[ Arriving at the general's quarters, fully masked (never let it be said that Kylo will ever forgo his dramatics), Ren opens the door at the outside console - finding it, as promised, unlocked. Even with the mask in place, there's a lick of bemusement in his voice when he greets the other man; the tinny echo from the voice disruptor can't quite sift out the underlying smirk. ] General.
[ He motions at the door, and it closes in his wake (Ren is unable to allow it to close on its own, as per the programming - instead he grates its gears, sending it sparking on its hinges into place). Sweeping into the room, the knight stands, watching the general - the mask divulging nothing of his expression. ] No need for the v-1 then, I presume.
[ Hux is definitely timing the other's trek across the Finalizer, completely serious in his threat to lock the door should the other breach the six minute rule that's been put down. It's no surprise that Kylo Ren makes it in less; the other man isn't stupid all the time no matter how much Hux would like to think so.
He may have also started a casual conversation if Ren hadn't decided to, as usual, show off by forcing the door closed. The sound of dragging metal on metal as the gears protest let Hux know that further down the line his door will give up the ghost due to that particular abuse. He can hear that smirk too, lips thinning ever so slightly as he tries not to rise to the bait.]
I'm saving it for the day you forget. [There was little point to setting something like that up when Ren would actuall know it was there. The surprise would be ruined. Hux motions at a seat nearby for Ren to sit on, leaning back on his own and wondering just what the knight would be like drunk. Hux is just about there already, but then out of the two bottles of brandy on his desk, one of them is almost empty. It's been a long, boring day.] One day you'll learn that doors are not your mortal enemy.
I know better than to stop watching my back around here. [ He says it lightly, but there's a strange sort of warning in it - though, it could just be the tone that the helmet induces.
The latches of the helmet click open, and Kylo reaches up to lift it off his head, hair mussed from the action. He turns to eye the general, then the bottles on the table, before discarding the helmet on the floor and sitting on the indicated chair, one long leg stretched out in front of him. The time that they have, he reflects, is drawing to an end - soon he will disembark for Snoke's headquarters and for the rest of his training; whatever that may be - and undoubtedly he will not return as he had left.
For now, he reaches for the spare glass on the table, tipping it towards Hux in a silent toast, and taking a drink, the scent of the Corelian stuff always makes him think of the old cargo hold of-- the thought twitches his features, and he turns to the general instead, a flicker of something snide pulling the corner of his mouth upwards, and he shutters the old memory. ] An overgrown kkryytch, hm? I never knew you thought so highly of me.
Ren had killed him with his bare hands; saber and the Force be damned. He was an old man, but he had cursed Ren's name until the end. With no master, and with no army of his own, Ren had returned to the Finalizer. There was nothing else for him to do - his feet knew the way to the ship, and he found himself there, unwittingly, bareheaded, his helmet cloven in two by Snoke's lightsaber. Standing on the bridge, he had looked across the room at Hux, silent and oddly grave considering the circumstances. He ought to have killed the general then and there, taken the ship and commandeered the army for himself, but the moment, that window of opportunity, had passed before he had been aware that it existed (what a hold Hux had on him; it was as finely crafted as a choke chain). Instead, he had crossed the floor to stand at the other man's side, hands clasped formally behind his back, and turned to speak to him; close and low, he had breathed: it is done.
They were unstoppable.
Naboo had fallen to them without much pressure; its people were peace-loving and gentle, and the sheer violence of Kylo Ren's racketing saber, his scarred face and black robes had been quite convincing enough. That and the fact that he had shown up with a veritable hoard of stormtroopers. Their reputation had preceded them too; the dual scourges of the Order, they rang in terror; Ren's Upsilon-class shuttle had landed in the center of the city's square like a scavenger bird, and Naboo had been theirs.
Theed royal palace's throne room is a pompous array of marble and metalwork; Ren's boots click on the floor as he sweeps across it, cloak billowing out behind him in the thin Naboo breeze. His helmet has been repaired, and he wears it like a true knight of the new first order; proud, cruel. The negotiations to install a puppet ruler have concluded, and the planet is in their grasp; another for the growing collection. Ren can see the sharp line of Hux's silhouette against the central window; everything is coloured a bloody orange in the evening light, and Ren walks over to stand at his shoulder, pulling his mask off and placing it on the table behind them, following Hux's line of vision out the window. ] The negotiations are complete. I believe a congratulations are in order, general, or - [ Ren smirks, laying his fingers against the back of the other man's neck. ] - have you already taken the title of a Naboo monarch?
[ Ren, despite his flair for the theatrical, had thrown off any and all titles - accepting the power, but not the station. He finds it too administrative, too bound up in obligations - he prefers to run rampant through the galaxy, taking no direction from Hux, but still, silently, using him as a point of focus - a magnetic north on his whirling, dizzying compass. ]
They had talked about the death of Snoke and what they would do afterwards, had planned on how and when it would happen, yet the moment he saw Ren on the bridge on the Finalizer Hux knew that things were going to change and drastically. He should have killed Ren there and then, had every single storm trooper on that ship jump the force user until he perished. There were, naturally, only so many people Ren could take on at once. It was the course of action that theorycrafting and common sense dictated; if Ren could so easily overthrow his leader, his mentor, then he could easily do it to someone else. That moment passes before Hux gives the thought any kind of consideration and just like Ren the general moves on on to look forwards. It was done and they would have a lot of work ahead of them, the death of the Supreme Leader would cause ripples and Hux knew it would be his job to stop them from becoming tsunamis throughout the First Order.
In some small way, Hux would be disappointed in almost how easy it was to take full control of the First Order. Not many of the vast armies had even seen the other being and thus they simply felt it easier to remain under the command of the general. It was almost, in an alarming way, the same status quo as before and on rare occasions Hux would wonder when the other shoe would drop. Naboo caved in easily enough though who wouldn't with Kylo Ren tearing things up like a laser-edged whirlwind? That and Hux had thrown his own two cents in, giving the officials the simple promise that Operation Cinder could easily be turned back on.
The royal palace throne room was opulent and magnificent bordering on the line of garish. Hux isn't sure if he's perception of being on military bases has skewed his perception or what, but some of it was a little over the top. Not by too much though and it wasn't the biggest problem in the world as he stares out of the large window to watch the scenery. Troops were still scattered here and there, but for now things were at a restless lull. This was not the first time Naboo had been hit by the Empire and the majority of it's citizens were smart enough to know better.
So was Hux. Not a single stone would be left unturned and tomorrow they would simply go to work on the Gungan. He was not going to give those lanky creatures half a leg to stand on. Footsteps herald Ren's arrival before the other even reaches him and Hux merely keeps his shoulders straight, barely even reacting to the fingers at his neck (though if Ren was bothering to pay attention he'd notice the general relaxing a mere fraction).]
No. I don't think it would have the same impact when leading armies. [ There would be a title change no doubt, but Hux knows he would be wise to keep it military for now. The moment it changed into something else was the same moment when he would be kept with feet planet side as others took the reins. The control freak in Hux cringes at the mere thought.]
[traditionally, while all personnel are allowed to make use of the training facilities, the Stormtroopers have highest priority and are given a great deal of leeway between their sessions. to the point where it's rare to see one not in the white - or training - armor, and, apparently by the view of the higher-ups? the skills of the rest are allowed to languish.
enough is enough, apparently, especially in lieu of recent events. but it wouldn't necessarily do for the highest officers to be seen with the lowest of ranks; some warrant a more private environs. others warrant a more...personal touch.
lucky Hux gets both. and he is also the recipient of a rare sight - an unarmored Captain Phasma, currently in the midst of some stretches as she goes over how, exactly, she is to handle this.]
[Hux doesn't get it. He does his training on the extremely rare occasions no-one else is around, but for the most part he's always too busy juggling reports, budgets and tactical theorycrafting around to be in the training facilities. On occasion he'll sit off to one side and watch the stormtroopers training, datapad on one knee as he multitasks.
The sight of Phasma without her armor just drives home how serious the other is about this sudden, surprise bout of training he's meant to be going through. Even Hux feels as if he sticks out like a sore thumb in slacks and plain tee shirt. Training in a parade uniform would never end well.
What horrors were going to commence here?] Captain. Luckily the research and development meeting didn't overshoot.
[Tarkin's Teeth, Hux is starting to feel a bit exposed right now. Were people watching?]
[ It was a routine trip; pre-planned with exact coordinates, which had been meticulously programmed into the shuttle's terminal. Ren wore his mask, silently accompanied by general Hux. Snoke wanted to debrief them after the failure on Starkiller Base, and Ren's own failure to locate the map to Skywalker. Debrief; whatever that meant. Ren was to remain behind, commencing the final stage of his training, while Hux would return to the Finalizer - to continue the First Order's slow progress through space, towards whatever superweapon came next in its arsenal.
He had been dwelling on recent events - not meditating, just brooding, eyes trained on the cosmos as it flashed by outside the transparisteel viewing windows (he fears what comes next; it saturates his entire Force signature, creating a nervous energy in the cockpit - he wonders what Snoke can see, how deeply. He already knows the answer, however, and does not reach across to touch Hux's mind; though he considers it. Probably best to guard against their recently established habits - that kind of intimacy would be seen as a petty failing; flesh is weakness - no Sith and no Jedi were supposed to fall into that brand of physicality. He had thought himself immune to base desires. He was not.
It all goes to hell from there; Mandalorians and an asteroid field -
This had certainly not been a part of the mission - Ren ought to have sensed it, should have been more aware of disturbances in the force. But, with its hull irreparably damaged, shields shot to cinders, they had crash landed the shuttle on some anonymous and obscure world - plummeting through the hazy, overcast sky before being thrown from the shuttle on impact. Ren had blacked out then, smoke choking his lungs, singed from the fire.
Rain is the first thing that he registers, his vision swimming. He is soaked to his skin, the shuttle lies like a mangled avian a few yards away. The knight casts about with the Force for Hux, a dull frustration entering him at the inconvenience of all of this; another defeat. They'll be dead men when Snoke finally gets ahold of them. ]
[ The coordinates for the shuttle were exact alright, having been checked and checked again by Hux in the throes of his meticulousness. This was it, the one thing that had loomed over their heads since the destruction of the Starkiller base and there was nothing they could do about it but go and take their chances with what would probably be one very angry, force using Supreme Leader. With the way fortune had been spitting on them from above Hux was all for checking those coordinates a third and final time, not wanting to leave a fraction of anything for chance to stick it's oar into. That was all before Hux even considered his current ongoings with Kylo Ren, the general pushing it to the back of his mind to focus on the bigger problems. It was a bridge to cross when they eventually reached it.
The fussing didn't stop on the shuttle ride itself either, Hux unable to do anything but check everything, making sure things were perfect. It was as if the general was trying to burn off the nervous, uneasy energy around him by moving around. It's a stark contrast to Kylo Ren, standing at the window and barely moving. For once they were mirrored and it was Hux who couldn't stay still, mind constantly racing as he tries to not to dwell on the upcoming meeting. Prior to even setting off Hux had been controlled, collected and not overly concerned by the upcoming conference with the Supreme Leader. A good handful of systems had already claimed allegiance with the First Order since witnessing the Hosnian system's demise, not wanting to take a chance to see if there was another Starkiller or not. It should be enough to soothe some of the problem and it had certainly acted like a balm on Hux's frayed nerves.
Except now the closer they got to Snoke the more those nerves came back, almost as if Ren's own brooding was rubbing off on Hux in the worst of ways. Not that it would matter much in the end when all hell broke loose in the form of an asteroid belt and the added bonus of Mandalorian scum. Before Hux could even get a hold on the situation the ship was careening towards the nearest planet. There's nothing that can even be done but hope for the best, Hux somewhat wishing he wasn't aware of just how fucked and irreparable the shuttle was as it span out of control. Don't tense, it increases the chances of shattered bones-
There's a sound of ringing, an almost roaring sound of chimes as Hux tries to puzzle his way through it. Just like Ren he was thrown from the shuttle on impact and Hux can't even remember why he's curled up on his side as if it was just another morning in bed. A cold wetness starts to seep its way through his uniform and it's a dull, slow realization that he's on muddy ground. A crash! Hux puts his hands on the ground, attempting to push himself up and managing nothing more than a slip onto his other side. His balance is shot and Hux knows that the noise he can hear is a mix of a nearby wreckage burning and his own ears ringing loud. The correct thing to be doing would be to get up, look around and to see just whom had walked out of that wreckage.
[ Picture included for compensation because this is long af ]
[ It's a bloody fight and they are on the ground in the midst of it - Ben Solo's red saber cuts swathes through the stormtroopers that he had once commanded, bloodying the grass beneath them, and arcing across the battlefield in a blur of crimson. Blaster fire whistles past his ears, and he reaches out a hand to stay four more blasts as they near him - once, he could only manage one, now, Luke Skywalker walking him through the subtle intricacies of the Force (and of Bastila Shan's light side battle meditation, of all things), Solo is a formidable weapon.
They break through the frontlines and storm the old fortress that the order have been occupying for this stretch of the campaign. It is moss-covered, ancient - it reminds him of the Sith ruins on Dantooine, but he has abandoned that mythology. Perhaps, he thinks, and cuts down another stormtrooper - blade singing with energy, he can finally rise to his mother's expectations now - they had always been just out of his young grasp. Perhaps, no longer.
Ben wears the standard rebel uniform, his father's smuggler waistcoat slung over his shoulders like a jaunty emblem; a reminder that he owes a debt, and that he is, finally, his father's son. He has not been that in many years, and now he wears the Solo name with a renewed pride; fiercely, emphatically.
His lightsaber hisses, sizzling when flesh meets its spasming blade (oh, but he will not admit this thrill to the Jedi - the power that slaughter makes him feel, his continuing pangs of hunger for that power. He may have abandoned the name Kylo Ren, but Ben Organa-Solo is no kind man.).
Dameron and his squadron circle overhead, felling another line of troopers. They take the entrance, and then the oval courtyard - the fountains splashing quietly around them, their feet the only echoes aside from the running water. Ben leads the assault - there is a hush across the fortress; like a dead calm before some form of horrific ambush. He can feel the shock-waves that run towards him through the Force already, and he strides forward, wearing the mantle of rebel leader as well as he wore that of Snoke's apprentice.
They enter a hallway, and there is a faint light at the end of it. Ben surges ahead of his group, twirling his saber in one hand, feet paced in a moving fencer's stance - aggressive, even now, as a Jedi.
He rounds the corner, and the earth - in every sense but physical - gives way beneath him.
Heart in throat, pulse racing to the point of nausea, he stands face to face with general Hux.
Solo's saber hangs uselessly at his side, sparks littering the floor. He blocks a blaster bolt from one of the troopers without so much as a gesture - eyes remaining trained on the vividness of Hux's features - tinged red by the light of his saber. Ten months, fourteen days since he had stood, side by side with the general, silently swearing that he would return to the Finalizer whole, and safe.
[ Some things never changed, not really. People would come and go but the scenery of the Finalizer rarely shifted. Missions started and ended, yet at the end of it all the one constant for the First Order was their general. It had been almost eleven months since the disappearance of Kylo Ren, each day making itself pointedly known in Hux's head. At first there had just been the simple feeling of disbelief, that the other could be late back from such a thing. Ren was notorious for not being able to count the days he was on a mission, two would become eight, ten would become twenty, it was not the young man's finest, strong point.
That disbelief had soon turned to a wary kind of worry, the kind that would sneak up quietly in the nights when Hux would toss and turn in his bed. The bed itself felt too empty too and it aggravated the general to no end. It hadn't even been a relationship but just two men blowing off steam. There had been nothing more than that and yet even as the days turn into weeks he couldn't help but stare stubbornly at the ceiling of his quarters, silently calling Ren every name under the sun. Not even a dammed message to say he'd gotten there in one place.
By the third month the whispers had started and there was nothing Hux could do to stop them. They spread through the crew like wildfire, ranging from the standard defection rumor to the more extravagant kind where Snoke had killed his apprentice. Personally that one had been Hux's favorite one. Ren wouldn't defect to the Resistance, he wasn't stupid enough to do such thing. It only truly left the latter as an option and by the sixth month with no communication Hux simply decided to let go of it all. No more checking his comms upon waking up to see if there was any news; the First Order would make do without it's pet sith and so would he. There truly wasn't any other option, and as per normal Hux simply buried himself in work. Armies did not run themselves. Between the loss of Kylo Ren and Captain Phasma (who apparently hadn't made it out of the trash in time), the First Order was suddenly more demanding than normal and soon enough Hux was simply too busy to think much on Ren. At least not during the day.
The next time Hux truly gives Ren his attention in the day is during the battle, ears metaphorically perking as he hears the rumors his guards are whispering among themselves. There had been news reaching them of the Resistance led by someone who fit a particular Ren-shaped hole in Hux's life. It wasn't true though, there was absolutely no chance in hell that it was Ren. Kylo Ren was missing, presumed dead. Joining the Resistance was, in Hux's mind, completely bullshit. Why would he? What was the point? The idea is just so foreign that Hux couldn't comprehend it if he wanted to, cringing as it led to the natural follow up of what had gone wrong?
There's little time to think on anything on the battlefield though, Hux staying close with his squad, blaster in hand as he helps the small group find their way through the grounds. It wasn't far to the shuttle, just two more hallways to take-
Ren.
The second he turns the corner and claps eyes on Ren he freezes in place, eyes widening a fraction as the breath in his lungs leaves him. Suddenly it's as if there's no oxygen in the room at all, each and every single one of those lost days just crashing down on Hux silently as he tries to even grasp what he's seeing right now. Lips twitch, the word Ren so easy to silently mouth before the general blinks, snapping himself out of his self imposed paralysis. This was a war and that was not Ren. It was merely someone similar looking. Denial always was a strong thing, Hux almost completely unable to notice the red lightsaber as he pulls his blaster up at Ren and pulls the trigger without hesitation.
It was that or get shot by the other Resistance members.]
[He'd forwarded the concerning series of messages from the General to Captain Phasma. She'd appeared amused by them, but had advised they were no cause for concern.
The General's most recent message, however, led Kylo to believe otherwise.
Given the serious nature of Hux‘s threat, Kylo felt completely justified forcing open the doors to the General's personal quarters.]
[ Sometimes the best of intentions paved the way to hell. Or something to that affect. Hux had his drinks, sent a stupid text and now here he was sorely regretting his life choices.
Unlike his text, Hux is at his desk, face down and hands over his head as he hopes something puts him out of his misery quickly. This was the worst experience and when he hears the doors open the general doesn't even move, pretending that he heard nothing.
It only lasts a few seconds as Hux barks out a muffled order.]
[ It's one of those parties that Ren cannot entirely refuse -- despite his staunch reputation as a gifted loner who harbors a general dislike for people by default, there are some who refuse to take no for an answer and are angling for him to attend anyway; after all, nothing makes a party more legitimate than having the campus version of celebrities attend it.
Ren is both annoyed and bemused by the privilege he has been born into -- Leia Organa is a powerful senator, daughter of a queen from the nation of Naboo but born on US soil, and even if Kylo resents the weight on his shoulders, the expectations placed on him. The monarchy might have been dissolved in Naboo, but there are many who have not forgotten. Even less have forgotten the fact that his grandfather, the singularly charismatic Anakin Skywalker, had served the nation as President for two whole terms.
Even so, Ren attends -- there are some people even a loner tolerates, and Phasma so rarely asks things of him. He keeps to the fringe of the party, managing to be halfway civil during conversations; but he has to admit that most of it has everything to do with the generous application of alcohol. Everything is more tolerable with alcohol.
He slips through the crowds like a ghost, paying them little mind and ignoring a couple who evidently wanted to speak to him -- he's done for the evening, and he's counting down the minutes to take his leave when he catches a glimpse of copper-red hair, his minimal good mood dissipating. Of course, how could Hux not have been here? The man is, after all, the son of the current Secretary of Defense and highly sought after in his own right. But in Ren's opinion, he's never met a more obnoxiously aggravating rival. The man keeps him on his toes and gets under his skin, and while a part of him revels in the challenge, the larger part of him steadily hates everything that Hux is and all that he stands for. He is orderly to a fault, a rigid stickler to the rules, with a sharp, cutting manner that sets Ren's teeth on edge.
But instead of avoiding him, he comes up to him (his wineglass needs a refill, and he'll need a bottle of it before he can deal with Hux civilly). He takes a hold of a half empty bottle and pours some into his glass, thinks about it, and pours more into it. ]
[ Phasma rarely did ever ask for anything. It was only by that virtue (and the mention of some interesting prospects attending) that Hux had even agreed to go. There were always things that he needed to do, most of them pertaining to the workload that went towards obtaining a promotion of rank, mostly paperwork due to technically being on reserve. Being the son of the man known as Secretary of Defense to the US had it's perks; Hux got to the an officer and work his way up the system with the need to be on tour the entire time. There had been one or two tours lasting twelve weeks here and there but in the space of a decade Hux could still count that on one hand. Such was the life of someone who came from such a prestigious military family.
The party is the usual grouping of bores and sycophants, everyone trying to make their own impacts on others to further themselves. Hux could recognize them a mile off and yet despite the distaste he still talks to everyone who talks to him - albeit with a not-too-thrilled look on his face. When he isn't discussing politics, economics or whatever the flavor of the week was wit the most droll expression, Hux stays off to one side to drink his wine in peace, occasionally rubbing the side of his jaw and remembering that this time around he has a beard, something Hux has opted to try growing and excelled at.
Hux is stood next to a table when Ren finally approaches and Hux doesn't even bother keeping the unimpressed look from his face as the other fills his own wineglass up. Of course Phasma has invited Ren, there was a method to her madness somewhere but Hux has yet to figure it out. Ren was everything that Hux despised in a person, untidy in every way and with as much motivation as a potato (not to mention the aspirations of one).]
I'm surprised she found yours with it being under that rock and all.
[ Hux can always be guaranteed to follow his morning routine like clockwork. Every morning without fail, he'll hit a local coffee place for his fix of caffeine (and if it's already a day, a muffin). That morning was already shaping up for the rest of the day to be a pain and Hux can already feel the headache threatening as he stares at the coffee place in front of him.
His local had closed down. Now he was forced to use this other place. What would he do if the coffee was terrible? He'd have to look into alternatives like Starbucks or some shit place that was dubious at best. Hopefully this one was normal enough — it was the kind of coffee joint that had been around for some time but never truly pinged Hux's radar.
The scent of coffee is always a universal constant, but it's not enough to soothe Hux's irritation as he walks in and queues with the rest of the morning crew. By the time he even gets to the counter he's aggravated at how the prices are relatively decent for what seems to be the portion sizes, enough so that he barely even gives the barista a glance as he gives his name. Hux. It's only when Hux receives his large flat white (with extra shot of coffee) that he notices the name written on the side in scrawling handwriting; Hucks.
Hux looks up from the cup at the barista in question, expression unimpressed as he meets a dark gaze head on.]
[ Ben has been working at his uncle's place long enough that he's begun to develop a sense for people. Not exactly psychic, per se - he's never bought into that mumbo jumbo bullshit - but an instinct.
And this guy - all sharp suits and a sharper accent - just reeks of trouble. ]
Really?
[ Frowning, he plucks the cup from Hux's fingers, turning it around to study the name written across the side. He recognizes Rey's spider-scrawl immediately and, if there was ever any doubt, there's that sickeningly cheerful smiley she insists on adding to every order.
He passes it back to Hux, expression mild - it's annoying, sure, but unless there's something actually wrong with the order he fails to see what this accomplishes. ]
[ This is what he steals for himself, from the relentless marching of time; onwards to the moment of their separation on a mission that will take Kylo Ren six months to accomplish. This is what he steals for Hux, too -- they might be adults with a highly dysfunctional relationship, an antagonistic one based on pride, lust, and the powerful undercurrent of a sentiment the both of them would viciously deny.
It works, and this is as much as the knight is willing to admit about it. He's aware of stray thoughts, a budding desire for more, the odd little flutter in his chest when Hux smiles -- and he does it so very rarely. Once, he thinks. A smile devoid of too-sharp angles and cold, calculating malice.
A smile Hux probably thinks Ren didn't see.
As it is, Ren is not predisposed to flights of fancy, carefully keeping that image aside to rifle through then Hux is being particularly insufferable (which is quite often), but which Ren has developed a relatively soft spot for. It's hidden away, that softness -- that weakness. Snoke would burn it out of him if he knows; or perhaps Ren would burn it out himself. He doesn't know, yet.
He wakes in Hux's bed, stirring in the sheets, his arm having been draped over Hux's ridiculously slender waist for most of the night. He wakes to red hair in his face, being pressed flushed against the other man's back, and he grunts.
[ Hux is certain that if either of them had given it some thought, neither of them would have said it would turn out like this. And what was this exactly? Despite the fact that they both refused to label it, Hux still suspects there's now more to it than just a casual screw here and there. After all they're both in his bed, Kylo pressed up against his back and both of them seemingly fine with it.
He's not sleeping, hears that grunt as Kylo shifts ever so slightly. Hux has never gotten more than three hours sleep and doesn't intend to. It just so happens that Ren can wear him out enough that he'll at least lounge in bed as the other sleeps like a lazy feline. It also helps that he can watch Ren as he sleeps, taking in the small features that wouldn't be possible when the other was awake, from the small moles to long eyelashes.
There's something wrong with him, Hux can sense it like a strange undercurrent on an otherwise still lake. Whatever push and pull there was between the pair of them, something has shifted enough that the idea of six months without Ren around to fuck shit up is almost despicable. Some time ago Hux would have celebrated.
One more day.... Hux ignores the odd pang at that thought, frowning at the wall as he waits to see if Ren is actually waking up or not. He doesn't say anything or move, too comfortable with the warmth of Ren's body against his back to be quick to ruin it just yet.]
[Through a stroke of luck, close calls, and overall having superior resources and infrastructure, the war ends in favour of the First Order. Pockets of resistance still exist throughout the galaxy, but in time, that would cease to be a potential threat. Ren would see to that. If he’s good for anything, it’s crushing subversion. He’ll leave the surrender and peace negotiations to Hux, and the others who are more aptly suited for the job. Ren lacks the patience and inclination for such matters.
He is, however, interested in the outcome, particularly after all the sacrifices he’s made in the years since he’s aligned himself with the First Order. Although Ren is not without conflict, he is at least assured that even the most difficult and unpleasant tasks he’s faced have been well worth it, given their present success. With both Luke Skywalker and the scavenger girl out of the way, the future looks bright for the entire galaxy.
Still, it’s too soon to celebrate, and even if weren’t, it’s more likely that Ren would hardly have the wherewithal to participate in a proper celebration. Instead, he can take solace in knowing he’s helped see a major accomplishment through, and it’s not something he regards lightly.
For the moment, Ren occupies his time leaning against a wall, gaze trained on the dark and starry expanse of space through a window. His attention is pulled away when doors abruptly slide open and various officers file out. Ren recognises them, but he’s never bothered to learn their names or ranks. They must be of some importance, however, because beyond those doors is where those surrender terms are being hashed out—or were—with their prized prisoner.
Ren can’t think of the Resistance general for who she is; that simply complicates matters more. She’s a war criminal, and he ignores the way his mother looks over her shoulder at him as two Stormtroopers lead her to a cell.
It’s only after they’re gone that he pushes himself away from the window and enters the conference room. He spies a document still on the table, no doubt one proclaiming the Resistance’s surrender to the First Order. Unsurprisingly, it remains unsigned. His mother is tough and brazen; he expects nothing less.
But it’s no matter; for now, Ren turns his attention to the only other person in the room: Hux.] The galaxy is in the palm of your hand. Are you content?
[ There was no point in the entire length of the mission that Hux felt that the First Order would completely fail. There had been one or two moments where things had come close, where something completely unforeseen had thrown a spanner in the works. But the First Order was a perfect machine and enough to overcome even the most random of happenstances. Between the troops, the officers, the leadership and even Ren, things had finally started to come together. Systems had begun to surrender and eventually Skywalker and the scavenger were taken out of the picture too. Things were starting to come together.
There just so happens to be the small number of resistance factions out there. They were small in numbers but unmistakable in their ethos; what had started as a well-meaning save the galaxy was turning into the more hardened destroy the First Order at all costs. Hux doesn't know if he should be amused by that or not. That was just the way the galaxy turned, in all it's infinite cycles. They had started out as the underdog and were now in a position to take full power. Now it was someone else's turn to be the underdog and Hux knows better than to underestimate a small group just because they're far away or short on members.
The General of the Resistance is a prime example, Hux watching as she's led out of the room. Even now, when all is looking dire, she doesn't give up. She merely tilts her chin up and silently refuses. On occasions there's an absolute wave of debate that happens, but nothing meaningful or useful in any way. Just a person's view on right and wrong. Hux can see where Ren gets his stubbornness from.
Speak of the Devaronian....]
Should I be? [ Hux doesn't look up from the unsigned document. It's obvious in the way the General's lips thin that he's not too impressed by the blank space where a signature should be. Of all the worlds and systems in the galaxy, yet he can't get one defeated person to sign a document.]
[ The notion of soulmates had existed for centuries -- longer even than that if you considered the years upon years that mankind had spent in ignorance, eyes turned skyward, with nothing but dreams and ambition to sustain them.
Kylo Ren, for his part, had always looked upon the name etched just below his left rib, with a mixture of derision and annoyance. Sentiment was a weakness. Something he could ill-afford, not now, not when he was so close to achieving his goals.
Except --
Except that things had changed. The scavenger girl had come, with her flashing blade (his grandfather's weapon; how dare she) and her defiance. His Master's face had turned from him in the last minutes of their fight, leaving Ren to slowly bleed out in the snow.
I deserve this, he thinks, extending a gloved palm to catch a wayward snowflake, the pain nothing on the hollow-ache left in the wake of his failure. Death, when it came, would be welcomed. ]
[New York was a massive place with millions of people coming and going, focused entirely on what they needed to do throughout the day. Everyone was always on the move, and if they weren't, they were waiting for a bus, hailing a taxi. Or, perhaps even worse, they were tourists.
A New Yorker's nightmare.
But they weren't for Adam, not right now. He'd a successful audition a few days before, and was still riding on that high. Rehearsals over for the day, he was spending the afternoon at some nondescript part of the city, sitting on a park bench, people watching, and occasionally throwing pieces of popcorn at pigeons.
If he had someone with him, he'd spend this time making up stories about the people observed. The woman over there? Used to be a nun, but now was a spy whose specialty was honeypots. The group of children along the opposite way? All part of a diabolical candy smuggling ring. Tragic.
When his gaze lands on a red-haired man nearby, he has a hard time placing him. Military? Cosplayer? Either way, that was far too much black for late summer. It's mostly curiosity and sheer boredom that has him slide up to the other man.] You lost?
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(continued from tfln)
[ He motions at the door, and it closes in his wake (Ren is unable to allow it to close on its own, as per the programming - instead he grates its gears, sending it sparking on its hinges into place). Sweeping into the room, the knight stands, watching the general - the mask divulging nothing of his expression. ] No need for the v-1 then, I presume.
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He may have also started a casual conversation if Ren hadn't decided to, as usual, show off by forcing the door closed. The sound of dragging metal on metal as the gears protest let Hux know that further down the line his door will give up the ghost due to that particular abuse. He can hear that smirk too, lips thinning ever so slightly as he tries not to rise to the bait.]
I'm saving it for the day you forget. [There was little point to setting something like that up when Ren would actuall know it was there. The surprise would be ruined. Hux motions at a seat nearby for Ren to sit on, leaning back on his own and wondering just what the knight would be like drunk. Hux is just about there already, but then out of the two bottles of brandy on his desk, one of them is almost empty. It's been a long, boring day.] One day you'll learn that doors are not your mortal enemy.
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The latches of the helmet click open, and Kylo reaches up to lift it off his head, hair mussed from the action. He turns to eye the general, then the bottles on the table, before discarding the helmet on the floor and sitting on the indicated chair, one long leg stretched out in front of him. The time that they have, he reflects, is drawing to an end - soon he will disembark for Snoke's headquarters and for the rest of his training; whatever that may be - and undoubtedly he will not return as he had left.
For now, he reaches for the spare glass on the table, tipping it towards Hux in a silent toast, and taking a drink, the scent of the Corelian stuff always makes him think of the old cargo hold of-- the thought twitches his features, and he turns to the general instead, a flicker of something snide pulling the corner of his mouth upwards, and he shutters the old memory. ] An overgrown kkryytch, hm? I never knew you thought so highly of me.
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(that AU where they actually win)
Ren had killed him with his bare hands; saber and the Force be damned. He was an old man, but he had cursed Ren's name until the end. With no master, and with no army of his own, Ren had returned to the Finalizer. There was nothing else for him to do - his feet knew the way to the ship, and he found himself there, unwittingly, bareheaded, his helmet cloven in two by Snoke's lightsaber. Standing on the bridge, he had looked across the room at Hux, silent and oddly grave considering the circumstances. He ought to have killed the general then and there, taken the ship and commandeered the army for himself, but the moment, that window of opportunity, had passed before he had been aware that it existed (what a hold Hux had on him; it was as finely crafted as a choke chain). Instead, he had crossed the floor to stand at the other man's side, hands clasped formally behind his back, and turned to speak to him; close and low, he had breathed: it is done.
They were unstoppable.
Naboo had fallen to them without much pressure; its people were peace-loving and gentle, and the sheer violence of Kylo Ren's racketing saber, his scarred face and black robes had been quite convincing enough. That and the fact that he had shown up with a veritable hoard of stormtroopers. Their reputation had preceded them too; the dual scourges of the Order, they rang in terror; Ren's Upsilon-class shuttle had landed in the center of the city's square like a scavenger bird, and Naboo had been theirs.
Theed royal palace's throne room is a pompous array of marble and metalwork; Ren's boots click on the floor as he sweeps across it, cloak billowing out behind him in the thin Naboo breeze. His helmet has been repaired, and he wears it like a true knight of the new first order; proud, cruel. The negotiations to install a puppet ruler have concluded, and the planet is in their grasp; another for the growing collection. Ren can see the sharp line of Hux's silhouette against the central window; everything is coloured a bloody orange in the evening light, and Ren walks over to stand at his shoulder, pulling his mask off and placing it on the table behind them, following Hux's line of vision out the window. ] The negotiations are complete. I believe a congratulations are in order, general, or - [ Ren smirks, laying his fingers against the back of the other man's neck. ] - have you already taken the title of a Naboo monarch?
[ Ren, despite his flair for the theatrical, had thrown off any and all titles - accepting the power, but not the station. He finds it too administrative, too bound up in obligations - he prefers to run rampant through the galaxy, taking no direction from Hux, but still, silently, using him as a point of focus - a magnetic north on his whirling, dizzying compass. ]
(waves flag)
They had talked about the death of Snoke and what they would do afterwards, had planned on how and when it would happen, yet the moment he saw Ren on the bridge on the Finalizer Hux knew that things were going to change and drastically. He should have killed Ren there and then, had every single storm trooper on that ship jump the force user until he perished. There were, naturally, only so many people Ren could take on at once. It was the course of action that theorycrafting and common sense dictated; if Ren could so easily overthrow his leader, his mentor, then he could easily do it to someone else. That moment passes before Hux gives the thought any kind of consideration and just like Ren the general moves on on to look forwards. It was done and they would have a lot of work ahead of them, the death of the Supreme Leader would cause ripples and Hux knew it would be his job to stop them from becoming tsunamis throughout the First Order.
In some small way, Hux would be disappointed in almost how easy it was to take full control of the First Order. Not many of the vast armies had even seen the other being and thus they simply felt it easier to remain under the command of the general. It was almost, in an alarming way, the same status quo as before and on rare occasions Hux would wonder when the other shoe would drop. Naboo caved in easily enough though who wouldn't with Kylo Ren tearing things up like a laser-edged whirlwind? That and Hux had thrown his own two cents in, giving the officials the simple promise that Operation Cinder could easily be turned back on.
The royal palace throne room was opulent and magnificent bordering on the line of garish. Hux isn't sure if he's perception of being on military bases has skewed his perception or what, but some of it was a little over the top. Not by too much though and it wasn't the biggest problem in the world as he stares out of the large window to watch the scenery. Troops were still scattered here and there, but for now things were at a restless lull. This was not the first time Naboo had been hit by the Empire and the majority of it's citizens were smart enough to know better.
So was Hux. Not a single stone would be left unturned and tomorrow they would simply go to work on the Gungan. He was not going to give those lanky creatures half a leg to stand on. Footsteps herald Ren's arrival before the other even reaches him and Hux merely keeps his shoulders straight, barely even reacting to the fingers at his neck (though if Ren was bothering to pay attention he'd notice the general relaxing a mere fraction).]
No. I don't think it would have the same impact when leading armies. [ There would be a title change no doubt, but Hux knows he would be wise to keep it military for now. The moment it changed into something else was the same moment when he would be kept with feet planet side as others took the reins. The control freak in Hux cringes at the mere thought.]
I do hope you know how to swim, Ren.
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[traditionally, while all personnel are allowed to make use of the training facilities, the Stormtroopers have highest priority and are given a great deal of leeway between their sessions. to the point where it's rare to see one not in the white - or training - armor, and, apparently by the view of the higher-ups? the skills of the rest are allowed to languish.
enough is enough, apparently, especially in lieu of recent events. but it wouldn't necessarily do for the highest officers to be seen with the lowest of ranks; some warrant a more private environs. others warrant a more...personal touch.
lucky Hux gets both. and he is also the recipient of a rare sight - an unarmored Captain Phasma, currently in the midst of some stretches as she goes over how, exactly, she is to handle this.]
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[Hux doesn't get it. He does his training on the extremely rare occasions no-one else is around, but for the most part he's always too busy juggling reports, budgets and tactical theorycrafting around to be in the training facilities. On occasion he'll sit off to one side and watch the stormtroopers training, datapad on one knee as he multitasks.
The sight of Phasma without her armor just drives home how serious the other is about this sudden, surprise bout of training he's meant to be going through. Even Hux feels as if he sticks out like a sore thumb in slacks and plain tee shirt. Training in a parade uniform would never end well.
What horrors were going to commence here?] Captain. Luckily the research and development meeting didn't overshoot.
[Tarkin's Teeth, Hux is starting to feel a bit exposed right now. Were people watching?]
girly man
rude, rude, he can run fast.... in the academy days....
well people were chasing him then
true story
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(you mentioned this so now it's a thing)
[ It was a routine trip; pre-planned with exact coordinates, which had been meticulously programmed into the shuttle's terminal. Ren wore his mask, silently accompanied by general Hux. Snoke wanted to debrief them after the failure on Starkiller Base, and Ren's own failure to locate the map to Skywalker. Debrief; whatever that meant. Ren was to remain behind, commencing the final stage of his training, while Hux would return to the Finalizer - to continue the First Order's slow progress through space, towards whatever superweapon came next in its arsenal.
He had been dwelling on recent events - not meditating, just brooding, eyes trained on the cosmos as it flashed by outside the transparisteel viewing windows (he fears what comes next; it saturates his entire Force signature, creating a nervous energy in the cockpit - he wonders what Snoke can see, how deeply. He already knows the answer, however, and does not reach across to touch Hux's mind; though he considers it. Probably best to guard against their recently established habits - that kind of intimacy would be seen as a petty failing; flesh is weakness - no Sith and no Jedi were supposed to fall into that brand of physicality. He had thought himself immune to base desires. He was not.
It all goes to hell from there; Mandalorians and an asteroid field -
This had certainly not been a part of the mission - Ren ought to have sensed it, should have been more aware of disturbances in the force. But, with its hull irreparably damaged, shields shot to cinders, they had crash landed the shuttle on some anonymous and obscure world - plummeting through the hazy, overcast sky before being thrown from the shuttle on impact. Ren had blacked out then, smoke choking his lungs, singed from the fire.
Rain is the first thing that he registers, his vision swimming. He is soaked to his skin, the shuttle lies like a mangled avian a few yards away. The knight casts about with the Force for Hux, a dull frustration entering him at the inconvenience of all of this; another defeat. They'll be dead men when Snoke finally gets ahold of them. ]
♥
The fussing didn't stop on the shuttle ride itself either, Hux unable to do anything but check everything, making sure things were perfect. It was as if the general was trying to burn off the nervous, uneasy energy around him by moving around. It's a stark contrast to Kylo Ren, standing at the window and barely moving. For once they were mirrored and it was Hux who couldn't stay still, mind constantly racing as he tries to not to dwell on the upcoming meeting. Prior to even setting off Hux had been controlled, collected and not overly concerned by the upcoming conference with the Supreme Leader. A good handful of systems had already claimed allegiance with the First Order since witnessing the Hosnian system's demise, not wanting to take a chance to see if there was another Starkiller or not. It should be enough to soothe some of the problem and it had certainly acted like a balm on Hux's frayed nerves.
Except now the closer they got to Snoke the more those nerves came back, almost as if Ren's own brooding was rubbing off on Hux in the worst of ways. Not that it would matter much in the end when all hell broke loose in the form of an asteroid belt and the added bonus of Mandalorian scum. Before Hux could even get a hold on the situation the ship was careening towards the nearest planet. There's nothing that can even be done but hope for the best, Hux somewhat wishing he wasn't aware of just how fucked and irreparable the shuttle was as it span out of control. Don't tense, it increases the chances of shattered bones-
There's a sound of ringing, an almost roaring sound of chimes as Hux tries to puzzle his way through it. Just like Ren he was thrown from the shuttle on impact and Hux can't even remember why he's curled up on his side as if it was just another morning in bed. A cold wetness starts to seep its way through his uniform and it's a dull, slow realization that he's on muddy ground. A crash! Hux puts his hands on the ground, attempting to push himself up and managing nothing more than a slip onto his other side. His balance is shot and Hux knows that the noise he can hear is a mix of a nearby wreckage burning and his own ears ringing loud. The correct thing to be doing would be to get up, look around and to see just whom had walked out of that wreckage.
In just a few more minutes...] Ugh.
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I'M SO SORRY
[ Picture included for compensation because this is long af ]
[ It's a bloody fight and they are on the ground in the midst of it - Ben Solo's red saber cuts swathes through the stormtroopers that he had once commanded, bloodying the grass beneath them, and arcing across the battlefield in a blur of crimson. Blaster fire whistles past his ears, and he reaches out a hand to stay four more blasts as they near him - once, he could only manage one, now, Luke Skywalker walking him through the subtle intricacies of the Force (and of Bastila Shan's light side battle meditation, of all things), Solo is a formidable weapon.
They break through the frontlines and storm the old fortress that the order have been occupying for this stretch of the campaign. It is moss-covered, ancient - it reminds him of the Sith ruins on Dantooine, but he has abandoned that mythology. Perhaps, he thinks, and cuts down another stormtrooper - blade singing with energy, he can finally rise to his mother's expectations now - they had always been just out of his young grasp. Perhaps, no longer.
Ben wears the standard rebel uniform, his father's smuggler waistcoat slung over his shoulders like a jaunty emblem; a reminder that he owes a debt, and that he is, finally, his father's son. He has not been that in many years, and now he wears the Solo name with a renewed pride; fiercely, emphatically.
His lightsaber hisses, sizzling when flesh meets its spasming blade (oh, but he will not admit this thrill to the Jedi - the power that slaughter makes him feel, his continuing pangs of hunger for that power. He may have abandoned the name Kylo Ren, but Ben Organa-Solo is no kind man.).
Dameron and his squadron circle overhead, felling another line of troopers. They take the entrance, and then the oval courtyard - the fountains splashing quietly around them, their feet the only echoes aside from the running water. Ben leads the assault - there is a hush across the fortress; like a dead calm before some form of horrific ambush. He can feel the shock-waves that run towards him through the Force already, and he strides forward, wearing the mantle of rebel leader as well as he wore that of Snoke's apprentice.
They enter a hallway, and there is a faint light at the end of it. Ben surges ahead of his group, twirling his saber in one hand, feet paced in a moving fencer's stance - aggressive, even now, as a Jedi.
He rounds the corner, and the earth - in every sense but physical - gives way beneath him.
Heart in throat, pulse racing to the point of nausea, he stands face to face with general Hux.
Solo's saber hangs uselessly at his side, sparks littering the floor. He blocks a blaster bolt from one of the troopers without so much as a gesture - eyes remaining trained on the vividness of Hux's features - tinged red by the light of his saber. Ten months, fourteen days since he had stood, side by side with the general, silently swearing that he would return to the Finalizer whole, and safe.
He cannot speak, he chokes out: ] Hux.
YOU SHOULD BE, HOW VERY DARE
That disbelief had soon turned to a wary kind of worry, the kind that would sneak up quietly in the nights when Hux would toss and turn in his bed. The bed itself felt too empty too and it aggravated the general to no end. It hadn't even been a relationship but just two men blowing off steam. There had been nothing more than that and yet even as the days turn into weeks he couldn't help but stare stubbornly at the ceiling of his quarters, silently calling Ren every name under the sun. Not even a dammed message to say he'd gotten there in one place.
By the third month the whispers had started and there was nothing Hux could do to stop them. They spread through the crew like wildfire, ranging from the standard defection rumor to the more extravagant kind where Snoke had killed his apprentice. Personally that one had been Hux's favorite one. Ren wouldn't defect to the Resistance, he wasn't stupid enough to do such thing. It only truly left the latter as an option and by the sixth month with no communication Hux simply decided to let go of it all. No more checking his comms upon waking up to see if there was any news; the First Order would make do without it's pet sith and so would he. There truly wasn't any other option, and as per normal Hux simply buried himself in work. Armies did not run themselves. Between the loss of Kylo Ren and Captain Phasma (who apparently hadn't made it out of the trash in time), the First Order was suddenly more demanding than normal and soon enough Hux was simply too busy to think much on Ren. At least not during the day.
The next time Hux truly gives Ren his attention in the day is during the battle, ears metaphorically perking as he hears the rumors his guards are whispering among themselves. There had been news reaching them of the Resistance led by someone who fit a particular Ren-shaped hole in Hux's life. It wasn't true though, there was absolutely no chance in hell that it was Ren. Kylo Ren was missing, presumed dead. Joining the Resistance was, in Hux's mind, completely bullshit. Why would he? What was the point? The idea is just so foreign that Hux couldn't comprehend it if he wanted to, cringing as it led to the natural follow up of what had gone wrong?
There's little time to think on anything on the battlefield though, Hux staying close with his squad, blaster in hand as he helps the small group find their way through the grounds. It wasn't far to the shuttle, just two more hallways to take-
Ren.
The second he turns the corner and claps eyes on Ren he freezes in place, eyes widening a fraction as the breath in his lungs leaves him. Suddenly it's as if there's no oxygen in the room at all, each and every single one of those lost days just crashing down on Hux silently as he tries to even grasp what he's seeing right now. Lips twitch, the word Ren so easy to silently mouth before the general blinks, snapping himself out of his self imposed paralysis. This was a war and that was not Ren. It was merely someone similar looking. Denial always was a strong thing, Hux almost completely unable to notice the red lightsaber as he pulls his blaster up at Ren and pulls the trigger without hesitation.
It was that or get shot by the other Resistance members.]
Get them!
NO RAGRATS
all the regrets even what the
what have we done
we are monsters
weeps so much
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saving comment 1k for the best thread
8D
[He'd forwarded the concerning series of messages from the General to Captain Phasma. She'd appeared amused by them, but had advised they were no cause for concern.
The General's most recent message, however, led Kylo to believe otherwise.
Given the serious nature of Hux‘s threat, Kylo felt completely justified forcing open the doors to the General's personal quarters.]
so cruel
Unlike his text, Hux is at his desk, face down and hands over his head as he hopes something puts him out of his misery quickly. This was the worst experience and when he hears the doors open the general doesn't even move, pretending that he heard nothing.
It only lasts a few seconds as Hux barks out a muffled order.]
Go away. I'm busy.
He ruins your life because he cares
if hux wanted that he'd get a cat
Re: if hux wanted that he'd get a cat
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Ren is both annoyed and bemused by the privilege he has been born into -- Leia Organa is a powerful senator, daughter of a queen from the nation of Naboo but born on US soil, and even if Kylo resents the weight on his shoulders, the expectations placed on him. The monarchy might have been dissolved in Naboo, but there are many who have not forgotten. Even less have forgotten the fact that his grandfather, the singularly charismatic Anakin Skywalker, had served the nation as President for two whole terms.
Even so, Ren attends -- there are some people even a loner tolerates, and Phasma so rarely asks things of him. He keeps to the fringe of the party, managing to be halfway civil during conversations; but he has to admit that most of it has everything to do with the generous application of alcohol. Everything is more tolerable with alcohol.
He slips through the crowds like a ghost, paying them little mind and ignoring a couple who evidently wanted to speak to him -- he's done for the evening, and he's counting down the minutes to take his leave when he catches a glimpse of copper-red hair, his minimal good mood dissipating. Of course, how could Hux not have been here? The man is, after all, the son of the current Secretary of Defense and highly sought after in his own right. But in Ren's opinion, he's never met a more obnoxiously aggravating rival. The man keeps him on his toes and gets under his skin, and while a part of him revels in the challenge, the larger part of him steadily hates everything that Hux is and all that he stands for. He is orderly to a fault, a rigid stickler to the rules, with a sharp, cutting manner that sets Ren's teeth on edge.
But instead of avoiding him, he comes up to him (his wineglass needs a refill, and he'll need a bottle of it before he can deal with Hux civilly). He takes a hold of a half empty bottle and pours some into his glass, thinks about it, and pours more into it. ]
So she managed to pry you out of your cave.
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The party is the usual grouping of bores and sycophants, everyone trying to make their own impacts on others to further themselves. Hux could recognize them a mile off and yet despite the distaste he still talks to everyone who talks to him - albeit with a not-too-thrilled look on his face. When he isn't discussing politics, economics or whatever the flavor of the week was wit the most droll expression, Hux stays off to one side to drink his wine in peace, occasionally rubbing the side of his jaw and remembering that this time around he has a beard, something Hux has opted to try growing and excelled at.
Hux is stood next to a table when Ren finally approaches and Hux doesn't even bother keeping the unimpressed look from his face as the other fills his own wineglass up. Of course Phasma has invited Ren, there was a method to her madness somewhere but Hux has yet to figure it out. Ren was everything that Hux despised in a person, untidy in every way and with as much motivation as a potato (not to mention the aspirations of one).]
I'm surprised she found yours with it being under that rock and all.
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Coffee shop au because it is life ♪
His local had closed down. Now he was forced to use this other place. What would he do if the coffee was terrible? He'd have to look into alternatives like Starbucks or some shit place that was dubious at best. Hopefully this one was normal enough — it was the kind of coffee joint that had been around for some time but never truly pinged Hux's radar.
The scent of coffee is always a universal constant, but it's not enough to soothe Hux's irritation as he walks in and queues with the rest of the morning crew. By the time he even gets to the counter he's aggravated at how the prices are relatively decent for what seems to be the portion sizes, enough so that he barely even gives the barista a glance as he gives his name. Hux. It's only when Hux receives his large flat white (with extra shot of coffee) that he notices the name written on the side in scrawling handwriting; Hucks.
Hux looks up from the cup at the barista in question, expression unimpressed as he meets a dark gaze head on.]
I said Hux, this isn't right.
/Masochism Tango plays gently in the background
And this guy - all sharp suits and a sharper accent - just reeks of trouble. ]
Really?
[ Frowning, he plucks the cup from Hux's fingers, turning it around to study the name written across the side. He recognizes Rey's spider-scrawl immediately and, if there was ever any doubt, there's that sickeningly cheerful smiley she insists on adding to every order.
He passes it back to Hux, expression mild - it's annoying, sure, but unless there's something actually wrong with the order he fails to see what this accomplishes. ]
Sorry about that.
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It works, and this is as much as the knight is willing to admit about it. He's aware of stray thoughts, a budding desire for more, the odd little flutter in his chest when Hux smiles -- and he does it so very rarely. Once, he thinks. A smile devoid of too-sharp angles and cold, calculating malice.
A smile Hux probably thinks Ren didn't see.
As it is, Ren is not predisposed to flights of fancy, carefully keeping that image aside to rifle through then Hux is being particularly insufferable (which is quite often), but which Ren has developed a relatively soft spot for. It's hidden away, that softness -- that weakness. Snoke would burn it out of him if he knows; or perhaps Ren would burn it out himself. He doesn't know, yet.
He wakes in Hux's bed, stirring in the sheets, his arm having been draped over Hux's ridiculously slender waist for most of the night. He wakes to red hair in his face, being pressed flushed against the other man's back, and he grunts.
One more day, and he'll be gone. ]
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He's not sleeping, hears that grunt as Kylo shifts ever so slightly. Hux has never gotten more than three hours sleep and doesn't intend to. It just so happens that Ren can wear him out enough that he'll at least lounge in bed as the other sleeps like a lazy feline. It also helps that he can watch Ren as he sleeps, taking in the small features that wouldn't be possible when the other was awake, from the small moles to long eyelashes.
There's something wrong with him, Hux can sense it like a strange undercurrent on an otherwise still lake. Whatever push and pull there was between the pair of them, something has shifted enough that the idea of six months without Ren around to fuck shit up is almost despicable. Some time ago Hux would have celebrated.
One more day.... Hux ignores the odd pang at that thought, frowning at the wall as he waits to see if Ren is actually waking up or not. He doesn't say anything or move, too comfortable with the warmth of Ren's body against his back to be quick to ruin it just yet.]
au where the bad guys win?
He is, however, interested in the outcome, particularly after all the sacrifices he’s made in the years since he’s aligned himself with the First Order. Although Ren is not without conflict, he is at least assured that even the most difficult and unpleasant tasks he’s faced have been well worth it, given their present success. With both Luke Skywalker and the scavenger girl out of the way, the future looks bright for the entire galaxy.
Still, it’s too soon to celebrate, and even if weren’t, it’s more likely that Ren would hardly have the wherewithal to participate in a proper celebration. Instead, he can take solace in knowing he’s helped see a major accomplishment through, and it’s not something he regards lightly.
For the moment, Ren occupies his time leaning against a wall, gaze trained on the dark and starry expanse of space through a window. His attention is pulled away when doors abruptly slide open and various officers file out. Ren recognises them, but he’s never bothered to learn their names or ranks. They must be of some importance, however, because beyond those doors is where those surrender terms are being hashed out—or were—with their prized prisoner.
Ren can’t think of the Resistance general for who she is; that simply complicates matters more. She’s a war criminal, and he ignores the way his mother looks over her shoulder at him as two Stormtroopers lead her to a cell.
It’s only after they’re gone that he pushes himself away from the window and enters the conference room. He spies a document still on the table, no doubt one proclaiming the Resistance’s surrender to the First Order. Unsurprisingly, it remains unsigned. His mother is tough and brazen; he expects nothing less.
But it’s no matter; for now, Ren turns his attention to the only other person in the room: Hux.] The galaxy is in the palm of your hand. Are you content?
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There just so happens to be the small number of resistance factions out there. They were small in numbers but unmistakable in their ethos; what had started as a well-meaning save the galaxy was turning into the more hardened destroy the First Order at all costs. Hux doesn't know if he should be amused by that or not. That was just the way the galaxy turned, in all it's infinite cycles. They had started out as the underdog and were now in a position to take full power. Now it was someone else's turn to be the underdog and Hux knows better than to underestimate a small group just because they're far away or short on members.
The General of the Resistance is a prime example, Hux watching as she's led out of the room. Even now, when all is looking dire, she doesn't give up. She merely tilts her chin up and silently refuses. On occasions there's an absolute wave of debate that happens, but nothing meaningful or useful in any way. Just a person's view on right and wrong. Hux can see where Ren gets his stubbornness from.
Speak of the Devaronian....]
Should I be? [ Hux doesn't look up from the unsigned document. It's obvious in the way the General's lips thin that he's not too impressed by the blank space where a signature should be. Of all the worlds and systems in the galaxy, yet he can't get one defeated person to sign a document.]
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soulmates au finally
[ The notion of soulmates had existed for centuries -- longer even than that if you considered the years upon years that mankind had spent in ignorance, eyes turned skyward, with nothing but dreams and ambition to sustain them.
Kylo Ren, for his part, had always looked upon the name etched just below his left rib, with a mixture of derision and annoyance. Sentiment was a weakness. Something he could ill-afford, not now, not when he was so close to achieving his goals.
Except --
Except that things had changed. The scavenger girl had come, with her flashing blade (his grandfather's weapon; how dare she) and her defiance. His Master's face had turned from him in the last minutes of their fight, leaving Ren to slowly bleed out in the snow.
I deserve this, he thinks, extending a gloved palm to catch a wayward snowflake, the pain nothing on the hollow-ache left in the wake of his failure. Death, when it came, would be welcomed. ]
shenanigans
A New Yorker's nightmare.
But they weren't for Adam, not right now. He'd a successful audition a few days before, and was still riding on that high. Rehearsals over for the day, he was spending the afternoon at some nondescript part of the city, sitting on a park bench, people watching, and occasionally throwing pieces of popcorn at pigeons.
If he had someone with him, he'd spend this time making up stories about the people observed. The woman over there? Used to be a nun, but now was a spy whose specialty was honeypots. The group of children along the opposite way? All part of a diabolical candy smuggling ring. Tragic.
When his gaze lands on a red-haired man nearby, he has a hard time placing him. Military? Cosplayer? Either way, that was far too much black for late summer. It's mostly curiosity and sheer boredom that has him slide up to the other man.] You lost?
something spooky: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxc0niFlVOA
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