Kiddo | Kylo Ren

XXII. Ryo Ren vs. The World

The knights quarters were eerily desolate.

The only thing buzzing with life being the large metal weapon still clutched firmly to your chest. The cold hilt of Kylo's saber against your sternum bone sending a formidable chill down your spine. The moment you had stepped through the sliding doors, a sigh of relief had escaped your throat, an imaginary weight suddenly lifting from your weak shoulders.

Their living room was equally as messy as your brain; beer bottles and soda cans were littered throughout the entire wood flooring. Two couch cushions stained because of several tipped over liquor bottles. The leather recliner in the far right corner had been flipped on its side, indicating someone had lept out of it in a hurry.

Walking further into the cabin, you stepped closer to the chair, its soft leather armrest crushed against the solid floor paneling. Whoever had jumped out of their comfortable seat had surely left a dent in the floorboards.

Akira.

His hulking body mass was the only thing capable of doing something like that. His frame was almost equal to Kylo's, if not bigger. He could have easily thrown around the piece of furniture in a fit of rage if he wanted too.

Or if anything provoked him too.

Instinctively stepping away from the chair, you gasped at the sight of a familiar big-bodied frame standing ominously in the Knights dark hallway. The threatening scythe blade draped comfortably across his broad shoulders giving away who it was almost immediately.

Shiloh Ren. Otherwise known as Vicrul.

His hulking mass was stood in the long corridor of the Knights quarters, shoulder width alone taking up half of the hallway's exaggerated space. Though his dark pleated chest plate and armored leggings were still hugging his large body, his mask was nowhere to be found.

"Shiloh?"

You croak out, eyebrows crumpling in confusion at the sight of Kylo's Knight stood before you. In all his familiar, handsome glory. Brown hooded eyes complemented by his slickened, dark hair. The black suit of armor coated around his frame contrasting against the paleness of his skin.

He takes a step forward, slinging his brooding weapon down to the floor. The look on his face was exactly what you had expected it to be- deadpan. No emotion whatsoever. Not even lying beneath the surface of his unamused facade was there a hint of worry.

"What are you doing here?"

He asks, head cocking to the right as his eyes trail up and down your disheveled figure. Loose hairs strewn across your face, forehead and eyebrows brimming with a thick sheen of sweat. And your small, dainty hands, wrapped around Kylo's brawny lightsaber.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You offer with a slight smile, mind instinctively trying to alleviate the thick tension building around you and Shiloh. The cold, frigid air of the Knights quarters was biting at your bare legs and arms, making you envious of Shiloh's many layers.

With his weapon now laid flat against the ground, he folds his muscular arms over his chest. Looking as nonchalant as ever, even though the entire base seemed to be on lockdown protocol after a 'disarranged girl' was found running away with the Supreme Leader's lightsaber.