[ Kylo thinks about his own number. Of people he cares for- love, he thinks, is a word with very elastic edges. Most people seem to stretch it and compress it at will.
Then there is Hux, who having never been shown what love is has no understanding of it. He builds love like a man who builds a machine without comprehension of its function, following instructions written in a foreign language- and once complete stares at it, confused, somehow unable to match the shape of it to the corresponding shape of the hole he has built himself around.
He stops there, before he can think about the touch of his father's hand or his mother, on the bridge of the Raddus.
Kylo knows what love is. It is dangerous and unreliable. And sometimes, as true and as strong as it is, it isn't enough. ]
no subject
Not all people, though. Anakin, he thinks, has a very rigid concept of the word. He knows exactly what it means, what it is, what it should do- and will do almost anything to defend its borders.
He thinks of Padmé, whose love is more than a match for Anakin's in strength despite its lack of violence- fierce in its persistence and willingness to endure, its refusal to be crushed.
Then there is Hux, who having never been shown what love is has no understanding of it. He builds love like a man who builds a machine without comprehension of its function, following instructions written in a foreign language- and once complete stares at it, confused, somehow unable to match the shape of it to the corresponding shape of the hole he has built himself around.
He stops there, before he can think about the touch of his father's hand or his mother, on the bridge of the Raddus.
Kylo knows what love is.
It is dangerous and unreliable.
And sometimes, as true and as strong as it is, it isn't enough. ]
Then I'm flattered.
If surprised.