" and you, my father, there on that sad height,
curse, bless me now with your fierce tears i pray.
do not go gentle into that good night.
rage, rage against the dying of the light "
blood runs thicker than water.
| dying of the light by kona |
|...
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HALO'S EYES STARED BLANKLY AT A DIMLY LIT CEILING.
her insides felt void. still, and hollow. the force moved slowly inside of her, as if it had been drugged. she couldn't recognize it, or even understand it. now, it felt foreign. like it didn't belong. like she didn't deserve it.
her eyes were glossy, glazed by tears she knew she could not shed. she had seen it. she had watched leia float into oblivion, but she had not felt it. why had she not felt it? perhaps it was the force's way of punishing her for beginning to care for a murderous monster. perhaps it was trying to restore balance by removing itself from such an unstable and chaotic creature as halo.
for loving him again, she knew she would have to face consequences.
but none of that seemed to matter now. all she could think about was leia. about the moments before her death.
she had seen him try. he was trying so hard to cling on to the person he had once been. he tried to kill her, but he couldn't do it. and it wouldn't have even mattered. she was gone no matter what.
halo sucked in a cool breath. she missed luke.
a familiar tug ached in the back of her mind. she let it in, too tired to resist. and in a moment, he was there beside her.
he was sleeping. she didn't know how he had called to her in his sleep. but his lengthy and massive form hunched in on itself beside her, fighting violently for rest in a pool of exhaustion. she could see the redness of his eyes, the swell of his lids. he looked so young in his dreams. so like ben. that boy was still in there. he had to be.
halo turned on her side. she felt her abdomen flare in pain protestingly, but she ignored it. she couldn't tear her light eyes away from his face. pale and calm, littered with tiny freckles that marked him as ben solo, and not kylo ren. his dark lashes brushed over his cheek. the curve of his jaw was steep against gravity, and his dark curls fell wildly around him. he looked so human. she knew now why snoke had urged him to wear a mask. this face was too weak, too young, too boyish to be considered as a true threat.
she felt the urge to reach out to him, and rest her fingers on his cheek as she once did. but she resisted. she was too afraid.
his dreams spilled out from his mind and into hers as she slept. they were mere echoes, shattered remnants of a time long passed. but mostly, he dreamt of his mother.
of her beauty when she was young, her strength in her old age. her persistence that he could come back, that he could be saved. she believed in him until the end. why did she believe in him?
