— allusions and anecdotes
PAIRING: kylo ren x reader (female)
GENRE: mild-angst-ish
WARNINGS: none
possible—yet unlikely—star wars ‘third trilogy’ spoilers
SUMMARY: part ii to the statue and the artist
Here, before you, was a statue that defied the laws of rationality.
It breathed, its shoulders rose and fell with the ceaselessness of the tide. Its—his—heart beat, you could hear its continuous thrumming by some higher power you could not fathom. And by the same inexplicable force, you knew—though you knew very little of the universe and the galaxies it held—that he was dangerous.
Pure, potent power condensed on his clothes and was entangled in every strand of dark hair that fell across his face. Every nerve that rose on your skin, every minuscule whisper in your mind urged that you must stay far away from the figure carved in the space before you. They were not the same voices that came to you when you were alone, these were much more urgent and they told you you must run.
But you both could not and would not run. Instead, you rose, crept closer in the moments that stretched into eternities. By your own command, unadulterated by the unnatural will both of you shared—and could impose—you reached him. Curiosity mingled with fascination. After all, he was the sole person you saw in tangibility in eighteen years. In 6,570 days.
Your proximity to him was so close that, if you desired to, you could study each of the pores on his face. And though he always seemed unreachable, perpetually towering over others, to you he was not so frightening. You were his equal.
Your fingers wandered before your mind could process their actions. Featherlight, they brushed the side of his face, the shallow cove where his cheekbone caved into the flesh of his cheek. They still had paint on them, the black that his hair boasted, the colour that he always wore. Neither of you seemed to notice.
He stiffened like you had shocked him. And you had, but not in the traditional sense. A current raced through both of your veins, beginning where you shared contact and it felt like your heart suddenly started. It was as though before that moment neither of you were truly alive, like in that instant you had been born.
It was a strange, yet exhilarating feeling. It was frighteningly addicting.
“Who are you?” Kylo Ren asked. His voice was free from the filtering it was usually subject to.
“I don’t know.”
He blinked. Twice. Thrice.
Who was someone, if not for the relationships they shared? And if you shared none, then were you anyone at all? To him, your personality, you in your fundamental state seemed so tremendous already.
“Who are you?” You countered.
Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. He had been involved in countless relationships. Some failed, most insignificant.
“I don’t know,” he replied. And then he tried again when your eyebrows rose. “I have tried being so much that I think I have lost myself along the way.” What implored him to speak so freely? What force allowed his soul to bare so completely before you? How was it that he knew, beyond a shred of a doubt, that Snoke was not listening to this conversation, and that he would not find evidence of it should he probe his mind?
“Well,” you breathed. “Do I have the pleasure of finding you?”
“It will be arduous. It will not be easy,” he assured.
“I have all of the time in the universe.”
He did not laugh. The sound that escaped his mouth was more like a sigh, yet inspired an easy, relaxed connotation. Nonetheless, it seemed like a tremendous weight on his chest, the shackles of the past and of the future, released for just a moment.
You smiled, slightly, quietly. Then you switched topics entirely. You attempted to hold eye contact while you spoke, but each time a quake of awkwardness overtook you and you returned your gaze to the floor. It was so peculiar and unfamiliar to converse with a voice that was associated with a face.
“Am I free?” The door to your cell was open and you were already two steps into the hall, but still, your question was hindered by caution. Quickly, you smothered the root of hope that insisted on planting itself. Why set yourself up for unnecessary disappointment?
Your statue did not answer, not immediately. Silence settled over you, but you were not impatient. It was long ago when you learned fortitude in waiting.
“There is no one on this ship that is free,” he admitted. He, too, had trouble looking you in the eye while he spoke. Perhaps it would be something you learned together. “But now you will have more freedom.”
“Follow me,” he continued without giving you the chance to reply. Though you would never know, he was also attempting to save himself from disappointment. “You will have other accommodations.” He stepped backwards and though there was more space separating you, the crackle was still there. “Please,” he added quietly.
Then, he strode away. And though his innate words were not a lie, his actions were. It was true that Snoke had commanded Kylo Ren to greet you that day, and that you were to live in quarters closer to Snoke’s knight and the training rooms; but he had told Kylo Ren only to find someone to escort you there. That someone did not have to be him.
The air swelled heavily with people's thoughts, most revolving around your statue and you yourself. It was not heads that turned to stare as you walked through the galvanised halls of the Finalizer, but minds. You set your hands over your ears as you passed a large room that held dozens of talking and eating soldiers.
“You will get used to it. And soon you will learn to command their thoughts to your whim.”
Kylo Ren’s personality had hardened since your conversation in the prison hallway, quickly becoming one with the authority his position held. With practised ease, he once again took upon the veneer he so often cloaked around him.
On your walk he had explained the basic workings of the Finalizer and the community you were now a part of. Though colder, he was still uncharacteristically patient with your lack of what was supposed to be common knowledge.
“I suppose that you will be training in the Force with me.”
“What’s the Force?” You had asked.
That surprised him more than you would ever know, but he explained the concept anyway. Although, you probably knew the Force more intimately than you had realised.
When you arrived at your new quarters, you were perplexed by the novelties it held. It was darker than the room you were used to, certainly darker than the hallway in which you stood. And it was simple, yet infinitely complex in its unfamiliarity.
What most surprised you was your own reflection. Your own, inverted twin stared back through a mirror hung on the wall. It should not have been bizarre to see that you had changed drastically from the hazy image of your ten-year-old self you remembered.
At least, for the sake of preserving your dignity, your statue did not have to explain the functions of the bathroom to you.
“What do I call you? You never told me your name,” you asked as he began to leave.
Ben Solo.
“Kylo Ren.”
The next moment he was gone.
That night, your dreams were plagued by the history of the other. Even in subconsciousness, you were learning of one another, exchanging your strengths and weaknesses in a spectral plane. It was undeniable that you shared an unlikely connection with Kylo Ren, and it was one Snoke intended to exploit.
— tags
@bensolodyad
@howlerwolfmax
@andrewisdoingbetter
— part i
— m. list
