Storm's Touch

Devilish Decadence

Funds for war have to come from somewhere.

It seemed like this planet had been untouched and unbothered by the war that waged just outside the system. Canto Bight.

It made you sick to see the decadent extravagance that dripped from every surface. The casino planet was every bit vulgar that you'd imagined a planet that ran on high stakes and distraction could be.

Loud laughter and alcohol being spilled surrounded you. You stood against a wall, Andoan White in hand as you watched the fiery-haired general fail to schmooze and charm his way into the pocketbooks of the galaxy's wealthy.

You hated these functions, as a senator and now, even more, as a hostage. At least the drinks were good, authentically vintage.

"Can I have this dance?"

Every hair stood on end at the voice at your shoulder. You turned, meeting the gaze of the apprentice. His mask distorting the voice you craved to hear and covering the face that would break your heart once again.

"Do I have a choice?"

"No," was his brisk reply as he pulled you onto the dance floor. He moved easily, the muscle memory from his childhood taking over. He was careful to touch as little of your exposed skin as possible.

The deep velvet green dress stood out amongst the black uniforms of the First Order and the white suits of the planet's inhabitants that seemed to be fueled by adrenaline and alcohol. It had a high neck and long sleeves but was completely backless. Your hair was plaited ornately and piled atop your head, leaving your back completely uncovered.

Your face remained as neutral as possible, not meeting anyone's eyes in the room and avoiding looking at the stoic mask in front of you. A tense silence built in the space between your bodies.

"Are you comfortable?"

You laughed, sharply. The tension snapping and almost taking your facade with it. "Quite. I've always found the most comforting living situations aboard a starship where I am kept as extortion and a pawn in a game where I lose no matter the outcome."

You were met with silence.

You stopped moving, the charade falling away quickly. "Why do you care," the question spat with venom at his feet.

Silence.

"You don't get to care if I am comfortable," tears sprang to your eyes. "We are not who we used to be."

The Knight stared at you, wanting to wipe the tears that threatened to fall away, but you were right. Neither of you was the same.

And he could never be what you needed again.

"General Hux," he said. The disdainful man appeared at your side. "I believe the senator must return to the ship."

It was not a question.

The general studied your face and turned to Ren. "She has hardly done what she was brought here to do."

Kylo Ren stood to his full height, his finger pointing at the smaller man, "She won't be any help tonight, so why waste our energies?"

Hux smirked, "careful Ren." He then turned back to you, offering his arm. You took it and let him escort you back to Finalizer.