Intro Log: May

[moustre]

Intro Log: May, Game Start

I. ARRIVAL Out of nowhere, a glint of light catches your eye; your heart thunders in your ears as your body moves on its own, your mind consumed with inspecting the source. Your reflection stares back at you, just as curious from the surface - a mirror, a pool of water, your most trusted sword, something fleeting that your mind can barely remember - then ripples at your touch. A moment later, you feel a tug, and you find yourself stumbling into a dark, musty room. Behind you, a mirror stands ornately decorated with reminders of home wrought in brass and wood: the faces of people you know, and symbols important to you; all things that send a pang through your chest with the desire to return to them. Touching the mirror's surface does nothing but leave the stain of your fingerprints. When you turn turn to survey the room, you find there are hundreds of other mirrors. None of them are as decorated as yours - they're plain and dusty, speckled with age. Then you realize a second thing: You're not alone. Distantly, the ringing bell of a clocktower can be heard. But no matter its distance, the time is clear to make out: it chimes three times, stark, resonating like a pulse of something in this mirrored hall that you and many others have found yourselves in. For those familiar with magic, they might feel the power of the witching hour upon them, though it will feel different from what they're used to - in fact, everything does. Besides the new arrivals, however, there's one more person in the building, and only one. A young teen stands; previously bored and mulish, he's now owl-eyed and slackjawed as he takes in each arrival, either from the mirrors or coming from another floor as you try to get your bearings. In his hands he's clutching a broom like a security blanket, until - "M... Miss Nessie! Miss Nessie, something's happened!" he yells, as he drops the broom and turns tail out of the building. Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is clear, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons, regardless of their waning crescent phases. Follow, or explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in? The Looking-Glass House is rather nondescript two-story cottage made of grey brick, sitting at the edge of The Coven's courtyard; stones which glow as you step on them mark the path to and from the two buildings. While fairly small and plain on the outside, the inside has been enchanted to be the size of a large library, with hundreds upon hundreds of mirrors hanging, standing, and resting inside its walls. Some are broken, some are cracked, and some seem completely uninjured - but all of them are just as plain as the cottage itself, showing age in the silver beneath their glass and in the greening of their metals... Well, all except a character's personal mirror; to characters, one mirror - the one they came through - will be decorated lavishly with metal-and-wood-wrought reminders of home, and the surface will be as clear as a brand-new mirror.

II. "MISS NESSIE" Whether you've decided to follow the hapless young man, or decided to explore the rest of the Looking-Glass House - and perhaps finding a few familiar faces among the crowd - you feel a pull towards the foyer of the first floor. It's like a firm suggestion, as if to take you by the hand and draw you to where it begins, and the source of it becomes quite apparent upon finding one's way to the front room: a tall, comfortably-dressed older woman and her even taller wolfish companion. The woman covers her mouth with a soft "Oh my!" as she surveys those who begin to crowd in, and she turns to the werewolf (?), lowering her hand once more. (The handful of others who'd come with her peer as best they can from a ways behind her with unconcealed curiosity, closer to the door out than not. The boy previously seen before he ran off can be spotted at the very back of the group.) "This is right unexpected, isn't it?" She not-quite whispers, delight and confusion in equal measure in her voice. Her companion makes a quiet noise in her throat, unscarred eye narrowed - it's hard to tell if that delight is one shared by both parties. "Well, they've always said the veil is thinner during Boaltinn... We'll have to talk to James and see if he was doing anything other than cleaning, we will, but for now, we've got a full house to attend to, don't we? Ah, if they're all Witches, that'll be something, it will!" Without wasting another beat - much to the fond irritation of her companion, certainly - the woman turns back to the newcomers of Aefenglom, clapping her hands together in glee. "Well then! I'm certain you all have many, many questions... As do we! First thing's first, though, first thing's first! I am Nerissa Bell, the Head Witch of the Coven - that's where this house is located right now, on Coven grounds - and this is my Bonded, Mhairi Ainsley. Don't worry, she's a right softie despite her looks! You can simply call me Miss Nessie - everyone does, short of those stuffy folks up in the Parliament, but, well, that's just how things are with them, I suppose." She pauses a beat, for breath, before continuing with a wave of her hand; dozens of chairs and stools, all surprisingly comfortable despite their wooden looks, are conjured in an instant, and Nessie smiles wide as she gives a small bow. "Take a seat, and let's get familiar with one another for a spell! The city'll celebrate without us one way or another, and we've already finished our business for tonight anyway. Isn't that right, Mhairi dear?" Despite the onslaught of information and excitement at three in the morning, Mhairi inclines her head slightly after a huge sigh; her voice is likely exactly as expected, low and akin to a growl. "Best to take advantage of the distraction. Let's begin, before I have to report this to Parliament." NOTE: If you wish to interact with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here. You have the option of handwaving the IC interaction to OOCly ask what questions your character might have for them, for us to summarize an answer for, or you can request an IC thread. Simply specify in your comment's subject and we'll respond accordingly.

III. THE COVEN After an hour or two of general chaos, questions that the natives attempt to help with, and injuries tended to for those who arrive in poor condition, a solution is presented. Though they certainly can't answer every question, Nerissa and Mhairi promise to help find the answers, and open the doors of the Coven to all new arrivals in the Looking-Glass House. The walk from the quaint cottage to the imposing structure ahead is lit only by magic provided by Miss Nessie and the Witches accompanying her, as well as the path of stepping stones coming aglow with each step that's taken across them. Beyond the courtyard, with its high, opalescent walls, a city can be seen. There are torches accompanying the flickering light posts outside, and the sounds of life clear even this far from the heart of Aefenglom, something that sounds like... merriment? Festivities are in full swing, even this close to dawn. The rest of the world continues on, even though you've arrived, confused and perhaps missing a few aspects of your usual persons. But while they certainly weren't expecting to spend the festival like this, the Coven has worked as quickly as it can. Their doors, decorated in cowslip flowers, are wide open - welcoming to the public, and to new arrivals as well. The Coven's main building has a surprisingly large front room, compared to its outside; the ceiling stretches ever onward, with stairs of the solidly-flush-against-the-wall variety and floating-ethereally-in-the-middle-of-things variety both. Magic and mundane intermingle as if meant to, with brooms inscribed with runes to clean making quick work of dirt and dust, shadowy figures opening and closing doors as people enter and exit, plates of snacks drifting around as if carried by invisible servers. The brooms are especially attentive to the door as new arrivals step in - they don't apologize for knocking into anyone, and really, anyone particularly scruffy will get swept at until the brooms are satisfied. None of this seems to mind the Witches coming in, with small murmurs of gratitude given to the busybody brooms instead of reprimands. Doors lead this way and that, on higher floors and on the ground floor, but runes glow by their frames in indecipherable patterns. Peculiar-looking devices - watches, the native Witches explain, compliments of Parliament - are passed around to all the new arrivals; they're given a quick rundown on their functions and bid to test them out when they can, and Nessie waits for things to calm before she steps up the floating stairs and addresses the room. "We'll see to it you all have lodgings for a bit, we will, but for now, the festival's still going on - if you couldn't tell!" She laughs a little, hands on her hips. "There's nothing we can do about things right now, so you might as well enjoy yourselves, you might. If any of you want to stay in 'til morning though, well, we can provide - just mind your manners, magic's real particular about them. At least," she winks, head tilting with the motion, "that's how I teach all my classes, it is." Those deciding to stay will be lead to doors that seem to follow no real pattern by native Witches; the rule is "two to a bed," so get cozy with the person next to you. They're the ones you'll be sleeping with tonight. The beds aren't too small - enough to accommodate at least three humans - and they're fairly comfortable too, for their old-looking age.

IV. BOALTINN For those who journey out into the city, they'll be sent off with a word of warning to keep out of trouble from Mhairi, to find everything still quite lively - and still quite unaware of what's taken place. There's very little left to the shadows, with dim light filling in the gaps between the flickering streetlamps and the extra candles and such people have put up themselves. Curiously, small bonfires seem to follow a pattern, culminating into a wide plaza in the center of the Residential District where a larger, brighter one burns, with people dancing around it, their clothing jingling softly with little bells hanging from their hems. The same is mirrored on the direct other side of the city - the only difference is in who's dancing. The Eastern Bonfire has more visibly humanoid beings enjoying themselves, while the Western Bonfire has creatures more monstrous in looks. Regardless, they all seem to be happy- And the reason is this: Boaltinn, a festival lasting the next two dusks. The nights and early mornings are filled with flickering firelight, while the morning and daytime have all but the small fires leading the way to the giant bonfires extinguished; the bonfires, however, stay lit. - and in general, it seems the city is quite happy, quite cheerful, and quite close. a. The Bonfires The main attraction of Boaltinn, as they are with any fire festival, the bonfires on each side of the city are tended to by various Monsters every hour of the day. While much of the scenes are similar - there's plenty of food to be shared, with those partaking in it cowed into sitting with someone else regardless of how familiar they might be, and children of all kinds play together and invite those sitting or watching to come too, in all manner of games, such as jacks, hopscotch, and running ribbons around the tall poles at the bonfires. But there are marked differences, too. The Eastern Bonfire primarily has humans or those that can pass as humanoid in attendance, and they're much friendlier to those who look similar to them; to those that look a little more monster-like, though, their replies are far more curt and their shoulders colder. The area around the bonfire is also littered with trinkets and baubles, all shiny and new and utterly forgotten by their playmates; the ribbon poles are similarly new, made professionally as if by commission. Characters are invited to try and jump through the bonfire's flames to burn away any poor relationship experiences, be it romantic or platonic, past or present; to aid them in this, those at the Eastern Bonfire will give those participating rune-etched accessories to protect them from the fire. Meanwhile, the Western Bonfire has primarily those who are more monstrous in looks, and they're similarly friendlier to those who resemble them, with a similar brusque and cold manner to those who look more human. The area around the bonfire is carefully kept clean, however, and the ribbon poles look handcrafted from lumber and grass, with tightly-woven knots and clumsily-made paper decorations. Those attending here are also invited to jump through the flames, but no such protection is offered; it's simply assumed that, as a Monster, you're likely much better at handling a little fire. b. A Little Entertainment It isn't only the bonfire celebrations that one can participate in, however. All throughout both the East and West Residential Districts, as well as a portion of the Shopping and Entertainment Districts, there's a number of stalls, stands, and stores available for perusal. Take a gander at the rest of the city and find something to do. Of note: Divination readings are available in various stalls, set up by Coven-official Witches as well as homegrown ones, with tarot cards that vary from pristine art pieces that one would almost hesitate to touch to the personally drawn and cut. They offer free readings, enticing all who pass by to join them at their table. Good or bad, the cards seem to bring with them lessons and words of wisdom, interpreted expertly by those handling them... or as expertly as possible; some readings seem a little unsure and muddy. Regardless of belief, those who take part in these readings will suddenly find their day going either exceptionally well or incredibly poor, depending on the overall feel of their reading. Carts and booths are available for one to partake in more food, however there's a stipulation to taking anything from these vendors: one must share this food with others, either in pairs or a group. While relations between humans and beasts seem to be a little frosty, they can be seen intermingling a tad more freely when it comes to this portion of the celebrations, sharing the treats and small meals that are being offered to everyone. The food available all seem to be those easy to hold in hand, not unlike modern-day food trucks; of note, the thin pancake wraps seem to be the most popular, with a bubbly drink similar to a milkshake filled to the brim with drinking straws for best sharing experience coming in second. Flavors are plentiful and varied, though they err closer to the fruits, vegetables, and spices side of the spectrum. Finally, the more pleasure-based businesses offer the chance to relax one's weary feet and take a chance with a little aromatherapy with their rose baths. While traditionally this had its roots in imbuing the bather with good tidings and blessings for the upcoming seasons (or so they'll say when asked), nowadays, it's simply become a luxury treatment for those needing a little TLC. The waters here do have the added bonus of making those who share them friendlier and more talkative with their partner(s) - and yes, all baths are a shared experience. Rather than being split by sex, baths are split by monster and human; co-ed bathing exists for those who don't mind mingling with the opposite species, and if really pressed, they can offer separate baths for different sexes, but their focus seems elsewhere. c. Impulsive Compulsion Throughout the whole festival, new arrivals, particularly those with magic talent gifted to them by the world, will feel like they can do anything and will push themselves to the limit. While not inherently detrimental, those who feel it will become more reckless, their inhibitions lessened and impulses heightened; trying new things is easy as pie, with any thoughts of fear left far in the back of their minds. While magic is highly discouraged on festival days, given their rest day quality, those under the spell of Boaltinn's madness will feel the temptation to try some anyway, regardless of knowing the proper way of performing it - perhaps it's about time to try out what one discovered in that strange dream... Those found doing magic will get a firm scolding, but no actual punishment; it's only looked down on, and they'll be cautioned against using too much. If any property damage occurs due to reckless magic use, however, there are fines; those without any money to their name can be recruited to pay it off by working at the buildings and stalls they may have accidentally damaged, serving people, looks, or whatever else the business might offer.

Welcome to the intro log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. The network system is free to use once characters have their watches as well; information on that can be found at the bottom of the Setting page, while any extra questions about it can be found in the FAQ index. Quests can be picked up now as well! While technically most of them won't start until after festivities, you can go ahead and put your name on some by replying to the May Quest Pickup thread on the Quest Board. Finally, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

I B

[warfares]

Don't be ridiculous.

[ mild ㅡ though it's the sort of mildness thrown over awkwardness and uncertainty, as he peers up at her from the bed. he's wound up in the covers, already. pink-skinned and still beaded with moisture from a trip to the baths. ]

There's plenty of room.

[purpose]

It's not about room.

[ She protests it before she's even fully looked at him. Despite the argument, there's something in her that wants to debate it. That pulsing desire for closeness that has not left since the hut, now that it's been acknowledged and fed by understanding and the brush of two hands.

It isn't, truly, about the available space. It's about vulnerability. It's about what she is accustomed to — hard surfaces and windy nights, the barest of comforts. Were she to take him up on the offer, she doubts she would even be able to fall asleep on a bed too soft.

But maybe it should be about room when she stops surveying the floor, dragging a pillow to it, and finally glances more fully at him. Her eyes follow the heat still clinging to his skin, the cloying moisture that must be from the baths, and then she scowls. ]

Do you ever wear clothing?

[warfares]

Yes.

[ she's bristling like a borrat, and he's reminded of the first time she'd appeared to him through the force bond: a cornered animal bearing its teeth. he should be wary.

he is wary, but it's not enough to prevent him from pushing himself up onto his elbows, watching as she settles herself on the floor. ]

They're going to think I did something to you.

[purpose]

And?

[ Genuinely, she can't see what point he's trying to make. Beyond what a child would, at least — I'm going to be in trouble if they think I've done something to you. After a moment, it only makes it that much more clear to her that he has, on some level, noticed her unease with the entire idea.

She doesn't want to discuss her own discomfort. Less so, when she can see the veins throbbing in his throat, hear the rush of blood beneath his skin. Being in close quarters with him will only worsen it. Hunger sits in her throat, teeth tingling, gums burning. Ignoring it, she leans her head back against the end of the bed, stationed strategically to supervise the door. ]

That shouldn't bother you.

[ She says, matter-of-fact, said to point out the obvious rather than to be cruel. They might have come to an understanding with one another, but he is still an anomaly, and the idea that someone might assume wrongly of his motivations toward her now ... It's strange. Comforting, but strange. ]

[warfares]

It doesn't. [ at least, not in the way she means. ]

But I'd sooner avoid them sending me away because they think I can'tㅡ [ he pauses, casting around for the word that he needs, ] behave myself.

[ it doesn't matter that they're still essentially strangers. in a strange land, surrounded by strange people, with the force just beyond reach, he will take what familiarity he can find. ]

[purpose]

You're not going to kill me.

[ Confident, she doesn't waver in that iron-clad conviction. Still clinging to the coattails of her vision, she knows he can't. Won't. But for all of the hope she holds, the faith that Ben Solo will turn the tides of war, sleeping at his side is a different sort of intimacy to knowing where his future leads. ]

I know that. So will they. [ If they're going to assume he's tried to push her out of the bed or harm her in some way, she'll set it straight. It's that simple. Decisive, she looks back over at him, and eyes the pillow next to his head before pointing in its direction. ] Give me that.

[warfares]

I could kill you. [ it's said to the tune of "i could have a second helping of dinner, but i probably won't". and, lacking the need or the inclination to carry through on the threat, it ultimately falls flat.

he drops back onto the mattress, twisting over onto his side and is about to begin the arduous process of trying to fall asleep (and ultimately failing) when she speaks, asking for the pillow. he reaches over, plucking it up and throwing it over his shoulder in roughly the direction he imagines she must be. ]

[purpose]

The only person you're trying to convince of that is yourself.

[ Anyone could kill anyone, after all. The argument is weak — but, more the point, it doesn't help his original case. If anything, she sounds disappointed in him through the firm edge of her disbelieving rebuttal, like he's failed a test in trying to flaunt that as a fact.

It isn't, as it turns out, a test. She has no designs on that. But that doesn't change the notes of disapproval, more rampant after what they've shared in that cramped hut. Ben is the one unwilling, now, to admit that something has shifted. For reasons she doesn't want to investigate, it stings as a rejection would, going silent as she snags her fingers into the pillow.

Her reflexes are too immaculate, too sharp, immediately plucking it from the air. She stares, bewildered, at her own hand for only a moment. Coincidence, she tells herself, as she settles it on the ground. There's a thump of her elbow against the wooden floor when she scoots back, spine pressed to the wall to guard herself, and curls up in on herself in search of warmth — gone quiet as she stares off in some vain attempt to rest. ]

[warfares]

[ the disappointment is nothing new — though it still sits uneasily with him as he attempts to sleep, finding the bed entirely too large and too soft.

eventually minutes — or perhaps it's hours — later, he gives up; pushing back the covers and slinging his legs over the side of the mattress and onto the floor. their rooms are nothing special, but there's a warmth to them that might be called "homey" if you were feeling especially generous.

no wonder he can't seem to settle. he's unaccustomed to this kind of comfort, is suspicious of it. he makes his way over to her, pauses and then drops into a crouch. ]

I'm glad you're here. [ earnest; he might not know what to make of this, of her, but he is glad to be facing the strangeness of this place with her rather than on his own. ]

Even if I have no idea where we are or how we came to be here.

[purpose]

[ Restlessness creeps into her.

It isn't just her own. Subconsciously, she can sense it — that feeling of dimness, of belonging to someone other than herself. Ben's, she realizes it, but knowing its source doesn't prevent it from taking hold of her just the same. Keeping her awake, so long as he tosses and turns, subtle dips of the mattress revealing how little comfort he takes from the bed.

When she nearly can't take it any longer, the squeaking of the bed and padding of feet has her cracking her eyes open before he's even crouched beside her.

She's blinking back at him the moment his eyes meet her face. Not expectant, but open, curious — an expression that melts into softness at the honesty in that confession. No one that she has known has ever been glad to have her anywhere — simply because she's never had anyone to find relief in her company. ]

I dreamt of you.

[ If she realizes any other implications in such a statement, it doesn't appear to bother her. Instead, it's blunt, innocent in how unassuming and truthful it is. But there's something more in her eyes, searching and raw, just like that hut. A sign that she is trusting him with some part of her, turning to him as she had then. ]

Before we came here. You were in a forest. Was that ... [ Her imagination? A fever dream? ] Was it real? Do you remember?

[warfares]

I remember.

[ he settles in front of her, arranging his limbs in a way that suggests he has no intention of moving any time soon. there is no need for it, not when sleep remains elusive. ]

You were leading me through the darkness. [ and perhaps there is something to be said for that, a symbolism; he doesn't press on it more than that, however, his mind elsewhere. ]

[purpose]

I did, and I will.

[ Real, then. It had been real. And she will lead him through the darkness, again and aain.

Rey can't discern if there's relief in that. In knowing she had not been alone, yes; in knowing she had not gone mad, yes. But there is no reassurance to be had in the impulses following her here, the sharpness of her vision remaining, the sound of his pulse drumming in her ears.

Her nostrils flare. Inhaling deeply, she fixates elsewhere — to his distractedness, contemplative. ]

What is it?

[warfares]

Bold of you to assume I need saving. [ amused; it doesn't surprise him, not really, the fact that she would settle on that after they'd moved past the point of snapping at each other like two akk dogs.

his focus is drawn back to her, though. which seems to be what she had wanted.

he threads his lower lip between his teeth, worrying at it a moment before adding: ] Nothing.

[purpose]

Bold of you to assume that you don't.

[ Not for the first time tonight, he is only trying to convince himself of it. The hardness in her tone, unflinching, draws attention to that fact — and the well of his deep denial, even now. But she knows better, has seen it; she trusts in what the Force has shown her, knowing its reasons for it.

His reply is as persuasive as his nothing. Which is to say it isn't persuasive at all, eyes narrowing down at the scrape of his teeth. He's thinking, she assumes, but it's only a guess. He is only ever so expressive when he's lost in contemplation. ]

If there's nothing else, why are you here?

[ Not here, but with her, settled beside her as if it were natural. It's probing, rather than accusatory or confrontational, if only because she doesn't want to lose it now that he's given it. ]

[warfares]

I'm enjoying your company. [ matter-of-fact; the amusement in his tone deepening enough that a smile plucks at the corners of his mouth. a brief twitch of a thing, gone almost as quickly as it appears. ]

And the bed is too soft. [ again, honesty; it comes easily to him now, with her. there's an ease that seems to have settled over them, much like it had in that hut. ]

[purpose]

[ She doesn't miss it. Her eyes narrow, as if wary and trying to gauge if this is a grand joke to him. More the point, it keeps her eyes train on his face. That, at least, is a distraction from how her stomach briefly clenches and twists itself into knots.

Better not to investigate what that means. Not just yet. ]

I could have told you that.

[ She sniffs, chin jutting out. It hadn't been about room, as she'd said, but unfamiliarity. ]

You can sleep there. [ Where he is now on the hard floor beside her. It's given before she can consider that it's in tight confinement, much more so than the spacious mattress. A short pause follows it. ] If you put a blanket on.

[warfares]

[ an incline of his head, conceding her point: ] I tend to learn best through experience.

[ which is really just a way to admit to being stubborn without having to use the wordㅡeven if it's also the truth. han solo's plea is a prime example of this, but they're not discussing han solo right now.

or ever.

definitely ever. ]

Do you want another blanket, Rey?

[purpose]

That's just a fancy way of saying you don't want to listen to what I tell you.

[ Leave it to Rey to blatantly call it out without hesitation or shame — a combination of poor socialization and a penchant for bluntness. She lets that linger only due to her interest in the prospect of warmth; that, in contrast, comes with a dose of tentativeness.

Want is different than need, and she has never allowed herself to want. ]

I can sleep without one.

[ It's not what he asked, but it's what she gives — that line of thinking that is adapted to thinking of necessities, of survival, rather than indulgences and luxuries. ]

[warfares]

[ a huff of something that might well be amusement. or exasperation. or possibly both. ]

But you'd rather not do without. [ an observation. she's doing her best to contain that desire, of course. perhaps uncertain of what admitting to it would mean, particularly to him.

finally, he pushes to his feet and heads back toward the bed. there are several layers of blankets, more than enough for both of them to share. he starts stripping the bed. ]

[purpose]

I'm not used to it.

[ And the unfamiliarity of it pushes her to reject the comfort of it. Not out of pride, but self-reliance, practicality; she has gone this long without softness and luxury, after all. But she doesn't move to stop him as he insists on stripping the bed, pulling fresh linens from its corners. ]

But I'd rather not freeze.

[ To her, it's frigid. Chilled. She doesn't dare ask if it's similar for him; she would rather presume than to hear, once again, she has acquired something he hasn't. Something she can't pinpoint. More than that, it's an easier way of framing it: the help could be vital for keeping up her temperature, and so she won't turn away what he's chosen to offer. ]

[warfares]

I'll not deny you the comfort. [ which sounds considerably more blasé than admitting that he would rather she not freeze, either. it's easier to think of this in wholly practical terms. ]

Particularly when there are blankets to spare. [ blankets he now peels from the bed, one after the other. he gathers them up in his arms and returns to her. ]

[purpose]

It's for survival, not for comfort.

[ But he has a point. It would be a waste to reject it, though she can't quite shake that it's a commentary on her abilities, underestimating her as in need of coddling. They're there already, all the same, and there's plenty to spare — taking them isn't inviting concern, nor does it put her in his debt.

She raises to her haunches and, without waiting for him to offer, leans forward and into his space to snag some of the blankets from him. ]

You were wrong, by the way. [ Rey says, almost idly, as she hugs one of the sheets to her. ] It wasn't hypothermia.

[warfares]

What was it, then? [ asked as she pulls several of the blankets from his grasp. a little skeptical but still interested in hearing what she has to say.

he settles down beside her; close, but not so close that he's actively encroaching in her space. her willingness to tolerate him is still new enough that he doesn't want to test its limit. not when the alternative is spending the remainder of the night staring at the ceiling from his too-soft bed. ]

[purpose]

I run cold.

[ It's too flippant for how the chill has remained with her. Not even Ahch-To had left her prone to violent shivering on its stormy, wet nights — but she doesn't want to delve further into it. The simplest justification is the easier one to accept as a truth.

Anything less would mean there's something very, terribly wrong with her that she can't pinpoint. Something that has left her sensitive to light, to sound, and prone to shaking out of her skin in search of heat.

To say nothing of the burn in her gums, worse now that he's settled closer. For a long moment, she almost looks like a wary animal poised to pounce. Her hands clench in the blankets instead, settling a layer down on the floor to guard her back against the boards there.

Unceremoniously, she flops back down. ]

Like I told you.

[ In the space between their makeshift beds, she extends her fingertips and lets them linger there against the cold floor, as if inviting him to see for himself without bringing herself to welcome it aloud. ]