@reliquariism || adiri & kylo
Her breath was a misting fog as she stepped into the abandoned temple.
I’m sorry, Mother.
She should have been better, been smarter. It was idiotic to let her mother live a normal life after Ben--Kylo--killed the Padawan children. Hope had become a ghost that night; anyone who thought differently was an idiot.
Except her mother and her indistinguishable hope--I’ve lived a long life, Adiri. I’m happy here. If someone finds out my real name, let them know the whole of my life. Protect yourself.
And maybe, at least, Adiri had succeeded in that--protecting herself, thinking for herself. She was always so much better at that than Lyra Efil, the war medic, Lyra Efil, the selfless rebel who protected her patients and her child with her life. Lyra who carried a blaster not because she was a soldier, but to be willing to fight where others would be unable to. For walking away from a war when she was young, but still staying long enough to help those in need.
Chyla Richi and Lyra Efil; both women were greater than her. Adiri had failed them both when she let Kylo Ren capture them.
The metal of her saber was cold strapped to her thigh, even through the leather pants she wore for warmth. Kylo had chosen this temple for a reason, for mockery, for a show and flourish of hatred. She’d always coached to embrace one’s hurt, one’s pain, one’s anguish--to wear it like a shield so no one could disarm you with it. Now, she feels very weak.
At least her mother was alive; at least there was a chance she could get out of this. It was all Adiri could hold close.
“Kylo!” Adiri called, looking through the darkness of the ruins for his scarlet saber and the reflection of it in his dark eyes. He was here. He was close. She could kill him.
