walking with a friend in the dark

[warfares]

WHO:kylo ren and various.
WHERE: around new amsterdam.
WHEN: september 3 onward.
WHAT: january catch-all.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: tbd.


starters will be posted in the comments. feel free to hit me up resurrectionist

Comments

» vanessa ives

[warfares]

( continued from here. )

( the message is unexpected though not unwelcome. it has been some time since they saw each other last: a soft hand at his arm, a voice in his ear pleading that he follow.

months ago now.

he parks his bike outside the safe-house, pulling off his helmet before heading inside, searching for her. )

Ms. Ives? ( he says when he finds her, a greeting that is softly curious. she is one of the first to have disappeared, one of the longest to have been gone. he wonders what, if anything, she remembers of the time missing. )

[possidetur]

( there's a light smile at his greeting, a fondness at seeing him again. she hadn't the opportunity to get to know him well previously but there'd been a certain quiet about him that she'd appreciated, something that felt good )

Mr. Ren.

( she offers a small nod, stepping closer to him )

You made good time.

[warfares]

I try.

( and had gotten rather good at it, actually; if there was one advantage of his position at the courier service it was that it allowed him to quickly familiarize himself with the layout of the city. )

Are you ready?

( they can walk, he's decided; the festival has spread itself across the city in such a way that really it won't be long until they encounter some kind of celebration. )

[possidetur]

( she gives a single nod, following him out of the safehouse and into the streets. though their movements are now freer than what vanessa previously remembers the whole place still seems so strange )

You're more familiar with where places are, I expect.

( given the additional time he's spent here )

» rey

[warfares]

( continued from here. )

( the shrines had sprouted up overnight, or so the stories went. bright, shimmering things seeded across the city by what must have been a dozen artists working toward a common vision.

he'd found one of the smaller ones on his way to the lantern festival, tucked into a corner. a blue-eyed figure lit by an inner fire too bright to be natural. he'd lingered awhile, then: fascinated, unnerved. no stranger to the importance of symbols, of heroes, nor how quickly that need could sour.

it was only later, after seeing Dutch's network, after seeing those same shining symbols cut into the brickwork, those same fire-blue eyes, that he had considered visiting the others. had invited Rey to join him because... well, because and had been surprised when she had accepted ㅡ pleasantly so, but still surprised. )

There's supposed to be a few of the larger ones near the river, ( he tells her as he leads her out of the safe-house and toward where he'd parked his bike. )

[forcevisions]

[ Rey has a hoodie on, pale grey and shading her face, hands stuffed in the pockets as she hastens to keep step beside him. His legs are longer than hers by a kilometer, it feels like. ]

Fine by me. [ Honestly, it doesn't matter where she's going, as long as she can see them. That, and ... She points to his bike as they approach. ] This is yours?

[warfares]

( a nod.

while the bike is hardly racing ready it's sleek, elegant. more up market than you would expect of a business that routinely places its couriers in less than savoury areas. )

Goes well enough.

( said to the tune of "but it could be better". modifying company property is a tricky business, though — illegal, almost certainly — and while he has been tempted there is the matter of finding a mechanic willing to do the work. )

Hardly racing ready, though. Unfortunate. I hear there's good money in it.

[forcevisions]

It's good.

[ She can't stop herself from scoping it out before she gets on, walking around it, crouching beside the front to peer at the engine without opening up the paneling. It's not a good look, but she doesn't need a very good look to recognize the model now. She's worked on a few like this. ]

The bike. [ Not the money from racing. ] Racing's like any racing. You make good money, until your speeder blows, or you blow with it. Risky. [ She's done the math. If you want to survive, you don't go for racing. You do something reliable and quiet. ]

[warfares]

Not everyone minds risk.

( the pilot in him showing now. much as he tries to deny it, he will always be Han Solo's son. will always have that need to push himself to go harder, faster. this is the closest thing he has left to flying, after all. the closest he has to freedom. )

Do you want to try it? ( there's another helmet, his spare, resting on the seat. )

[forcevisions]

You know the way.

[ She takes up the helmet all the same, gripping it in her hands like a comfort object. She looks at the bike like she'd very much like to try it, though, and — ]

I'll try it on the ride back. [ She looks between him and the bike then. ] Will we both fit? [ He's huge. Her nose is slightly scrunched though, betraying her joke. ]

[warfares]

We'll manage.

( mouth quirking upward briefly; then he's pulling the helmet on as he continues on toward the bike.

one leg swings up and over the side as he settles into the seat, fingers wrapping around the grip. it's a heavy machine but one he's spent months familiarizing himself with it. )

Though if you absolutely can't keep your hands to yourself, I won't complain.

[forcevisions]

[ Her mouth opens to release a quiet, inarticulate and undignified sound that seems to strangle any complaint of it's not like that. But now that he's pointed it out (this is her line of thinking, ignoring that she had pointed it out with her comment about if they would fit), it occurs to her that they haven't been this close since that night on Ahch-to when — ]

Very funny.

[ She mumbles that and huffs a breath and climbs on behind him. The hum of the engine rumbles through her bones pleasantly, a feeling she has missed, and her hips and thighs press along the back of his. Though possible, she determines it's not particularly safe to keep her hands rested on the tail of the bike behind her.

So before they start moving, she leans forward and wraps her arms around his middle. His broad chest fills the circle of her arms, and recognition of it warms her cheeks. She presses her forehead to his spine. Stupid. It'd be easier if their lives were in danger. At least then she wouldn't be thinking about this. ]

Ready.

[ It sounds faintly choked. She turns her face to the side, cheek pressing to the middle of his back. ]