faderift | OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

OPEN ↠ HEART LIKE ICE

WHO: New Rifters & Inquisition Members
WHAT: A journey south to make new friends and kick some ass
WHEN: Drakonis 15-25
WHERE: Sunless Lands
NOTES: Violence and language assumed. Warn for anyting else. OOC post.

The Sunless Lands are not, in fact, sunless. This time of year there can be as many as eight hours of daylight, some of it blinding where it reflects off of snow and ice that stretches from the southern edge of the Kocari Wilds as far as anyone can see, broken only occasionally by rocky masses of land jutting out of the snow cover or barren tundra peeking out in patches where constant, unforgiving wind has pushed it aside. You'll be traversing this span primarily on foot—there are sleighs, too, pulled by hardy dogs, but they're carrying essential supplies rather than spare people. The only way to get a ride is to successfully feign passing out.

Beyond the dogs, the area isn't devoid of native wildlife: white fennecs hunt rodents underground, and a herd of excessively fluffy wild druffalo is seeking out whatever vegetation it can find. But hunting down a meal or two early and preserving rations for further south would not be a bad idea, because the further south the team travels, the more inhospitable the terrain grows, and the less life can be seen. And sometimes not much of anything can be seen, when clouds roll by and burst with snow thick enough to halt progress entirely for hours.

The nights are cloudy as often as clear, but when they are clear the sky is split by green and purple ribbons of light.

I. THE RESCUE

Two days' journey south, the monotonously icy horizon is broken by something new: smoke rising in interrupted puffs, an intentional signal. Someone is out there. Chances are, it's the rifters, with or without their first group of intended rescuers. But there's no way to be sure. And approaching with caution is wise either way. Rifters have strange powers (and strange personalities), and they've been out here for days now, dealing with demons and Maker knows what else on their own. For all anyone knows, they could be the reason for the rescue team's disappearance. Orders are to approach carefully.

Then, once contact has been made and initial concerns have been allayed, make sure those poor people have something to eat, and try to figure out where their original rescuers disappeared to.

II. THE STORM

After the rifters are recovered, there's still the matter of the red lyrium mine to address. Another two days' journey south will put the group within good range of the mine: not so close as to be seen, but close enough to be able to get there in a couple of hours as needed.

Halfway there, however, in the middle of the day, progress comes to an abrupt half when the darkest clouds yet gather suddenly on the horizon and barrel down on the group, bringing with them a glut of snow that reduces visibility to only a few feet and wind that roars so loudly you have to shout to be heard. Magic can help some with heat, but the storm shows little sign of quickly abating and with hours of deadly cold conditions to deal with, digging in and getting cozy for a few hours might be the most feasible solution for everyone.

III. THE VILLAGE

Shortly before the point everyone is aiming for—one marked by an enormous stone carving of an owl, several times taller than a man, that's inexplicably been left by the ancients in the center of the tundra—something else appears not far to the west. On closer inspection, it turns out to be a circle of low-sitting animal-skin tents pressed down into the snow to protect them from wind, rocky fire pits, and abandoned sleighs. Overall, it's a cross between camp and village indicative of a nomadic group that's staying a while but not forever.

It's empty now, with a coating of snow on most of the structures that indicates it's been at least a few days since anyone was here. Closer inspection reveals personal belongings inside the tents, including toys and clothing belonging to children—and, in many tents, chunks of red lyrium in the center or beneath the skins that form the beds, each piece emanating heat. They probably thought it was safer than fire.

Wherever they went, they don't come back while the Inquisition is there. But the activity does get noticed. A few hours after arrival, enormous white bears apparently moving in a pack come within a hundred yards of the camp and pace at a distance, watching the interlopers with wary interest. Some of them are wearing collars or harnesses decorated in the same style as the tents. For enough food, they may come closer, and they'll turn out to be abnormally tame.

IV. THE BATTLE

The red lyrium mine that Corypheus' followers built when their operations were crippled in Emprise du Lion is nestled in an icy canyon, with massive scaffolding built up the sides of the cliff and too many cages to count, though few of them hold living prisoners anymore. It's a massive operation, but one that's been crippled by its distance from civilization. It's sparsely guarded compared to its size, and other than the cliffs, it has minimal natural protection. The enemy has magic-silencing Templars, enormous behemoths, and a chained white-furred giant, but they are clearly not prepared to be attacked.

Ahead of the onslaught, traps are set and any surviving prisoners are evacuated under cover of darkness. Everyone else sent to fight either creeps down shortly before dawn, rappelling quietly to avoid notice in the dark, or waits at the top for the first surprise strike to provide enough distraction for them to descend more openly. If anyone has been particularly nice to the bears (see above) then it is entirely possible they'll allow themselves to be ridden into battle.

Once their presence is known, their orders are pretty simple. Destroy it all. Leave no one behind and nothing worth returning for.

Fire is a good strategy. Red lyrium doesn't do well in heat.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It strikes Rey as odd that that's almost exactly what she wants to hear, but it just doesn't sound right coming from him. Because she knows better now than to hope that he's realized that the path he's walking is the wrong one. More that he's hoping she's decided to join him in the dark.

"You're not my enemy," she echoes, and that she does mean. There are snags and snares there, but if he were her enemy, someone she truly felt would be better off dead, she would have been able to kill him on the Supremacy. Her gaze stays ahead of her, not drifting towards him, because it's easier to talk when she isn't looking at him.

"We may never see our galaxy again. But the Force still exists, here."

Carefully, he adjusts the blanket around the both of them. It was something to do with his hands. He was trying to ignore the tightness in his chest at her response. He could practically feel how hopeless they sounded. It felt like bile in his mouth.

"For all the good feeling the Force does us." He was bitter at being stuck here. The Force gave them no solution to their current problems and he had no access to any of his resources from home. The hardest blow was not even being able to use his lightsaber. He debated sharing this bit of information with her but wondered if he could even trust her not to take advantage of it. He could still put up a damned good fight without his weapon, though.

"So this... Inquisition. They're accommodating, I take it? You have different gear." Save for the goggles and boots, which he recognized.

"I couldn't feel it, for a little while. Believe me, feeling it here is much better than being without." Even with her new memories, the knowledge of never feeling more alone than when she'd realized that she had no family, through that she'd still had the Force. Without it she had felt so entirely empty. She shudders a little, her arms wrapping around herself, her gloved fingers bumping against his on her arm.

His question draws her away from the memory and she nods her head, smiling a little, though he can't see it.

"They are. They could have executed those of us who fell from the rifts, but instead they've taken us in, tried to help us find a place here. They expect us to pull our weight of course, coming on missions like this, closing the rifts, helping out wherever we might be useful. But they pay us, too." Real money, even. For the first time in her life, Rey has real actual money to her name.

"I can't imagine. I've never gone without feeling the Force." He wonders just how terrifying that would feel. He had always felt it. His mother had tried nurturing that side of him because she shared it too. When it had evolved into random outbursts and broken objects she had become scared for him. He knows now that she had still loved him despite that fear, that his father still loved him.

"It's what I was expecting, honestly." The kindness - new clothes that he kept in his pack, warm food that he had gulped down before they moved out and subsequently got separated - had not been what he expected.

"What would you even do with money?" There was a tone of amusement at the question, recalling from memories he had sifted through her little trinkets in her AT-AT makeshift home. If it were him, he'd want books, maybe a new calligraphy set. He had no idea whether his ideas would even align with whatever people had here for him to even think about buying.

Rey's brow furrows at his question and she glances over at him. Is he amused with her? That's not something she's entirely used to, coming from him.

"Lots of things. The kitchen staff does their best, but sometimes going outside of the Gallows for something to eat is nice. You need money for that. I've also been working on projects, and I need money for parts when I can't scrap other things or make them myself. There's also clothes, some of these I bought myself." Rey tugs on the sleeve of her jacket, her fingers bumping his again.

Almost as if he remembers he's touching her, he withdraws his hand from her arm. He brings his arm back from around her, tucking it at his side to match the other. It was awkward with the two of them jammed close together and her animal laying on their legs. Its fur was warm, though. The blanket around them was warm.

"So you make things." He's not surprised. They had that in common, actually. They both liked tinkering with things. He had only seen glimpses of her interests in her mind and had quickly discarded them when he'd been trying to get information about Luke at the time. Everything else about her had been irrelevant.

"You serve these people willingly." Not unlike his mother's Resistance. She had picked a cause and stuck with it because they were taking care of her in turn. It was gullible, he thought. They could discard her at any moment or decide she was too dangerous. He had his doubts they wouldn't decide such things about the both of them eventually.

Even so, he feels as if he's catchign up on the year she had spent here in a way. She was offering up information and he made observations or asked questions in response. It was nice to just have someone to talk to who he could somewhat stand talking to. He couldn't say that completely about the group he had been with.

She decides to not examine that she feels a little disappointed when he withdraws his arm, adjusting instead so her back is resting a little more comfortably against the wall of the cave. Comfort is a little relative, and after a moment she shifts around, reaching for her bag and pawing around in it, looking for anything that she can use as a little more padding.

"I work with them," she replies to his observation, a little tersely. She doesn't like that phrasing, serve. She isn't a servant, or a slave. Not anymore. "They're doing more for this world than a lot of others, trying to stop the creature that caused the rifts to start opening in the first place."

She comes up with another woolen blanket that she'd tucked in her bag in case the ones that were packed on the sleds for everyone weren't enough. She works on unfolding it under the bear fur, before turning towards Kylo.

"Lean forward. I'm going to put this blanket behind us and then pull it over our heads. We'll be enclosed and stop losing so much heat."

"Not even a 'please'?" he quips, leaning forward anyway. brings his hands beneath his legs, wrapping his body closer to himself while she adjusts their new blanket layer.

"How long do storms like this last? I have some rations in my own bag... some things we picked up from the rift too." He had tucked the fish in with his normal rations from home that somehow had come over with him. Neither amounted to much food for two people.

He didn't mind Rey eating more than him. He imagines her starving for so long on Jakku and instinctively he wants to give her whatever he has. She certainly seemed less skinny than she had been, between her journey from Jakku up to now.

Rey just rolls her eyes in response to his quip, working to smooth the blanket behind him and tuck it in around them both, before pulling it over their heads. Once they're enveloped in the darkness she feels a little bit calmer, finally tugging the scarf down from her face. If they had anything to build a fire with she'd have done that too, but unfortunately this cave was clearly man-made, likely used as a quick shelter rather than somewhere for a long stay.

"I'm not really sure. A few hours to a few days. I have food in my bag, too. We should be okay." She of course traveled with food, even when they had people carrying things to feed the bulk of the Inquisition with. She's not the kind of person to forget to pack extra rations, not after she grew up hungry. One of the reasons she's no longer as thin as she once was is thanks in large part to the regular meals and sometimes extra portions on the side from the Inquisition kitchen staff. Several of them were quite fond of her, because she always seemed so grateful for what they did, even if it was nothing more than potatoes and whatever meat was cheapest that day.

Kylo lets out a shaky breath, running his gloved hands together quickly to generate heat. The cover from the cold was helpful. Count on Rey to be resourceful in a pinch after years scavenging the deserts of Jakku.

"Maybe we won't need it. We'll get out of here before it comes to that." Despite the darkness enveloping them in their blanket coverings, Kylo can still somewhat see the shape of her beside him. He could picture her in his mind with her scarf drawn down around her neck from her face, her small form curled away from the cold.

"Come here. I won't... do anything. It's just better if we're close." Cautiously, he maneuvers his arm around her again, hesitating until she gave permission. In the dark it was harder to see but he was careful to search out her shoulder on the opposite side from him. The longer they shared warmth the easier it would be when they were found. He didn't know what he was doing, only that he wanted to keep the both of them as warm as possible.

Rey's brow wrinkles as she tries to parse out what exactly he means by that, before she shakes her head a little, shifting herself so she's closer to him.

"I'm not worried you're going to do anything," she replies, a little obstinately, even if she really doesn't know what he means. She wouldn't have allowed him close enough to share warmth in the first place if she were truly afraid he was a danger to her. She settles somewhat uneasily against him, resting her hands on Padawan's neck before turning her left hand over, considering for a moment before she pulls off her glove, exposing her palm and the glowing green shard embedded in it. The light is enough to see by, even if it bathes them in an ethereal greenish color.

"No? I don't think I've earned the right to hear you say that." His voice comes out quiet, rough with some emotion he kept back as far as possible. Emotions that held sentiment were weakness. Caring what she thought of him was a weakness. Why he cares, when he knows that her letting him live was her own shortcoming, he can't explain properly. He knows, deep down, that his rejecting her request to save the fleet had been a betrayal in her eyes.

He cared so little for the Resistance and their cause, having long ago lost his mother to it. He didn't care if those people lived or died, even as he was relieved that his mother could find it in her to still want him for a son. His mother's continued faith continued to perplex him. He wanted to believe that that was why Rey let him live, that she still had that faith too. Yet, he found himself unable to understand their reasons.

He watches Rey take her glove off, showing the green glow of the shard within her palm. He takes his own glove off, the shard glowing in his own hand. The two lit up their enclosed space enough that he could see Rey and Padawan better, though the light left a sick feeling in his stomach. He'd felt that way when he fell from the sky, the glow burning from behind his eyelids. It reminded him of Luke's lightsaber, he realized. He had no reason to fear it anymore and yet he still recalled the tension that built up inside him, exploding outwards within the Force as he preyed for it to save him.

"Do you get used to them after a while?" He still felt it like a splinter, an anomaly embedded into his skin.

So close even through the walls she's built up between them she can feel the ghost of his emotions. Or maybe she's letting the wall crumble, she doesn't know.

"If you killed me right now, you'd lose out on the heat I'm generating, and you'd die. Plus, Padawan would rip your throat out, so you'd die faster." Rey points out, pragmatically. That isn't why she'd said what she had, but it's a fairly good point, and one she clings to, rather than the more nebulous answer that she doesn't entirely think they're capable of hurting each other. Physically, at least.

She's careful to keep her bare hand clear of his when he takes his glove off, though her eyes are drawn to it as she examines his shard. They each look a little different, strange jagged shapes of raw magic, or whatever they are.

"Sort of. I don't notice it most of the time, but I feel like it hurts more after I've used it to close a rift. That could just be my imagination." She's more aware of it when she's actively using it, so thus the pain is magnified.

He can feel it too, something stirring from behind the walls she was keeping up. He hadn't tried pushing his luck with their connection, but just the hint of something was enough of a comfort to him.

"Fair enough. I was speaking on my past deeds more than the present." He had no intention of trying to kill her today, or at all in the near future unless she gave him cause to. He still isn't sure where that leaves them, but she hasn't tried to kill him either so it's a start.

"And these tie us to the rifts that brought us here. Are we supposed to just continue closing them for the Inquisition?" What good would that do them? It was a potentially dangerous power, possibly lethal if it caused them pain. He wants to reach out and touch hers, curiosity drawing his gaze to its shimmer and glow. He stops himself from doing so only because he wonders if that might tear down the walls Rey was keeping up around him. Still, the pull is there as it had ever been. He was drawn to her, that much would always be true.

Rey doesn't meet his eyes when he mentions his past deeds. There's a lot there, and it's honestly still things she's sorting through. It would have been easier, a week ago, she'd just hate him for killing Han.

"We're the only two people from our universe here, maybe we don't need to weigh past deeds right now," she doesn't know if she means that. She is still upset with him, when she thinks about the Supremacy and everything that happened her stomach knots. But she's willing to try, maybe.

His question pulls her attention away and she looks down at her own shard, closing her hand briefly before opening it again.

"The rifts are slowly tearing this world apart. I don't know what would happen if the Veil were to be completely torn asunder, but considering our universe is connected to theirs by it, and it's pulling us here? I can't imagine it would be a good outcome." Dozens of realities crashing together, maybe.

That surprises him. He half expected to still be called a monster after he'd let her down so spectacularly. On one hand her willingness to put things aside feels foolish to him, but on the other he doesn't care. They needed each other right now. He wasn't sure how to articulate that so he shelves it for now, choosing to keep talking about the rifts instead.

"It could ripple outwards to the others." He confirms what she's saying, feeling a sense of dread come with it. If their world was gone he would have nothing. He might want to burn it all to ashes and rebuild but it certainly wouldn't happen this way.

Their shared warmth and the exhaustion of the last several days was actually catching up to him a bit and he has to blink back a moment of sudden exhaustion. There was no way he was falling asleep next to her. She had spared his life once, he didn't trust even her to not be tempted. She might not be Hux but she was still someone he couldn't relax his guard around.

"I guess it couldn't be all bad. Food, clothes, money... you've made a life here." He wasn't sure how likely that was for him, but if it meant survival he would try. They could find a way to removed the shards with the Inquisition's help, even if he didn't trust them.

Rey isn't an expert on the rifts, and only recently had taken more of an interest in trying to help figure it out. Still, she's had her theories and concerns from the beginning, the same as many others. It's a hard thing to think about, that she may never see the Falcon again, may never again feel that gentle lurch in her stomach as a ship enters hyperspace... but it would be worse if all of that was gone.

Shifting her legs a little she presses slightly closer to Kylo, as much because her legs are falling asleep underneath Padawan and she needs to move them, as she's seeking his heat. She smiles a little at his observation of the life she's made, nodding her head.

"I've tried. I did it on Jakku, and this is better. People don't hold out one hand while hiding a knife in the other. At least most people don't." There were still those types here, but there were those types everywhere. Nowhere in the multiverse is safe from people who would use kindness for their own gain.

"I'm sure it depends on the person. Not everyone is always so pure of intention." In his experiences at least. He'd spent the better part of the last few years rising up in the ranks among those who would sooner see him dead. He knew not everyone could be completely without motive or fault.

Unconsciously his pulse picks up just a bit when she moves closer to him. It was one thing if he was forcing someone to be physically close. He dictated the rules. She was making her own now and it left him slightly nervous. He knew she was doing it just to keep warm but he couldn't help how he felt. No one in their right mind ever touched him willingly, until Rey had extended her hand to him.

His hand settles for her wrist, his gloved fingers curling around it and his thumb resting at her pulse. He wouldn't do something so dreadfully sentimental as put his fingers between hers but this was his way of reminding her of that first touch. He might not be who she thought but he still felt drawn into her orbit.

"You should rest. We can take turns keeping an eye out for the storm to clear, or someone finding us." It was logical, though he was probably more exhausted than she was. Still, he stubbornly refused to close his eyes in her presence.

She tenses as his hand rests on her wrist, though likely not for the reason he'd expect. Her mind goes back to that night that is still so vivid in her mind, a night she's thought about almost every night since waking up with the memory of it. Everything had seemed so clear then, that Ben was the one person who could understand her. It's impossibly muddled now, and she doesn't know what to do in this situation, so she freezes up. The only thing betraying her is her heart, thundering in her chest, quickening her pulse. She's thankful for his gloves, if he weren't wearing them all her thoughts would be laid bare before him.

His telling her to rest is met with resistance, like so many things between him and her. She glances over at him, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip.

"I'm not tired," she says, even though the warming air between them makes the idea of sleep tempting.

Edited 2018-03-23 21:51 (UTC)

"Then what? Do we just sit here and wait?" In complete silence. He was fine with it, but the tension rolling off the both of them made it obvious they both had things on their minds. Whomever chose to speak about it first was up in the air. He wanted to know what was going through her head. Having been shut out by her was making it hard to do just that. He felt as if she owed him that much after he'd saved her life from Snoke's torture. It had cost him enough just doing that in itself, but it had created a unique opportunity for him to be free of his own torment.

"Fine." His lip spress together, frustration keeping his silence ice cold. If this was how she wanted it to be, far be it for him to stop her.

"Resting wouldn't change that," she replies a little shortly, pulling her hand away from his. She's uncomfortable with what seems like an oddly intimate gesture when he's being vaguely hostile towards her. Her head turns away from his from a moment, but there's really not much for her to look at, the side of a blanket. This was easier when they were separated by an entire galaxy.

"Did you come through the rift with your lightsaber?" She knows what she wants to discuss, but somehow she just can't get the right words out. Instead she asks him about his weapon, curious if he's armed. She turns her head back towards him, but doesn't look directly at him, watching him instead out of the corner of her eye.

He lets her pull her hand away, tucking his against his side when she does. For him, it feels as if they go two steps forward and three back. He knows there's no point in justifying himself. Instead he stays silent for a long moment, trying to just focus on the heavy warmth of their blankets. When he finally answers, it's not without him pullling his weapon from his belt to rest in his lap.

"I did. Why?" Does she know that it's broken? He hasn't thought to ask her if any of her weapons were broken but there had been no time to ask before they got here. They had been avoiding one another.

She looks down at the weapon in his lap, her eyes then lifting to his face again. It's still hard for her to wrap her mind around the fact that he's here, this is Thedas, and they're both trapped together. It's a lot of new information being dumped on her all at once, and as a result, she is probably being more hostile than he deserves. Not that he doesn't deserve any hostility, but maybe a little less.

"I'm guessing it doesn't work?" She'd be surprised if it did, both hers and Obi-Wan's had been nonfunctional after passing through the rifts, but his is heavily modified. Maybe something on his is different from theirs and he is more dangerous than he would be if it were non-operational.

He glances towards her, indecision stopping him from answering her immediately. He knows that admitting his weak point would be opening himself up to her exposing it, as anyone with half a brain might do. On the other hand, he didn't lie to Rey. Lies didn't exactly endear a person to your cause and he wasn't in the habit of lying to her. He had yet to do so thus far and had no intention of starting.

"It didn't when I first got here. I haven't had a chance to check it over." Telling the truth, while also instilling the fact that all he'd need was time to get it working again. In the few days he's been here he's had no tools to work on fixing his weapon but that could change when they get to wherever it is this party had intended to take their new comrades.

Rey nods her head, a little surprised that he's being truthful with her. Granted, he has no real reason to lie, other than the fact that he had offered her an impossible choice and she'd fled, and is now blocking their connection as best as she can.

Okay so he's got plenty of reason to lie, and yet he doesn't. Her eyes drift down to his weapon again, and her fingers twitch, wanting to take it and open it up, help him find what's broken and set it right. But she knows he's dangerous with it, and she just doesn't know how he's going to behave in this world. So far he seemed much the same as he'd been in their own world. Conflicted, light and dark raging inside him.

"You'll be able to fix it. I fixed mine." She hesitates, before reaching to unhook her lightsaber, formerly Luke Skywalker's, from her belt, holding it in her lap. Obi-Wan's stays where it is, for now. She doesn't need to let him know she has two, at least not right this second.

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