What You Meme to Me // [SSCW v. My Fan Club]

The first night in the arena had been as starless as it was dreamless, but Rey still awoke charged with adrenaline and seemed to be capable of functioning for at least the next few hours. She could only hope that she wasn't destined to crash — or worse. Their camp remained silent for most of the morning, and she spent the early hours getting used to her staff. She was anxious at the thought of taking a life, of dancing so close to the dark side, but it was a necessary evil. Nothing more.

Her thoughts began to blur and that familiar vibration returned when Ben Solo came to stand before her, and against her will, she lifted her gaze to stare up at him with eyes that burned. He spoke with a certain quality of bitterness, and it frustrated her. It wasn't like she was happy with their connection, with the way their thoughts clashed without warning. The barrier between them was shattered, but she still called herself a fortress. She scoffed. "Stay out of mine, and I'll stay out of yours. Simple as that."

She stood up and pushed past him, turning to face her allies when Ben mentioned hearing other tributes closing in on their location. He asked if they were ready, to which Rey only nodded her head and removed her staff from its strapped position against her back. She held it out from her, ready to defend herself from any attackers. She was still unsure of Sansa and Hermione, and she was worried that her tendency to isolate herself would rub them the wrong way, but she'd prove her worth on the battlefield.

Rey winced due to the stinging pain that spread out across her arm, grip shaking — but she held steady to her staff and calmed herself as best she could. Breathing exercises were the key. Inhale and exhale and then swing. She had managed to block the alien woman's blade, so she wasn't down for the count just yet. She could handle a scratch. She'd give them so much worse.

"Just try!" she said to Ben, almost desperate, though her lips did not open.