04. mental link

[exhuxperation]

COMMAND over oneself and others	AMBITION nothing will stand in my way
ORDER chaos will not be tolerated	MANY over the individual

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[exhuxperation]

[ Ren's distaste at his answer is easily spotted; Hux doesn't even need to be connected to his mind for it. Well, what else was he supposed to say? He wasn't the one that grew up Force sensitive. Moreover: he's never been afraid of Ren nor has he ever held much of a curiosity for powers that seemed to make him crazy.

Too bad he doesn't get to vocalize anything before the other man gives him the slimmest window of warning.

Mentally, he braces for whatever is coming, ready for what– he's not really sure. His answer comes in a rush. Images flickering by, the press of so many minds against his own, near invisible pathways stretching out in a tangle. Things narrow where people and places intersect. Stars streak past, lightspeed imitated purely with the force of mind.

And then it pauses, hanging there as still as the Finalizer. Its engines hum, easily picked out over the previous silence. He feels like if he reached out, his fingers would come in contact with the alusteel walls the lined the corridors. Even the smell is the same. Recycled air, the tang of ozone from blasters. Plastics, from the troopers uniforms.

The polish Phasma uses on her armor. Straining his senses, he can almost hear the whisper of her cloak as she marches down the hallway.

He misses it fiercely and all of his loss comes bubbling to the surface. ]

Stop. Stop. [ The words come out choked, near sobbed. His eyes are wet when he looks away. ]

[narcissithstic]

[And for that, Ren does withdraw: swift and not wholly unaffected for it (his own breath trembles and his throat feels raw, but he weathers it) leaving Hux numb in comparison to the vibrant flow of emotion and life that had just funneled through him as a conduit. Even the call of the symbiote is nothing. Quiet.

It's exposure that makes one tolerant of a poison. Measured, not constant, and in this, Hux is fortunate to struggle not as most Force-sensitive children did— as he himself did— without a hand at his side to still the noise of something so infinite, so hateful. He waits. Grants the General time before bothering to speak.]

Breathe.

[Forgetting to is so easy. This much he knows from experience - a problem he still combats.]

[exhuxperation]

[ When the other man withdraws, he's only partially grateful. Now he feels numb and raw all at once. Feels like a wound reopened and nothing to staunch the bleeding. The symbiote hums quietly, a reminder that everyone is still connected. His anger flares, hating that any of this could be felt by the rest. It's weak, his attachment to everything he had. He's weak.

The thought cuts deep and he almost forgets how to breathe in the interim, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket so tightly the knuckles go white. Ren's reminder is quiet and he grinds his teeth down before letting out a breath in a rush. It's shaky, shuddering through him. ]

Is. Is that the idea? Drive the point in until it's not felt anymore? [ Hux looks up at him slowly, pale and shaken. He tells himself he's been through worse, but it's hard to come up with anything that backs the claim. ]

[narcissithstic]

[Hux knows the concept, Ren is certain of it: to have come so far without a knowledge of exposure would be an impossibility, but he understands why the General asks. Exhaustion bites at their minds for how linked they are, a double-edged sword (he can act as a brace for Hux's weariness, but he feels the drain of someone else's struggle laid across the span of his shoulders, effectively doubling his own). Thinking with any amount of clarity is difficult, even moreso for someone so unused to the cost.

Ren holds a beat, and then asks, purposefully:]

How much combat training did you endure within the academy?

[exhuxperation]

[ The brace is an ebb and flow. Their shared weight tips, imbalanced, an echo chamber that bolsters in one moment and sweeps stability in the next. His mind has always been sharp and orderly, but now it's in disarray. It'd happened as easily as if Ren had struck the core of a planet.

(Maybe he's falling apart, just as Starkiller did). ]

Enough. [ No, that isn't quite right. There were years. Not in the same capacity as the Stormtroopers, but drilled in day after day. How were they to lead fighters if they didn't understand it themselves? One only skipped out on combat mechanics once their rank went high enough. Even then, it was required form. Getting soft or lax was not an option, especially not for him. ]

Plenty; why?

[narcissithstic]

[Good. He's starting to find his footing.]

The concept is the same as any endurance training: exposure lessens the impact, strengthens the muscle, the bone— the mind. [Only callouses born of pain and repetition make wielding a saber a possibility. Frailty, in all aspects, must be washed clean. Erased.] When you no longer bend to it, you can control it.

Restrain it as necessary. [A beat, and then, if only because he knows Hux imagines Ren incapable:] —And it is necessary.

[exhuxperation]

[ If there's one thing he's always been good at, it's enduring. Amongst his class, he'd been one of the frailest; all sharp angles and no physical strength to speak of. It'd been a set back, mortifying at its best, painful at its worst. Mercy wasn't something they were taught, especially not to each other. He sharpened the only thing that would give him the advantage– his mind. Learned every trick there was to ignoring bruises, scrapes, broken bones. Pushing past exhaustion.

As long as he could outlast everyone, there wouldn't be anyone to drag him back down.

This is just another version of that. Another run of the academy. Hux squares his shoulders and looks at Ren directly. ]

Again.

[ (He's not going to let his father's expectations suffocate him this time). ]

[narcissithstic]

Again. [Ren agrees, a note of satisfaction nestling in the core of his chest.

Hours of repitition, the pitch and pull of reality as it's expanded and condensed over and over again. The pain of loss, a rising tide of overwhelming joy - this is their sparring practice: a flurry of blows exchanged without lifting a hand, until Hux seems....transparent somehow. Worn thin. Too spent to go on no matter what his still-beating heart might demand.

They've broached the crest of Hux's struggle, at least. Enough that he might, with determination, begin to master what thoughts and sensations reach him, barring the Force itself. Which should be easy: he spends little time with Ahsoka or Anakin.

Sweat peppers his brow; he stays rigid.] That's enough for today. Any further and you risk injury.

[exhuxperation]

[ Hux doesn't feel anything but determination, though it doesn't last long enough for him to grab complete hold of.

Not as the hours slip past, images filtering by faster than he can process in some cases. On others, he lingers on certain places or people. Specific instances. Time has no bearing. Past, present, the seconds before the future. He relives ups and downs. Triumph and excruciating loss. Each time something unwanted came to the fore, it got a little easier to redirect. To control how much was shown. Ren could still easily dig into his mind, but there was the beginning of understanding how to prevent it.

The anxious parts of him want to continue until he masters it. Even if it doesn't make sense to right now. Logic is only half functioning as he feels so ragged. Exhausted, from this in combination with poor sleep over the last number of days. It aches all the way to his bones.

Slowly but surely he gets his breath under control, can feel his pulse lowering back to normal. Ren is calling a halt and he can't do much else but agree, despite the spike of nerves that grip him. Weakly, he pushes himself to stand, pride the only thing keeping him upright.

That doesn't last long, since he's soon swaying on his feet. Knees bending, he reaches out to Ren's shoulder before he ends up on the floor. ]

[narcissithstic]

[The benefit of the Force is foresight. Possibilities, endless and infinite, and the moment Hux begins to slip forward, Ren knows what is to come: a broad arm extends, snapped forward beneath the span of Hux's collarbone to keep his head from connecting with the floor. The last thing the man needs is a concussion after a thorough bout of mental training.

From there it's easy to shift him, drawing Hux forward into his arms and rising to carry him to the nearest chamber, where Ren had been perched just before they'd begun. To slip him inside with a heavy-handed efficiency more suited to hauling bodies than living beings. He follows shortly thereafter (fortunate that Hux is so small as to be nonexistent - the capsules barely hold one person, and Ren is nothing if not massive in his own right) clambering in to finish ensuring Hux's head or shoulders aren't somehow jammed against the fibrous pillow at an odd angle.]

doki doki

[exhuxperation]

[ He's lucky that Ren is solidly built. Enough that his weight (though not much) is supported by one extended arm. His hand curls into the fabric on the other man's jacket, grip tight even through the weak haze.

Everything seems to shift and spin– he's half aware that Ren's picked him up (how embarrassing). Though it's not long before he's laid down in one of the nesting chambers. Why here? Why not his quarters? Dazed, he lifts his head from the odd textured pillow, confusion written across his face. Of course, it turns into a rush of nervousness, especially with Ren crowding the space that's clearly meant for one person. ]

What are you doing?

Ruins the moment

[narcissithstic]

You haven't been sleeping. [Is the response that comes, devoid of emotion as if stating the most obvious fact known to their collective consciousness. He knows Hux would argue that he does in fact rest, but that's comparing his schedule to that of a trooper on tour or an officer before a deadline: a bare minimum at best.

After what he's attempted to endure— what he'll need to if he is to master his symbiote— that won't suffice.

He presses his fingers to the paneling, feeling out— ah. There it is.] The Nest can speed your recovery while you rest.

[The wound from Chewbacca's bowcaster, festering from being repeatedly beaten, had healed in a day while Cathaway stood careful watch over him. If the General needs anything now that Ren can estimate, it's this.] Hold still.

[One hand curled beneath Hux's jaw, he presses the General's head away from him, down towards his shoulder instead to expose the base of his skull beneath fine hair. Needle in his other hand, Ren pauses only for a moment before he's certain he's located the scar left behind from their initial hatching.

And then, without ceremony, he punctures skin, securing the connection with a clean, efficient stab.]

sighs

[exhuxperation]

[ Alright, so that much must be obvious. Hux resists the urge to roll his eyes, simply closing them instead. Everything aches– his head, his limbs, his chest. Being pulled through the mental exercises have left him feeling drained.

Though, he is curious about the speed in which he'll be back on his feet. Rest is just the wasted time between duties. ]

How–?

[ The rest of his question is silenced by the hand on his jaw. Oddly gentle. Still authoritative enough to push him down. His shoulders shrug up at the feeling of fingers at the back of his hairline and a quick sting is the only warning he gets that something is strange. Wasn't this how they woke up? What is he doing? Hux grabs the front of Ren's shirt, a rush of paranoia coming over him.

It doesn't last, since soon the connection knocks all of the anxiety out of him, enough that he relaxes his grip and starts to drift off. ]