violence sits beneath the flesh like another layer of meat, and seeps redder than blood when cut. at night, he is ravenous and his dreams have grown teeth, the hungry maw of something that calls and wails and beckons him to chase it across the cosmos. in the wake of that, he had found it increasingly difficult to remain focused within meetings this week, this month, this year. it does not go unnoticed, he is certain of that but unwilling to address it. kartiza had asked, and when he had snapped in response, she had begrudgingly let it be. that had been three days ago, and he had not spoken to any of his knights since then, and if he spent one more in this palace, with the ghosts in his chambers, he would surely spiral into hysteria.
the opportunity to leave had not arisen in its own right; more so, he had carved it out for himself. there had been reports of unrest on a distant planet, and a government unwilling to meet first order demands; some discussions had been held as to procedure, but ren had not been present for those. his own methods were not unlike negotiation talks, he would argue upon inquiry. the opposition is dead, you're right, no argument.
rownei ren said, you do have a way of finding trouble.
rownei's voice over the commotion of the hanger bay is like an anchor. he is, at first, uncertain as to whether the statement from @renkniighted is praise or reprimand but chooses to believe the former, and nonetheless finds himself in an uncharacteristically humourous mood — perhaps due to the camaraderie rooted between them, or the possibility of being off-planet, ❝ you've been spending too much time blabbering with the chancellor. ❞ the supreme leader had stationed himself by his tie silencer, which he insisted on tending to himself, and the engineering staff was sent away at the behest of a swift command, without much debacle. gloved hands were busied recalibrating some minor aspects of the vessel, and ren only spared a moment to glance at his knight, a bemused scoff slipping from his throat, ❝ trouble is subjective, rownei. i like to imagine this as an alternative solution. ❞
he does not grin, but offers something akin to it, a cant of his head, resisting the urge to clasp row on the back and drag him with, ❝ i'm sure i'll be missed dearly... why don't you accompany me? ❞