Cruel Destiny | Kylo Ren

Obliterated

Nowhere is my chronic loneliness more evident than in the hallways. It is for the most part, crammed between the large portion of the ship as most head to lunch. Some StormTroopers had already taken off their helmets and spoke to one another as I walk behind them, and pilot engineers behind me laughed about something that had happened earlier today.

And yet, here I am walking these halls alone, like I had been for the past two days—damn, I hope Five has gotten my message by now: that's why I currently walk with this heavy traffic of people, to try and find Arion to see if she has managed to send it yet.

I watch my feet take slow steps across the glossy tiles, my shined, leather boots next to the dusty ones of a servant beside me—her and I were dressed practically the same, if it weren't for our foot gear and my lack of headscarf—and grime.

She would've presumed me stalking her if everyone around us weren't here for the same purpose, as we both grabbed a tray from the lunch-line. I hadn't seen Arion yet through the swell of people hurrying to get a plate and line up, but I assumed she might just be waiting for the rush to die down a bit.

The servant who stood in front but never spoke; had sad hazel eyes that almost sunk into her skull beneath the silver tinge of her flesh. Her lips were chapped and I could see the dirt beneath her nails. She looked tired, weary with the burden of long-closed eyes; she could of easily pulled off being a walking zombie, dead on the inside but subconsciously awake.

The servant was so obviously worn out and I wondered, what particular purpose did she have on this ship? Arion's a servant, but her glowing skin and bright eyes had never shown any discomfort of the long hours she must endure.

I pondered on what brought this girl to Finalizer? Did she choose to be a servant or had the First Order forced her to be one? As they somewhat had to me.

Slopping unrecognisable food, that didn't look edible, onto my tray, I suddenly feel an immense guilt; for I must be the same age as the servant, and though our clothes resemble one another, we stand on completely different paths which lead to our starkly strange destinies.

By the end of the line, she parts her ways with me and I do so too. I take a seat at a table in the back that was tucked neatly into the corner. I wanted to get here early, for I don't wish to sit with any random strangers who may have enough time to point out my shiny shoes and ask me of my own purpose here.

I try to eat the mess on my plate but my tastebuds only dry while I sit admiring my surroundings. There was a certain excited buzz that filled the Dining Hall that you couldn't hear anywhere else. Every person that laughed, shouted and bantered here, contributed to the loud noise that filled the air around me.

I was eating the lunch as if it was poisoned. Each forkful was tinier than what you'd feed a mouse and even then I only nibbled at it, pausing before taking any more. I was careful not to finish the meal before Arion came, feeling as if I will only draw attention to myself if I have an empty plate and an even blanker stare—peering at everyone else.

I watch the double-doors and their dull chrome handles like a hawk, waiting for blonde hair to arrive, but it never does.

Finalizer's lunch-break was to be finished in two minutes, and half the people in here are now beginning to throw their trays away.

Where is she?

Suddenly, ripping me from my stares and causing a lump to form in my throat: a piercing alarm began to ring over-and-over; and not like the ringing of the hologram that had shown up on the kitchen bench two days ago, this ringing was much more panicked and brutal.