MENTAL LINK - DAY 166;

[narcissithstic]

[By now, most aboard the station find it easy to recognize the abrasive dig of Kylo Ren's mind, even in its most innocuous state. For those that aren't, however, enjoy your daily dose of discomfort, punctuated by the vastness of the universe itself:]

(I require the assistance of someone capable of mending clothing.)

[...ok, that actually could have been way worse.]

Comments

[narcissithstic]

I will stop invading what privacy you pretend to keep.

[For the moment, at least.

Is that enough for you, Aoba? Or do you want a written contract to go along with it.]

[vocalis]

[ If that written contract extends through the rest of their separate existences as parts of a hivemind, sign him up. ]

Ugh, you're so annoying you know that?

[ Never afraid to speak his mind (literally) when it comes to calling out, however petty or catty it is. But he lets it drop, partly because he's mad about Ren being somewhat right. Also because cautious curiosity is quick to take frustration's place. ]

What exactly needs to be fixed?

[narcissithstic]

[In favor of diplomacy (ha ha) Kylo Ren opts not to pay attention to Aoba's commentary.

The pressure on his mind, however, may increase by a slight number of degrees. Barely noticeable.]

The shoulder seam has been torn from the neck down across multiple layers. I need them repaired.

[vocalis]

[ Noticeable to Aoba. He's still overly sensitive to outside forces pressing on his mind, (when his mind is so used to pressing on and hurting itself). He pushes back defensively, like taking a swat at an unwanted hand over his, but his train of thought remains focused otherwise. ]

Do you have materials? Like a needle and some thread?

[ He'd watched Granny sew holes in his favorite clothes plenty of times as a child. It couldn't be that hard. ]

[narcissithstic]

I do.

[ And yet no mention of where or how.]

You're skilled at this, correct.

[vocalis]

Alright...

[ A little weird at no mention of how he got materials, but Aoba doesn't linger on it long. Maybe he brought them back from Avera 9. ]

I wouldn't say skilled, but it's not something that's very difficult. Not sewing holes together.

[ Not difficult in his mind or memory anyway. ]

[narcissithstic]

[...

Give him a moment, Aoba, because he's currently twisting the knife against your memories to see exactly what experience you truly have before he hands over the crux of his terrifying visage.]

[vocalis]

Whoa, hey! OW!!

[ What he gets in return is a slap, not a swat on the hand again, but a proper mental slap meant to hurt back. Sharing thoughts like a phone conversation happening in the mind was invasive enough, but digging for memories he won't share willingly? Too much.

Though he doesn't get the strike in before one memory is divulged. One of a small Aoba sitting on Granny's cream colored sofa, watching as she stitched a torn knee on a pant leg back together. She scolds him, though not too harshly. He'd been pushed down, the other boys called him girl names and pulled his hair again. Watching the seams molding back together was easier than thinking about how much it hurt- ]

S҉TO҉P ̡IT҉!

[ The memory recoils back, sharp. Strange, there's the tiniest echo in his mental voice where before there was none. As a command, it's oddly compelling. But it's also fleeting - his next words are normal as ever. Strained, angered, but normal. ]

I'm just trying to help you. Why are you like this?!

[narcissithstic]

[It has been some time since anyone has thought to strike back at Ren for his demands, but given the intensity of their initial meeting, he isn't surprised to find Aoba's mind so capable. For a moment the memory is held, even as the sting abates and the echo of someone else's voice rings harshly in his ears - examined carefully.

He could give an answer with meaning attached to it, but Aoba is neither his brood, nor someone he's come to want at his side...though usefulness might change that opinion.]

Meet me in ten minutes within the nesting deck. I accept your offer.

[vocalis]

[ The sudden acceptance leaves Aoba stunned, an angered animal pushed against a wall and left without the strike it was bracing for. It's total bewilderment, but he's left with only one unvoiced question hanging between them.

Why? Why did he bother. ]

Fine.

[ Bitter, begrudging, resigned. He'd rather not help at this point, but he's too stubborn to back out. Besides, a small distraction from worrying and working on Ren, (THE BETTER REN) might help him right now. ]

[narcissithstic]

[Guess who's waiting for you exactly as promised, Aoba.

He's perched on the edge of one of the chambers, the heavy stack of damaged layers folded neatly in his lap, darkened cloth a heavy contrast to the white of his shirt and the shine of leather. Unmasked, the fine features of his face held expressionless beneath the shadow of dark curls, stare fixed and focused: he looks nothing like the monster that hounded Aoba on their first meeting, and he carries none of that seething anger within him now.

At least not for the moment.

Surprise, buddy.]