[ For awhile, she can't think of anything to say, her fingers absently still moving, the screen taken up with video camera feeds, messages sent, that she does not just read but takes into herself like there's no blood to her, only information. Moving through each motion.
Then she realises, she has nothing to say -- she's empty of such things. She doesn't know what she cared about. Her friends? But they didn't need her so much, she trusted them to kill Jack. That, that she knew, they were more than capable of. An apocalypse she had so carefully made. But what after that?
She couldn't think of anything other than live, live, live. What did that entail? She was realising she had no idea, staring blankly at the walls of her room more than once, wondering what to do with her time now she was not living through a hundred thousand wires. There, these missions helped, took up her time, turned her outward instead of into her own thoughts. Those she had met so far -- they had something, anything, their homes that they missed, Steve who cared so much for the people he left behind that he would not go back if it meant hurting them. Ahsoka who spoke of a beautiful force that connected all life, and an order that took her away, called her special. Lexa, even, who moved with so much purpose that it was nice to even just be beside to watch it.
What she has is a gut twisting bitterness for things she was never allowed to have but made to watch. Then what, after that? A planet full of murderers, cannibals, and the friends she'd asked to kill her. After what she'd done, she didn't think anyone would miss her particularly. She was untethered, so desperate of wanting a home that wouldn't hurt her. Cathaway had taken off her collar, wiped away her tears, and given her the word family. ] It might be, you're probably right. I don't know how much I trust them, I suppose, I've been on the other end of this sort of thing to pretend to be that naive. But do you know? The longer I am here, and talk to everyone? I realise I have nothing that matters to me.
[ She doesn't want Pandora to suffer more on her account, she had already done such awful, awful thing, and that guilt is all too real, but - ] I just... don't want the people from my home to suffer more than they already did because of me. Do you suppose that counts?
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Then she realises, she has nothing to say -- she's empty of such things. She doesn't know what she cared about. Her friends? But they didn't need her so much, she trusted them to kill Jack. That, that she knew, they were more than capable of. An apocalypse she had so carefully made. But what after that?
She couldn't think of anything other than live, live, live. What did that entail? She was realising she had no idea, staring blankly at the walls of her room more than once, wondering what to do with her time now she was not living through a hundred thousand wires. There, these missions helped, took up her time, turned her outward instead of into her own thoughts. Those she had met so far -- they had something, anything, their homes that they missed, Steve who cared so much for the people he left behind that he would not go back if it meant hurting them. Ahsoka who spoke of a beautiful force that connected all life, and an order that took her away, called her special. Lexa, even, who moved with so much purpose that it was nice to even just be beside to watch it.
What she has is a gut twisting bitterness for things she was never allowed to have but made to watch. Then what, after that? A planet full of murderers, cannibals, and the friends she'd asked to kill her. After what she'd done, she didn't think anyone would miss her particularly. She was untethered, so desperate of wanting a home that wouldn't hurt her. Cathaway had taken off her collar, wiped away her tears, and given her the word family. ] It might be, you're probably right. I don't know how much I trust them, I suppose, I've been on the other end of this sort of thing to pretend to be that naive. But do you know? The longer I am here, and talk to everyone? I realise I have nothing that matters to me.
[ She doesn't want Pandora to suffer more on her account, she had already done such awful, awful thing, and that guilt is all too real, but - ] I just... don't want the people from my home to suffer more than they already did because of me. Do you suppose that counts?