KYLO REN (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
photophobic) wrote2018-12-01 05:26 pm
photophobic) wrote2018-12-01 05:26 pm
emo demon nightmare boys
What was that.
He'd been too distracted by pain to feel it at first, and by the time his wounds had been healed the sensation had become something like his constant awareness of the Supremacy's engines humming, fading into the background out of necessity. But it was there, if he focused, if he listened– forcing himself past his instinct. Like concentrating on the way his clothing felt against his skin and realising it was always, always touching him, or hearing the thud of his own pulse in his ears. He could feel it, now.
It wasn't quite misery, or fear, or hatred, though perhaps it was? The more he looked for it, the more the tangle of his own emotions clouded and obscured. But it was... tired. Exhausted. Which wasn't uncommon: Snoke's capital ship had extensive facilities for the detention and interrogation of prisoners. But none of them could get under Kylo's skin like this. None of them hummed in the back of his mind like they belonged there somehow.
Kylo lay on his bunk, unable to extract himself from the feeling now that he'd stirred it up– until finally, irritably, he stood, slammed the wall panel to open the door and stalked out. The Supremacy was obscenely oversized and he recognised distantly that he had virtually no chance of tracking down the source simply by giving himself over to this strange, wakeful sleepwalking– but he began his search anyway, hurling his mind through the miles and miles of corridors.
I hear you, he hissed. Show me. Show me what you are.
He'd been too distracted by pain to feel it at first, and by the time his wounds had been healed the sensation had become something like his constant awareness of the Supremacy's engines humming, fading into the background out of necessity. But it was there, if he focused, if he listened– forcing himself past his instinct. Like concentrating on the way his clothing felt against his skin and realising it was always, always touching him, or hearing the thud of his own pulse in his ears. He could feel it, now.
It wasn't quite misery, or fear, or hatred, though perhaps it was? The more he looked for it, the more the tangle of his own emotions clouded and obscured. But it was... tired. Exhausted. Which wasn't uncommon: Snoke's capital ship had extensive facilities for the detention and interrogation of prisoners. But none of them could get under Kylo's skin like this. None of them hummed in the back of his mind like they belonged there somehow.
Kylo lay on his bunk, unable to extract himself from the feeling now that he'd stirred it up– until finally, irritably, he stood, slammed the wall panel to open the door and stalked out. The Supremacy was obscenely oversized and he recognised distantly that he had virtually no chance of tracking down the source simply by giving himself over to this strange, wakeful sleepwalking– but he began his search anyway, hurling his mind through the miles and miles of corridors.
I hear you, he hissed. Show me. Show me what you are.