not casting a shadow over every moment.

But things are different here. ]

[narcissithstic]

[Somewhere else, he regrets adhering them both to this topic. Knits his fingers together and bears down with his thumbs against the span of opposite palms, a pressure Sam might feel, if he's careful enough to attune himself to it.]

( Yes. )

[Made worse by their shared bond through the Force, an abscess he can always sense in quieter moments, when the straining chatter of the Nest fades and he's left alone with his thoughts.]

[headinjuries]

[ Maybe he shouldn't have asked. There's not really anything good to say to that - at least, nothing that doesn't sound trite and inadequate, and Sam hates trite and inadequate enough himself that he's not about to do it to anyone else. ]

[narcissithstic]

[He's forgotten what the original path had been; he doesn't care to ask, or to consider it.

Instead something's drawn out across the line, like an exhaled breath— like letting go— and for a little while it hardly feels like Ren's steadfast, cruel heart across the line.]

( You've done well in your training.

Perhaps with your growth we'll lose less to our enemies in the future. )

[headinjuries]

[ That catches him off-guard. That's...not what he's used to seeing. Not what he expects to hear, either, really.

Ren's just...Ren. Kind of a dickhead, no manners, leaves his dirty dishes in the kitchen and doesn't care about collateral damage on people who aren't theirs (maybe sometimes on people who are?). Has some good points about the training stuff, sometimes, but rides Sam hard about it and usually seems to consider "too much, time to take a break" in terms of "my shoes are in direct danger of being puked on if this goes any longer."

But that was a compliment, and the feeling across the link is...not so much "dickhead" and a lot more "human."

He's not quite sure how to take that. ]

( Thanks. )

[narcissithstic]

[This time, it's Ren that says nothing - thinks less. For a moment he's there, a reassuring pressure at Sam's shoulder through both the Force and their symbiotic bond, and then he's gone. Retreated back into his own space and whatever misery (and self-righteousness) it houses.

That's enough holding figurative hands for today. Tomorrow. Possibly even the next month.

Or ten.]