Note: Well, we survived the "hurricane." Actually, we got maybe .5 inches of rain, and wind gusts of up to 11 miles an hour, so... no thrilling tales of surviving the tough times. (Though they did cancel school, and I did have both boys home with me on Friday, but that's not exactly harrowing.) I'm grateful to have not been a few hundred miles south, where the local wildlife is learning to swim and the local people are figuring out what to do with waterlogged lives.

Thank you all for the good wishes and the hopes for safety. At least on my end, it all worked out! :)

12/11/1

Kylo's on draft six of his first year anniversary speech. It's flowing like… Hardened plasteel. When he wrote the first of the Order speeches, it didn't exactly go tumbling directly from his head to the keyboard, but it also wasn't like this. He more or less knew what he wanted to say, and all he had to do was put that together in a way that didn't make him look like a raging twit as he said it.

That's not happening this time.

He feels like he can, almost, touch what he's looking for, but… It's not there, yet.

Getting closer, but… He keeps seeing the attack on Qualee, and can feel the conversation with D'Vrys. There's something in there, but it hasn't clicked, not yet.

And he's got the sense that until it does, he's going to be typing a lot of words he's going to just turn around and delete.

He hears C8's feet clacking against the floor, but doesn't look up. "Lt. Colonel Frakes is here."

"Send him in." Kylo checks his chronometer. He'd been expecting Frakes later than… No, he really did spend more than an hour working on… he sighs… nine words and one comma. He glares at the sentence and deletes the comma. He stuffs the datapad into his desk, and stands up, pleased to see Jon.

Jon's got a huge bag under his arm, and two sketchpads. Kylo darts forward to take the bag from him. "How much did you bring?"

Jon smiles. "Way more than I needed. But with her coloring, she'll look good in almost anything, so I've got a lot of samples to work with."

Kylo eyes the bag. "I'd say." He opens the door to his room, and puts it on his bed, Jon following behind him, laying out his sketch pads on the table. "I got your letter last night. I appreciate it, and yes, I'd like to talk more with you about that, but later."

Jon nods. "Yeah, we're pretty well-over scheduled until after the first year party. But, after. You, me, Rey, that dinner she invited me to, we're going to sit down and have a real talk about… a lot of things, I'd think."

"Good," Kylo replies. "More than one, likely."

Jon smiles a bit at that.

Kylo glances around. "Wasn't your mom or sister coming here with you?"

Jon doesn't laugh. He does smirk. "No. Not yet. She'll be here for the final fit and cut. She'll trust me to get the design in place, and do the rough cut and baste, then she'll see it live, and decide what needs to be adjusted."

It's clear on Kylo's face that he's not impressed by that.

Jon sighs. "Kylo, my mother hasn't left Coruscant for a client since the Emperor's mistress was in need of formal ball gowns. According to her, that was the last time there was someone with enough status to make it worth her while to move. Anyone lower than that goes to her. These days she only takes clients who are recommended by other clients. Plural. You know how I said that people who know fabric will know that what you're wearing is rare and expensive?"

Kylo nods.

"Okay, every dress she makes has her mark on it somewhere. The ones made start to finish by my sisters have the mark in thread. The ones my mother touches have the mark in a special gold stamp. Fewer than twenty gowns a year have that mark on it, and when people see it they'll knowyour woman is among the ultra-elite. That she's got something that money, fame, and power can't buy. She's got status." And while Kylo cares bugger all for status for himself, Rey is an entirely different story. He wants people to treat her like he does, like his queen, and anything that makes that more likely, he's in favor of.

"Did you invite her to the celebration?"

Jon smiles. "Not only did I invite her, but I got her to agree to come, along with my oldest sister. Most of the people who are coming to this will understand this gesture. They may not know Rey, but they'll know her place in the pecking order, and they'll know it's a lot higher than theirs. Plus, she's famous for designing wedding dresses, so this might cut down on the number of boobs getting rubbed in your face."

"Good." Kylo notices that Jon's got one of the sketch books open, and is paging through it.

"You don't have to show me the sketches, Jon."

"Mum would cut my head off if I showed you the dress sketches. These are for you," Frakes says. "You didn't ask for them. But I'm fairly sure you want them."

He flips to the image of a badge. The insignia of... Kylo knows what it is the second he sees it. The Order of the Maji.

"This is where you want to go… eventually?" Jon asks. A black field within a silver hexagon, inside it the silver circle, and in that, the Order's black and white rays swirling into the gray. "This is our mark, right?"

Kylo's holding it, staring at it, like he's looking at the future. Like Jon just stole a million words and two or three dreams right out of his head and put them together on a piece of paper. When he said Kylo hadn't put his mark on the Order yet, it was because he didn't know what it was, yet. He does now. Kylo nods slowly, "The Order of the Maji."

"And do I get to find out what a Maji is, now?"

Kylo pulls a chair over for him, with a gesture and a second of effort, and without a single bit of his physical body coming in contact with any part of the chair.

"The Force."

Kylo nods, and Jon sits. Kylo seats himself while saying, "A new Jedi. No longer bound to the Light. A new Sith, no longer ruled by the Dark. Bringing both of them back together and wrapping them into a balance that reflects the true nature of the Force. Light, dark, swirling together into gray. Expanding that outward, so that everyone benefits from it, no longer some near-secret cabal only for the powerful and enlightened."

Jon nods, and Kylo can feel him debating if he should actually say it. He remembers what Rey said about not fearing Kylo, so… "Fine. Order of the Maji. Great. What if you can't…" and he wiggles his fingers at the sketch pad Kylo's looking at, and as expected, it just sits there on the table.

"It's about balance, Jon. If it were only there for people who can…" he floats the pad over the table, "then it wouldn't be very balanced, would it?"

"So… anyone could be a Maji?"

Kylo smiles a bit. "Anyone interested in being part of the balance. And you… this is more for that long conversation later, but you're part of the balance."

Jon smiles a bit at that. There's a warm wash of belonging from Kylo as he says that, and Jon's looking forward to that conversation. "So, You're the Order. She's the Maji…"

"We're both Maji, and eventually, we'll both be Order. And one day, so will you."

Jon doesn't look as convinced about that. He does look fairly pleased to flip to another sketch, this one he rips out of the pad. "It's a state dinner, and I don't know how much attention you pay to the clothing of the women—"

"Minimal. I notice when they're wearing too much of it or not enough."

"Okay. Women wear jewelry to these things. Actually, a lot of men do, too, but that's a different conversation for a different day. That jewelry is often given to them by people who matter to them. Usually at their wrists, throats, and ears. Her ears aren't pierced, so I'm not going there, and depending on which one she chooses, the dress will take care of her wrist. She's already wearing a ring I'm awfully sure you gave her." Kylo nods. Jon lays the sketch before him. "This is for you, to give to her."

Kylo's looking at it. At first glance, it's deceptively simple, but only the first glance. The second, third… Kylo's smiling at it. "What is it?"

"The way I see it, the base is platinum, the inlay is ebony and mother of pearl. But that's just my version, you could modify it."

Kylo shakes his head. He can't even begin to dream of a way to make this better than its current incarnation. It's a hexagon of platinum, in the center is a Rey's circle-swirl of light and dark into gray, wrought in ebony and mother of pearl. The gleaming sheen mother of pearl shimmers with whorls of greens and blues and silvers. The ebony is polished, gleaming, tightly-grained veins of black and gray. Both materials swirl into each other. They've got to be laser cut to make the lines so fine, but by the center they've blurred into a shimmery bluish-gray. It's maybe the size of the pad of his thumb, and hangs from what he assumes is a platinum chain.

The image of placing it around Rey's neck is so pleasurable that Kylo's not sure what to do with it. The idea that there would be a tangible sensation of electricity through his skin at just the idea of slipping that around her neck would have never occurred to him.

But he can see it, feel it, laying it against her skin, kissing her throat before closing the clasp on the chain.

"You can make this?"

"No. But I can have it made. Should I?"

"Yes." His voice strokes over that word, like his fingers stroke over Rey's skin. Kylo clears his throat, embarrassed that that much naked pleasure was audible in his tone.

Jon's smiling at him, looking very self-satisfied. "I'm going to have so much fun with this. So… Does she come here? Do I go to her? How does this work? How… does she even get here?"

"All things are possible with the Force," Rey says. "I'm the she in question, correct?"

Kylo nods, tucking that sketch into his tunic, fast.

Jon stands up to greet Rey, offering her his hands, and giving her a little squeeze. She looks amused but allows it. When he lets go, she embraces Kylo. "Having fun?"

He smiles at her. "Always."

"Okay, lovely." Jon points to the door. "Off you go. I'm under orders from my mom that you don't get to even get a hint of this before you see it on her."

Kylo raises one eyebrow, and then sarcastically says, "Yes, sir," before heading off. Rey can feel him chuckling in his head at that.

Once Kylo's out of the room, she says to Jon, "He appreciates that."

Jon's not sure what she means.

"You, acting like he's just a person. He likes that."

"Good." Jon looks at her. There's some edge in his voice, but not a lot, as he says, "He says you were part of the Resistance."

Rey shrugs a little. "More like I was next to it for a while, and made some really good friends there. I had exactly one mission with them, go get Luke Skywalker, and bring him back, and I… failed… maybe, at it."

"Maybe?" Jon's eyeing her with an eyebrow raised, trying to see more than the pretty, pleasant girl in front of him. Trying to see the Rey under the cute exterior.

"He showed up, sort of, at the last possible moment, fought Kylo, at least that's what we thought was happening at the time, gave us enough distraction to get a few of us out of Crait, and then died. When I left to go get him, I, and everyone else, had a different outcome in mind."

"What did you think was going to happen?" Jon asks as he takes out the sketch book that has Rey's dresses in it, sitting at the table.

She sits next to him, not rolling her eyes, but a level of discomfort at her own naiveté is clear. "I thought I'd find Luke, train as a Jedi, both of us, together, would return to the Resistance, fight off the First Order, and win the war. Two Jedi and a few dozen fighters, versus, what, three million of you? That's a fair fight." She sighs as how magnificently stupid that idea was. "That idea lasted until I actually met Luke, who was just about as interested in it as you are in… What are you vehemently not interested in?"

Jon shakes his head. They don't need to go there right now.

Rey continues, "Then I was thinking maybe I could get Kylo, turn him back to Ben, prove to Luke and Ben that they were wrong about each other, and then the three of us could restart the Jedi. I went to Kylo, and then we killed Snoke, and for a heartbeat or two it looked like that plan was going to work, but it didn't… Ben, on any level I'd understood him, had either never existed or been dead for decades by the time I got to him. But, that was the whole thing, Luke, on any level I'd understood him, also never existed or had died decades earlier. Same with the Jedi, probably the New or Old Republic… Nothing was the way it was supposed to be, so… It's not.

"Now it's the two of us, the Jedi are dead, so's the Resistance, the First Order, Snoke, and Luke, all of it, and… We're moving somewhere new."

Jon nods. "I can get behind new."

"Good."

Jon opens the first of his sketchbooks. "So, if we're going to new, let's talk new. Formal wear. Gowns, dresses, casual wear for when you're here, the look of Lady Ren."

Rey takes a breath, feeling like she's about to jump off a cliff, and then says, "Okay, show me new."

"Formal wear first. My mom started with the saree as the main inspiration. We can't quite do that, not for your first formal dinner, it's too… concentrated. There are only a few dozen planets where that look is common, so, later, when you've got your place here more set, you can move onto that, but for right now, we're sticking with more galactic standard wear."

That means almost nothing to Rey, and it's clear from the look on her face.

Jon goes back a few levels. "Most of the stodgy old fuddy-duddies consider having your low back and waist bare to be shockingly immodest. I can cut the décolletage" it's clear Rey doesn't know that word, so Jon gestures to her chest, "down to your navel, but Force forbid anyone see the curve of your low back." He rolls his eyes at that. "Eventually, you get to wear whatever the hell you like. You're the fucking Empress and you make fashion, not the other way around, but we're going to need to let at least a little time pass so you can claim that place. So for this one, it's probably best not to have everyone assuming you're on Kylo's arm because you've seduced him, or that he has you on his arm because he's shallow enough to pick a mate with his shaft."

She sighs, not enjoying that.

"Yeah, I know. It's a pain in the butt. This time next year, you want me to drape you in three meters of translucent silk, and let it all hang out, and I will. And a week later, twenty billion other women will be doing it, too. The fuddy-duddies will still talk, but you'll have been around so long, and so many others will follow whatever trend you set, it won't much matter."

Rey's not sure which is more terrifying, being gossiped about by mean-minded 'fuddy-duddies" or having 20 billion women attempting to copy everything she does. She settles on the fuddy-duddies. "But they will talk."

"They always have and always will. Their lives are so barren and shallow that they have nothing better to do than gossip about people who are actually doing things with their lives. Nothing you can do about that. Try not to feel to the hurtful things, and have someone with open ears to listen for things that might be useful."

She rolls her eyes at that.

"Give it time. You'll meet people here. Find friends."

Rey looks skeptical, but says, "Show me the sketches."

Jon flips to the first of them. And Rey doesn't gasp, but she does inhale sharp and fast. It's a good likeness of her, in a long, flowing gown. The bodice comes to just above her chest, the fabric of it twining over her right shoulder, draping down her arm to clasp her wrist, and wrapping around her waist, to trail behind her.

"The colors are just suggestions. I've got a stack a fabrics you can look at, touch, and decide with."

In the sketch, it's light pink gown, a hint of flush, and the drape is a shimmery coral color.

"I'll trip over it."

"No you won't. If the Force lets him fight in a cape and cowl, it'll keep you upright in a long gown for a dinner." Though Jon decides that whatever dress she picks, it's going to the floor, and he's not putting her in heels. The Force may help, but he might as well not tempt fate.

She's still staring at the sketch, almost, but not quite touching it. Jon can feel her staring at it like she just doesn't belong in it. Like it's a piece of art she can't touch. "Stop that," he says to her.

"What?"

"That. Thinking you aren't worth this. It's written all over your face. If anyone catches that on you, they'll decide you're right about you and never let you forget it, so quit it."

That's more or less every nightmare Rey's ever had about this.

Jon keeps talking, "You may not know the ins and outs of manners and decorum. So what? You can learn that." He flips the sketchbook shut. This is the simplest of the designs, and if it's overwhelming her, they're going nowhere. He turns in his seat so he's looking at her. "Focus on me." Then he gestures to the Supremacy, to Kylo's office, and to the galaxy outside the viewport. "Do you believe in this? Approve of it? Think it's important and worth building? Do you want this to work? Are you as committed to this as he is, or is it just something he does between breakfast and dinner and tells you about later?"

Rey blinks. She's so used to thinking of what it is she does as the balance that she doesn't normally consider his part of it, but, like Kylo's said, it doesn't balance if it's just her. "Yes. Doing this, making it work, matters."

"Good." He taps the pad. "This is the uniform. It's a way to convey power, purpose, and importance. It's a language, and I know you don't speak it, but if you want this to succeed, it's time to learn. My mom will tell you there's no powerful man anywhere in the galaxy who managed to succeed without and equally strong woman watching his back, so, let's do this.

"First things first, Lady Ren, get out of the mindset that you aren't worthy of this. I don't know the details of your story or his, but I know what a man in love looks like and does, and he's doing this for you.

"The man is laying a galaxy at your feet, so pick the damn thing up, help him carry it, and let's get going."

Rey can see Kylo's outstretched hand, and feel the heat of a burning throne room. "I was going to turn him, get him back for the Resistance, for the Jedi, for me. If I could have gotten him back, then… we'd never have to be alone again. I dropped myself here. And he took me to Snoke. Snoke was torturing me, had ordered Kylo to kill me, and he killed Snoke to keep it from happening. Cut him in half. We fought off the Guard together, and the throne room was on fire, your ships were decimating what was left of the Resistance, and he reached out a hand and asked me to join him, and I couldn't. Not then.

"He was burning and destroying everything around him, and didn't have any plans to build, so I couldn't go along with him."

Jon hadn't known or even guessed any of that. "He's building now."

"I know."

"And he's building it either for or because of you."

"I know." And she does. It doesn't balance if it's just her, and it doesn't balance if it's just him, and if it had been just him… The Order would have likely burned out long ago, because Kylo would have burned out long ago. On their own… He would have gotten himself killed in one fight or another, or just blown the whole thing up one day, and she would have given up, lost focus, and likely joined Chewie in the Falcon.

Jon opens the sketchbook again. "So tell me, Lady Ren, who is inspiring a shift in the politics and alliances of the entire galaxy, who's more worthy of something pretty than that? Some flighty little girl who's never done anything more important than decide if sherry or port should be served with dessert? Or the woman who's inspired a complete rebuild of the most powerful military force in the skies? You are his queen, so let's dress you like it." Jon flips open the sketchbook, and says, "Look. Tell me what you like."

They aren't just pretty. They're achingly beautiful. Rippling flows of satin, lace, and silk. Colors she's only ever dreamed of. Sparkly jewels in ornate patterns along the edges of fabric so delicate it looks like it exists only in dreams.

And each one is more… everything… than the next.

But there's one she keeps coming back to. Part of it is the construction. It's simpler than a lot of the dresses. Just a sheath, banded with a simple belt, and on the right shoulder some sort of band. Between the band and the belt is a long flow of fabric, wrapping around the dress's back to settle at her left side. On the right, there's another flow of fabric, draping from her hip to the floor. And from the front of the band, one more flow, layering to about her knees.

Part of it is the color. In the sketch, and yes, Jon has said the colors are just suggestions, but she likes this one. It's a hybrid of soft, muted greens and purples bleeding into a sunset orangy-coral. She's never seen, or dreamed of that combination of colors, and it just makes her feel good to see them.

There's the detail work, a line of… She's tapping them on the sketch. "Garharian crystals. They grow them in a special lab so when they hit the light they reflect in different colors." Rey nods at Jon. In the sketch they match the dress, glinting in greens and purples, flashes of copper. They're laid into the belt and the shoulder band.

"Is that the one?" he asks when she's been looking at it for more than ten solid minutes. He knows they're making at least four of these for her, but he's awfully certain this is the one for the dinner.

Rey nods. "That's the one."

"Good." Then Jon gets up and opens the bag of fabrics.

"I really like the color on the sketch."

"I know, but… Just… look. You'll need other dresses for other days, so… Let's see what you like."

It's almost like food. When she started getting the chance to eat real food, Rey tried, and more or less liked, everything. Because it was new. And different. And made her feel… not always good, but like her tongue and belly were foreign things that she needed to put through their paces and explore.

These days, she has preferences, likes, dislikes, things Kylo knows not to bring home. Things she won't make herself eat. Things she won't try because she knows they involve other things she doesn't like.

But that's not part of her world here. Not with fabrics. She's barely dipped her toe into the pool of what's available and Jon is laying out meter after meter of colors and textures and patterns and… It's just so much.

Some of them he pulls out, looks at, looks at her, and stuffs back into the bag.

"I liked that one," she says of a bright, shocking neon-yellow-green.

"Which is fine, but that one doesn't like you."

Rey looks confused.

"The color's not going to be good on you."

"How do you know that?"

He shrugs. "I just do. And if my mom sees I've let you have that color, she's going to smack me upside the back of the head and tell me I'm colorblind, so let's not go there."

That amuses Rey, and it's not like he's not putting half a dozen more colors/patterns out for her.

Jon's got a shimmering black in his hands. It's light, so thin Rey can barely believe it's not translucent, but it isn't. He's eyeing it, and her, and… It's more than a meter square, and it would cover her if it were wrapped around her. "Would you consider it horrifying to wrap this around you and let me see you in it?"

"No, but… why?"

"Something I'm not supposed to be designing, but can't make myself not design."

Rey raises an eyebrow, and heads to the refresher. She's sure that by horrifying Jon wasn't thinking of having her wrap it around her clothes.

A moment later she's holding it around herself, and yes, it more than covers everything. He couldn't see through it if he tried, and it's long enough to cover her from chest to below her knees, so… She's not feeling even remotely immodest in it.

When she steps out, Jon grins. "Yes, that's exactly how I thought that would look."

"And what got you thinking about that?" Rey says.

He shakes his head. "Can't say, not really. But… He pretty much always wears black, and you know, maybe, he doesn't always have to wear black."

Rey smiles. "No. Not always. He's looks damn fine in white, or near white." She knows he's seen the light suit in their closet. "What would you call that color?"

"Chalk."

"Okay, he looks damn fine in chalk."

Jon's smiling. "And… if there were to be… Some sort of big celebration… Maybe with a symbolic merging of power and spheres of influence… Maybe he wouldn't wear black to that… Maybe he'd wear whatever your colors are. And maybe… for a night… you'd wear black…" If Jon's grin got any wider, he'd be in danger of dislocating his jaw.

Rey laughs a little at that. "Ah…" Then she looks at the hundreds of pieces of fabric laid out around her. And then decides she should put some clothing back on, or… "You're going to measure me, aren't you?"

"This'll work a lot better if I do."

So she goes back to the refresher, grabs Kylo's bathrobe, and puts it on. It's too big, by a kilometer, but she figures she can just toss it off for getting measured. When she steps back out Jon goggles. "Oh, Rey, no. Put your clothing back on. I don't… Not when you're naked."

"Oh." She steps back in and puts her clothing back on, feeling confused.

When she's out, he says, "When my mom and sister get here, they'll help with… underthings. And that may involve some naked measuring, but… I wouldn't… It'd be… inappropriate."

Rey blinks at that. "Why? I thought you liked men."

Jon blinks back. "I do like men. I love them. I was married to one."

"Then why is it inappropriate? I mean… If your sister could… I don't even know her, and I do know you, so… Why not you?"

Jon looks mildly embarrassed. "Well… uh… besides the fact that I'm fairly sure Kylo's head would explode at just the idea of me seeing you naked, um… I don't just like men. I… uh… I like everything. I prefer men, but there are some fine women out there and you are among them, so…"

"Oh. I… Uh…" And now Rey's also mildly embarrassed, too.

Jon smirks. "I like beautiful things, and beautiful people, and yeah, you're one of them, so… Yes, I'm a professional, and you're my boss's wife, and I hope my friend, so I'm not going to even think about stepping out of line, but… I'm not blind or asexual, so let's not take this into uncomfortable territory, okay?"

"Okay. If I'd known… I wouldn't have even thought of it."

"No problems. There was no reason for you to know. So do you have a problem with maybe wearing black at some point?"

"I really don't."

"Good."

"You said my colors…"

"Yes, that's part of what we're doing. You're the Mistress of the Maji, and… That's supposed to mean something. You've got your mark, the swirling black and white into gray, and I can play with that. You don't have to settle into just one set of colors, but it'd be a decent plan to have an idea of a recurring theme of colors."

Rey picks up the silk that goes with the sketch of the dress. "So, if I go for this…"

"It could be something we work into a lot of your outfits, or it could be just for that night. But, especially for every day wear, for non-formal events, it'd be a good plan to give thought to a selection of colors that keep popping up over and over. I'm a romantic and a traditionalist, so if he's in mostly black, grays, and silver, and then I'd put you in whites, beige, and golds. Just so you contrast each other as much as possible. But that doesn't have to happen. And really, you look good in almost the entire color wheel, so we could work on the idea that he's blacks, whites, and grays, and you get colors. That'd be another sort of contrasts, one that would work just fine."

Rey nods, looking at all the colors laid out around her. The disk is on her throat today, and she gently touches it. "I don't think Maji have a set color scheme. That's kind of the idea, we take a little bit of everything, and everyone is welcome."

"Okay. Do you want to be able to identify Maji in a glance?"

She tugs the disk so it's on top of her shirt, not under it. "The ones who feel connected, have one of these. Maybe not an exact copy. This is the only one that's a junjan token. But they wear the swirl. There's a lot of little gray rocks around the lake, and Poe, and some of the kids, have grabbed one, carved the swirl onto it, and worn that."

"He asks for gray in his wardrobe because that's Maji to him, right?"

She smiles a little at that, moving through Kylo's room, finding a silk that's mottled slate gray, looking a lot like the stone textures near their lake. "Not exactly. I'm supposed to be good, and pure, and Light. And he's supposed to be evil, and corrupt, and Dark, and… We're just… not. He's dark, but intentionally not being evil. And I'm light, but I'm also not exactly a paragon of good. And… when we started talking, when we started this, we were trying to pull each other over to the other side, and eventually, we met in the gray."

Jon smiles softly at that. "So… It's not so much Maji as him putting a token of you on his body?"

"We got to gray before we figured out what a Maji is, or even the term, and the Maji is definitely part of the gray, but mostly, the gray, that's me, it's him, it's realizing the past didn't work and changing the present to make a future together. It doesn't balance if it's not both of us, and…" She looks at the silk in her hand, and the pretty colorful one, and… "He'll be in black and gray for this, right?"

"Unless he's going to surprise me by finding something off the rack and wearing it, yes."

She taps the sketch. "This doesn't have to be just the one fabric?"

"Not at all. The only reason it's one fabric in that sketch is because the fabric I picked has many colors in it."

"Let's keep the gems the same, let them spark with colors, and make some of the fabric black, some white, some gray. For… formal things, I'll wear our colors. For the rest of life, I want the rest of the color wheel."

Jon smiles. "I like that." Then he starts stuffing the colored fabrics back into the bag. "We'll get back to these eventually. Let's get the dress nailed down, and then we can talk about semi-formal, and just out and about here wear."

Rey sits down, feeling a little deflated as Jon puts fabrics away. "Why is this so tiring?"

"He asked me the same thing when he was working on diplomacy. I'll give you the same answer; you didn't train in this since shortly after you were born. I did. I can do this all day and all night and the next day, too. Now tell me about something you've been doing most of your life, and let's see how long I'll last at it?"

"You ever scavenge a downed ship?"

"Besides the Supremacy after it got hit, I've never even seen a damaged ship. I imagine it'd be exhausting."

"It is."

"And you wouldn't expect me to be good at it two hours into working on it, would you?"

"No."

"Exactly." He's got the colors folded up and back in the bag. Leaving a flurry of blacks, whites, and grays spread around Kylo's room. He looks around them. "Do you want the gems to flash green, purple, copper, or the whole color wheel?"

"Let's get all of them. Something on everything I wear should be colorful."

He nods. And then starts putting more of the fabrics, the blacks, whites, and grays, away. "These have strong cool or warm undertones."

"That means nothing to me."

"A lot of blue or red and yellow in the color mix."

Rey can kind of see that.

"If we're going to have every color flashing around your waist and on your shoulder, we want neutral shades for the fabrics. That way nothing will clash."

"I'll trust you on that."

That leaves them with what Rey considers a much more manageable pile. There's twelve fabrics spread around them. "Okay. This. If we do this again, I'm going to find it a lot easier if you pick a selection of fabrics and then leave the final decisions to me. This I can handle."

Jon nods. "You wouldn't be the first person to feel that way." He touches the sketch. "This dress is primarily a sheath of one fabric…" He looks to the fabrics, and Rey understands she's supposed to be picking what goes where.

She takes up the black again. "This one, for the sheath."

"Good, the black base will make the white and gray pop." He touches the sketch again. "There are two separate drapes here, three if you want to split the flow that goes from left to right."

Rey nods. The black silk has some shimmer to it. Holding it up and moving, there's an almost molten quality to it. It looks like a glowing liquid. She picks a white that's muted. Something with no sheen. A white that almost absorbs light. "What is this?"

"Do you know what a burklesween is?"

"No."

"Then let's just say this is the lightest, sheerest suede you're ever going to lay hands on."

"Okay." She hands the white burklesween skin to Jon, and picks up the stone textured gray. "Will this work?"

"It'll work."

"So, are we done?" Rey asks.

Jon laughs. "With this one." He sees Rey slump. "Okay, no more dresses today. I've got enough of a feel for what you like I can get other formal and semi-formal things made for you."

"Thank you."

"Which takes us to the last bit of this. What you wear when you're here, but you're not doing something formal."

She rolls her eyes a little. "Didn't we just do this?" she gestures to what she's wearing, all new things from last week.

"A level up from this. This is… What'd you wear if you and he were just laying around in his rooms, or maybe, if you actually get him out of these rooms, what you'd wear for wandering around the F-deck. This is the equivalent of his trader wear. You need something on along the lines of his command blacks."

"A uniform?"

"Maybe. For women… A lot of people are under the impression that a woman should never be seen in the same outfit twice—"

"Do these people swim in credits or something? How can you… Just… How?"

Jon half shrugs. His mother wouldn't be seen in the same outfit twice if her life depended on it. "It's a different world, Rey. That said, I take it you're not interested in that."

Rey can't even begin to put into words how uncomfortable that idea is.

"Okay, no on that. Then, yes, some sort of uniform, because that'll give you a reason to be wearing the same thing over and over." He opens the second sketch book. "He said you'd want something practical. And I know you want armor, so I went for designs you can really move in. I don't think you'd ever have to fight wearing this, but if you had to, you could."

These are much more to Rey's liking. It's a collection of outfits, most of them variations on the theme of trousers and tunics, or jackets and trousers, or just, nicely made, practical, functional clothing with a little embellishment, but nothing too ornate.

The one she likes the best is… She doesn't have words for it. "What's this one?"

"Do you know what a hanyifu is?"

"Not a clue."

"Okay, the jacket is based on the idea of a hanyifu. Traditionally, that would be an ornate robe, of many layers of thick silks, with a highly ornamental belt, both of which wrap around the person wearing it, and would fall to the floor. I didn't think you'd like that, so this is a lighter fabric and it comes to your thighs. And then a pair of snug trousers and nice boots."

Rey nods. "I can wear that."

"Good. And as long as we keep the same cut, we can do it in a collection of colors. Your 'uniform' can be the cut. And if you've got a few variations on it, that's fine."

Rey keeps looking at it, and then thinks of a memory. It's not her memory. It's one she's seen through Kylo, and understands why this cut appeals to her. Why to a certain extent, it feels right. It's a variation on a theme of a person she, or he, could have been. "Not brown or tan."

"Rey?"

"Jedi colors. The robe looks a little bit like the Jedi outfit, and I'm not a Jedi, so… No Jedi colors."

"Okay. So… I've got a belt on these, but… You don't carry a saber, do you?"

"I have one, but I don't carry it. It's… community property, I guess. I built it, but it seems to really like Kylo. I do have a lightstaff, and I do carry that, but not here because… I just don't need it here."

"And if you did, things would have gone so bad you're better off at home."

Rey glares at him. "And if I did, you better damn well know that I'll have it in my hand in less than ten seconds and on second eleven I'll be beating the ever living shit out of whatever got in here."

Jon nods. "Ah. Okay. Well…"

"Anything he can do with a weapon, I can, too."

"All right."

"I've fought him to the ground, and I've killed half the Praetorian Guard to protect both of us. If anything gets in here, it's going to die."

Jon nods again and raises his hands. "Point taken. Do you want… Gloves? Hand guards?" He looks at her. "Or, I mean, you don't need a clip or scabbard or holster for a staff, right?"

"No. I just hold it in my hand."

He looks at the only other 'ornament' she wears. "Would I be right in thinking he gave you the ring?"

Rey nods. "Yes. That's the one thing that never comes off."

"Okay." Then Jon blinks. "Wait…" He looks more carefully at the token on her neck. "Oh. You… share the token with him. It's the same one. I thought there were two of them."

"No, just the one. We swap it. It used to be every day that it went from one of us to the other, but… These days he wears it more than I do."

Jon looks at it around her neck. "My family isn't very religious, but my mother has a medal of Saint Slequestor. My father gave it to her. She wears it when she feels stressed or needs 'strength.'"

Rey nods. "Something like that. Who's Saint Slequestor?"

Jon shakes his head. "A very long, gruesome story that I don't much like telling. My father got it when he was training at the Imperial Academy, and there, Slequestor was the patron saint of almost, but not quite, getting your ass kicked into next month."

"Charming?" Rey half-says, half-asks.

"He thought it was good luck. They all did. And when they got married he gave it to her. She was his luck. She likes telling that part of the story."

"What part doesn't she like telling?"

He doesn't smile at that. "The day his luck ran out. He was wearing it when he got pissed at one of their suppliers, flew off the first Death Star to ream him out, at least, that's how she tells it, which is why he wasn't on the Death Star when it blew up. He wasn't wearing it when the second one went."

Rey nods. "I'm sorry. How… can you work with… Kylo… us? You know who he is or was, right?"

Jon half shrugs. "I… never met my father. I was born six months after he died. But I know Kylo, and I know who he was, and who his mother was, and… I didn't blow up Alderaan, you know? My dad was there. He was on the Death Star. He was the guy who made sure things like kyber crystals got to where they had to go to make the laser work… But that's on him, not me. And… Kylo didn't blow up the Death Star, either of them. What his parents and family did isn't on him."

"No, it's not."

He gives her a little side eye. "Is this when you tell me that Holdo's your mom or something?"

Rey offers him a weary smile. "I don't know my parents. They left me on Jakku and went on to drink themselves to death. Who or whatever they were likely never impacted your life in any way, shape, or form."

Jon shakes his head. "That's not true. I'm here, now, because of you. Directly, in that we're working on clothing and a look and a plan together, and indirectly because, as I said before, he's doing this for you, Lady Ren. So, at the very least, they've deeply impacted my life, because if I hadn't gotten that call from Kylo about changing how we did uniforms, and I've got to assume that was part of him upending things to make them more to your liking, I would still be putting together the same old uniforms and armor. So, yes, I can say that they impacted my life, quite a bit, but in a way I appreciate."

"Good."

"And speaking of what we're doing. Up you get. Let me get your measurements, and then I can get working on this."

Rey nods, standing up. "How can you possibly get this done in time? When we work on sewing, just cutting things takes hours."

He grabs his tape measure. "Again, practice. Also, I've got more than 100 droids that do the work for me. I'll make the pattern, and program them for the first level of sewing, but human hands won't do anything with this until we get to the mid-fit. Then I'll get to it."

Rey nods. "That makes a lot of sense."

Jon nods, measuring her from the base of her skull to the bottom of her heel. "Don't get me wrong. There's something to be said for doing it by hand, but especially if you've got a tight deadline, a droid is worth its weight in gold."

"I can see that. Uh… How much would one of them cost? We go through clothing pretty fast."

And from there, Jon measures, and Rey learns more about tailoring droids, and adds something to the list of things to get after their next gambling adventure.

Usually, at the end of the day, Kylo goes to Lirium. He takes their supper, and goes home. To the part of his life that isn't on the Supremacy, to the place where he's not The Master of the Order.

At the end of the day, at least since they noticed the lack of sound proofing, Rey generally doesn't go to the Supremacy. And, even when she did, it was mostly about getting away from the kids for a bit.

When she and Jon wrap up, she doesn't return to Lirium. There's still more than a few hours between now and when Kylo would normally get done with the day, but… Not today.

She looks out his viewport. A billion billion kilometers of space surrounds them. Stars dotting a view without horizon. They're far enough away that nothing in her sight is larger than a pea. Between systems right now.

There are a few ships behind them. Some flying in distinct and fancy patterns. Training flights if she had to guess.

She can feel he's working away on the other side of the door. Maybe finally finding his flow on the first year speech, or moved onto something else, but after a few more minutes, where he notices that she's still here, he gets up, opens the door, and joins her.

"You okay?" he asks, joining her to watch the training exercises. Wrapping his arms around her, and resting his chin against the back of her head.

"Yeah. I am." She places her hands on his. "I've never said it, but…" She looks out at it, at all of it. "It's good, Kylo. And I appreciate it. It matters and…" She doesn't get to finish that sentence because he's pulled her around and is kissing her, hard and deep.

She can feel his emotions purring at her for that. Loving it. She strokes his hair and back. It's good. You're doing good. It's everything I could have asked for and then some.

She feels the shudder rush through him, and his body melt against hers. She holds him close, cuddling him to her, watching his ships fly through the sky, watching the galaxy around them, ready to see what comes next.