Finn did not smell like blood. He didn't smell like snow or the faintest spice Rey noticed in the wake of the light-saber's gash through the unresisting air. He had been far away and tantalizingly near; now he was nearly as close as he could be. She felt how different he was from Ben, even more from Kylo, how lightly Finn's spirit jostled hers, how steady his heartbeat was against her breast. She had left him and returned. He had been seeking her all the time, not doubting her but not waiting either. Rey though of Luke alone in his hermitage and how he hid in the cowl of his hood, how unused he was to speaking. She felt Finn in her arms and she felt the Force within her, the Light embracing the Dark; she felt the Force suffuse her like daybreak, surge inside her like the tides on Ahch-To.
The stones did not tremble in the air. Rey closed her eyes and tightened her arms around Finn. When she spoke, her lips brushed his cheek, her words a kiss, a promise, a question. A vow.
"You got my message."
She felt his answer in his body against her, his bright spirit always reaching to hers. With the Force, without it, within it. Beyond. She would not have to repeat herself.