KYLO REN (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
photophobic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2019-04-10 12:52 am
photophobic) wrote in maskormenacelogs2019-04-10 12:52 am
[SEMI-OPEN]
WHO: Kylo Ren, Ronan Lynch, Kylo's guests
WHERE: The Meadows, AKA Ronan's weird dream farm
WHEN: Wibbly-wobbly catch-all
WHAT: Kylo Ren lives here and he's comfortable enough with that now that he's started inviting his friends (what!?! how?!?) and family to visit... which is a bigger deal than it sounds. Here is an overlong essay on why that is, which will also serve as an update on what Kylo's been up to, and hopefully as background for a bunch of scenes set here. Individual prompts for people expecting them will appear in the comments shortly!!
WARNINGS: Kylo Ren and his extremely melodramatic, unreliable narration should be a warning in itself, will add more as necessary
It’s difficult to define what the Meadows is, and only part of that is due to its nature as a dream, made of and populated by dream things, built for a dream by a dream. Or something. Kylo isn’t certain it’s even possible for a human being to perceive its workings no matter how connected they are to the ordinarily invisible, which he finds frustrating and fascinating in roughly equal measure.
To a human being, this is what is obvious about the Meadows: it is a farm a little way out of De Chima, a plot of land with a collection of buildings that presumably serve a purpose. There is a farmhouse and a chapel, there are barns and pastures. The Meadows is home to its moody, foul-mouthed farmer Ronan Lynch, a variety of domestic animals, and depending on varying personal definitions of the word, a scattering of questionably domesticated monsters.
Kylo Ren has wanted to be one of them for longer than he likes to admit.
He isn’t certain why. He isn’t certain why it feels so dangerous, or why it’s so desperately important that the desire remains a secret— but he holds onto it long after he’s aware Ronan already knows. He holds onto it even as he spends more and more time on the farm, staying longer in the mornings after he and Ronan fall into bed together and finding increasingly flimsy excuses to visit in the first place. He guards his longing to become a part of the dream Ronan lives in so fiercely that when he finally breaks and Ronan simply tells him that he can stay, that he belongs here and always has, Kylo finds himself at a loss. The truth is, he doesn’t know how.
His occupation proceeds cautiously, at first— not being prepared to put all his weight on a support unproven, Kylo tests his welcome in subtle increments.
First, a box of his favourite weet-i-crunch cereal appears in the vicinity of the breakfast table. His clothes migrate from their packing boxes still loaded in the back of his car one outfit at a time, discarded on the bedroom floor at the end of the day only to be found again later, nestled in Ronan’s closet. Kylo's books begin to colonise surfaces adjacent to chairs comfortable enough for afternoons of intent, curious study, and a little while later the first round of reinforcements appear to join them— a scattering of pages torn from a notebook, balled up and crumpled in frustration, each mortally wounded by Kylo's failure to capture his thoughts in tight, rigid capitals. It's unclear if there are any survivors of this restless, irritable massacre of a creative process or indeed the next, but it's only after the third wave of summary executions that any of the discarded remains find their way to the trash.
A week later, the very same day the majority of its furnishings disappear, Kylo's record player materialises in one of the guest rooms, accompanied by Kylo's modest collection of albums on vinyl. The following day, the door stays shut and the room remains pensively untouched— but the next, a strangely incoherent collection of items Kylo has refused to let slip through his fingers for reasons not always immediately obvious is left assembled on the dresser beneath a framed print of a painting, and Kylo leaves his haphazard shrine to Existing Here behind him, satisfied.
After a month and more of living at the Meadows and the evidence laid out in days and days and days of waking to find Ronan choosing, still, to breathe beside him, he's almost forgotten that his welcome here was ever in question. It remains a kind of divine mystery, no less true for his inability to understand it or the mechanism of its action, but gradually the miracle slides into place beside all the others Kylo accepts without conscious thought. The warm, easy hum of belonging he had coveted so violently comes to rest within him too, having matched his tentative invasion with a patient, faithful persistence of its own.
He doesn’t notice the shift until it’s complete. Nothing marks the moment the Meadows becomes Kylo’s home or draws attention to the question— until the latest issue of the zine he writes poetry for arrives, quietly and without ceremony, delivered in a plain, unassuming envelope bearing his name and address.
WHERE: The Meadows, AKA Ronan's weird dream farm
WHEN: Wibbly-wobbly catch-all
WHAT: Kylo Ren lives here and he's comfortable enough with that now that he's started inviting his friends (what!?! how?!?) and family to visit... which is a bigger deal than it sounds. Here is an overlong essay on why that is, which will also serve as an update on what Kylo's been up to, and hopefully as background for a bunch of scenes set here. Individual prompts for people expecting them will appear in the comments shortly!!
WARNINGS: Kylo Ren and his extremely melodramatic, unreliable narration should be a warning in itself, will add more as necessary
It’s difficult to define what the Meadows is, and only part of that is due to its nature as a dream, made of and populated by dream things, built for a dream by a dream. Or something. Kylo isn’t certain it’s even possible for a human being to perceive its workings no matter how connected they are to the ordinarily invisible, which he finds frustrating and fascinating in roughly equal measure.
To a human being, this is what is obvious about the Meadows: it is a farm a little way out of De Chima, a plot of land with a collection of buildings that presumably serve a purpose. There is a farmhouse and a chapel, there are barns and pastures. The Meadows is home to its moody, foul-mouthed farmer Ronan Lynch, a variety of domestic animals, and depending on varying personal definitions of the word, a scattering of questionably domesticated monsters.
Kylo Ren has wanted to be one of them for longer than he likes to admit.
He isn’t certain why. He isn’t certain why it feels so dangerous, or why it’s so desperately important that the desire remains a secret— but he holds onto it long after he’s aware Ronan already knows. He holds onto it even as he spends more and more time on the farm, staying longer in the mornings after he and Ronan fall into bed together and finding increasingly flimsy excuses to visit in the first place. He guards his longing to become a part of the dream Ronan lives in so fiercely that when he finally breaks and Ronan simply tells him that he can stay, that he belongs here and always has, Kylo finds himself at a loss. The truth is, he doesn’t know how.
His occupation proceeds cautiously, at first— not being prepared to put all his weight on a support unproven, Kylo tests his welcome in subtle increments.
First, a box of his favourite weet-i-crunch cereal appears in the vicinity of the breakfast table. His clothes migrate from their packing boxes still loaded in the back of his car one outfit at a time, discarded on the bedroom floor at the end of the day only to be found again later, nestled in Ronan’s closet. Kylo's books begin to colonise surfaces adjacent to chairs comfortable enough for afternoons of intent, curious study, and a little while later the first round of reinforcements appear to join them— a scattering of pages torn from a notebook, balled up and crumpled in frustration, each mortally wounded by Kylo's failure to capture his thoughts in tight, rigid capitals. It's unclear if there are any survivors of this restless, irritable massacre of a creative process or indeed the next, but it's only after the third wave of summary executions that any of the discarded remains find their way to the trash.
A week later, the very same day the majority of its furnishings disappear, Kylo's record player materialises in one of the guest rooms, accompanied by Kylo's modest collection of albums on vinyl. The following day, the door stays shut and the room remains pensively untouched— but the next, a strangely incoherent collection of items Kylo has refused to let slip through his fingers for reasons not always immediately obvious is left assembled on the dresser beneath a framed print of a painting, and Kylo leaves his haphazard shrine to Existing Here behind him, satisfied.
After a month and more of living at the Meadows and the evidence laid out in days and days and days of waking to find Ronan choosing, still, to breathe beside him, he's almost forgotten that his welcome here was ever in question. It remains a kind of divine mystery, no less true for his inability to understand it or the mechanism of its action, but gradually the miracle slides into place beside all the others Kylo accepts without conscious thought. The warm, easy hum of belonging he had coveted so violently comes to rest within him too, having matched his tentative invasion with a patient, faithful persistence of its own.
He doesn’t notice the shift until it’s complete. Nothing marks the moment the Meadows becomes Kylo’s home or draws attention to the question— until the latest issue of the zine he writes poetry for arrives, quietly and without ceremony, delivered in a plain, unassuming envelope bearing his name and address.