No. The scavenger reportedly escaped alongside FN-2187 aboard the Millenium Falcon. [His injuries were deep. Grievous beyond the scar now running the full length of his youthful face. Reports suggested that he fended off both the girl and FN-2187 and their criminal escort, killing the once-famed Han Solo.
If those reports are correct (she believes they are) she is impressed this is all he carries as a souvenir.]
They have fled, albeit temporarily, beyond our reach.
[Perhaps that news will spark whatever necessary fire he lacks, confined here, weak and shaking.]
[It might have, were it not for everything else that had happened before that fight and flight. He thinks of the Millennium Falcon, still flying free under a new master. He can't help but think of his father, and the weight comes crashing heavily on his shoulders. Slow inhaling becomes slightly stuttering to match the uncertain dart of his eyes across the floor.
Why? Why hadn't the rift in his heart sealed itself? Why did it still hurt?]
--FN-2187 should have succumbed to his injuries. There was no body?
[His tone is halting, uncertain pausing interrupting the flow of his speech. Thanks to the tightness of his frame, his limbs are unable to twitch as they would like. What replaces the twitches of stress are instead full (though occasional) spasms of his saber arm.]
[Perhaps it's because she prides herself on her soldiers-- or perhaps because she has known FN-2187 since he first came into the First Order's service-- either way, Phasma doesn't truly believe him to be dead. Not until she sees it with her own eyes.
No, were he dead he would have been left behind to rot.]
He should have been near to your location, Kylo Ren. He was not.
[There's no follow-up, no criticism of his ability to land a supposedly fatal blow - he will draw his own conclusions with or without her input. He is, after all, already succumbing to stress from every visual clue she's since registered.]
Control yourself.
[It's not an order, but instead the only advice she imagines he needs to hear.]
[Control -- calm, calm every teacher he ever had tried to lecture him about calm. The dark side was not about calm, it was about passion, but even still the Supreme Leader had tried to temper him. Calm should have brought him tranquility, but all it had ever done was weaken him. Or at least, that was what he had told himself.
Through victory, my chains will be broken.
But there was no victory. The victory he had sought for himself only reinforced his chains. And now the remainder of his prey was running free in the open galaxy. Control? What control could he ever hope to have?
He glowers momentarily at his Captain, and in seeing his scarred reflection in her armor, he quickly understands that she is right. Passion will not heal his body, and without his body, he cannot retrieve what had been lost.
At least he could count on her to act without question. To fill in the gaps he could not see with the Force using a trained and unbiased eye.
[Sir. A sign of deference, and more than that a sign that she is, despite rejecting his plea, not aiming to halt him for her own sake.] The General is currently unaware of your conscious state, and as you are now you cannot hope to stand at his side within the inner sanctum.
[In other words: it would be a show of weakness, not of strength, to see Kylo Ren so incapable of walking on his own.]
[Nevertheless, her observation makes him growl in frustration, a dog craving to please his own master while having to watch another eat in his stead.]
The Supreme Leader will already know that I have awaken, even if the General does not.
[Weakness or not, it would be worse to lay on the hospital bed instead of going straight to him for orders. It was the curse of his connection with Snoke -- he was at his beck and call at all hours of the waking day. There is no choice in the matter. He must go.
Standing is nearly impossible, and he has to hold himself on the bed just to take steps.]
[The sigh she exhales is unintentionally amplified by the automated radio transmitter embedded in her helmet. He is resolved, and much as she dislikes the idea of him aggravating his own miserable state, his will-- as is so often the case-- is also her own.
She lifts a heavily plated arm, saying nothing, making no move to come closer: he will close the distance if that is his wish. He is strong enough.
[Ren continues to pull himself along the cot until he runs out of cot to hold. There's a brief pause when he spots his reflection is Phasma's armor, free hand reaching up to his face. Gloved fingers brush the long scar there, the light and fire in his eyes dying almost as suddenly as it had sprung to life.
He had barely survived, there is no question about it now. The ice of the snow soaks his robes, mixed with too much blood and charged with the power of his lightsaber. He can map the deep cut on his torso now, straight down to his leg alongside the other various stab wounds that he had gained from his last fight.
An inhale cuts the silence, chased by a shaky exhale as he reaches for Phasma's plated arm to clasp as firmly as he is able. It's done. There is nothing more he can do but face the Supreme Leader and search for the guidance he so desperately craves.]
[He is marred, that was clear well before he rose to his feet-- but she sees the contempt in his eyes as he studies himself in her armor. For all her battles and the injuries sustained throughout, it's a feeling she understands well. Her voice isn't soft (never soft) and yet the viciousness so generally employed by the captain is nowhere to found when she finally speaks, keeping him held upright with the strength of her forearm alone.] They are what make you - never forget where your enemies failed to extinguish your life.
[And then she adds, curtly:] One month, subtracting the span of a few days.
He swallows, audible but without looking up at his assistant. Being confronted with his own mortality so soon hadn't been in the cards. His power was so prevalent that the idea of someone else being capable of cutting him down was inconceivable.
And yet, the combined struggle of a traitorous Stormtrooper and a no good scavenger orphan managed to nearly kill him.
The more he thinks about it, the more he dreads marching himself to the inner sanctum.]
Then I suppose I owe you my life.
[It's quiet, in a way he doesn't mean for it to be. If only he had his helmet.]
It was General Hux that found you. [The correction is gentle, but firm. She claims nothing that isn't hers; her pride has always been tempered, more so than either of her companions more often than not.]
I was...indisposed. [Tempered, but not infallible. FN-2187 proved than much all too easily; the memory tastes as acrid as bile on her tongue, muscles still wound beneath the weight of her armor.]
[There's no audible backlash, but its impossible to miss the way his face screws up in displeasure. Of course it had been Hux, and no doubt he delivered a most gruesome report to the Supreme Leader. How could he hope to defend himself when he was clinging to a Stormtrooper trying to stay upright, after a month of being indisposed himself?]
Is he in pursuit--
[Kylo Ren stutters to a stop as a spasm runs from his upper spinal column straight down to his knees. His muscles were obviously not quite ready to do so much moving.]
[There's something else-- something sharp to her voice when she says it. A sign she's less than fond of the idea of chasing down something so insignificant as a scavenger from a backwater planet, no matter how capable she might have proved to be. Snoke has but one apprentice; he does not need two.] Hux does not think her valuable enough to risk more firepower when we must adopt a more conservative approach.
He has devoted a small reconnaissance team to the task until our path to Skywalker has been secured.
[A surge of anger chased by adrenaline and the abrupt shadow of the Dark Side enveloping him gets Kylo Ren to stand straight, gripping Phasma's pauldron for stability purposes only.
However, judging by the way his arm shakes, he very clearly would be breaking something if he had the capacity to do anything but stand there and snarl.]
That ignorant--they are in possession of the map to Luke Skywalker! The Sumpreme Leader's instructions were explicit! If she reaches him--
[The stab of pain in his side only serves to incite him further, and he instinctively reaches for his lightsaber. When he finds nothing there, he is forced to tangle his hand in his robes.]
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If those reports are correct (she believes they are) she is impressed this is all he carries as a souvenir.]
They have fled, albeit temporarily, beyond our reach.
[Perhaps that news will spark whatever necessary fire he lacks, confined here, weak and shaking.]
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Why? Why hadn't the rift in his heart sealed itself? Why did it still hurt?]
--FN-2187 should have succumbed to his injuries. There was no body?
[His tone is halting, uncertain pausing interrupting the flow of his speech. Thanks to the tightness of his frame, his limbs are unable to twitch as they would like. What replaces the twitches of stress are instead full (though occasional) spasms of his saber arm.]
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No, were he dead he would have been left behind to rot.]
He should have been near to your location, Kylo Ren. He was not.
[There's no follow-up, no criticism of his ability to land a supposedly fatal blow - he will draw his own conclusions with or without her input. He is, after all, already succumbing to stress from every visual clue she's since registered.]
Control yourself.
[It's not an order, but instead the only advice she imagines he needs to hear.]
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Through victory, my chains will be broken.
But there was no victory. The victory he had sought for himself only reinforced his chains. And now the remainder of his prey was running free in the open galaxy. Control? What control could he ever hope to have?
He glowers momentarily at his Captain, and in seeing his scarred reflection in her armor, he quickly understands that she is right. Passion will not heal his body, and without his body, he cannot retrieve what had been lost.
At least he could count on her to act without question. To fill in the gaps he could not see with the Force using a trained and unbiased eye.
But that doesn't change that he has to move.]
I must go to the Supreme Leader, Captain Phasma.
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[Sir. A sign of deference, and more than that a sign that she is, despite rejecting his plea, not aiming to halt him for her own sake.] The General is currently unaware of your conscious state, and as you are now you cannot hope to stand at his side within the inner sanctum.
[In other words: it would be a show of weakness, not of strength, to see Kylo Ren so incapable of walking on his own.]
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The Supreme Leader will already know that I have awaken, even if the General does not.
[Weakness or not, it would be worse to lay on the hospital bed instead of going straight to him for orders. It was the curse of his connection with Snoke -- he was at his beck and call at all hours of the waking day. There is no choice in the matter. He must go.
Standing is nearly impossible, and he has to hold himself on the bed just to take steps.]
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She lifts a heavily plated arm, saying nothing, making no move to come closer: he will close the distance if that is his wish. He is strong enough.
He must be.]
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He had barely survived, there is no question about it now. The ice of the snow soaks his robes, mixed with too much blood and charged with the power of his lightsaber. He can map the deep cut on his torso now, straight down to his leg alongside the other various stab wounds that he had gained from his last fight.
An inhale cuts the silence, chased by a shaky exhale as he reaches for Phasma's plated arm to clasp as firmly as he is able. It's done. There is nothing more he can do but face the Supreme Leader and search for the guidance he so desperately craves.]
Captain.
[It's a halting reply.]
How long have I been indisposed?
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[And then she adds, curtly:] One month, subtracting the span of a few days.
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He swallows, audible but without looking up at his assistant. Being confronted with his own mortality so soon hadn't been in the cards. His power was so prevalent that the idea of someone else being capable of cutting him down was inconceivable.
And yet, the combined struggle of a traitorous Stormtrooper and a no good scavenger orphan managed to nearly kill him.
The more he thinks about it, the more he dreads marching himself to the inner sanctum.]
Then I suppose I owe you my life.
[It's quiet, in a way he doesn't mean for it to be. If only he had his helmet.]
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I was...indisposed. [Tempered, but not infallible. FN-2187 proved than much all too easily; the memory tastes as acrid as bile on her tongue, muscles still wound beneath the weight of her armor.]
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Is he in pursuit--
[Kylo Ren stutters to a stop as a spasm runs from his upper spinal column straight down to his knees. His muscles were obviously not quite ready to do so much moving.]
--of the girl?
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[There's something else-- something sharp to her voice when she says it. A sign she's less than fond of the idea of chasing down something so insignificant as a scavenger from a backwater planet, no matter how capable she might have proved to be. Snoke has but one apprentice; he does not need two.] Hux does not think her valuable enough to risk more firepower when we must adopt a more conservative approach.
He has devoted a small reconnaissance team to the task until our path to Skywalker has been secured.
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[A surge of anger chased by adrenaline and the abrupt shadow of the Dark Side enveloping him gets Kylo Ren to stand straight, gripping Phasma's pauldron for stability purposes only.
However, judging by the way his arm shakes, he very clearly would be breaking something if he had the capacity to do anything but stand there and snarl.]
That ignorant--they are in possession of the map to Luke Skywalker! The Sumpreme Leader's instructions were explicit! If she reaches him--
[The stab of pain in his side only serves to incite him further, and he instinctively reaches for his lightsaber. When he finds nothing there, he is forced to tangle his hand in his robes.]
He cannot be permitted to train that girl.