EMPTY CHAIRS AT EMPTY TABLES

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Concordia - VEN DIAGRAMS HQ + BOUT IT OUT PARLOR + BEARINGS APARTMENT BLOCK
WHEN: Late Day :022 + Early Day :023
SUMMARY: The results of all your hard work - for better or worse. One win, one draw, one loss. Anakin Skywalker bites the big one.
WARNINGS: Violence, non-graphic character death.

IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY. Unfortunately, that’s not about to change any time soon. In the late hours of the evening, two things are happening: the final round of the Bout It Out expose between Kun-Kun and The Darkling is spooling up; meanwhile, the infiltration team at Ven Diagrams is working to retrieve information on H+H1 from the company’s security drive. Unfortunately, neither is going to reach the natural conclusion.

At the REGAL STREET GAMING PARLOR, emotions are running high. After a long day of simulation violence and the reveal of Kun-Kun’s new automaton fighting avatar, the crowd has been stoked to a few pitch. The music’s loud but the crowd is louder: cheering and booing, shouting for every landed or evaded strike. There’s an electric pulse of excitement in the air-- and then there’s a very literal one as an electromagnetic pulse rocks the Regal Street Parlor. The Bout It Out ring shorts and the entire parlor is pitched into total, window-less darkness. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the crowd’s excitement to melt into panic. Pushing, shoving, shouting - a piercing shriek as one of Kun-Kun’s representatives is stabbed. The nearby hosts (Lexa, Sam Alexander, and anyone in their faux attachment) should be able to help Kun-Kun and his reps to safety, but the crush of the crowd tangles up everyone else. When a rudimentary bomb goes off in the center of the parlor, it catches plenty of people in the crossfire.

There’s a white hot flash. A pulse of heat. A sizzle of agony. It’s a pain that guts, that persists long after the flash of the bomb and extends all the way to the infiltration team at Ven Diagrams. It’s like a limb badly severed. Anakin Skywalker is killed by the blast and every host knows it before they’re aware of anything else.

Unluckily for the infiltration team, they won’t have much time to recover. News of the bombing hits Extraspace in a matter of seconds, which triggers Ven Diagrams - paranoid from the recent attack on their own properties - to lock down their headquarters. All systems are tightened and security clamps down before the infiltration team can access the private servers. If you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be, now’s the time to get the hell out of dodge.

Retreat, regroup. Upon returning to the Bearings apartment block, the hosts will find that two of their previously comatose friends have woken up: Hux and Aoba Seragaki will probably need to be briefed on the current situation.

     I. THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENS
In the Regal Street Gaming Parlor, a pulse flashes. Electronics sizzle. A fight reaching rhythm is shattered and darkness consumes the parlor in its entirety. There’s something like a collective inhale - and then the panic sets in. Screaming. Pushing. Elbows in the dark and a wave of bodies forcing their way toward wherever they think the exit is. Parlors like this one are supposed to be shielded from this kind of problem, but today that doesn’t matter. In just a few short moments of panic, a bomb - basic compared to the one that blew out the Ven Diagram warehouse only days ago - goes off.

There’s a buzz. An electrical hiss. In the wake of the explosion - in the wake of the agony of Anakin’s death -, the parlor’s fire systems go off flooding the upper and lower levels, the spectator balconies with flame retardant powder and coolant. The emergency lighting kicks on, throwing the carnage into stark fluorescent light. The probable intended victim has escaped, along with his entourage, but there are plenty of wounded - groans and weeping permeate the chemical stale air. In addition to Anakin, three people have been killed and two androids have been rendered into scrap by the explosion. Countless others could use help; maybe even a few other hosts have been wounded by the blast.

     II. MEANWHILE...
If you’re part of the infiltration team, you’ve officially overstayed your welcome. Security tightens to a chokehold; if you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, it’s time to leave. An alarm blares through the development laboratories. The building is evacuated and then sealed throughout. The powerlifts cease operation. All networked systems go offline.

     III. FROM THE JAWS OF DEFEAT
Back at the parlor, the evacuation continues. The parlor is half-collapsed, there are injured to tend to and local authorities to deal with. In a matter of minutes, the the parlor is swarmed by public security and medical personnel. If you’re able bodied, you’re welcome to assist with rescue efforts - or try to find a lead on who could’ve been responsible for this. Some evidence, some sign - anything to make this worth it. During this time those with Kun Adetokunbo will have the chance to make their case.

It’s a long, protracted clean up and triage; it’s absolutely possible that some of the infiltration team members might make it to the site of the explosion to assist or care for their friends. 

     IV. WE TEND OUR WOUNDED, WE COUNT OUR DEAD
In the early hours of the morning on Day 023, the hosts limp back to Bearings. Maybe it should be achingly quiet, but it’s not - there’s a murmur of activity in the mental air as Hux and Aoba muddle out of their way from out of their comas. From here, it’s up to to the hosts to recover, to discuss how they want to proceed, and come up with a way to recover from this setback - and from Anakin’s death.

---

((OOC NOTES: Here it is, your wrapup log for the event! You may have noticed that the Hosts didn’t succeed at the Ven Diagrams infiltration. We thought this was a better way than asking everyone to handwave a huge amount of plot or simply having the NPCs get the evidence. Don’t worry though - there will be other mysteries to unravel soon. Very soon, in fact.

There will be an NPC top-level for the escape with Kun-Kun, but otherwise you’re free to make your own top levels! If you have any questions please feel free to ask them in the event OOC post.

Thanks everyone!))

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( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[adamance]

( Once we've secured everyone. The one who died is very close to a broodmate of mine. It may take time. )

[Too much time, she fears, but she's prepared for that. What worries her is the chaos that erupted, and how little help she may have in helping Ahsoka and taking care of Anakin's body. She still doesn't have a full sense of precisely what happened there, and some part of her wonders if she really wants to know.]

( Come find me when you return. Or I'll find you. ) [While the words, phrased differently, could be a threat, she means it more as an open-ended offer. Whoever finds whoever first, that's most suitable.]

s-s-scenechange.

[deployed]

[ Time. In the midst of what might very well be a lockdown on this particular building, time feels like a foreign concept. But it's necessary. They'd lost someone. There must be other dead. And he can feel the beginnings of displaced grief on the fringes of his consciousness, pressing in from all sides. It's not going to be easy to deal with any of it, and Bellamy momentarily considers going directly to the parlor, but getting out of the building takes precedence. One step at a time. ]

( Good luck. ) [ He offers, before he hears the sounds of approaching footfalls, and the connection between them snaps.

Reestablishing it doesn't happen until later, until they've both returned. The Bearings is quiet, safe, but weighted with the knowledge of what has happened and the considerations that must be made as they move forward. Bellamy feels the brush of her mind, exhales hard. He's on his bed, where the Darkling left him, but he answers the ping of her thoughts regardless. ]

( Here, ) [ He projects the image of his room, the half-opened door. An invitation. ]

[adamance]

[The invitation gives her pause. Not because of where he's requesting that she join him, but why. The reason isn't immediately apparent to her, but she passes through the halls of the Bearings without much of a reply. There is a sense that she is coming, but she has to get herself in order first. Washing the red blood off her hands is most likely the most significant thing she needs to do, and there is at least some comfort in knowing that she will never mix up her blood with anyone else's.

After she finishes and tucks the memory core of the android somewhere safe until she finds Angel, she heads to his room, passing into the doorway but stopping when she surveys him in his bed.]

What happened?

[deployed]

I could ask you the same question.

[ He's gleaned quite a bit from the Darkling, and tried to line up the account with what crashed into his head when the bomb went off. It's difficult. Death had swallowed up everything, blurs the lines between his experience and reality. He levers himself up on an elbow slowly, frowning. ]

I don't know, [ not definitely, anyway. ] How's your broodmate?

[ Because asking how Lexa is directly is somehow something he needs to work up to. ]

[adamance]

It's difficult to say. She is grieving, but she is emotional and unpredictable. I intend to keep an eye on her. [Lexa intends to ask Nathaniel and Rhys to keep an eye on her, to keep her from running off again. It would be bad for her to do that, and Lexa wouldn't be surprised if that's precisely what she chose at this time.]

Why are you in bed? [That had been her reason for asking, but she felt it was important to answer his question. At least her evasion of it would have made little sense, so she conceded that much to him.]

[deployed]

[ What does Lexa's brand of comfort even look like? Bellamy's lips twitch, briefly amused, before he rubs both hands over his face, trying to knuckle away the rising nausea. ]

Because I'm sick.

[ It's a deceptively simple answer. How he'd gotten sick is more complicated. ]

I'm going to get up. I know we need to talk.

[ Unwilling to link his mind to the rest of the Hive at the best of times, he's especially reluctant now. The transference of his illness isn't something the rest of the Hive needs right now. Still reeling from Anakin's death, Bellamy's fever and nausea isn't the distraction they needed. ]

[adamance]

Remain seated.

[If he's sick, there's no reason to extend himself too far. She turns toward the door to press the button to close it. Privacy in the Nest is almost impossible to achieve, but everyone's mind is too muddled to really pay attention. A closed door will have some use today.

She moves toward the chair in all of the rooms, drawing it out and turning it toward him. Her eyes take note of the books he's found at antique shops, but she doesn't touch any of them before she sits.]

Were you sick before you left today? [It's a question that could make it seem like she's motherhenning a bit.



It's because she is, at least this time.]

[deployed]

[ Bellamy makes a low, disgruntled noise. Being motherhenned is strange for him; he's more likely to be the one dishing out brusque concern than being on the receiving end of it.

Nevermind the strangeness that is Lexa expressing concern for him. Bellamy very nearly gets up just to make a point, but his stomach is still lurching unpleasantly. Pushing his luck to make a point would most likely backfire embarrassingly. Instead he just rides out the unease of her observing his vulnerability, as well as inhabiting his space, seeing his little collection of books, the Ark guard jacket crumpled at the foot of the bed. ]

No.

[ Nervous, maybe, but not sick. He shakes his head carefully, lifts a hand to flex his fingers. ]

It happened after a fight with a guard.

[ The single, unavoidable image rises in his mind: his hands around the man's neck, skin turning black under Bellamy's fingers. He'd done that. He doesn't understand it, but he can't avoid that truth anymore. ]

[adamance]

It seems that your symbiote thought fit to help you. It protected me from flame once, and I was drained for the rest of the day. ... Fatigued, as if I hadn't had water for a long time. [The touch is curious to her, but it at least is something that she can identify with. The black marks on the neck of the man were interesting, oddly reminding her of the black blood that flows through her veins.]

Do you find your physical skills more enhanced than the telepathy? [It's a matter of trying to see if they are categorized similarly. Naturally, there is a degree of "use" inherent in this, as her strength has been useful before.

In fact, it's the only new "skill" she's relied upon: which is a problem and ... not surprising, considering that it is the ability that increases the hold of the Nest.]

[deployed]

[ His symbiote. Bellamy's frown deepens, pressing the thumb of one hand into the opposite palm. It's vaguely reassuring to hear that the sickness triggered by his touch is motivated by danger, but realizing this is a capability he has still feels like condemnation. ]

They didn't feel any different, [ He answers reluctantly. ] Fighting him felt the same, until I got my hands on his neck.

[ And then something in him had shifted. He'd felt something give way and flow out of him, and it had been momentarily satisfying. Most of his guilt hinges on that satisfaction and relief. ]

I'm not any stronger, or faster. Not that I've noticed.

[ There's plenty unfavorable things to say about the way he fights, he's sure. What he'd learned from Lincoln, what he'd had drilled into him by the Guard, none of that measures up to the level of skill he knows Grounders possessed. Or even certain other members of the Nest. ]

[adamance]

Perhaps that's simply what I've tapped into in comparison. I'll have to test you when we get back to the Station, unless you wouldn't mind a spar in a room here. [She pauses, considering his hands.] We'll need to get you gloves.

[Though she knows the Hosts are somewhat limited in acting upon one another—that had been made apparent to her by Cathaway rather early on, even if accidents can happen—the thought of being knocked down by sickness irritates her. She would rather not have to engage with that particular problem, especially at the speed with which things move here.]

Why are you guilty? [Look, if he's going to feel feelings all over, she might as well ask.]

[deployed]

[ Gloves. Bellamy's hands flex again, turning palm up for him to examine before he curls them into fists. It's safest. Bellamy knows there's some part of him that still recognizes her as an enemy, and that she's right not to trust his faulty self control not to poison her the way he'd poisoned the guard. Bellamy isn't even certain the guard survived. He hadn't stopped long enough to be sure one way or another.

The proprietary way she talks to him should be irritating. Maybe it would be if he weren't so miserably ill. Exhaustion smothers the faint prickling of annoyance, though he immediately frowns the question. ]

It's safer to wait until we aren't in the middle of all this.

[ In case they do hurt each other. It's hard to completely rule out that factor, considering the history between them. He looks away from her briefly, indecisive. Is there any real point in poorly deflecting the question? Right now, if she wanted, she could pluck the answers directly from his head. It wasn't so long ago that he and the Darkling's thoughts had bled together while he'd tried to minister to Bellamy's fever. ]

Isn't it obvious? [ He answers flatly. ] I hurt someone.

[ It was never easy. No matter how it was framed, the bare bones of the situation remained: he'd hurt another person. The threat they'd presented doesn't assuage the resulting turmoil. ]

[adamance]

[It's not that Lexa's unfamiliar with the concept of guilt from such a small thing (even if she does see it as a small thing). It's more that she believes that when someone like Bellamy feels guilt over such a thing that it's a falsehood. Yes, they are meant to kill fewer rather than more. Yes, that had been her agreement with Clarke, and it's something that rules her actions even here. Otherwise, there are a number of members of the hive she would have tried to execute by now. (If they prove dangerous for so long, she cannot help but take notice.)

With all that he's accomplished with a gun, killing so many of her warriors, she doesn't know if she can believe his guilt here. No, rather, she thinks it's more of this: he feels guilty because he feels it's correct to feel guilty. To Lexa, it makes her think of him as a hypocrite.

If it were Clarke, there would be no hesitation in pointing out the contradiction. She has many times before, and has shown how it is nothing but a lie there. Here, there is hesitation. For one thing, she actually regrets how her words propelled Clarke into embracing her more monstrous side for her people. For another, the last thing they need is Bellamy uninhibited.

Her head tips forward as she considers her words. It's obvious that she is, though the exact thoughts are pulled away, not apparent to him. She doesn't want him to know where she's going with this, so she builds a wall to prepare herself.]

Why do you value yourself so little? [These words come after she lifts her gaze to meet his eyes. That's what she comes to in the end: why does he value himself so little? When he had killed her warriors, he had justified himself. When he had fought alongside Clarke with their camp and killed three hundred of her warriors, she's positive that he hadn't felt any guilt then. She knows of the rousing speeches, knows of how he motivated his people to fight. Her scouts told her of some of them, and she could only assume that his handling of his people was done that way over a time. (Lincoln, after all, had been a very good scout.)

And above all else, she remembers him standing as a barrier between himself and his people, a wall all on his own, Marcus Kane's fingers wrapped around his neck. There were no survival instincts at play there: only the reality that he had to save his people.

Even Lexa has never been a wall for her people as she has always known that self-sacrifice is so rarely valued in that way. It has its upsides, but she knows there is a greater cost in living than in dying.]

[deployed]

[ If he wanted, maybe he could push hard enough to hook into the flow of thought Lexa's keeping so carefully walled off. He's capable, but he doesn't make the attempt. He doesn't always trust Lexa's intentions, understands her pragmatism may someday necessitate the kind of manipulations that left Bellamy stranded in the depth of Mount Weather but he trusts the shift in their circumstance and he trusts her promises. He knows what he'd do on Clarke's behalf. He can leave well enough alone with the realization of how deep those feelings run to safeguard the present.

He'd never have seen that question coming, even if he'd plucked the tick of logic from her head. Bellamy flinches from it, expression shuttering. He's guilty. He's always been guilty, from the moment he put boots onto the soil of Earth. Guilt is a constant companion. He acts in spite of it, understanding that it is the cost of the actions he's taking even if he believes those actions are necessary. He'd been sick with guilt even after he'd put an end to her army, unable to meet Lincoln's eyes and spout the well-worn justifications. Killing never comes easily. There's no detachment, even if he'd desperately needed to find some in the wake of Mount Weather.

None of it absolves him. There's no comfort in knowing his actions were necessary. And this guard is just another casualty to bear up under, though Bellamy's at a loss as to how to communicate this to Lexa without revealing too much. He isn't even sure how to answer her question, though his thoughts flick through the counts against him, from his mother to the three hundred who had perished in the Culling the the graves outside the dropship to the scorched bodies in Mount Weather to the massacre of her army to Lincoln. What value did he have left, when he'd caused so much damage? ]

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

[ He can't give her an answer. He doesn't try, tamping down hard rather than risk exposing too much to her. He frowns, but doesn't look away, afraid that breaking eye contact would reveal something more damning than the expression on his face in this moment, as raw as it may be.

The sacrifice that she puzzles over is, for Bellamy, the only worthwhile thing he can do. Protecting his people regardless of the cost, even if that cost is his life. And he'd always trusted that in his absence, Clarke would protect their people. That made it easier to consider such a roll. ]

[adamance]

[Odd that they should come to this moment. Lexa recalls standing in a tent mere moments before Mount Weather prepared to launch a missile toward TonDC to kill hundreds there. Octavia had been outside. Indra, one of her most trusted generals, had been outside. Even so, she had made the choice, and Clarke had made the choice, and they left together with the mindset of returning and giving hope. Here, there are no inspirational leaders. There are those all the people in the Nest seem to care for (Angel) and those who may earn everyone's protection (Sam, the boy who also calls himself Nova). But there are no leaders who will sweep in and save the day by merely providing the morale necessary.

As someone raised to believe in her leadership skills above all else, she has seen this gaping hole from the very beginning. Her first urge had been to patch it over with herself, but she recognizes the value of compromise. While many of the people here do respect her experience and efforts toward her people, they are not her people. Only Bellamy is her people, one remaining individual from a group of thousands. And he is reluctant, to say the least.

The flicker of thoughts about his death leaves her unwavering. She remains stoic as she thinks through them and recognizes them, pausing only when he reaches Lincoln. He had been a part of Trikru, a part of her original people, a boy training to be a scout when she had been brought to Polis. There is some hesitation as she considers that, and her mind slips to Luna, who had always been closer to him. If he had gone with her instead of trying to forge a better way for their people, would he have lived? She knows (knows through reports from others, knows because Lincoln had always struggled under the weight of what her people consider to be strength) that he had considered leaving. That he had the means to leaving. But he never left.

Her thoughts are a sort of eulogy shared with Bellamy before they swing back toward the point. Somehow, she doesn't think to blame him: if nothing else, she knows that Bellamy would not hurt Lincoln. It would not have been a strike by his hand. A month ago, would she have felt the same way?

(She knows the truth to that answer: it's a simple no.)]

We are at war. [Back to his quarters, back to where they are, sitting in a place that isn't so different from where she had been with Clarke. It's just as intimate, with her given more space between herself and him. At that moment, she already knew the stirrings of her feelings for Clarke, but they weren't as important as the war at hand. Nothing like that can ever be the same for Bellamy, but she knows that she respects him, like it's a point of acceptance long since passed, perhaps solidified the moment his hand slipped into hers and he showed her the remainder of her home.]

We left one war and entered another. You would not have been there if the owner of that company hadn't withheld information. The people of this world do not know that they are a part of our war, but they fight their own.

[Her words are callous, yet ones she believes in entirely. Death is not always the means to an end. Since she has joined the Nest, she has maintained that thought: her last resort is death, almost like a living, breathing promise to Clarke. But there are times when it may come.

Besides:]

You didn't mean to kill him. You'll be more careful in the future.

[None of them are trained because they are all expendable pawns waiting to be rescued while they fight their war poorly.]

[deployed]

[ She's sharing these memories of Lincoln willingly. Bellamy realizes that, but the urge to turn his face from them still rises. It's too much. It's undeserved. He'd cared for Lincoln, but he'd stood by and let Pike push him and his people into a cell. Octavia's accusations had been fueled by anger, but they had only been an echo of what Bellamy believed himself. ( You're the reason he needs saving. ) The bittersweet progression of memory burns like salt in an open wound instead of soothing like a balm, and he flinches when it's cut short.

Lexa doesn't blame him. That simple reprieve is surprising, but he suppresses the need to question her about it. She's in his head. The desperate need to save Lincoln, Kane and Sinclair had propelled Bellamy out of Arkadia, had broken wide the fissures of doubt in Pike's rule that had been cracking since he'd pushed to attack the village. He'd delayed and he'd stalled and people had died because of it. He runs a hand over his face, back through his hair. His sweat-damp curls stick up wildly. There's a dissonant moment where he can't differentiate between her feelings for Clarke and his own, punctuated by a wash of nausea which is only partly because of the blowback from his powers and partly from the sense of feelings and thoughts briefly blurring.

What he did and didn't mean to do never mattered. He'd babbled that he hadn't meant to bring death to innocents before when confronted with a field full of imagined Ark workers and it had rung out hollowly then. Lexa's pragmatic assessment does little to chip away at Bellamy's ample store of guilt. ]

What I meant doesn't matter, [ Though that's a statement that refers to more than a single guard, a tacit acknowledgement of his sins even if he can never quite bring himself to speak more specifically of them to her. ] And we didn't get what we needed.

[ The entire infiltration had been for nothing. A waste. As necessary as the altercation had been in the moment, it doesn't alleviate the regret that followed after.

She'd made promises to Clarke, explicit in a way Bellamy never had been with her. But he tries. He's trying now, attempting to change course even in this strange, removed world. He can try to be careful, but getting a handle on this kind of ability seems as difficult as controlling his thoughts. The fallout would be more disastrous than a revealing slip of memory. ]

Next time we can't fail.

[ Whatever came next. It's hard to think about the next step when grief and anger are so thick in the air, muddying the shared consciousness of the Hive. Even as much as Bellamy tries to hold himself apart from it, he can't escape the slow bleed of emotion dragging against his own. ]

[adamance]

It does matter. [Lexa will never understand all that Bellamy's done to bring him to this point, but she will know this: how he feels right now is crippling him. Being caught up in thoughts that blur together these notions will only make things more difficult down the line. She sees above all else that he has to differentiate between them, or he'll drown in the process. It will prove impossible to keep someone alive who has been severed from everything that matters most. That's a life she refuses to accept.]

The day we found my people dead on that field, I had intended to make Clarke my prisoner. [Despite her promises.] I was angry. [Emotional. A point she regrets but can't change.] Despite everything, she swore that she could get through to you. That you would see the error of your ways. She believed in you. You proved her wrong. You dug your heels, and Clarke had to come back and beg for me to show a different side. [It's one that she still struggles with, which is apparent here. Her restraint is shown every day, even though Lexa has a feeling that Bellamy's the only one aware of it.]

What you did when everyone failed in there was a matter of poor planning. Things will change. I intend to change them. But to me, you are making these things one and the same. When you killed my people beside Pike, you acted with purpose. Here, you didn't. But sitting here, it feels the same to me. Why is that?

[Clarke had accused her of repressing her emotions, but when she looks at Bellamy, she wonders if this is really any better. If his emotions blind him so that he can't make clear, reasoned decisions, how is that any better?]

You will never be the man Clarke believed you could be if you don't work through this.

[It's clear to her that he attempted to deflected toward the mission itself.

But Lexa has already made up a plan for how to handle things in the future. Here, she's quick and decisive. With him, she wonders if it will be necessary to do the same. If this is the leadership hand he requires, then she'll offer it.]

[deployed]

[ There's a flash of anger, a lingering I knew it that Bellamy can't suppress. For all that he likes to think he's past the furious hurt that had risen up when Clarke had chosen Lexa and the grounders over their people, it's still present, still far from having healed and faded.

But still, focusing on that over focusing on how he put Clarke in danger and rebuffed her attempts at reconciliation is a distraction. It had been a distraction then too. He can't bring himself to tell Lexa of all people that he'd seen the error, and doubled down rather than try to face that reality and pursue what had felt like an unstable peace.

He can feel the sacrifice Lexa has made for Clarke, the effort involved in reshaping an entire worldview. It's impossible to dismiss and he doesn't bother trying anymore. ]

You're right, [ He tells her, though the words come out rough, reluctant. It's the truth, though he is not the man Clarke believes him to be in so many ways. ] I know that.

[ But nothing goes away simply because he understands that he's bogged down with his own guilt. ]

It's...difficult to explain to you.

[ For so many reasons, not the least of which hinges on who she is and the fact that discussing emotions is simply not in Bellamy's wheelhouse. Lexa's asking him to articulate something he's never attempted to put into words, and never imagined attempting to do so for anyone other than Clarke.

He doesn't often wish to be the man who had taken control of things at the dropship. But he misses that sense of resolute belief in a purpose. Self-doubt has done as much to destabilize him as his guilt. He sighs, shoulders bowing as he rubs his hands over his face again as if to shake off his physical weakness and better equip himself to tackle this conversation. ]

[adamance]

[In response, she leans back. It occurs to her that this may be too much to combat in one instance. Lexa had tried with Clarke after Finn died. Her efforts there were less successful for a different reason: the reason being that they proved too successful. Clarke had stifled all of her emotions so that she could do monstrous things in the Mountain after Lexa abandoned her, and only Lexa could see the error of her ways. The privacy of their conversations had granted her that, and she knows it's not her place to explain what Clarke had gone through.

But she does strive to do better this time. There is still the gnawing in her mind that his emotions are only hurting him, preventing him from being who Clarke believes him to be, but she ignores that. He may sense it, may know that she's obscuring that perspective, because while it's how she copes and survives, she knows better than to push that on others. (Besides, she had begun to balance out that notion herself before she came here.)]

Our people handle these matters differently. I know I'll never fully understand where you come from on this. What we view as strength make most of Skaikru struggle. It's surprising that Octavia has done so well under Indra's training.

[It's one way of saying what she's thinking without saying it. It hints to Clarke and it hints to how she may be the worst for this particular conversation.

But if she means for him to live, he has to do it without finding some means to harm himself with his thoughts.]

[deployed]

[ There's something yielding in her thoughts, as if her line of questioning had been pressure and the change in topic and posture signals an easing away from it all. Bellamy exhales slowly, processing the flicker of thought and emotion emanating from her. With Lexa, Bellamy always has the sense that he's being deliberately allowed every inch of vulnerability and insight he gleans from her. Lexa isn't prone to the same slips and revealings that Bellamy constantly falls into.

If she's holding back, it's on purpose. It's a sign of something, a growth that Bellamy doesn't presume to attempt to name. She's not the only one thinking of Clarke in this moment, understanding that to some extent what Lexa tells him now is because of Clarke's influence and example. ]

It's not, really. Octavia doesn't count herself as Skaikru.

[ And why should she? She's Bellamy's family, but for all his protests, she'd been raised under the floorboards and imprisoned upon discovery. It had set her apart.

Bellamy can't hear her name aloud without a painful mix of pride and sorrow. Losing Lincoln had severed an already frayed bond between them. Bellamy would never have the chance to fix it. Not here. Maybe not even if he'd survived the battle in Polis. But still, the love and affection he feels for Octavia thrums warm in his chest, coloring his thoughts. ]

Indra was good for her.

[ Something Bellamy can admit now, finally. Maybe long past when such a statement would have mattered. ]

[adamance]

What she thinks and what is true are two different things. [Lexa will always see Octavia as Skaikru. It isn't a bad thing: she simply sees her as a part of their people, just as Lincoln would always be Trikru even when he had abandoned and betrayed them. It's why she had to put a kill order on his head. His actions necessitated that from her as he had betrayed his people countless times.

Still, the point isn't how Octavia defines herself. It's how Lexa defines her, and her people, and all of Skaikru. They all have their own ways of handling things, and their own sense of honor. There are times when they are no different. There are times when they are radically different. In the end, both had a culture of killing those who needed to be gone, but their approach to the matter often varied.]

Just the same, you and her are a lot alike. You're both emotional. You hide nothing from others. Even when you've convinced yourself that you are.

[It's one of the things that frustrates her about him: he is mercurial and unable to keep himself from feeling everything.

Some part of her wonders what it's like to be in Clarke's head, idly, distantly—but she knows she would meet with the same guilt. Clarke hides it better, but it would be just as suffocating.]

[deployed]

[ Bellamy draws a ragged breath. Talking about Octavia is difficult for a multitude of reasons. It's baring a private, vulnerable part of himself to Lexa, though at this point, what does that matter? He's already weak, and he's already admitted more than he should to her. It feels like something she could have picked from his head without even trying. Octavia is always present in his mind.

But it's difficult because of how she had disowned him. Her face comes to mind, spitting You're dead to me, as he'd struggled to his knees. She hadn't hidden her grief, hadn't made a secret of who she blamed, and the severance of the bond between them had felt like a limb being ripped away. He can't get a hold of that pain, wrestle and mute it before it floods through his mind. His jaw tightens, shoulders dropping. ]

I helped raise her. Makes sense she'd pick up my bad habits.

[ It's an attempt to pass over the comparison, something he knows Octavia wouldn't be pleased with were she here. He can sense the shift in Lexa's thoughts, the flicker of Clarke there.

Bellamy's eyes close, and he pinches the bridge of his nose briefly. He already knows the guilt Clarke carried. He knows it's the twin to his own, and he knows that Clarke had the strength to bear up under it without lashing out beneath that weight. She's more controlled than Bellamy is. That's never been in question. ]

You don't have to stay.

[ Because he has the sense he's being selfish, keeping her here because she's a familiar presence and he finds unexpected comfort in that even as they skirt around difficult topics for both of them to speak of. ]

[adamance]

There is very little that you could tell me to do, Bellamy. [Lexa could leave, but some part of her wants to force herself to remain. It is hard to meet guilt like that, especially when she has a special ability to burn it away within herself. Once, she might have thought that the Flame helped her, incinerating everything inside that weakened her, but now she knows the truth. The Spirits in her are alive and real, but they are no more a flame than the false flickering of candles in her chosen setting for her room.]

It wasn't surprising that Indra took to Octavia, [she begins, not to speak of Octavia but of Indra.] Though she was a strong leader in Trikru, she had always been angrier than most. Clarke was once afraid that she might rise up to the role of commander, but she lacked the right blood. It wouldn't have been possible. [A smile plays over her lips.]

My people can be loud. And angry. But sometimes it is more one thing than another, without any bared truth.

[deployed]

[ The right blood. Bellamy's thoughts hopscotch from the grotesque innards of Mount Weather to the ink-dark drip of Ontari's blood before he finds his focus, Indra's face swimming up out of his thoughts to displace everything else. ]

She loved my sister, [ Bellamy admits, because as difficult as it had been to find common ground with Indra he had recognized that over the fire. ] After everything's finished, Indra will be able to help her and Clarke.

[ Indra's fate is uncertain. Bellamy's speaking hope aloud, praying as much for the survival of their people as a whole as for Indra specifically. He knows he'll never be able to return. Whatever happens next, whatever needs to be rebuilt and remade, it will have to be done without him. As capable as he knows Clarke is, she'll need people she can trust. There's precious few of them left. ]

[adamance]

Clarke will need a strong hand like Indra's. The members of the coalition may not accept her as their commander, but given the circumstances, there may be no other choice. After what's happened, she is the strongest choice for a leader. If Indra respects that, there's a higher likelihood that others will follow. [There will be some who won't, but Lexa can only see them being changed by this experience. Her people are not so stubborn and inflexible that they will rise up against Clarke.

Some will, as people do. She may need a champion in that time, but again, that's where Indra will help and step in. Having warriors from her coalition on her side will help her right everything in Polis.

Blind faith in Clarke comes with a sense of her believing that Clarke will do the right thing for all their people, and that she would know the ramifications of undertaking the Flame, even through such unusual methods.]