ᴋʏʟᴏ ʀᴇɴ (
warfares) wrote in
meadowlarklogs2019-01-16 07:46 pm
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Entry tags:
walking with a friend in the dark
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
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
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
( 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. )
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
( 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.
no subject
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. ]