darthtryhard:
Ben raised his arms, sending several of the rolly polly little bird creatures tumbling. After a moment of effort, he lay them down again. “So be it. This is where I die.”
‘This is where you-’ Rey scoffed, shaking her head and gently righting one of the tumbled Porgs. ‘Well, that’d be a sad end to a storied life, hm? Whatever befell Ben Solo, they’ll ask. That powerful Force user who clawed himself back from the abyss and showed us all that hope lives in the galaxy - even for those who feel hopeless? I heard, they’ll say, that he breathed his last under a Porg’s bum.’ She looked up and down Ben’s prone figure.
‘I’ll sit one of these little creatures right on your face if you don’t move. I need you to know that.’
After some effort, he finally managed to sit up, wobbling slightly as the little creatures came tumbling down. In the weeks since her last visit, it seemed he had certainly spiraled... somewhere. No where good, by the look of his haggard appearance, severe stench and desperate need for a shave. Blearily, he looked down to the bottle still gripped in his hand, “Why am I surprised that my Uncle had his own small distillery? I found it, by the way. They couldn’t keep me out.”
The alcoholic stash he had discovered had helped pass the time, but hadn’t helped much else. Staring down at the mostly empty bottle that had drawn another porg’s attention, something seemed to crack on his scarred face, doubling down in a sudden, strangled, pained noise.
He drew in a sharp breath, trying to gather himself together. “I don’t see why you feel it necessary to visit. I’m not going anywhere.”
