Kylo Ren | Star Wars Universe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letoldthingsdie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2018-04-20 05:10 pm
letoldthingsdie) wrote in faderift2018-04-20 05:10 pm
Entry tags:
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WHO: Kylo Ren and YOU
WHAT: Day to day life; includes some training in the gallows, exploring Kirkwall and such
WHEN: Throughout the remainder of April/Cloudreach 9:44
WHERE: Gallows, Kirkwall, etc
NOTES: Nothing of note but I'll update if that changes
WHAT: Day to day life; includes some training in the gallows, exploring Kirkwall and such
WHEN: Throughout the remainder of April/Cloudreach 9:44
WHERE: Gallows, Kirkwall, etc
NOTES: Nothing of note but I'll update if that changes
Gallows
With his lightsaber in hand, Kylo can be found training rigorously in various forms. He's careful to practice at a distance from anyone else, should they get too close. Starting his training, feet planted firmly and hand holding his weapon out as if to point it at an unseen target, he swings and swirls the lightsaber in his hands in fluid motions. Each time he avoids hitting the dummy directly, occasionally stopping his blade on either side of the target. The last thing he wanted to do every time he trained was to break a training dummy.
He focuses on more than just his blade work, however, practicing his breathing, the bend of his knees as he strikes, and keeping his body a firm immovable object against his opponent. Eventually he takes a break, brushing his messy shock of black hair from his eyes and shrugging his shoulders, the glowing red light withdrawn into the hilt once more.
During his point of resting, he stretches his arms, reaching down to his toes or crossing them one over the other to loosen each muscle. The rigors of training gave him something to channel his energy into, finding focus in his thoughts through the effort he expends with his blade.
Kirkwall
Having washed the sweat and grime from training away, Kylo can be found exploring the markets and other points of interest within Kirkwall. Lowtown was bustling with life as he browsed the Market District, winding streets drawing his attention now and again as he went from shop to shop. It was far from home, but it was starting to feel as such once the routine had set in.
Stopping at a food stall, Kylo turns over a piece of fruit with a careful gaze as he examines it for any flaws. Eventually he would make his way towards the the next shop, stopping to see the wares that Lowtown had to offer.
Wildcard
[ooc: Just hit me up on my journal or pm me at
no subject
He didn't doubt his own abilities, of course. Obi-wan was right in that regard. He was confident, but not confident enough to think he could take on a Master and win. His "victory" over Luke had been an empty one.
"Good." About Rey and that this didn't come from a place of pity. He hated the idea that he was some pitiful creature who needed someone to help him or, Force forbid, save him.
"I am confident. I may not be a Master but I'm not some padawan either." Or so he likes to believe. He wasn't so confident he could beat Obi-wan, after their first scuffle. He had Iorveth's thoughts about it in the back of his head, too. He telegraphed his movements too much. It was how Luke was able to dodge him so easily and distract him. He telegraphed his emotions too.
"Show me, if you like." He crosses his arms waiting, curious if Obi-wan is even still willing to take the chance on him. He wasn't exactly humble about his skill.
no subject
"Very well. Would you prefer to counter on your own?" He gestured towards the stagnant target dummies that were all Thedas had to offer. Truly, it was the little things that he missed most, the convenience of holograms and screens, and the little droids so disposable that you could afford to destroy them merely for target practice, even in the lean economies of places like Tatooine, and Jakku, "Or would you prefer merely to observe?"
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"I haven't sparred much since I've been here. Rey was away when I fixed my lightsaber. If you'd be willing?" She would have been easy to practice with. She knew his moves and he had known hers, until she'd trained with Obi-Wan of course. Now he's curious if the Master Jedi had taught her this style as well.
He holds his lightsaber out from his side, poised to ignite it should Obi-Wan be interested. He might not be planning to kill him but he certainly wouldn't hold himself back either.
no subject
He hasn't used his weapon, not once since... but then, that was not this blade. This was from before. Obi-Wan reverses his grip in a sweeping hum, regards Kylo Ren with a deep calm, and spreads his free hand in clear invitation.
"By your leave."
no subject
He ignites his blade, the crackle and sizzle immediate as he rotates it in his hand in a lazy circle. He watched like a predator, his lips parting in a smile he rarely ever showed even to Rey. It was more menacing than free, his thrill for battle warming his veins. He points his blade to Obi-Wan before drawing it back again and moving in to aim his first blow.
Iorveth would probably call him foolish for this, for trying to challenge the Master again when he had not changed nor formulated a plan. Yet he liked these sorts of things better when there was no choreographed plot with which to drive his blade home. He didn't want to know the odds of whether he would win this. He wanted to taste the thrill in his bones.
no subject
He dodged past the curve of the blade, leaping over its arc and whirling with the movement, lightsaber describing a graceful halo above Kylo's head. But it wasn't enough; he kept moving, moving always, round and round, circling around in close-quarters to avoid the inevitable back-hand stroke. Obi-Wan ducked again, anticipating the next strike, then shifted positions and blocked blindly, trusting the Force to read Kylo's intentions correctly for him.
The fourth blow smashed into Obi-Wan's blade with all of the boy's weight behind it, and for just a moment, Obi-Wan stood under it, felt the heft, and grimaced. Ah. That could be a problem, someday.
And then he angled his blade and let Kylo's force go to the side, let it slide off away, and whirled again, force-assisted motion to allow for a speed and angle that his body's strength couldn't have given him on its own. The reverse-grip whirled, a false turn, and stopped-- with his blade humming inches from Kylo's face, held from behind his head, arm extended past his ear, straight at the elbow.
"This was Master Yoda's favored form," He says, calm despite his labored breathing. It was hard work, "It's particularly useful against individuals, for its speed and unpredictability."
He stepped back, and back once more, careful, cautious. Obi-Wan's blade hummed as he reversed the grip again, and nodded.
"Again."
no subject
He'd been so sure that he could keep it up, keep attacking and never stopping, but Obi-Wan slipped beneath his guard again and for a moment he was struck, the blade so close Obi-wan could have sliced a new scar across his face if he wanted to. He was breathless already and to his surprise, Obi-wan's own breathing was labored.
"Impressive." He was impressed in that moment, but then Obi-wan had beaten him once before. He couldn't deny he was impressed by the fact that he was showing his true skill with a blade, versus the use of the Force. Even so, there was no denying he was strong in that too.
Kylo takes a breath, his chest heaving in and out as he righted himself again, feet planted firm and blade circling again as he moved inward to renew the barrage. He watched and waited for where to turn his turbulent swings and body. When he was ready the circular swing he brings over his head rains down, a strike towards Obi-wan's blade in an attempt to drive it to the ground.
no subject
Aggression. That was what categorized that fight, as well as the Ataru forms he'd favored then, to honor his master. Qui-gon had been the one to teach it to him, and the one who knew it better; it wasn't given to defense. Obi-Wan shifted his feet and went on the offense instead.
Round the blade came in a feint at Kylo's back, then back again from the other side, forcing him to come to grips with his own weapon's limitation. When he turned to meet Obi-Wan's indirect assault, Obi-Wan didn't step to the side, or dodge under his guard. He jumped, and with the Force, cleared Kylo's head in a single graceful somersault that landed him on the opposite side, ready to press another attack against the boy's guard, such as it was.
He wasn't much for defense either, it seemed. All he could do was be impaled, or attack; it was all Obi-Wan had left to him.
Sparks flew and plasma screamed as they locked blades together. Obi-Wan held the balance for a moment, the tip of his own lightsaber hooked against the crossbars and main blade of Ben's, bearing down, making him work against gravity. It was an uneven competition, Kylo had superior height, and an edge for sheer brute strength. Strength wasn't everything, of course; Obi-wan let up and parried in a sudden flurry of motion that ultimately owed very little to Ataru, attempting to disarm Kylo Ren by dint of pure leverage, and the element of surprise.
no subject
He worried Obi-wan would do the same as Luke had, dodging him instead of really trying to fight back. They were meeting one another's blows and dodging where they could but when their blades locked, Kylo's eyes lit up. He stared down his opponent, nostrils flared and his breathing labored from the effort of keeping up with each of his moves.
That jump before had thrown him off for a moment but he'd been able to recover fast enough for this moment where their blades collided. His parry had caught him off guard again, drawing a gasp of surprise. He'd had to tighten his hold further on the blade to keep Obi-wan from disarming him. It had been enough just to be surprised.
When he recovered again, his teeth were ground together and his brows knitted with frustration as he tried again to strike, to call forth that familiar spark of blades clashing and burning hot against one another. This wasn't like fighting Rey or Luke at all.
Shoulders tight, he brings his blade up and then down in a sweeping motion to meet the blade again, to use force to try and push Obi-wan's hold as low as he could yet again. If he could disarm him it would be worth the effort. Neither of them seemed ready to yield yet.
no subject
He looks up at the overhand strike, and meets eyes that he'd last seen in another's-- in the weary, desperate gasps of Padme Amidala. The effect was a blast of ice-water, drowning that warm, joyous emotion dead.
Obi-Wan pivots, feet shifting, rotating again, and as he had done in their first fight, allowing himself to be pushed, pulling with the Force in turn, controlling the motion of them both by extension. His blade, magnetic field strengthened at the beginning is now brought around in a vicious, viper-quick strike, tagging Ben's sword-arm in what would have been a crippling blow. With the safety precautions in effect, it was merely a shock that would leave that arm unpleasantly numb and unresponsive for some minutes. That too is a Jedi philosophy: to speak before fighting, to defend before attacking, to disarm before killing, and to take lives only when all hope was lost.
Obi-Wan steps back, taking deep, slow breaths, deliberately slowing his heart. He thumbs his lightsaber off and waits for Ben to retrieve his own weapon before speaking.
"That's... That's enough, for now," He says, distracted, in-turned and thinking. Ben Solo. Kylo Ren. Luke Skywalker. Anakin. Anakin, "Ataru was Anakin's specialty."
He's said it before really meaning to, and it's low enough and quiet that, for a moment, Obi-Wan can only wince at the memory of pain, and pass a hand over his eyes with a sigh.
no subject
His own breathes are heaving, his hands shaking slightly as he deposits his weapon back to his belt.
"Ah- my grandfather's...?" His eyes widen, curiosity overtaking him at just the mention of him. He had known Obi-wan had taught him, had been felled by his blade in the end. Somehow no one had every talked of his grandfather to him beyond what he had done in his life as Darth Vader. It was because of that, feeling that he himself was the villain, that he had latched onto him so hard. Now he was talking to someone who had truly known him, before Darth Vader and before his uncle had brought him back to the light. Obi-wan had seen him in his descent.
"You wanted to teach me this because of him?" Maybe not entirely because of him, but it did something - made his chest hurt - to think that the old Master had wanted to show him the parts of his grandfather that he had been denied. "No one ever talked of him. Still no one talks of him. My mother, she- I didn't even know who he was to me until it was too late."
His fists clenched, remembering that moment of their confrontation, the feelings of love and longing she'd had for him to come back to her after they had been separated for so long. He bites his lip, taking a deep breath to steady his thoughts. His mother might think she wants him back but surely things would be as they had always been. He was always a monster.
Just like his grandfather.
no subject
Tatooine had only made sense, after all. Not for the first time, he longs for the simplicity of the solution; protect the baby, look after the vulnerable family, cut oneself of and wallow and-- Obi-Wan looked away. He closed his eyes and simply let the feeling wash over and through him, bearing up against the terrible blackness of loss as if it were a real and physical wave. As if it had an end, somewhere. Oh, those children, their wide and trusting eyes...
"He was like a brother to me," Obi-Wan tells the boy, unable to find his breath, and grapples again for words that are not failure or loss, "Not today. Another time, another-- That's enough, for today."
He has to leave. Even the enclosed courtyard of the Gallows has become too much and so Obi-Wan simply turns and walks away. Dignity would prefer him not to call it fleeing, but it closely resembles such an act. He has no more words to give.