[This time the impact rattles him, catches the reopened span at his side and leaves him reeling in his own skin-- the edges of the room slide, unanchored, at the corner of his vision. When he breathes again, sharp and hot through grit teeth, it's tinged red with the promise of his own exhaustion; newfound ability too taxing, too new for him to manage without slipping. Easy to realize, then, that he's at a disadvantage. That Prince would no doubt brush him away in an instant like this.
And beyond that, he feels it. The electric thrum of Cathaway's stare, watching, waiting--
With effort, he fights himself to straighten the line of his own posture. Stands tall, pinning the torn fabric at his shoulder with the splayed fingers of his left hand - attempting to mask where Rey's strike had fallen only days prior. Swallows the taste of metal on his tongue, right hand held outward as he calls his own saber to his side, clipping it to his belt as casually as a child picking up its own toy.
And then he crosses the room, avoiding any direct aggression as he passes Prince's shoulder, aiming for the door. Angles a bitter stare at Ahsoka, punctuated by one last dig spat out across the edges of his own teeth:] This isn't finished.
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And beyond that, he feels it. The electric thrum of Cathaway's stare, watching, waiting--
With effort, he fights himself to straighten the line of his own posture. Stands tall, pinning the torn fabric at his shoulder with the splayed fingers of his left hand - attempting to mask where Rey's strike had fallen only days prior. Swallows the taste of metal on his tongue, right hand held outward as he calls his own saber to his side, clipping it to his belt as casually as a child picking up its own toy.
And then he crosses the room, avoiding any direct aggression as he passes Prince's shoulder, aiming for the door. Angles a bitter stare at Ahsoka, punctuated by one last dig spat out across the edges of his own teeth:] This isn't finished.