With a nod and a wordless sound of agreement, Ren continues on ahead. The phantom pain of his old injuries fade and dull but don’t disappear completely. He focuses on breathing, on the rhythm of their footsteps, aiming to clear his mind of the fog of anger and fear while Arsène chants unhelpfully in the back of his mind, release thy rage, release thy rage.

Ren is comfortable with silence, usually. Silence feels natural to him, most of the time, but the silence now feels like the sharp point of a needle. This silence threatens to unmoor him. Maybe words are what will ground him.

“Your weapon is impressive.” That’s a good conversation starter, right? “I have a friend back home who’d probably enjoy using something like it.”