i guess my wings have flown too close to your sun. ( CLOSED )

[purpose]

Who: rey (purpose) & kylo ren (warfares)
When: during lunasa.
Where: the city.
What: bond forging.
Warnings: none currently, will update if needed.

[ The festivities endure into the night. A fortunate turn of events when sunlight has weakened her, kept her home and restless in the cottage they share — and unable to defeat that feeling of missing the pieces of herself that have been snatched away.

There is something to be said of their splendor of the celebrations as darkness falls, at the very least. A magical quality that is only amplified by her first step outside since dawn began to color the sky, fireworks bursting and shattering across the sky in ways that only serve to remind her why she's here at all.

Ben.

She moves through the crowd to find him not once, but twice — intercepted on both attempts and made to bear witness to the weddings and shared vows of strangers. It's beautiful, she thinks, in spite of that — heartfelt and true, a happiness that plucks at her until she's aching with wistful envy.

Eventually, she manages to wriggle away from one enthusiastic brother of the bride, flushed from the exertion of dancing. Flowers skew through her hair like she's run through a forest and snagged herself on bramble, rather than any deliberate placement; a finger brushes across the petals, as if checking to see if they remain, when she finally pushes — with no lack of scornful looks at her lack of manners — through the crowd to snare his elbow, impatient. ]

I tried to find you. They kept dragging me away.

[ Contrary to that announcement, she glows from the joy of it. Content, distracted from the changes that have been forced upon her, though she sobers just slightly as she moves to untangle the ribbons tied within her hair. A selection she had made on her own for their ceremony, advised on what she hoped their bond would represent. Blue to embody patience, sincerity. Pink, for its unity and the importance of truth. White and its emphasis on peace. Each bun at the back of her head unravels with it, falling loose around her shoulders.

Lifting her hands, she presents the ribbons to him. Bearing witness to the intimate moments exchanged between strangers has brought to her attention how on view they'll be, uncertain how she feels that their own might be intruded upon, but there's a greater concern pressing at the front of her mind. ]

Do you still want to do this?

[ Now that he knows the worst of her thirst. It probes him, seeking out any regrets or hesitation. ]

Comments

[warfares]

You chose well. ( he means the ribbons, of course, but it could just as easily be in reference to her decision to choose him.

the colors are wound together in a soft braid that pulses with its own heartbeat. eventually, the circle they are standing in begins to dim and then fade entirely, a signal of the ceremony's conclusion. )

How long are we meant to — ( he lifts their bound hands, a question posed to the officiant since neither of them are knowledgeable enough to answer it themselves. the coven really should look into putting out a pamphlet, or something. ) I'd like to take my partner dancing.

[purpose]

Not forever.

[ Rey interjects with no shortage of amusement. It's a good question, regardless; these traditions are too unfamiliar to her to feel confident in slipping free within seconds, even if the compulsion is there, unable to care enough about custom to abide by it and its inefficiency. Binding them spiritually is fine; restraining her hands and forcing them to include the other in every second of their day would just be trouble.

The officiant shoots her wry look, and proceeds to shake his head. 'It's symbolic,' he says. 'You have the choice to free yourselves, but the ribbons should remain unbroken.' Easy enough for Rey; wriggling free in tight spaces had been a distinct part of her routine on Jakku. Smaller than his, her wrists slip free with only some effort, leaving it in-tact. ]

We should keep it. As a reminder, or a token. [ She urges, looking down at the ribbons as she goes to work them off his hands. ] Don't break it.

[warfares]

Why not both?

( the ribbons are wound carefully around his fingers and then tucked away into one of the pockets of his new robes. he'll have to look into something better, more secure, at a later date, but that should suffice for now.

the sense of completeness left in the wake of the ceremony settles. it's not the same bond they had known, perhaps, but that had been a bond that had occurred inexplicably while this had been one they had chosen for themselves. with intent. that made it just as precious and valuable. )

And I won't.

[purpose]

[ We, she'd said. Her eyes follow the movement to his pockets, tempted to pluck it out from its depths. Nothing she has owned has carried such a sentiment or been so worthy of being treasured. Restraint wins out, in ehe end, but the scavenger in her can't help but to remind him: ]

Don't try to steal it. It belongs to both of us.

[ If it's a token purely for himself he wants, he'll have to ask for it — though Rey's lizard brain insists he'll have one by the end of the night. Less tangible, but just as significant for the parts of herself it makes vulnerable.

Free to tangle between his own, her fingers return to his hand. ]

I'll let you steal a dance.

[warfares]

Just for now.

( he ducks his head, sheepish. truthfully, he hadn't even considered how it might have seemed to her — that she would think he was trying to keep it from her. but she's right, of course. the braid belongs to them both. )

Once we return to the cottage, we can find somewhere safe to store it.

( rey laces their fingers together, palms pressing together, and he allows himself a smile. )

At least one.

( though he intends for it to be more. it's not every day one binds themselves to another on the metaphysical plane. at least one dance was only to be expected. )

[purpose]

[ The absence of any argument suggests she accepts the explanation without complaint, so long as he continues to remember it isn't his alone. More aptly, that what they share now is not solely his to honor, his to take, his to dictate — dominating and demanding, like his presence in her head once was.

Like his physical presence has been, seeming to conquer the space he occupies. Rey won't let him similarly consume her by surrendering too much ground. ]

We didn't get the chance to practice much during lessons. There was one night where they wanted us to invite partners to prove what we'd learned, but you were ... — we were busy.

[ Finding ways to keep her alive and nourished. Rey doesn't say it, but it fills the empty space. So does the implication that she's felt like a burden, to some degree, to have struggled with surviving on her own. She should be able to do that without him, but it had taken his insistence — and his help — to wrangle a live source to feed from.

At the very least, she hasn't slaughtered any of the livestock they've been practicing with. It's a start in learning to become more comfortable with, and in exploring her capabilities. But she slips from those thoughts a moment later, leading him toward the square. She doesn't quite reach the center of it, maintaining her distance from the lively, swaying bodies. A little corner of the street that Rey has carved out for them.

With her hand tucked inside of his own, she uses the other to guide his hand to her waistline. A furrow occurs between her brow, concentrating. ]

[warfares]

You're a quick study.

( though this is really more of a general observation than a comment on her dancing skills. she'd picked up things quickly enough on starkiller — even if desperation and necessity had lent her aid.

she'd lead him a merry chase, regardless.

his hand settles at her waist, and his gaze lifts to catch the furrow of her brow. )

What is it?

[purpose]

I'm trying to remember the steps.

[ The tone she takes with him, not quite biting or dismissive enough to fully become a scolding, suggests he's interrupted that process. More than that, he's large — broad enough that she has to wonder if they can even make a dance work.

Still, she sweeps aside the uncertainty before it can latch on — or before Ben can latch onto it and question her further. Her hand finds his shoulder not long after, surprised to find that it settles there without strain. She does, however, have to angle her head back in order to properly meet his eye in their current proximity and position. ]

You're supposed to lead.

[ According to what the women had said of men, at any rate. It doesn't feel like it should matter, to Rey, who leads. As soon as she's said it, she's already pulling on his hand and stepping back to lead him in a waltz, deliberately choosing the simplest of the dances she'd learned. ]

[warfares]

I do know that much.

( the movements are stilted at first, uncertain, but grow in confidence as they move across the dancefloor.

the other couples give them a wide enough berth once it becomes clear that at least one of them is inexperienced ㅡ though he does catch a few amused looks being thrown their way.

he huffs, head shaking, banishing any lingering thoughts that aren't of her or of maintaining the careful rhythm. )

It's like a training exercise. Each step leads into the next and then the next.

[purpose]

[ The gawking stares are, at best, discomforting. Rey's eyes track his to the other partnered dancers, mouth drawing into a thin, disenchanted line. Even amidst a welcoming festival, they've found ways to ensure she's reminded that she doesn't quite fit.

Rather than let it spur her into pulling away, she finds his gaze again and tightens her jaw, a determined set that matches the surety of her next step back — and then to the left, taking him with her and narrowly avoiding colliding with a pair across from them. ]

I don't think training exercises are meant to be fun. [ She says, flat but wry. It swiftly gives way to the concerned, curious wrinkle of her eyebrow. ] Haven't you ever learned anything just because you wanted to? For fun?

[warfares]

It depends on the teacher.

( though she can be forgiven for thinking otherwise. from what he’d gathered, luke hadn’t gone out of his way to inspire much confidence, much less endear himself.

some things never truly changed.

still, her question is enough to give him pause. head canting slightly as he reflects on his limited recollection of recreation time. )

I flew.

( perhaps this didn't count either, however, but he'd learned to fly as much for his own sake as for his father. what had begun as a way to maintain at least one connection with the man had blossomed into something else, something more. )

[purpose]

Me too. [ No, that isn't right. In her quickness to connect to him on that level, she's missed a quantifying detail. After a short pause, she corrects, ] In flight simulators.

[ She hadn't had the same access to a ship. Envy pings through her at the image presented to her by an overactive imagination: a smaller version of the man across from her, saddled in the cockpit of the Falcon, bright-eyed and clinging to his father.

Her smile wilts just slightly. ]

It's more like flying, I think. [ That's the similarity she draws, at least. Training carries different connotations, makes it sound limited to passive education rather than the desire for it. The passion of it, the rush of excitement that pounds in her when she spins into him. ] There's no right way to do it. You just follow where your instincts lead you.

[warfares]

You have skill.

( a rare compliment. one not given lightly. he's tempted to expound, to make mention of his father's ship — hunk of junk that it is — but refrains. she loves that ship like she loves his father, with an enduring ferocity that promises an argument if he so much as thinks of taking the conversation that direction.

so he doesn't.

instead, they manage to pull off a fairly decent twirl. rey's skirts flying just slightly as she turns. )

And more than a little passion. I envy you that.

[purpose]

You have passion when you're not holding yourself back. I've seen the way you fight.

[ Exertion renders her breathless when she returns to him, bumping solidly into his chest. The closeness of it makes it impossible to even want to right herself — and so she doesn't, relishing the thudding drum of his heartbeat against her sternum.

More the point, she has felt the yearning of his mouth, tasted the adrenaline in his veins. Ben hasn't given himself due credit — or perhaps he prefers the impression that he is coldly reserved and detached, rather than prone to pouring his intensity into every avenue.

A man so intense cannot be anything but passionate, Rey reasons. All the more reason to anticipate what's to come. ]

Or are you telling me you're not feeling passionate about dancing?

[ They can change that. Rey forms her own rules, doesn't adhere to tradition; breaking from the steps, she settles a hand at the nape of his neck, urging him to bend so she might press her forehead to his. ]

[warfares]

No. ( — not that he's going to complain about the shift in tone, dipping low until their foreheads are touching. the more they touch the more he wants to, craves that connection like a parched man craves water. would devour it eagerly given the chance and still need more. )

Just that it's different.

( or perhaps it's really not that different from dancing in the ways that count. instinct is key as much as footwork. so where rey leads, he follows, and they're close. close enough that they're practically sharing each other's breath.

probably far too close for this kind of public venue, bond or no bond, but it's a different sort of thrilling all the same. adrenaline buzzing through his veins. drunk on his feelings and on her. )

[purpose]

What's so different about it?

[ Her probing is deliberate, a means of coaxing out what he isn't telling her. His meanings have often been too layered in meaning for her to do the guesswork alone, but the desire stems from more than just needling until she gets to the truth. It's a deep-seated need to share in honesty, in the vulnerability he has goaded from her.

The tip of her nose brushes his, purposeful in how close she gets, before she pulls back to spin. It's half-hearted at best, reluctant to escape the warmth radiating from him, but that hardly deters her from the teasing nature of it. That's the intention, they had said, of these dances — another symbolic meaning of courtship, representing the chase and catch. ]

[warfares]

The lack of intent to do harm, for one. ( as sobering of a thought as that might be. he's a weapon; it seems difficult to imagine that he can be anything but that. a tool. something to be wielded against an enemy or an obstacle. like this, however, it's tempting to forget that he has only really known a life of violence. that it's difficult to imagine that there could be anything else.

that he might want that.

except.

except that he does.

so when rey spins herself out, he's there to reel her back in, holding her close as the final strains of the dance concludes. some of the couples depart the dance floor, seeking out family and friends — or perhaps other, more private pleasures — while others remain. )

Another?

[purpose]

Passion doesn't always lead to destruction.

[ He has missed the point, she thinks, if he assumes she is speaking of his combat prowess and not the intensity with which he commits himself. More than that, it's a lesson she should mind herself; each slip of her restraint here feels like an ominous warning of control over her bloodlust.

Even now, the wild thud of his heartbeat causes her to salivate. Feeding recently hasn't erased the intoxicating nature of his scent, his taste. Rey presses impossibly closer, ignoring the chiming warning at the back of her skull, and tries valiantly not to inhale too deeply to keep some semblance of sanity. ]

I promised you one dance. [ She reminds him, playful rather than exasperated. She tilts her head into his chest to watch as others disperse, giggling and mirthful. It's tempting to follow suit, even as she sways in time with the soft notes. ] Do you really want another?

[warfares]

Maybe.

( it's tempting, so very tempting, to stretch out this moment as long as circumstances will allow. rey, soft and warm in his arms, smelling of wildflowers. the music drifting on the air.

it's something almost too perfect to be real. )

I confess I've never been one for parties. ( shocking, no doubt. he might be the son of a princess but has never possessed what one might consider courtly wiles. too much his father's son, even in this. )

[purpose]

I wouldn't have guessed.

[ The sarcastic bite — more of a nip, truly — prevents her from considering his time in the First Order. There is no allotted time for parties, after all, when they're too occupied with oppressing the galaxy. When Snoke has demanded the entirety of his life, his time, his energy — until he has devoted his very essence to him.

But no longer. He'll be returning with her once they've been pulled back into their own galaxy, free from the shackles of that overbearing darkness. Still, the thought pulls at the corners of Rey's mouth, chasing away the brightness of her amusement. She buries the sight in his chest, listening to his lungs inflate and release with every rhythmic breath. ]

There's still more that I promised to teach you.

[ And she is impatient in that regard, anxiously buzzing with energy. Distracting her with dancing when he is this warm and solid and close had been a fool's errand. ]

[warfares]

I haven't forgotten.

( eventually, they come to a stop. the arm banding her waist drops but the one holding her hand remains. he squeezes her fingers, an unspoken reminder that they were in this together now, whatever that entailed. )

Let's head back to the cottage.