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CHARACTERS: Kylo Ren and Anakin Skywalker
DATE: March 2nd
WARNINGS: Will update
SUMMARY: A Jedi and a Sith Apprentice walk into a bar....

[Kylo Ren is early, which is to be expected when the circumstances are examined from all of their many angles. He knows why Anakin has chosen this space -- its out of the way, unlikely for any fight they engage in to attract attention from unwanted parties. But Ren isn't there to fight Anakin. In fact, he's hoping very much that the Jedi isn't in as bad of a mood as he thinks he is. While FN-2187 and Poe Dameron had their wounds pardoned by the mysterious Light, Ren was still very much injured.

His hood hangs down off his shoulders, and his helmet is off to the side -- not because he's trying to impress anyone, or because he thinks things will go better with it off. Its heavy, and a lightsaber wound in the shoulder is hardly anything to scoff at. Its been wrapped, re-wrapped, and disinfected but its all basic first aid. He needs a medical droid, but that just isn't going to happen right now. Or any time soon. So he is forced to hold his ground, one shoulder significantly padded more than the other.

Fact of the matter remains: if such things about the timelines were true, and he could not earn Anakin's trust in some matter, he might as well already be dead. Not just for some long standing idolization of his Grandfather, but because there would be a very good chance that Anakin's turn to the Light would prevent his birth. A lot more is at stake for him in this matter than there is for anyone else. He does not intend to share that information.

Ren's eyes only open when he feels Anakin begin to enter the range of his senses -- which is quite far, all things considered. Skywalker was impossible to miss, even at a distance. One hand stays on the lightsaber clipped to his belt for insurance.

After all, this is Darth Vader he's dealing with.]

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[ one day, the jedi known as anakin skywalker will be subsumed into the monster that will be -- was darth vader. the pieces were long ago set in motion. each one that topples chips away at the walls anakin erected himself until the day comes that he embraces it, fully, lying to those few still with him and lying to himself that it was done in the name of right.

the monster does not swallow the man. the man becomes the monster, then dares ascribe to it all the blame, that he himself is blameless.

but the last piece has not yet fallen. a cosmic game has been paused, and everyone, including anakin, unknowingly wait to see when and where it will. not vader but anakin strolls into the village, the heavy robe pulling at the ground. half a sith already, weaponizing his rage and held in check only by his own monumental fear. fear not of what could be done to him: few can best him in combat, and those that can are not present. if there had been any doubt of that, it was erased. no, his fear is entirely for what he might do. the war honed something in him he does not understand. when he wakes, anakin tastes dread.

yet here he is. the only jedi, come to face the lone sith. a conflict a thousand years old, as present as it has been enduring. more than instinctive hatred propels him toward the figure in black. the not knowing dogs his steps. that taunting, infuriating sensation of missing something rippling through the force, all but mocking him. like searching for a black hole. never able to see beyond the horizon, yet knowing it is there for the effect the powerful nothing has on what borders it.

anakin comes to a stop several feet away. the force between them crackles familiarly. that too is another question he has no answer for. where ren keeps a hand on his lightsaber ( good, he should be afraid ), anakin's remains, for the moment, out of view. there won't be any mistake; he is the one to dictate the conditions. kylo ren lives on a whim. the shoulder is proof of that. he can die on one too. ]

Why the mask? [ anakin breaks the silence. he believed it first a necessity. then ren ripped it off, revealing himself as human as any of them. again, he chooses to go without it. revealing himself as no sith would have done. why? ]

[He hadn't been able to identify the difference in the air when he first encountered Anakin, but now that its here without any distraction, Ren finds himself enjoying the simple presence between them. Its a confusing feeling -- it was the same kinship he felt near his father and mother, and yet such kinship had only ever brought him pain.

And as he remembers, the pleasant feeling tastes acrid in his mouth. His jaw shifts as he starts a thought, but seems to forget it. A few quick blinks of his dark eyes resets his train of thought.]

Function. A symbol.

[A homage, if he were being entirely truthful, but it is all of those things. The helmet filters smoke, and there is much smoke left in the wake of the First Order. But the chrome of its brow reflects a victim's fear back on them, an ominous symbol that no one present at a battle would soon forget.

As much as the respirator provides function, it also calls back to that horrid breath and echo so many people were unable to block out -- his parents included.

In spite of the utter lack of emotion on Ren's face, there is something deeper in his eyes that isn't quite fear, but its something close. A sort of urgency.]

It has been many years since you have seen the galaxy, Master Skywalker.

[ "master skywalker." anakin's eyes narrow. dooku used titles as he used every word he spoke: like a dagger slipped between ribs. ventress would have rather bitten off her own tongue. ren uses the honorific without prompting and without sarcasm. it only adds to the impression, verbalized as such by kylo ren himself, that he truly seeks to earn anakin's trust.

anakin could scoff and point out the foolishness of his charade. trust is reserved to the few who have earned it: his wife, his master, his friend, the men, brave soldiers, whom he leads. but ren already knows that or he wouldn't be trying so hard.

rather than speak, anakin allows the silence to deepen until becomes almost deafening. they make a strange sight: two men, seemingly sizing the other. in truth, anakin probes the air between them, sifting through the volatile dark for what he wants. he isn't lying, but anakin did not expect him to be. face shadowed, he peels his tongue from the roof of his mouth, asks, ] How many?

[ anakin has nursed a growing suspicion since he came across finn, injured and confessing to being a stormtrooper, speaking names the jedi have never known. somehow, ren is the only one to know, to have recognized him by his name rather than by his title.

that doesn't mean anakin should believe him. that doesn't mean he will. ]

[The silence serves to make Ren tense. He is not what one would call a patient man, or a calm man -- even past his charade, his rage (and fear, and torment) crackles beneath the surface of his skin. Its only made worse when he feels Anakin encroaching on his mental space.

Between them, their anger could plunge the galaxy into total darkness, purge it of all its suns and stars.

But he's been asked a question, so he must pause and attempt to recall his knowledge of the Clone Wars.]

I cannot say. At least thirty five.

[At least thirty since he was born. Five, to account for the years of the Empire. And then the years that allowed their rise to power. Too much time to calculate for.

His tongue passes over his lips.]

Likely more.

[ thirty-five years since his death. or close to it, he thinks ruefully. anakin does not visibly react to the news of his own mortality. he should, somehow, but his own life has never been all that precious to him. it isn't really his. he promised it to the jedi first when he was still too young to understand, when all he wanted was to be a jedi as great as master qui-gon, when he had been afraid of being cast out alone and would follow after obi-wan everywhere wide-eyed and trying to predict his new master's whims before obi-wan voiced them. years later, in secret, he pledged it to padmé, formalizing what had always been true, promising her everything he was and wishing it could be more.

anakin has danced so close to death so often it almost became a game. narrow escapes and victories stolen from impossible odds became synonymous with the name skywalker. the hero with no fear was also the one who could not be defeated. who would not die.

but a different thought rumbles through his head. anakin's focus lies on something far simpler and infinitely more complex. standing in front of him, thirty years after his death, is a sith. an apprentice meaning there was a master. the sith survived. the chosen one will bring balance to the force. the one thought destined to destroy the sith. didn't.

the sensation sits oddly, like a stone dropped into his belly. he had never given the prophecy much credence. a thousand year old prognostication had no bearing on his present. after being made to confront the truth of it, it remained abstract. it had no bearing on his present. but here he's made to realize that, somwhere along the line, he came to believe he could destroy the sith. not because a prophecy spoke of it, but because he had the capacity and, more importantly, he wanted to. this is… ]

How do I die?

[It isn't the question he expects him to ask. There's a long pause, maybe a touch too long -- like he's thinking about lying, or remembering the circumstances as his father and mother had relayed to him. Even the archives of the Empire were not totally clear on the matter, unsurprisingly. But he does know some of what happened.]

You were overcome by your son. He killed you.

[In a moment of weakness goes unsaid, though just barely. The very same destiny lies ahead for him. Han Solo, weak and foolish, would fall to his blade as Vader had fallen to Luke's. The finer details are only barely known to him, blocked from his memory.

He doesn't want to linger on any of it.]

It was long after the Jedi Order had fallen. Consumed by their hypocrisy.

[ the snap comes immediately. anakin does not move. he grows stiller as if carved from stone — but stone does not have such a hateful glare. not in the physical does the ripple occur, but through the force. a fusion torch lit by the mere hint of a threat to someone who is not present. if his presence glowed before, it burns now. ]

I don't have a son. [ the denial comes immediately, voice low and thick with warning. that a jedi would not answer as he has, would have no reason to be so defensive, does not occur to him. to hint at a child, a child he does not have, cannot have, is to make an oblique reference to his wife, a wife he isn't meant to have and a woman whom no sith should know or dare speak of. as always occurs when he thinks of padmé, anakin cannot be reasonable. ( can't consider fully what ren said after. another lie. it's another lie. the jedi aren't so weakened as to topple. )

the lightsaber is in his hand and activated, blade pointed at the floor, before anakin is aware of it. his hand wraps so tight around the hilt the electronic feedback makes his arm ache. ] Lie to me again and I'll take the entire shoulder next.

If you wish the truth, then hear it as it comes from me.

[It does not take much to rile Ren. The tension in the air has him tight, saber pulled from its clip the moment Anakin lights his own. To deny his children was to deny his grandchild, and he will not have it. He will not be ignored.]

The Jedi are dead. Outwitted and blinded by their own ideology, so torn from their path as so-called peacekeepers that they were extinguished in one fell swoop. Search, and you will see it.

[He spits on the idea of the Jedi Order. Of the Light. His nose wrinkles slightly as Anakin's rage bleeds into his own. He needs to coaxing from the Dark side. He craves it, just as it swallows him every chance it gets.

He slowly brings one hand up, in a motion of both a defensive posture and a general gesture of urgency. The swallow is thick, as if he is in pain. Some part of him is. Possibly multiple parts.]

I am many things. But a liar is not one of them.

[ often, and more often, anakin came to a not so dissimilar conclusion. the war has warped the meaning of a jedi. their purpose in the galaxy, what they are meant to be. little by little, the war chipped at their foundation, then took a sledgehammer to it. decisions whether to take action relegated to the endless debates of the senate. sitting with their hands on their lap when entire systems beg them for help. they could not protect their own. scores of dead jedi. younglings abandoned.

more than once, anakin considered doing as ahsoka had: walking away, leave it all behind. he was no longer a child with nowhere else to go. he could live openly with padmé. she would not have to hide her real name, a name only the two of them know. he could remain with her on coruscant or, better yet, retire with her to naboo. to the lake country where they could live alone and undisturbed, enjoying the sunshine and the water and one another in the place where they married.

there would be a scandal. let the gossipmongers talk. the jedi would cut all ties with him. let them; there was nothing left for them to teach him. obi-wan… obi-wan is the only anakin cannot predict. but he no longer depended on his old master. he is a jedi knight, a general in the army of the republic…and therein lie his bindings. the war must be seen to an end. they're so close, and by anakin's hand, they're so much closer… ]

I don't believe you, [ anakin all but hisses. three years he has devoted to the war. watched friends die. lost good men. three years of victories and losses. of horrors and nightmares and camaraderie that sustained him, barely, through battle after battle. it could not have been for nothing. it was not for nothing.

kylo ren gestures at him with one hand for leniency and the other he keeps to his lightsaber. that tells anakin all he needs to know. a flick of his wrist and the saber points at the sith. ]

I should have ended your miserable life before!

[ and he still wants to, oh, does he want to. anakin's heart jumps at the thought. he would be doing this world a favor to cut the head off of this viper. for claiming the jedi could fail. for throwing a child he does not have in his face. ( unbidden comes the sensation that had shadowed him the past five months. of someone with padmé. someone new come between them. ) anakin's mouth twists. ]

[The lightsaber stays unlit, but his grip only gets tighter. He's almost worse than Luke, and he feels his teeth grit inside of his mouth with his jaw set. Just having that thought cross his mind makes his arm shake with fury. If he could not champion Darth Vader, then what had he been doing all of his life?

Just as Anakin cannot seem to believe the truth, he has to trust in the lie he's been living in. He had to be right about this.]

You embrace ignorance. Killing me will not change what has already come to pass.

[Miserable life echoes in his head, over and over and over until his finger finds its way to his lightsaber's ignition of its own accord. He was the Jedikiller. He was one of the most powerful beings in the known galaxy. Nobody could understand what came with it -- no one but the Jedi in front of him, presently rejecting the idea of his existence.

His voice comes out as a growl, through gritted teeth and barely restrained anger. Anakin is right about one thing-- Ren shouldn't be here. It was all Solo's fault --]

Kill me, and you kill the very last of your blood.

[Because when he was done with all of them, he would be the only one left standing.]

Edited 2016-03-05 05:37 (UTC)

[ the floor is jerked out from under him.

it feels like falling. one foot pushing against solid ground, all his weight shifted to encounter nothing but air. another elevator plunging suddenly and he left to grasp whatever is on hand. but for anakin there is nothing to hold onto. his mouth opens. between parted lips issues a quiet — ] What? [ that is no less dangerous for its stillness.

a cold jolt sends twin prongs of disbelief and dismay arcing down his spine. his earlier animosity coalesces into a rock settled heavily in his gut. the instinctive denial — that's impossible, you're lying! — does not make it past his lips. his mouth works, but his tongue has grown heavy and his throat threatens to close. if he could accept it, if he were willing to entertain the thought of it — ]

[There's a long moment when there is only the breath of the Force, and where Anakin's uncertainty causes him to falter, Ren's justification gives him power. A righteous darkness to his eyes and a conviction set in his expression.]

Grandson. Your daughter was once my mother, before she threw her lot in with those who would embrace anarchy and collapse.

[His voice is still the same, turbulent growl.

Good, he thinks, let him feel the weight of his presence. Let him understand the burden of living that he had been saddled with since the visions had started in his youth. The undeniable pull in two directions, a legacy he would not only live up to, but surpass in good time.

A piece of him knows its a mistake, to bring it up. It could interrupt the way of things, strike him with more of that evil creature they called sentiment and make certain his fall to the Light. His jaw trembles with both anger and envy when Anakin's quite reply is all he receives. Envy for his ignorance in the matter.

No one would ever be proud of him for doing what he needed to do to ensure an ordered and structured galaxy. He had accepted that long ago -- but somehow, receiving the reaction from the unmarred voice of his far off visions...it hurts more than he expected it to.

But the truth is on the table. The Force would not dispute it, and he's already gotten his answer. Ren changes his stance, gripping his lightsaber with both hands in preparation.]

But it is clear to me that you have no interest in what you've left behind. How can you, when you're still alive, living the lies the Jedi bureaucracy have been feeding you?

Edited 2016-03-06 03:48 (UTC)

[ a son. a daughter. the jolt is matched in intensity only by the depth of how much he wishes it were true. a daughter and a son. a boy and girl with their mother's sharp intelligence and her beautiful laugh. for a second, he can call to mind an image so clear it might be a memory: padmé in a navy, long-sleeved gown, her hair left loose and curled around her shoulders, her stomach gently rounded and pushing against the front of her dress.

anakin is left gutted and shaking in its wake. his mouth presses shut into a thin line as in his chest grows, tearful, nostalgia for something that has not happened yet. the warnings that accompanied the mention of both do nothing to decrease it. a son and a daughter. he knows of them. he can do right by them. with padmé as their mother, they could be nothing less than perfect. and anakin will move heaven and earth if he must to keep them safe. ]

I don't have children, [ he repeats, this time matter-of-fact. ( he doesn't know. doesn't suspect… ) straightening, anakin extinguishes the lightsaber. ] You're wasting your time. If you are who you say you are, you know you cannot beat me. Even if you could win, [ and the way he says it makes it clear that would be a huge 'if', ] …you'd lose.

[And that does it -- the straw that breaks Ren's back. His frustration boils over, and there's a violent sound of feedback as the lightsaber cuts into the ground from how he swings it downward in rage. His emotion is worn naked on his sleeve, pure and volatile just light the weapon he carries and the power he commands.]

I can, and I will!

[Injury forgotten and eyes wild, he throws his arm out and tears his wound in favor of gripping the other man's throat with the Force, with all of his might as he fights to clench a fist. He can still hear Snoke's pleased chuckling in the front of his mind, pleased with his self-destructive tactics.

He will not be brushed off as a myth, and he will not be mocked into defeat. Whether Anakin lives or dies, his existence is rendered naught by both actions. He must turn to the Dark side.

He must. They all must.]

I will be greater than any Force-sensitive that has ever lived! And if you will not help me, then I will kill us both!

[ the pressure closing around anakin's throat is new and strange and erases the dredges of tolerance that remained. he deactivated the lightsaber — an insult he knew ren would understand. it would have been better for him to let it be.

no plea nor threat issues past his lips. not even surprise that ren would dare attack, though some part is at the underhanded manner he chooses to. when he starts to choke, anakin takes the force in hand. his fingers whisk to the right. the heavy, chrome helmet soars at kylo ren's head.

whether it hits or not is irrelevant. either will require the pressure around his throat to ease. the moment it does, anakin throws his hand palm out, expression contorted, shoving the screaming maniac into the wall behind him through the force. the same hand flashes up, fingers curled. the weathered wall cracks along weak lines. a heavy window frame comes down in a rain of dust and old bricks. ]

[He is forced to drop his hold and bring his lightsaber arm up to deflect his flying helmet with the hilt of his weapon, leaving it to clang loudly down to the ground. It leaves him defenseless against the push, and he cracks into the wall hard. But if there's one thing Ren doesn't know how to do when he's angry, it's give up.

Slightly dazed, he can hear the window above him giving away to the Force. He's too injured to dodge cleanly, and is forced to reach up in order to protect his unarmed head. The Force halts the movement of the worst of the rubble, but showers him in glass before he catches the brick. In spite of his injuries (or maybe because of them), he uses the momentum to swing the remains around and back in the other man's direction.

He wishes now that he had kept his helmet on. It would have made things so much easier, in terms of protecting his already damaged arm, even if it's weight had aggravated the wound. It was nothing compared to what he felt after being thrown into that wall.]

[ the projectiles whizz past. a few cut close enough for anakin to sense the displaced air in their wake. his lightsaber remains deliberately, pointedly, deactivated. ]

If you wish to be a child, I’ll treat you like a child.

[ eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, anakin cuts a clear contrast to kylo ren. each a slave to his emotions, but where ren's resentment explodes outward, the dread shackling anakin's wrists is turned inward. gives him control — or the semblance of it. allows him to look down on the pathetic form calling himself his grandson. badly injured, liable to lose that arm without any further help from anakin. stunned from the blow, and snapping wildly, regardless.

rejection claws up anakin's throat like bile. to accept it as truth means to entertain the rest he said as truth. that anakin cannot do. not with the accusations leveled against his children. ( children that do not yet exist. ) his thumb rests on the switch, and there it hovers, not pushing down. ]

First thing you can learn from me: your place.

[For the moment, it seems having a wall dropped on him has successfully exhausted Ren into submission, left seething directly across from Anakin, gathering what remains of his energy to force his spine straight. He'd been taught all of his life never to kneel to anyone -- the title of 'Knight' was a perversion. He doesn't plan to kneel now.

The fact that Anakin refuses to meet him in lightsaber combat is almost insulting, makes some part of him burn, but now that he is forced to stand still and recoup, he understands that he would hardly be a challenge in his present state, no matter how strong he might have been.

His place -- the implication is subservience, and its not agreeable, but its something. Its not a concession -- not enough for Ren. But it is a compromise. He could have beheaded him five minutes ago.

He doesn't give a verbal reply. He is still too furious for anything resembling rational conversation. The lightsaber deactivates with a sinister hiss and short-circuit, and he swallows down the urge to pant past his pain.]

[ everything about the man in front of him screams defiance. misplaced, to be sure. a cleverer man would have given up a while ago. the truly intelligent would not have reached out at all. yet ren remains defiant, not giving an inch more than he has been made to. anakin does not need the force to feel his anger. it radiates off kylo ren, coalescing into the air around him. anakin did not expect him to relent. ]

So you can be smart. [ the tone fails to convey the mockery inherent in the words. too flat to do so. suppressing a flare of an emotion anakin cannot name, but which licks at his insides like sandpaper. ] I was starting to wonder.

[ ren has yet to speak a word, but anakin is satisfied with the sign of surrender, and ren's palpable anger. the indication of the latter more than the former warms him. ]

This is how it will be from now on: you do not threaten me or the others here again. I'm no executioner, [ repeated so often, it slips off his tongue as easily as truth, ] but I won't hesitate if you force my hand.

[He almost laughs, at the idea that the grand Darth Vader could be anything more or less than an executioner. But the mirth is brief and bittersweet, given how he feels as if his arm might give away to gravity any moment.]

You think yourself grand now. It has only just begun.

[His voice doesn't break, but his exhaustion has begun to win out over his considerable pride, and he's forced to reach with a tight motion to apply pressure to his shoulder. His tone is a combination of reverence and a touch of spite. If only he could be so ignorant to the passage of time. So in denial.

His inhale is a sharp one, chased by something that almost sounds like a hiss.]

I have no need for the others, so long as you remain here. But you should beware of them, Master Skywalker.

[ he should beware of them. the "cowards" who stood ready to fight and the "traitors" given no cause to be loyal. and all of that coming from the man who threatened to kill both of them. anakin's eye roll is left implied in the mocking twist to his mouth. ]

They only seem to despise you. I'm not sure I can blame them.

[ the urge remains. stamp out the problem at the root. remove kylo ren, he removes the only real thorn. then anakin can focus on alastair, whoever they truly are. he can find a way home. anakin does not care for ren. his opinion of the other man, already low, has only dipped lower, and the revelation, if ren is speaking the truth, does not change if. but he recognizes fatigue and he knows when someone is in pain and he knows the measure of his strike. even with the miraculous healing some are capable of, ren will bear the scar. ]

You should take this time to look for a medic. That looks painful. [ without another word, anakin turns away.

there is nothing in the code about helping the sith he burned a hole into to a medic. that's his story, and he's sticking to it. ]

[There's some relief that Anakin doesn't come to assist him, as much as there is loathing. The Supreme Leader would not have helped him either -- not until he was bleeding out and immobile. It was the way of things. Of the dark side.

He was not beyond reach.

Ren gives time for the other man to leave, just enough to put distance between them when he moves to follow suit. It's a slow process, and he can feel warm blood battling with the crust of old scabbing under his shoddy patch job. If it had been anything but a lightsaber wound, cauterized on contact, then it would likely already be infected.

He is forced to stop once he gets close to the grounds, left to lean against a wall in order to catch his breath. As much as he had wanted to admit otherwise, without medical attention, he would likely not have his left arm in the morning.]

[ Anduin all but stumbles over Kylo Ren, mostly because the man is a dark shape leaning against a shaded wall, and therefore blends into the scenery quite well. Aside from all the bloody, saber-seared wounds, that is. The scent of burnt flesh hits Anduin as he rights himself, and he gasps, nearly choking on the full sight in front of him.

He'd met this man--down in the dungeons. Not a particularly friendly person. Downright sinister, truthfully. But Anduin feels no fear as he reaches out, hands already shimmering with holy energy. ]

Keep still--let me help you.

[His helmet is under his arm, the one that wasn't currently bleeding every drop of blood out of his body. He nearly drops it when Anduin turns the corner, forcing himself to reach for his lightsaber with his injured arm and a feral sort of growl.

The full weight of his frustration is now visible without the black and chrome to hide it. The light prompts him lashing out to push him away with the heavy stone of his helmet.]

Do not touch me.

[Its a snapped out warning, edging on a yell.]

[ Anduin jumps back, wincing, as the flat face of the helmet strikes against his arm. Not that he's deterred. ]

I don't actually need to.

[ But still, he doesn't cast right away, though it goes against all instinct. ]

You need help, Master Ren.

[He isn't listening. Everything is cold, getting colder, and while he should find the cold embrace of pain refreshing -- he doesn't. This child is not a challenge, cutting him down won't fix the fact that he's potentially about to lose his arm from infection.

The Dark Side only serves to frustrate him, and beg him for that which he cannot give. And the Light so close to him only serves to magnify how he needs it, a fact that makes his stomach churn.]

You cannot begin to understand what I need, boy.

[Its mumbled past sweat and grit, eyes cast forward to glimpse at a figure that is no longer on the horizon.]

I think you're wrong, there.

[ Ren is fading, fast. His arm is an ugly wreck, and Anduin knows that without treatment it could turn even more sour than it already is. Between the priests and paladins and druids and so on of the world, dying of infection is actually not that common in Azeroth--unless you're stranded in the middle of a battlefield, alone, and without a potion to your name. It's a slow and agonizing way to die.

Anduin sets his jaw. He doesn't care about Ren's opinion of the Light. There's a job to be done, and he's going to do it.

Golden energy flows from his fingertips, embracing Ren, enveloping him. Ribbons of warmth--comforting to all others, but perhaps still galling to Ren--thread around his injuries, seeping inside, purging, purifying. The skin regenerates. Tissues reform.

Anduin breathes hard, maintaining concentration. As a precaution, he's shielded himself, too--just in case Ren lashes out like the wounded animal he is. ]

[The relief stills his hand for a moment (a long, tense moment), and he blinks deliriously past it. For a second, he looks like he might collapse for how unfocused he is. But then, like the snap of a rubber band, he roars with a fury that almost doesn't sound human for how it wells up inside of him. Its determined, its denial, its refusal.

And he does lash out after that, throwing his hand out to push Anduin away from him with the power of the Force. He drops his helmet without a second thought, and the lightsaber comes off his belt, sparking to life with an angry backfire. In spite of being healed and rejuvenated, he heaves and sweats in the face of the Light forced into his body.

Grief springs among anger, regret among hatred, mixed visions of younglings fleeing from the burn of his lightsaber and the horrified faces of his family when they had seen his mask for the first time. The weight of it keeps him in place, stilled into shock and somehow looking even more vulnerable than he did when he was still bleeding.]

[ Anduin's knocked away, flat on his back, and he cries out as he falls, as he hits the ground hard. Oof. The shield can protect him from the lightsaber, but not from gravity itself. He covers his heart with his hand, breathing rapidly. ]

I guess I should have expected that.

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