Warnings: N/A
Pairing: Kylo Ren/Rey
a/n: New to the fandom. God, I love these two. Sorry this is so-so; hopefully I can put out some better work for them. There's so much talent here, I'm blown away.
I wrote this based on something I noticed while watching the film - the contrast between red and blue. None of the characters wear either color in significant amounts; if a scene was overwhelmed with red, something bad would happen. If a scene was mostly blue, the protagonists would survive the scene/situation. In addition, I believe white stood for ambiguity - Finn's storm trooper outfit, the snowy setting of the final battle - because any time white was brought up, it was a situation where morality or the outcome was unpredictable. I'm probably overanalyzing, but I'm a sucker for symbolism.
All definitions were taken from the Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 2012 Digital Edition.
Reviews, comments, and critique are always welcome and greatly appreciated.
the stars stained blue
i. red (noun): any of various colors resembling the color of blood; the primary color at one extreme end of the visible spectrum, an effect of light with a wavelength between 610 and 780 nanometers.
The first time she sees him, the world is blue with rain, and he is scarlet lighting slicing through the dark.
Mud in her mouth and a scream in her throat, Rey scrambles away just in time to avoid being hit by the body he'd pierced; he, she, it crumples immediately, slapping against the wet earth, sending ripples through a thousand murky puddles that surround them.
When he looks up, Rey can feel his gaze burn through the mask - through the storm, through her skin, through her soul - and she staggers back, panting, a heavy ache blooming between her ribs, like she's the one who'd been stabbed.
He stares at her for what seems like forever; stares until the downpour blurs her vision, blending blue and black and crimson into one, so that he is nothing more than a shadow against the gloom, sparkling with bits of crackling energy and drops of precipitation, a galaxy on the ground.
Just as he moves forward, a white sun splits the sky and shatters the vision of the storm, erasing him as he reaches for her; becoming a ghost in back of her eyelids; searing his visage into her brain alongside memories of sand and sorrow, forevermore.
.
.
.
Before the nightmare ends, he returns for a second longer, lingering - a ruby-red reminder that he has seen her, too, and that he will not forget.
ii. blue (noun): the pure color of a clear sky; the primary color between green and violet in the visible spectrum, an effect of light with a wavelength between 450 and 500 nanometers.
The next time they meet, the world is green and sticky with heat, and he pins her in place with imperceptible hands, whisking her away to the prison he calls home.
"So lonely," he murmurs - it hurts it hurts there's too much pressure - and Rey's breath hitches in her throat, because she can feel those invisible fingers tapping against her skull; caressing the contours of her brain with something like affection, but not quite; tearing her apart with the gentlest of touches, and she hates him, oh! She hates him.
From the deepest corner of her mind, he plucks a memory-that-is-not-a-memory, flashing it through her (his) gaze.
"You dream of an ocean," he observes quietly, carefully. "I see it."
Tears sting the corners of her eyes - so much water here, so bright, so beautiful - "I see the island." - so lush and green and full of life, no sand in sight, no filthy orange sun -
Abruptly, the image is tarnished with disdain, and she can taste his displeasure on her own tongue, heavy and bitter and rusty from years of resentment. "You think of Han Solo as the father you never had." Pause. "He would have disappointed you."
"Get out of my head," she replies, hissing through clenched teeth.
He pulls her forward, so she has to look at him again - this being with raven hair and bloody bones beneath fair skin, pieced together in a semblance of a young man. The room is built of steel and silver, accompanied by fluorescents in the floor; in this light, the angles of his face are illuminated, lifting the shadows from his cheeks, though he is no less intimidating.
Briefly, she cannot help but think, this is what violence looks like.
"Give me the map," he orders calmly, cooly, voice like poisoned wine.
"I'm not giving you anything!"
He presses into her again, and Rey chokes because he is everywhere - in her body, in the air, in every breath that passes through her lungs, so she cannot rinse the red fingerprints he's left on her thoughts, leaving a grimy sensation deep within her marrow.
"Don't be afraid."
His expression is almost kind. "I feel it, too."
.
.
.
She pushes him out of her mind with a pulse of energy; casts it towards him like ripples on water, and he staggers back, wide-eyed at the waves of her power. For the first time, they truly see one another.
"You," she breathes, transfixed by the blue in his blood and all the discolorations in his soul, "You're afraid."
iii. white (noun): of the color of pure snow, of the margins of this page, etc.; reflecting nearly all the rays of sunlight or a similar light.
The last time they meet, he is black ice and she is white snow, and they battle in the dusk of a dying star.
"You need a teacher!" he yells, gaze boring into her flesh between flashes of light. "I could show you the ways of the Force!"
Their weapons splutter and hum against one another - garnet and turquoise, pushed so close that the energy melting off the blades is clear, fresh, white fire - flames of the hottest kind.
"The Force?" Rey whispers, staring. For a moment, she is swallowed by the black holes that stare back at her; mesmerized by the dip of his mouth and the constellations in his complexion. There is something here, between them, that she cannot describe - something smoldering and deep and red and blue and white all at once, and it looms over her with the weight of the entire universe.
So she closes her eyes, washing all hues of him and her and them from her mind; finds the strength to drive him back, back to a blank canvas of their winter battlefield, determination numbing her veins and equalizing every shade of something more from the world around them.
.
.
.
Kylo Ren is abandoned on the ground with open wounds that ache with cold, vision slowly eclipsed by a darkness that may-or-may-not be blood.
But the pain of the gash on his face is nothing compared to the agony of the bruises she's left behind in the place below his ribs; that girl who'd blistered him with a brightness he'd fought so hard to scrub from his spirit, Rey - who'd pushed blue against his red until they'd merged into violet beneath the soft places in his soul.