Where I come from, we venerate those that came before us because, even when dead, they have a continued existence. They remain a part of the world around us, even though we cannot see or touch them -- we're always connected, even though it doesn't make it any easier.
[ like him, she's an orphan. guilty of lacking in familial care, and so, by the standards of a society that values one's conduct towards their parents: disgraceful and shameful, for being left behind. it aches, that old wound that sits within him with a child's voice, calling out and crying for his father, his mother. that couldn't resent those that turned their backs on him as a hungry child, because it was no fault of their own. wei wuxian holds rey's hand tightly between his own, as she talks about her grandfather. ]
It's not your fault that you're thinking of him, miss Rey. Loneliness makes us all desperate. Longing pushes us into the arms of those who don't deserve us. I don't think that an evil man, be he blood to you or not, deserves you. Not because of your power. I couldn't care less about that.
[ he points to the plants she's touched and pressed into growing, their flourishing greenery and soft leaves. ]
I don't think he deserves your gentleness. You were left behind, your blood is shared with an evil man - but you're still gentle.
[ tears slip out now. he gives her a grace she doesn't deserve, and isn't ready to accept. so while the steady stream looks relieved, at first, the sudden seize of her shoulders as she swallows down a sob reveals it for the pained rejection that it is. rey shakes her head fervently, lips trembling with the strain of pressing together.
when she erupts, her voice cracks. ]
There's something dark inside of me. And I - I don't know how to fight it.
[ maybe there's gentleness too, but it's not one or the other. luke had seen that darkness, and refused to train her. leia was a fool for not doing the same. the galaxy would be better off, all of them, if rey never became a jedi. ]
[ rey's shattering pulls him in; he's never been good with anyone's tears, much less a young woman's. his own shijie could look at him with wet eyes and he would clutch at her hands, the hem of her clothing and beg to know what he could do to take the weight from her shoulders, to gift the light back into her smile and she would -- she would -- take him into her arms, the way he tries to take rey into his. to press her crying face into his shoulder and to hold her. ]
May I show you something?
[ i want to share it with you, his sentiments say. not to force her or to give her some preachy message, not in this state. ]
[ for a long stretch, she's quiet. clinging to him like a lost child, bewildered, overwhelmed. she'd never had this comfort. she'd given it, shared in it, but she'd never had anyone who would just hold her. no one but ben, and he is gone now — was never real to begin with.
after a time, she nods, eager and quickly, afraid that she'll take it back if she doesn't offer affirmation quickly enough. she hadn't responded well to riku's efforts to share his experiences on everest. she'd been startled, then, defensive to hear that kylo ren was the one controlling the narrative of her disappearance. but she wants the connection it offers.
and more than that, she wants the distraction from her own pain. all she has done for fifteen years is strive to distract herself from the pain of abandonment, of loss, of suffering. one distraction after another to help her suppress. she invites this one now, welcoming it into the fold. ]
[ there are things that the sharing of words cannot accomplish.
it would be, in a way, dishonest of him to tell her of the things he'd done. it's much easier to give them to her, to show her the man he was ( who he is, even still ) through open memory and honest emotion. wei wuxian takes rey's hand strongly now, his thin fingers laced with hers. he rests his temple against hers, the way sleeping children might find themselves falling into one another's space tenderly. only they are adults, with the hearts of injured, lonely children.
the blue shine in his chest rises, past the folds of his shirt collar, lighting the angle of his jaw and shadowing his eyes as he closes them. he tries to draw her in gently, to bring her into the connection all of the Displaced share. it's in that state of connectivity that he's able to focus her, to guide the shape of her mind as though it were her outstretched hand -- which he introduced to the darkness that sits within him as well.
it's as difficult to grasp as early morning mists and as sleek as unbound, ink black hair. the wei wuxian he presents in this shared space is unlike the wei wuxian he is known as now. yet, even still, his memory-form holds her hand. after all, they are both him. he is -- taller, broader in the shoulder and older than now. tired and gaunt, as though he's starved for sustenances the world could not provide him. and dark. despite the gracious smile on his face, it doesn't reach his eyes entirely.
( he wears black. and red. )
and he is violent. though his memories do not show her the things he had done, there is a sense of it to him. violence and brutality, a chilly vindictiveness and a ruthlessness that decorates him -- things he hides away from others. he is angry and dark; a monstrous thing. ]
They called me the grandmaster of demonic cultivation, [ he says to her, out loud, ] because I would use the dead to kill the living, and then use them all over again. Waste not, want not. They were scared of me, in the end. I died for the terrible things I did. And for a while, I tried to pretend I was a new person. Not this man.
[ he lets her stay there, before the shape of his former self. as long as she likes. ]
But, I am him. And I am also the me you know, and sometimes - Miss Rey - I'm also very scared of that. Just like you.
[ an immediate sense of familiarity strikes her, and spills across the open connection of the empathy bond. she feels as though she recognizes wei wuxian like this, better than she recognizes the one in front of her. she has seen him before. in a nightmare, in a daydream. in kylo ren and in the very vision of her own self on the dark side, swinging that twin-bladed saber.
we are the same.
it startles her, the way she immediately longs for that sense of belonging, the camaraderie she feels in looking on this image of wei wuxian. her hand recoils quickly. she is afraid of herself, not of him. and she is afraid of how compelling she finds this version of him.
the connection breaks and falls limp. hard, uneven breaths fill the startled space between them as she searches his face. ]
But you — you wouldn't do something like that. [ maybe it is a part of him, but it's a part of him that lies in the past. the potential simmers there, all the same. ]
I'm touched that you think of me kindly, miss Rey.
[ he really, truly is. ]
The things I did, in my last life... are things I would still do today. People are not meant to be binary beings, we are not only good or only evil. We're complex, we're honest thieves and lying heroes. I want to do good, and I have chosen to do evil. It isn't a matter of fighting it. Just understanding it. You can't shed the dark parts of yourself any more than you can shed the good.
[ though she recoils from him, his hands are gentle when he reaches for her face. when he touches his thumbs to her tears and wipes them aside, cradling her head between his palms. ]
Then, there are people who have managed to divorce themselves from their good, or their bad. They're no longer in balance. See?
[ one hand drops, and on the digital canvas he plays with so often, he draws a simple figure -- one any child from his time knows. the elegant circle, the flowing line that divides. the black side, the white side and the dot of opposing color within them. the symbol of yin and yang, of cosmological duality. ]
You've been fighting yourself for a long time, haven't you?
[ she does not see herself in this yin-yang symbol. or rather, she doesn't see it wholly in herself. she sees herself and kylo ren, curled around one another, seeking union. but the principle is the same. if they are one soul, they can't come into balance without embracing one another — for all their light, and darkness.
kylo ren won't embrace his light, and if he doesn't, he'll pull her into the darkness. she flinches away from that thought. ]
This is the way of the Force. It's what holds things in balance. [ she traces the middle dividing line between the two sides of the symbol. ] That same Force is in all of us. In me. [ there's tension between the sides now. they're spilling into one another. ] But not here.
[ maybe she'd fallen out of balance because she'd lost her connection to the force. maybe it wasn't her fault, entirely, that she had drifted towards kylo ren like that. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ like him, she's an orphan. guilty of lacking in familial care, and so, by the standards of a society that values one's conduct towards their parents: disgraceful and shameful, for being left behind. it aches, that old wound that sits within him with a child's voice, calling out and crying for his father, his mother. that couldn't resent those that turned their backs on him as a hungry child, because it was no fault of their own. wei wuxian holds rey's hand tightly between his own, as she talks about her grandfather. ]
It's not your fault that you're thinking of him, miss Rey. Loneliness makes us all desperate. Longing pushes us into the arms of those who don't deserve us. I don't think that an evil man, be he blood to you or not, deserves you. Not because of your power. I couldn't care less about that.
[ he points to the plants she's touched and pressed into growing, their flourishing greenery and soft leaves. ]
I don't think he deserves your gentleness. You were left behind, your blood is shared with an evil man - but you're still gentle.
no subject
when she erupts, her voice cracks. ]
There's something dark inside of me. And I - I don't know how to fight it.
[ maybe there's gentleness too, but it's not one or the other. luke had seen that darkness, and refused to train her. leia was a fool for not doing the same. the galaxy would be better off, all of them, if rey never became a jedi. ]
no subject
May I show you something?
[ i want to share it with you, his sentiments say. not to force her or to give her some preachy message, not in this state. ]
no subject
after a time, she nods, eager and quickly, afraid that she'll take it back if she doesn't offer affirmation quickly enough. she hadn't responded well to riku's efforts to share his experiences on everest. she'd been startled, then, defensive to hear that kylo ren was the one controlling the narrative of her disappearance. but she wants the connection it offers.
and more than that, she wants the distraction from her own pain. all she has done for fifteen years is strive to distract herself from the pain of abandonment, of loss, of suffering. one distraction after another to help her suppress. she invites this one now, welcoming it into the fold. ]
god this is so late but this entire cr is my life
it would be, in a way, dishonest of him to tell her of the things he'd done. it's much easier to give them to her, to show her the man he was ( who he is, even still ) through open memory and honest emotion. wei wuxian takes rey's hand strongly now, his thin fingers laced with hers. he rests his temple against hers, the way sleeping children might find themselves falling into one another's space tenderly. only they are adults, with the hearts of injured, lonely children.
the blue shine in his chest rises, past the folds of his shirt collar, lighting the angle of his jaw and shadowing his eyes as he closes them. he tries to draw her in gently, to bring her into the connection all of the Displaced share. it's in that state of connectivity that he's able to focus her, to guide the shape of her mind as though it were her outstretched hand -- which he introduced to the darkness that sits within him as well.
it's as difficult to grasp as early morning mists and as sleek as unbound, ink black hair. the wei wuxian he presents in this shared space is unlike the wei wuxian he is known as now. yet, even still, his memory-form holds her hand. after all, they are both him. he is -- taller, broader in the shoulder and older than now. tired and gaunt, as though he's starved for sustenances the world could not provide him. and dark. despite the gracious smile on his face, it doesn't reach his eyes entirely.
( he wears black. and red. )
and he is violent. though his memories do not show her the things he had done, there is a sense of it to him. violence and brutality, a chilly vindictiveness and a ruthlessness that decorates him -- things he hides away from others. he is angry and dark; a monstrous thing. ]
They called me the grandmaster of demonic cultivation, [ he says to her, out loud, ] because I would use the dead to kill the living, and then use them all over again. Waste not, want not. They were scared of me, in the end. I died for the terrible things I did. And for a while, I tried to pretend I was a new person. Not this man.
[ he lets her stay there, before the shape of his former self. as long as she likes. ]
But, I am him. And I am also the me you know, and sometimes - Miss Rey - I'm also very scared of that. Just like you.
no subject
we are the same.
it startles her, the way she immediately longs for that sense of belonging, the camaraderie she feels in looking on this image of wei wuxian. her hand recoils quickly. she is afraid of herself, not of him. and she is afraid of how compelling she finds this version of him.
the connection breaks and falls limp. hard, uneven breaths fill the startled space between them as she searches his face. ]
But you — you wouldn't do something like that. [ maybe it is a part of him, but it's a part of him that lies in the past. the potential simmers there, all the same. ]
no subject
[ he really, truly is. ]
The things I did, in my last life... are things I would still do today. People are not meant to be binary beings, we are not only good or only evil. We're complex, we're honest thieves and lying heroes. I want to do good, and I have chosen to do evil. It isn't a matter of fighting it. Just understanding it. You can't shed the dark parts of yourself any more than you can shed the good.
[ though she recoils from him, his hands are gentle when he reaches for her face. when he touches his thumbs to her tears and wipes them aside, cradling her head between his palms. ]
Then, there are people who have managed to divorce themselves from their good, or their bad. They're no longer in balance. See?
[ one hand drops, and on the digital canvas he plays with so often, he draws a simple figure -- one any child from his time knows. the elegant circle, the flowing line that divides. the black side, the white side and the dot of opposing color within them. the symbol of yin and yang, of cosmological duality. ]
You've been fighting yourself for a long time, haven't you?
no subject
Powerful light, powerful darkness.
[ she does not see herself in this yin-yang symbol. or rather, she doesn't see it wholly in herself. she sees herself and kylo ren, curled around one another, seeking union. but the principle is the same. if they are one soul, they can't come into balance without embracing one another — for all their light, and darkness.
kylo ren won't embrace his light, and if he doesn't, he'll pull her into the darkness. she flinches away from that thought. ]
This is the way of the Force. It's what holds things in balance. [ she traces the middle dividing line between the two sides of the symbol. ] That same Force is in all of us. In me. [ there's tension between the sides now. they're spilling into one another. ] But not here.
[ maybe she'd fallen out of balance because she'd lost her connection to the force. maybe it wasn't her fault, entirely, that she had drifted towards kylo ren like that. ]