How did expectations get so high?

[narcissithstic]

CHARACTERS: Kylo Ren and Cathaway
WHERE: the Station
WHEN: immediately after their return from the mission
SUMMARY: Ren is thirsty
WARNINGS: N/A

[Barred from her side for so long, Ren does not reach for Cathaway with his mind once their return to the station has been effectively managed: his steps are heavy, strides swift across long corridors as his dirtied boots leave a trail of grit streaked over pristine white - until at last he reaches the Nesting Chamber where they'd met before his departure. Hope does not promise her presence, he is certain he will find her, and it is that same certainty that proves true.

Breathless, he inclines his head in a show of respect, waiting at the entrance for her to accept his presence.]

Cathaway.

Comments

[polyphonos]

If you like.

[That much is said flippantly, gently, though for a moment there is no sensation of withdrawl beyond the motion of her hand and the angle of her wrist. She is attentive to this place, the many lines of her focus direction briefly here. She looks at him, frank and square, and makes no secret of her study.]

[narcissithstic]

[He does not.

Because the moment he leaves her side the noise of a thousand other fledgling hosts will find him rather than the drawn focus maintained when he meets her stare. A cohesion that can't be matched by another living soul aboard the station, a yearning for the ocean of understanding lurking patiently behind her eyes. He is a sea in a storm— but for all her strength, she is constant. Even.

Most importantly, she is without pain.

Visibly he measures his options: whether she means to provide him the opportunity to stay as a test or if she genuinely does not mind the idea of an asset at rest. Given the calm of her hand resting across his ankle when they'd last met, eventually he decides it's the latter, rather than the former.]

I don't.

[polyphonos]

[Her attention doesn't waver. The link between them is drawn thin, but not distant - instead it's been sharpened like a precision tool, a needle poised to prick. She doesn't blink, doesn't bat an eyelash. She is the illusion of easy lines, of gentleness, but there is a prickling sensation in the air and under the skin. Her expression is very still, very quiet.]

What would you rather do?

[narcissithstic]

[There's too much freedom in the question itself: his eyes snap up after a beat, clearly thrown by the expectation of making a decision for the both of them. For ten years his time was his own, or at the mercy of Snoke - nothing else. Companionship was a liability, a weakness to be kept at odds, and he spent little time with Phasma or Hux to ensure there was no compromise. That he would not lose the fear and respect he'd worked so hard to claim.

Were she anyone else, he'd dismiss the question entirely or demand they hone their own skills.

For her, he can do neither.

It takes too long for Ren to speak, and when he finally does, his voice is small. Fragile.]

I don't know.

[polyphonos]

[She regards him - an isolated spark in a field of darkness - and then sighs. It's an uninspiring answer, but she will do what she can with it.]

In that case, indulge us. [Cathaway brings her knees around and makes a motion with the line of her chin that is deceptively human - a gesture for him to get out of her way so she might leave the nesting chamber she's currently trapped in by the shape of him there.] We have work to do in the hangar and you may help us with it.

[There. Give the boy something to do that doesn't weigh so heavily on the parts of him laced with stress fractures.]