Cold be Damned

[andrend]

WHO: Kylo Ren
WHERE: Around the village, the mill, the fountain,
WHEN: Sunday (Morning -> Late Evening)
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: Potential for violence
STATUS: Closed

---

Guard Duty at the Fountain - Early Morning
Closed

Ren volunteered to keep an eye on the fountain and he intended to keep up with it. Torches seemed a precious resource, and while he appreciated the suggestion, and the light and minor warmth on his hand in the evening, the moment the sun's light begins to touch the sky the torch is out. With a re-purposed curtain rod in one hand, and the grizzly appearance of the dead, alien creature that had been dragged through the inn still in his mind, Ren's senses were on high alert.

There was no room in the village for complacency or allowing himself to get comfortable. He wasn't comfortable. They had not been put in this place for a vacation. At best it was a prison, and for now, he was making himself a guard rather than a prisoner.

Sparring at the Mill - Morning/Early Afternoon
Closed

Ren had made two visits back to the Mill since learning about the location from Sam. The first to check for clues he or Hux may have left behind in the building and the second to search the grounds around it. The snow was too built up now for much searching. The river that passed between the Mill and the Village looked like a waiting threat, with chunks of half frozen snow pulled by the water drifting by. Ren had flattened an area of snow down into a packed circle in front of the mill. It was farther from the center of the village, farther from prying eyes and that was what he needed for the sake of his focus.

He twirled the rod with one hand and switched it off, testing the weight and balance of it. Most of the ones he had tried initially had been hollow, but this one was solid and a good four feet in length. Heavy but durable, and the weight was no issue for him. Despite the chill in the weather, his coat was hanging off one of the mill's window shutters at thee far end of the circle. He had finally submitted to wearing the long john pants under the black cotton trousers, but for this his top was nothing more than a white tank top and two cotton socks he had destroyed to fashion into arm warmers.

He let the anger, frustration and doubt ebb away with the isolation and found his grip on the rod where the balance was best. Fighting with a staff was not his strongest suit, but he had trained in it, and he knew the ways to move it and move with it to defend himself and retaliate. Within fifteen minutes of repetitions and drills the snow beneath his feet was packed thin and solid, firm to stand on. He could barely feel the cold from the work out, and he had no intention of stopping the sweeping strikes, lunges and footwork he needed to get down properly any time soon.

Early Evening - The Inn
Closed

Ren disliked relying on the people in the village with him. He needed to get weapons and a way to reliably start fires and get fire wood beyond the branches he broke from the forest trees. The house he shared with Jean had amassed a fair collection of branches over the month, and they did fine for keeping the furnace going where needed but it wasn't smart to rely on such meager supplies and they still mostly needed the inn and the help of the village for supplies.

When Ren entered, he had the curtain rod tied to his back and his coat draped over the far too thin tank top he had worn beneath it. His arms were full with a large stack of thick branches from the trees on the other side of the river, and a rabbit he had found at the river edge. He didn't have the tools to clean it, or the experience, and rather than take it back to keep for himself and Jean, he decided to make a gesture. Until he could avoid relying on these people he had to at least appear to be helpful.

He set the frozen wood against the wall in the room with the fireplace, picked the rabbit back up and carried it to the kitchen, laying it out on the counter for Kate or whoever else decided to make use of it. Surely someone would find a use for it that evening or the next afternoon. He leaned on the counter, twisting the sink on a little further to wash his hands and face with the water, drinking a handful against whatever better judgement anyone might have. What didn't kill him would make him stronger.

OOC: If you would like to hit me up in a pm or on plurk (punctuation) to plan anything else out, I'm all for it and willing to work things in. Onward into the week will be a similar routine for Ren, other than the days with sleet where his practice will be in the cellar of house 40.

Comments

fountain

[tooktheblack]

Jon, too, found himself at the fountain from time to time and seeing Ren there one morning caused him to be a little more at ease than usual. He was a friend, so much as Jon had those in the village aside from family, and he was glad to see that he'd come back after his long absence.

"You're patrolling it now too? The fountain?" Jon looked in on it from time to time himself, ensuring that new arrivals didn't have to wait long for help, but it seemed surprising that Ren would do such a thing.

[andrend]

"I offered to keep watch over it at night." Not every night, and the cold had made his watches more than a little uncomfortable and unproductive. But Ren was a stubborn man.

"I don't understand why it doesn't just freeze over." He no longer tense any time someone approached though his grip on the metal rod at his side had tightened instinctively on Jon's approach. If nothing else, he no longer viewed Jon as an immediate threat. He seemed a useful ally to have, especially if things came to a fight.

He turned his attention from the water to the throneless King, pressing the flat end of the rod into the frozen ground as something to lean a bit of his weight into.

"It seems our captors are not overly fond of the night. Or their drop points being observed." One or the other. He was more convinced to it being the latter. No one ever seemed to arrive until after he stopped watching the fountain and stepped away.

"It would be easier if we could assign a droid."

[tooktheblack]

"I used to hate night's watch," Jon said, thinking of the nights that he watched the Wall back in Westeros. It was cold and lonely, to keep watch at night, and here at least there was the promise of getting to go indoors to a fire after only a few hours where there was often no such promise along the Wall.

"It was hard to pass the time, especially without a fire. It's easier here, at least, though only slightly less cold." The snow pack was still thick and heavy along the roads and pathways but the fountain, as always, never froze. "It might not freeze because it moves," Jon observed, "Though it has gotten quite cold. I don't understand it either."

[andrend]

Ren watched Jon out of the corner of his eye, keeping his gaze largely directed at the fountain in front of him. The worst of the cold he felt in his fingers with nothing to cover them, and he found himself wondering what sort of weapons the former king kept on himself. Surely with his history of fighting he had at least one or two.

"I find the silence and lack of distraction makes it easier to think." Admittedly, though, there was little to do in the village beyond the usual survival paces. When he wasn't watching the fountain or trying to get a feel for the land he was collecting food or supplies and working on his training.

"I imagine they want to keep their methods available. I think we should bury it and force them to find new methods. See how they adapt." He scowled at the fountain and then shook his head, looking over at Jon.

"The colors of the clothing they give us. Has anyone tried to piece together the reasoning behind them?"

[tooktheblack]

"There's been a little discussion but not of late. Not since the new color showed up," Jon said, thinking of the handful of people who had shown up wearing white.

"Originally it was only the first few colors, the red and black, the blue, the green and grey. Now there is a white but there are only a handful with it. It doesn't seem to make much sense how they are assigned or why."

[andrend]

"General Hux wore red. What color does your brother wear?" Rn had been piecing together a theory of the colors, observing those assigned to others when he could. He knew little of most of the villagers, but what he had seen had aroused his suspicion and curiosity.

It was doubtful the color choices were random, and the pattern to them had yet to be found, clearly. It did not stop Ren from being curious over the matter.

The Mill

[turned_to_steel]

Sansa was probably venturing a little too far from the center of the village, more than her brothers would definitely care for, but she felt rather safe at the moment as she wandered towards the Mill. She had a constant companion in the form of a fluffy white puppy who stayed near her side, bouncing happily through the snow while keeping an eye on its master.

Smiling softly to herself, Sansa glanced up as she studied the building with mild interest. She started to move around the side when she caught sight of something moving just ahead of her. It was enough to make her freeze, her breath catching in her throat as she had horrible mental images of some kind of animal snooping around and attacking her on sight.

Except it wasn't an animal.

Realizing that it was just a man, she let out the breath she was holding in before moving forward with a curious look. Yes, she could practically hear her brothers yelling at her to turn around since she was out on her own and approaching a man she didn't know but she was intrigued by what he was doing. Once he was fully in view (and she was too), she stopped and tilted her head the side while waiting for him to take notice of her. Then she smiled, brushing some red hair back from her face. "Good day."

[andrend]

Ren was still trying to adjust to being far less aware of the things and people around him than he had trained himself to be with the force. He heard the crunch of her feet in the snow before the words, but not until she was near enough to have shot him if she had been armed with a blaster, and he could not rely on the Force anymore for stopping a blaster shot. Deflecting could still have been a possibility, but he had nothing to gauge it by, yet.

He followed through on the last swing, his breath coming out in dense clouds of crystallizing air when he stopped moving, facing her with a long and dark metal pole in his hands. A flick of his wrist swung it around to rest the flat end in the snow, and he held firm to the makeshift grip slightly to one end of the pole. He took a moment to size her up and catch his breath. Her hair reminded him of Jean's, and he recognized her, though they had never met officially. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he knew who she was.

"Good day." He repeated the greeting but his voice came out almost uncertain and he hated himself for it immediately. He found his voice properly and lifted his head a little, straight-backed and confident. If she was who he thought she might be, she was not someone he wanted to make a poor impression on. His eyes drifted down to the small beast at her feet for a moment and then back to meet her, eye to eye.

"What do you have there?" He gestured to the dog, putting some weight onto the curtain rod while he spoke. He knew what they were. One had been noisily making itself known in the inn a time or two. But he didn't remember seeing the small white thing before. It was nearly invisible in the snow.

[turned_to_steel]

Having spent time in King's Landing trying to avoid the attention of a certain King and his cruel mother, Sansa had learned how to move quietly and quickly when she didn't want to be spotted. She didn't feel the need to be so careful around the place she found herself now. That and it was actually quite difficult to move silently over snow which had a way of crunching under people's boots when they walked.

Still, she knew that might startle the man while he continued to move rather fluidly through what she assumed was a style of fighting that she didn't recognize but found intriguing. She imagined that Arya would find it intriguing too and so she might point out the man to her sister some day. Especially since she was not so against or mortified by her sister's love of fighting anymore.

Her kind smile grew a hint warmer when he turned to greet her and sounded unsure of himself at first. She watched as he pushed his shoulders back and tried to make himself seem bigger, more confident, before continuing on. Not knowing that he had an idea of who she was, she nodded slightly to acknowledge that she had heard his greeting before glancing down at her companion.

"This is Akira." Her features softened with genuine affection for the dog before looking up at the man standing across from her. "She arrived on my doorstep just a few days ago." A pause. "My name is Sansa Stark."

Then she gave him a curious look.

[andrend]

"Akira." He studied the dog a moment longer, and then straightened, taking his weight off the makeshift staff and nodded to her introduction. He returned her smile with one that took him a moment to decide to offer. Another mysterious beast showing up for another village resident. Ren was uncertain who kept leaving behind unexpected deliveries for the captives of the village, but he considered them suspicious, and the motive unclear. Still, even he could tell the small canine was harmless for now. It posed no threat to him.

"My name is Kylo Ren," He considered adding a further title to his name, but thus far it had been clear any respect he would gain from these people took more than words. That was fine by him. He was a man of action most of the time. "I have seen you around the village. Do you have some relation to Jon?" The man and his brother who would both not be kings of the village. Jon was interesting, and his world at least seemed to respect order and power more than some others the people in the village called their homes.

[turned_to_steel]

Sansa would understand his wariness about the seemingly innocent gift because she had questions as well but her growing affection for the puppy won over any worries she might have. Especially since Akira was rather helpless at the moment and seemed more interested in showing affection to her intended master than anything nefarious. No, she couldn't really imagine anything bad coming from the little fluff ball at her side.

Focusing on the man again, she continued to smile while he finally offered his name to her. She had detected a bit of hesitation on his part but she didn't question it. She had been rather unsure when it came to offering her own name at first, as well. She had even gone so far as to introduce herself as Alayne to Raleigh when she first met him, worrying that maybe she had been kidnapped by someone tied to the Lannisters or that they might have a spy nearby. Maybe he had a similar issue.

"I do." She brightened when he mentioned Jon. At one time, she wouldn't have been so happy to admit any sort of tie to the young man but now she was proud of the statement. "He is my brother, as is Robb Stark. I have a sister here as well. Her name is Arya."

[andrend]

Although he had met Arya, they had never exchanged names, and Ren knew only Jon, and through him Robb's name and title. He nodded to her response despite a spike that jabbed into his mind, reminding him that Sentiment would be his downfall. It was likely to be theirs as well if they were too close to one another. Family was a threat and a weakness, not a strength. He said nothing and let Snoke's warnings fade into the background of his mind again where they always lingered amid his harsh tutelage.

So much of the village was built on and around the notion that they stood to gain from relying on one another, and while Ren disagreed, he understood the benefits of making an effort to be a 'part' of the survival group until he had an alternative.

"That would make you a princess, then," He commented, studying her quietly. There was no fairy tale meaning behind that in his mind, but Ben's mother was one, once, for a planet that was nothing but dust now. If both her brothers were kings, then their bloodline was important and powerful. That was worth something, even if Ren had not been impressed with Jon's Republic-leaning responses to his questions over power and who would lead the village if it came to war.

"You - and your sister? Jon claims he and your brother had been kings, but don't wish for power here. I find that odd." He added his opinion honestly. His curiosity in their strange behavior lingered and there was no point in lying and claiming he found such ideas sensible. Perhaps sh would have a better answer for him.

the mill

[womanofvalue]

Peggy has to wonder whether history simply has a funny way of repeating itself and whether they're all doomed to simply exist in a loop. She sees work going on at the mill and wonders what on earth it could be until she gets close enough to realise that she's been in this nearly exact same position before and that she's not entirely sure why she's so surprised to wander in and find Ren working on steps that she's seen and practiced herself.

The last time, she'd had to help him out of the water before the wheel forced him to drown, and she's not entirely sure if this is better. It does, at least, break the pattern of what happened before. Knocking slightly, allowing him to catch sight of her, she watches his form.

There is, perhaps, a mild apology she intends to give him, but it's not going to come out quickly or easily, is the only trouble. "What style did you study in?" she asks, pushing herself away from the door to enter the room.

[andrend]

Ren recognises her voice when she speaks, lowering his weapon slightly and relaxing his shoulders in an attempt to force himself from the routine of his movements into meditation and winding down. He watches her move, and sets the end of his makeshift staff to the ground. His reaction is muted, his emotions most in check during his training. He seems more relaxed, rather than on edge from the motion of his training.

"Jar'Kai." He doesn't offer the many other forms he studied in. It's never wise to show your full hand, he knows, and he can hardly guess whether or not her world knows of the many styles of lightsaber combat. The dual wielding style he most took to is not well suited to his new weapon, but he finds the staff works well for Ben Solo's former Master's preferred defensive fighting styles.

It irritated him at first, but the knowledge of those styles were still his once he learned them, even if his teacher had been a traitor.

His breathing is heavy but not ragged, and he drops the main arm holding the staff down, rather than getting defensive. He may not agree with her, but so far she has not been a threat, and he's trying not to treat her as an enemy.

"This area is better for training than the other side of the river." Less people, fewer distractions. He has to wonder what she is doing there. "I was told I used to spend time here. I can see why."

[womanofvalue]

She's clearly never heard of that style before, but it doesn't stop her from paying attention to it carefully, noting the similarities it bears to anything that she might have learned while being bored and watching Michael's fencing matches, learning moves to use against her brother at a later date. He seems quite taken with the exercises, keeping up admirably even as he breathes heavily. "Yes, I do recall that you were here quite often," she agrees, stepping inside.

"I believe I owe you an apology," Peggy says, biting the words out without any grit, though her stubbornness makes this terribly hard. "They said they found a pod on their searches. While there may be time travel somehow involved, given those from the future and my being from the past, I don't think I can truly believe that this village itself is in the past, not anymore."

[andrend]

Ren was not the sort who would have ever gone looking for her to apologize for being wrong. It comes as a surprise to hear her do the same, and he shifts his grip on his staff, watching her for a moment after she stops speaking. As if waiting for a follow up to the admission. Something sharp perhaps, verbally or physically.

"It does seem," He starts in, his eyes drifting off to the side for a moment. "That we may both have been correct in some way." Not that he plans on specifically saying he was wrong. While it does seem true Time Travel is involved in some way, Ren still holds to the possibility that that is merely an aspect of some mind game played by their captors. But others besides Peggy have mentioned it and at this point, it would be foolish of him to verbally argue against it. Whether or not he believes it quite yet.

He's torn between the need to keep these people as allies and his still present distrust of them as a whole. Some seem good allies, others he's less sure of. Peggy, for all the faults her more primitive culture seems to have left on her, at least seems somewhat logical.

"It's also possible that we could be in the past of some planet, if the pod was brought and left here like we were." He suggests it against his own opinions as a show of attempted cooperation.

[womanofvalue]

"Yes, the pod is a very strange thing, I can't understand it," she says, with the air of a woman who's used to understanding things quite thoroughly. Having this situation where she both doesn't understand and can't even investigate for fear of another creature coming out of the woodwork is plaguing her, to a degree that she thinks is going to haunt her for a time. She gestures to what he's doing, her curiosity piqued.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to take on a partner?" she volunteers. "I could use something to burn off some of the frustration," she says, because if she keeps thinking about the pod and the creature and everything else, she's going to run off to the canyons again and she's already established this as a terrible idea.

[andrend]

He considers her for a moment when she volunteers as a sparing partner and gestures towards the far wall of the mill after a moment. A second curtain rod of similar size and weight is resting against the wooden frame. He had been testing them both out to see if their weight or balance was any different but both seemed to be made of the same material and were more or less identical.

He twists the rod in his wrist, stepping back a few steps across the many overlapping tracks left behind by his footwork and gives her a moment to pick it up and try it for herself if she wants.

"Did they mention where it is or mark it on the map?" If so he intends to find it for himself.

inn;

[repressings]

Credence likes people. he doesn't know how to properly connect with them, nor does he quite understand that people here come from vastly different places, but he likes them. He'll learn more about them, and he's got an endless stream of questions, but it's all things he can't quite say. It's the fact that he has difficulty talking to people, possibly. Or just the fact that he's been raised to keep all curiousity to himself.

He knows about the gentleman with the long black hair, simply because he's seen him around. Always briefly, never hearing his voice. He likes to keep to himself, or so Credence thinks, and that's never something he wants to intrude on. So he sweeps and he cleans and he does anything Miss Kelly tells him to, following the instructions to a T with ease. It's things he was doing before he arrived, after all. The only thing missing is handing out flyers calling for a second Salem.

He's in the middle of sweeping the kitchen floor, light hands stark against the dark wooden broom handle, when he sees him. The long haired man with a rather heavy presence, commanding and authoritative. He was drawn to that sort of thing, once. He supposes he still is.

He notices the rabbit second, Credence's eyes moving from the stranger to the item, and he clears his throat before speaking.

"Thank you, sir. I'm sure Miss Kelly will be pleased." He has questions--so very many questions--and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself, taking the rabbit gingerly. Poor animal, Credence thinks, even if he's already starting to string it up for Kate to clean later. He's tying the last knot around it's legs before pausing, glancing up at the other at the taps and then back at the rabbit.

"You're not normally--I mean, you tend not to stop by, I've never really seen you in here." His voice is small, barely above a whisper.

[andrend]

In contrast, Ren has not been overly fond of people for quite some time. He doesn't hate them, exactly, but there are so many people in the universe he disagrees with that it's hard, sometimes, to imagine any of them being worth the time it takes to get to know them. He may have learned a thing or too about diplomatic relationships, but that never made him fond of them.

When Credence actually speaks up, Ren looks over to him, watching him string the creature up. He remembers, vaguely, seeing him come in from the fountain. One of the arrivals he had not been there to 'help' with. He speaks politly of Kate, though, and that is enough to temporarily put him in Ren's good graces. He seems not the obnoxious sort, and more quiet individuals in the village would suit him just fine.

"I don't live in the inn." He responds, as if that's enough of an explanation even if he knows it isn't. He finishes washing up his face, and leaves his weapon put away, turning to face toward Credence rather than just look at him.

"You're one of the newer captives. What's your name?" He's half tempted to give the entire village numbers and troops. IN-007, he thinks, studying Credence. Kate could be IN-000. At least the stormtroopers were easier to keep track of.

[repressings]

It's the exact sort of answer Credence likes. It's enough to sate his curiousity, but not enough to let him feel like he's prying. The perfect middle ground that's so hard to find, and part of the reason why he doesn't talk much at all.

There are other reasons, of course, lingering in the back of his mind. He focuses not on those voices clinging to him, or the strange itch under his skin begging to be freed, and instead focuses on the normal conversation and hoisting the rabbit just like he'd learned.

'Captives,' the other says, and Credence actually turns his head to look. Not at the other, of course, never at someone, but he winds up staring just below his shoulders as he speaks.

"Credence, sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Thank you for the rabbit, too." He should leave it at that, he knows. The man clearly doesn't want to be bothered, and yet, when he turns, he continues speaking. Perhaps he's braver here than he ever was in New York.

"Is that what you think the people that brought us here are? Jailers?"

[andrend]

Ren moves to the edge of the kitchen and leans back into the nearby wall, watching the quiet young man work. So far he's of the opinion that Credence is going to be a bit like Kate. Polite and in some small fashion, almost reminding him of a droid or a well trained Stormtrooper.

"Whoever is responsible for bringing us here has imprisoned us, in some cases altered memories or restrained the capacity of some individuals, and stripped us of our clothing, weapons, and autonomy. If this is not in some fashion a prison I would be surprised." He keeps his arms free rather than crossing them, and studies Credence with an intensely focused stare. He doesn't ask why Credence thinks they're there or try to draw him into deeper discussion, but he waits to see if any spoken thoughts come of his words.

[repressings]

The stranger looks at him and Credence feels the intensity rolling off of him in waves--he's reminded of lava, something molten. Intense and fiery, incendiary in looks and Credence doesn't want to find out if Ren has the physicality of the element, either, so he quietly clears his throat.

"It could be for our own protection," He offers. It's not by way of defending them in the least--it's because he knows what he's capable of; he knows what he's done and how many bodies have been strewn around New York City because of him.

Ren stares, intent, and Credence busies himself with tidying up things that are already clean, unable to look at anything but his hands.

The Inn

[ofspaceandtime]

“That’s a hefty hare,” Ciri pointed out, nodding to the mound of fur on the counter. “Did you catch it?”

The inn had been relatively quiet that day, and Ciri spent the last several hours seated by the fire, sharpening the tip of the sturdy broomstick handle she had claimed as her makeshift weapon with a sharp-edged stone. The weapon was hardly a sword but it would do for hunting and fighting at close range.

When Ren entered, she watched him deposit his bundle of branches and head toward the kitchen. To prepare his rabbit, she assumed, but when her curiosity drew her to follow him she found him at the sink instead. For a moment, Ciri felt a pang of guilt, as if she had interrupted him at something private. Perhaps it was just at seeing the normally composed young man bent at the sink, drinking.

[andrend]

"It was stuck on the bank." Easy enough to deal with. One quick blow and it didn't have to struggle to climb its way up the slick edges of the river bank any longer. Protein was important, but Ren had no knowledge of the creatures of this world, or which ones were edible. Let alone how to prepare them safely. He could manage but the beast was worth more to him as the appearance of a gesture than it was in his mostly bare pantry.

He dried his face with the bottom of his coat before straightening up and regarding Ciri with something more akin to interest than suspicion, his arms loose at his sides but slightly stiff with unreleased tension.

"A hare." He repeated the name, storing it away in his memory for thee next time he encountered one of the creatures. "They look like small, wild Lepi." He knew what a rabbit was in theory, but this was his first encounter with one that put an image with the word. He had heard one of the
Lagomorph describe themselves as Rabbit folk in the past, but he had always imagined the creatures would be far more hideous in person. They looked harmless.

"It's for the meal." The one Kate and the other villagers seemed to insist on having each day for reasons Ren neither understood or wanted to fully question. There were many aspects o their complacency that he found grating and an endless source of irritation and frustration, but that particular habit was to his own benefit.