[ She'd beaten him before. She would do it again. For Han. For Finn. But more than anything, for herself.
For every iota of satisfaction she feels in his cry of pain, equal amounts self-loathing rumble below the surface of her mind; she cannot feel gratified in another's pain without the latter, knowing what is coming for her. The future colors her present with a hazy gray, a lingering storm threatening on the horizon, warping her immediate perception.
If anyone was desperate, she concluded readily, it was him. Desperate for power. Desperate to prove himself. Desperate to defeat her. She would not give him any of it.
Her silent reserve directed her attention to defense, and she rallied quickly to raise her saber and catch his first few blows. The muscle in her thigh tightened, trying to hold her position against the force of his blows; years of scavenging on Jakku had not left her weak, by any means. But the persistence of his, yes, desperation forced her to stumble back.
The ground fell out under her. A pit in the sand, probably home to some subterranean creature. Her heel sank, her weight shifted, and she lost her balance as she leaned back in time with his last slash. The Force. She needed the Force. Luke's lightsaber wasn't enough. Even as she defended herself with it, Ren's final strike knocked her back and down.
The beam of her lightsaber died and she tumbled backwards in a somersault, anticipating the failure. She skidded to a stop with one hand perched against the ground, crouched. Aside from a few scrapes, she was unharmed. She seized the opportunity that left her with and continued her charge, launching herself toward him with Luke's saber aimed in an unpracticed jab that reeked of her experience with a quarterstaff rather than a blade. ]
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For every iota of satisfaction she feels in his cry of pain, equal amounts self-loathing rumble below the surface of her mind; she cannot feel gratified in another's pain without the latter, knowing what is coming for her. The future colors her present with a hazy gray, a lingering storm threatening on the horizon, warping her immediate perception.
If anyone was desperate, she concluded readily, it was him. Desperate for power. Desperate to prove himself. Desperate to defeat her. She would not give him any of it.
Her silent reserve directed her attention to defense, and she rallied quickly to raise her saber and catch his first few blows. The muscle in her thigh tightened, trying to hold her position against the force of his blows; years of scavenging on Jakku had not left her weak, by any means. But the persistence of his, yes, desperation forced her to stumble back.
The ground fell out under her. A pit in the sand, probably home to some subterranean creature. Her heel sank, her weight shifted, and she lost her balance as she leaned back in time with his last slash. The Force. She needed the Force. Luke's lightsaber wasn't enough. Even as she defended herself with it, Ren's final strike knocked her back and down.
The beam of her lightsaber died and she tumbled backwards in a somersault, anticipating the failure. She skidded to a stop with one hand perched against the ground, crouched. Aside from a few scrapes, she was unharmed. She seized the opportunity that left her with and continued her charge, launching herself toward him with Luke's saber aimed in an unpracticed jab that reeked of her experience with a quarterstaff rather than a blade. ]