[hatch log] +1, +2, +3, ...+4?

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: DAY :35 - :36
SUMMARY: Another hatch occurs on the Station; new hosts arrive on Concordia and make their way to Bearings - along with a special guest.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

YOU WAKE UP and you will never be the person you were a moment ago. --No. Not a moment. It's been a while, hasn't it? Something feels different. You know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye.

Which might explain how you ended up here: lying in a small faintly hexagonal chamber, a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. It might also explain why any injuries you might have experienced immediately before your escape are also well on their way to being healed. There's something strangely peaceful about waking up here and that feeling persists as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall. But when you disconnect the tube-- Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills the void. Fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety; maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party behind a closed door.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet, and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you, as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone - and that those sounds in your head are louder. Other people’s thoughts swim up: some of them might seem clear, but most of them are a jumbled mess. Every single person here feels like someone you should be familiar with, someone you somehow know. They might look like strangers, but there's something about them that's absolutely vital on a cellular level.

Welcome to Station 72. All new hosts will have one day aboard the Station before being whisked off to Concordia to join the others. Get to know your brood members, and ask the guardians of the Station - Prince and Cathaway -, any burning questions you might have. By the time the day has passed, Carata will arrive on the hangar to collect you.

MEANWHILE IN CONCORDIA plans are being put into motion. Stealth missions are being plotted, espionage-laden ploys are being quietly organized, and somewhere Sam Alexander is probably puking into a bucket. If you aren't following someone suspicious - well, maybe you should be? It definitely seems to be in vogue.

But it can't all be derring-do and covert operations; early on Day 35, Carata disappears. Nirad says she's gone to the Station. "I don't know how many more times we'll be able to do this. Someone's going to notice the ship and start asking questions." And maybe some of those questions might lead someone their way. After all, they haven't exactly been keeping a low profile have they?

     ON THE STATION, the new hosts are herded onto a sleek, black brick-shaped transport. Carata, a woman young enough to almost be called a girl, carefully makes sure everyone is seated and strapped in. She’s all gentle, easy smiles and cheerful responses to any questions posed to her. When everyone’s safely aboard, the ship’s landing platform descends through the floor of the hangar. It snaps into place in the airlock and for a moment there’s a beat of perfect stillness, a shiver of anticipation. Then the transport is flung through the shaft, ejected into the wild black of space. There’s a nauseating lurch in your belly as it bursts through the delicate shell of the multiverse and snaps into real space above the blue and yellow marble of the planet Opia. Somewhere, thousands of miles below in the city of Concordia, the rest of your brood is waiting for you.

     IN CONCORDIA
AS NIGHT FALLS IN CONCORDIA, the transport drops into atmosphere and lands in an gutted strip of an industrial waste facility. Once everyone's disembarked, the transport lifts off of its own volition and winks out of sight as its stealth routines come back online. A few minutes later, a transport van arrives being driven by a stoic android. Carata and the other new hosts pile in. It's a long drive to the Bearings Apartment Block, but it feels undeniably like home when they finally reach the Level 13 living space. New hosts are invited to make themselves comfortable. There are as of yet unclaimed rooms, each of which features a customizable digital display wall (pick your color or wallpaper!); there's a fully stocked kitchen (if someone took time to do the grocery shopping) and a great view overlooking Beta Block from the common room. Get familiar with the other hosts, take a well deserved nap or--

     JUST KIDDING.
In the excitement of new hosts arriving, it might be easy to miss it when the powerlift drops back to the lobby a few hours after the arrival of the new hosts. But it's impossible to overlook the android that arrives on Level 13 when it returns. It's stripped down to its most basic parts: a metallic skeleton with a featureless face plate and bright blue ocular inputs, sparks flashing through its internal synthetic viscera like firing synapses.

It looks like a nightmare.

Its jaw unhinges: "I'm looking for Sim Anderson," it says and then abruptly powers down.

---

((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new and recently returning hosts; any threads on the Station should be closed to newly awakened hosts or Station-based NPCs. Any threads on Concordia can be open to both new and old hosts!

If you have questions about the mission specifically, direct them to the most recent calendar post HERE. You can find a more detailed overview of the hatching process HERE; you might also want to take a glance at the MISSION CONCORDIA BRIEFING. For all other questions, please hit up either the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages.))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

jesus this took me forever.

[deployed]

[ Lexa's fingers at his elbow are a good distraction, as grounding as the dull throb of pain in his wrist. Bellamy lacks any semblance of the composure he'd need to block off his own mind. His mind is exposed, snagging on the images he'd caught from Lexa. In the immediate aftermath it had been hard to place the woman he'd seen, to realize that she was from Lexa's memories instead of his own. There's a brief snarl where Bellamy can't distinguish the loss of her from the loss of Gina, where Lexa's grief sticks in his throat and he can't breathe. ]

You're right. Let's go.

[ Bellamy's voice is hoarse, words gritted out unsteadily. Murphy's thinking of Clarke, and Bellamy flashes back to her hand shaking, how tight she'd held on to him as Murphy had spoken the words over the Flame. He staves off the choke of worry by focusing on what he'd seen in Murphy's head when he'd arrived, the assurance of the battle ended, of Clarke safe. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth makes him feel nauseous, but he wants to be out sight more than anything else right now. There's too much on display already without Bellamy falling any further to pieces. He's holding his wrist in against his body, but determinedly trying to ignore it for the moment. Walking off any given injury has been the go-to approach, even when it's impossible to hide the effects of it from anyone present. He looks back at Sam, crouched over the droid; the sight still sparks concern and even fear, but he lets Murphy pull his attention and hold it. ]

We can figure the rest of this out later.

[ If he stays, it'll just be to bleed out memory and emotion for anyone to see. Bellamy trusts his brood to explain what he's missed after, hopefully when he's disentangled himself from Lexa and hopefully managed not to snag on Murphy's mind in the process. ]

[adamance]

[Once, she had allowed hundreds of her people to die so that Bellamy could live. Reaching out for his arm to pull him back had seemed like nothing in return, even if there is a utilitarian sense burning within her that knows better than to favor the life of one over the life of many. But here is a place without "many": she has two, and she doesn't know whether John Murphy will accept her protection.

(Though she intends to give it just the same. She will always hold that promise to Clarke, even worlds away. She won't let herself bypass it because of the nature of multiple versions of their world. She can't.)

Then again, it's not as if Lexa has ever had a strong sense of self-preservation. Clarke had a problem with that with her, too, hadn't she? If they were both in a better mindset, it might be something to smile about, if not laugh. But having her fingers on Bellamy's elbow tells her that he feels just as terrible as her in this moment.]

It's not for us to figure out. If there's no bomb, it's better left to Sam. [Even though she knows the Ark was more technologically forward, she doubts any of them would be much use with this particular activity.]

The symbiote will help you heal, but we'll need to set the bones first. [Unfortunately, it's a location where things are far less easy to set, but they will have to make do.]

[wrackful]

[The information that the symbiote would help with healing is news to Murphy, and his gaze cuts to Lexa as she says it. It's useful to know. More than that, it maybe shows how Lexa views the symbiote. But then, she was used to having something in her head.

What he's pretty sure she isn't used to, though, is proper medical practice. Murphy does not want to stand around and watch her try grounder field medicine on Bellamy's wrist. Not when they don't have to.]

We aren't doing anything. [He tells her, and really, it extends past the immediate. She'd said about some arrangement with Bellamy, but Murphy hadn't asked and doesn't care. He looks at Bellamy.] I know a place.

[Maybe. He's not entirely certain, but it's worth more of a shot than staying here. And would confirm things for his own interests, besides.

He turns, taking a step towards the lift.]

Come on.

[deployed]

[ He can't leave Lexa. Bellamy weathers that realization with a small flicker of resigned shock, but doesn't fight against it. He can feel her grief and vulnerability looping endlessly, reverberating against his own. In this moment, it feels like the only thing preventing him from falling apart is the pressure of her fingers at the bend of his elbow. He shakes his head. ]

She's coming too.

[ It's better to get out of the Bearings. Bellamy's aware of the continuing uproar. When Wilson had touched his mind it had felt like he'd been pressing fingers against an open wound, twisting into a bullet hole. Bellamy wants to be away from this.

Please, echoes between them. The last time Bellamy begged Murphy for anything it had been his own life, and Jasper's. He can't suppress anything in this moment, can't circumvent the plea from slipping out. He starts moving towards the lift, in the futile hope he can cut off further debate. ]

[adamance]

[The plea gives her pause. The fact that he needs to ask at all makes her hesitate (if in mind only: her steps are certain as she strides forward), and her gaze passes between them as they head to the elevator, holding still and certain. Even if he chose to reject her involvement, she'd still go. Lexa doesn't handle being told "no" very well.

But there's another layer of that's raw, one that forces her to try to do the equivalent of mentally bandaging herself up. She knows how much of her connection with Bellamy is on show right now, and she feels threadbare for Murphy to see. They've come to rely on one another, and her action had been taken without thought. Now, the weariness of the past days and weeks weigh heavily on her. What walls she has don't exist, and she feels vulnerable.

She can put on a show: head held high and eyes pointed forward when she can, but the symbiote means that they have no other choice but to connect to one another. She knows already that to these two men, and to all the people in that room, she won't ever have the same, icy complexion that she tries to project.

Her lips stay in a straight line as she comes to straighten up beside Bellamy.]

Where are we going? [Better than giving leave to words or confusion about pleading for her presence. She'd rather bypass anything that might be involved there.]

[wrackful]

[The response that echoes back at Bellamy's plea is incredulous. It's not just for what it's about, for him insisting on Lexa's presence, but for the plea itself. Murphy knows Bellamy's a mess, that they both are for whatever Anders had done to them, but being directly confronted with something that vulnerable is not something he wants to deal with. It's a red flag. He should get uninvolved immediately.

But Bellamy's already walking, Lexa with him. It doesn't give Murphy room to argue, and the decision falls into an aggressive whatever, the impression of a mental shrug that's an attempt to wrench himself loose from any sliver of connection to Bellamy as much as it is a response. He punches the button to call the lift, the doors opening immediately to let them step inside. It hadn't even gone back down since delivering their guest.]

What, don't trust me?

[He shoots at Lexa, leaning into the wall next to the command panel as the lift starts moving. He doesn't want to touch either of them, physically or mentally. They're like the equivalent of open wounds right now, and he doesn't want any of what they're bleeding to get on him, mentally withdrawing into himself as tightly as he can manage, edging himself in sharpness like barbed wire. The smile he gives is cold.]

Probably smart.

[deployed]

Shut up, Murphy.

[ The plea had been as much about Lexa's presence as it had been a request for a ceasefire. Murphy's aggressive brand of sarcasm is grating on him. As welcome as the sparks of irritation might be in contrast to the misery of being laid bare by Sam Anders and the pain of his wrist, it's still not going to make this excursion any easier in the long term. ]

I don't want to go to a doctor.

[ He doesn't trust himself to hold up under any kind of scrutiny right now. And after Nirad's desperate attempts to keep Bellamy from throwing up in Ven Diagram, Bellamy's almost certain they shouldn't be risking a real medical facility. ]

[adamance]

[Her eyes go cold, focusing on Murphy's face as she shuffles into the elevator with the two of them. It's not his remark that puts him under additional scrutiny, but her desire to measure him up. Slender arms, a target for Titus, a part of Skaikru—these things add up, even if he's now armed with the symbiote. She is measuring him as a threat, and what she ends up with is ultimately nothing. She doesn't fear him, and sees no reason to change that.

To a degree, he reminds her of Rhys: quick to be belligerent with little to back it up. Only he's far less sensitive, far less willing to take offense to things. There is something for that, she supposes.

Once the door closes, she speaks:] Just because you saw me on my death bed does not make you any stronger. [She considers reiterating what she had said when he first arrived, reminding him that she is not dying here. Or dead. She hasn't yet taken her last breath.

Not trusting him means she's worried about him. To some degree, he is a known entity. She doesn't trust anyone, not thoroughly, but that's different. There are layers, and he hasn't done anything to earn her distrust to that extent. The fact that he's desperate to get there tells her everything.

(She knows the power her people held over him, but she doesn't wield it here.)]

I asked you a question because we have a right to know. [Not everything has eighty million onion layers to it.]

[wrackful]

[Bellamy's protest is a familiar refrain, and it does nothing to interrupt the way Murphy meets Lexa's examination, much like how it's never actually shut him up. Slouched into the wall, hands tucked into his pockets, he looks somewhere between unimpressed and bored, but he doesn't look away. He considers telling her it hadn't been lack of strength that had gotten her killed, that had been lack of knowledge, distraction, and trusting the wrong person. He considers mentioning the gun Mara had given him, tucked into the back of his waistband.

He considers, but he doesn't say any of it. He'd learnt a while ago that being underestimated wasn't always a bad thing.]

We're not going to a doctor.

[His gaze finally shifts from Lexa to Bellamy as he speaks. Bellamy's wrist is the only reason Murphy's in this lift with the pair of them, a decision Murphy's already regretting. He definitely doesn't care what Lexa thinks she has a right to.]

If you don't want my help, I can just go.

[deployed]

[ Momentarily, Bellamy wonders if being in an enclosed space with the two of them is a wise choice. But he's committed to this course of action. The alternative is to go back up, and the more distance he puts between himself and the rest of the right now, the better. ]

Don't go.

[ That's the only acceptable answer, and Bellamy gives it without hesitation. It's better than the question on the tip of his tongue. Right now, Bellamy doesn't think it's wise to consider at any length the circumstances under which Murphy would have found himself at Lexa's death bed. Bellamy's still uncertain of how Lexa had died, but prying into it seems as much a transgression as telling her in the first place had been. Lexa is an open wound beside him, scraping against all Bellamy's raw edges, and he focuses his entire train of thought on the pain in his wrist. ]

Lexa, he knows what he's doing.

[ Mitigating this is possibly beyond Bellamy's capabilities right now. But he's making the attempt. Focusing on the pair of them rather than himself makes it marginally easier to hold himself together. ]

[adamance]

Your posturing is only irritating me. It's not a matter of distrust, but annoyance. I have a feeling that you're quite used to that. [Since her previous words hadn't been direct enough, she feels like these might be a bit clearer. It's not a matter of distrust so much as a matter of agitation, because he has a way of getting under people's skin. It's tempting to point out exactly why and how her people had been able to torture him, but the thought only briefly surfaces before disappearing.

It's no real matter to concern her with. Knowing how she can be cruel doesn't mean she has to be cruel.

Oddly enough, her frustration with Murphy is beginning to offer her some more stability. Funny how that works.]

We'll go. Not every conversation must be a spar.

[wrackful]

[The fact Lexa's still talking as if Murphy even cares if she trusts him or not might be funny, if he wasn't distracted. But Bellamy's done it again, pulled memory of Clarke to mind, the exact same assurance she'd had to give before Abby would let him take the flame. There'd been some surprise then, though it was dampened by the necessity of the situation. And there's surprise now, quiet, as if he hadn't actually been sure which way Bellamy would go.

It makes his response delayed, wrong-foots him off anything sharper, more direct. The most Lexa gets is a comment that's really just bitter acknowledgement.]

Yeah, there's a lot of things I'm used to.

[Like being treated as nothing more than an irritation, getting stuck on ill-fated trips with people he doesn't like, and torture.

Anything else he'd have to say gets cut by the lift finally arriving at the ground floor, Murphy's attention taken completely by the doors opening, the chance of any threat waiting outside. They'd had one crazy robot, what was to say there wasn't more? But his cautious move forward to check finds nothing, and the tension bleeds out of his frame as he looks back to Bellamy and Lexa.]

Well, at least we don't have to worry about coming back to an army of screwed up robots. [Unless they'd taken the stairs.

He gives a loose follow me gesture.] Come on.

[deployed]

[ The other inhabitants of this building have to be about done with their little party. Bellamy raises a hand to touch the blood on his face, but doesn't attempt to wipe it away. His jacket is back in his room, and Bellamy isn't going to consider going back to get it.

And leaving Murphy and Lexa alone together feels like a stupid thing to do. ]

Don't speak too soon.

[ Anything could happen while they're away. A pulse of worry colors Bellamy's thoughts, even as his hand falls back to where it was, pressing down a little harder on Lexa's. ]

How far is it, Murphy?

[ For once, Bellamy's hoping for distance. He wants to feel the sucking pull of the Nest receding and narrow down to a single pinpoint of awareness. Bellamy doesn't know how long it's going to take to quiet his own rioting emotions well enough to drag up walls again. In their absence, physically removing himself from the Bearings will have to do. Tending to his wrist is incidental. Bellamy is less worried for that than he is about what's slipping from his thoughts. ]

[adamance]

[Lexa says nothing.

But there is the open sense that she is observing Murphy silently, eyes watching as he peers out of the elevator, and again as he steps out, announcing that they don't have to deal with an army of robots. It hadn't been a concern, but she knows from Bellamy's memories that this world and their situation as Hosts must be a sore point for both of the men she's with.

More catches her attention: the present memory of Murphy's time in Polis, up in a room where she had sat and taught her novitiates day after day, knowing well enough that they would likely have to fight one another to the death to proclaim the next Commander. Ontari's role as "commander" proved to be the end of that, just as it had been the end of all stability in Polis and everything else her people had created.

Her mind is not at ease, not as stable as she'd like when the present irritationn fades away. It's open, and her thoughts about Ontari show that she sees herself as weak for it. Somehow, John Murphy had survived that just as he had survived everything else at the hands of her people, and it had been his hand that turned Clarke into a Nightblood long enough to save her people.]

[wrackful]

Subspace.

[It's an easier answer than trying to estimate time or distance. He doesn't know this city well enough for that yet. What he does know - from reading, listening, watching - is that even here, there are ways to do things hidden. Unnoticed. You just had to know where and how.]

We'll have to make a stop on the way.

[Maybe two, he thinks, looking at the blood on Bellamy's face and how he's dressed. Noticeable. Lexa wouldn't be the same problem, but his gaze still goes sharp on her. She's thinking about Ontari, thinking about weakness, and--

He looks away. Wrenches away, continuing to walk, to lead them out of the back door of the Bearings and into the alleys of the city. He doesn't care what Lexa's thoughts on Ontari are, and he definitely doesn't want it pulling up anything from his mind for her or Bellamy to see.]

[deployed]

[ Somehow, Bellamy needs to find focus. He tells himself that even as Lexa's unease claws at his own feeble attempts at composure and tilts everything sideways. Her distress compounds Bellamy's distress. (She will not forgive.) The throne room in Polis is awash in grief, the shock of Gina's death and the adrenaline of battle and Clarke with blood on her skin and her hand shaking in his and Ontari's black blood pooling across the floor. Nothing good is attached to that setting, and Lexa's memory of children's upturned faces is jarring for him to process.

He sniffs hard, tastes blood in the back of his throat. Murphy's not waiting for them. Bellamy's ringing ears and wash of unsettling memories can't hold them up. He doesn't have any kind of verbal comfort for Lexa, but he presses down on her fingers in silent apology and plea even as their minds tangle, overlapping. He can't disengage. Every time her thoughts spin one way, Bellamy's mirror it with memories of his own. It's going to make this a difficult journey. ]

Stop where? Why?

[ It's subspace. Bellamy's understanding of it was that the mess of blood on his face wouldn't be all that worthy of commentary. Or he just has a skewed perception of how used to visible wounds people would be. They're moving briskly down the sidewalk, but he's still turning heads, even if he's still too wrapped up in his own to pay attention to it. ]

[adamance]

We have to be careful in our trajectory. [As someone who has and will continue to preach caution, Lexa would prefer not to skip that step here. It feels all too relevant to what they're doing and how they reach it. Even their building may be observed if someone is paying close enough attention. If someone thinks Bellamy had been hurt by the robot who showed up, it might draw attention.]

We can't be tracked. There is still a very real possibility of that. [She assumes this is where her views and Murphy's align: paranoia can get someone far. If he's survived, largely on his own from what she's observed (even if much of it was hearsay via reports), then it must be for a reason.]

If someone is watching us, they'll want to know why you're hurt. Why you're favoring your hand. Whoever is observing us will have more contacts in Subspace to continue following us. [And there's no reason to give them a chance or indication that they should.]

[wrackful]

You need to cover up.

[He doesn't hesitate in following off Lexa. She's right, and pragmatism wins out against dislike. Murphy won't argue this just for the sake of arguing with her.]

And we need something to pay with. They can track money here.

[Something small but expensive. Jewellery, he's thinking, and that plus a jacket or coat for Bellamy means a clothing place. But walking Bellamy - and Lexa, the way they're still clinging together not exactly normal - into a store would be its own problem.]

[deployed]

[ They both make sense. Bellamy feels sluggish in comparison, so mired in his own head that making simple connections takes too long. There's a girl's face lingering, unfamiliar but colored in grief, and he can't shake that any more than he can shake the prediction of Octavia. But he does make an attempt to straight up, ignore the throbbing in his arm at the reminder of observation. ]

There's an antique shop three blocks away. They don't ask any questions.

[ And there's enough odds and ends that the chances of them coming up with what they need in one shot are high. The owner knows Bellamy by now. He's willing to bank on that familiarity to give them safety. ]

It's safe.

[ There's no reason to argue. Maybe Bellamy would have pushed back under different circumstances, but wasting time debating wouldn't end in any different conclusion. He nudges Lexa, clearly setting the course. ]

[adamance]

And our purchase there wouldn't be so strange. [Both of them are known for frequenting the place. So much of this world has books via their electronic devices, but Lexa feels as if it's missing something. Saving the information has a clear value, and she can't deny that.

At the same time, she wishes that the value of books remained. That's one thing she longs for from the Station: there were numerous books to be found in the common area. (Odd, she also has thought about bringing Bellamy there.)]

Do you know what the people value for trade? [The idea of trade for goods and services comes to her as easily as breathing, in part because that's how her people handle the concept of "currency." A thing for a thing. It's similar to the concept of blood needing blood, but far less ... well ... bloody.]

[wrackful]

[Amusement, bitter and very much self-directed bubbles up in Murphy's mind. He's heard about this shop before, the day the Darkling had caught him looking through Bellamy's books. He'd suggested the shop, if Murphy was looking to buy Bellamy a gift. Murphy had told him Bellamy should stop wasting his time on useless crap. Now the shop's a useful suggestion, and he's going to be buying something there for Bellamy to get his wrist treated.

Irony always swung around to hit him eventually.]

Same things they value the rest of the time. [He answers, turning easy to keep pace with the new direction they're setting. Trade and currency were the same thing; the value didn't change.] Just needs to be small, easy to sell on. Jewellery, watches, something we'd have on us anyway.

[The bodymod shops doing backroom treatments was common enough knowledge in some of the circles Murphy had been watching, but they still needed to seem normal enough. Not totally desperate and lost.]

timeskips a lil bit

[deployed]

[ Bellamy's focus strays, drawn aside by the lure of books rising in Lexa's mind. It feels as if he keeps being dragged sideways, stumbling in spite of himself, mind tangling and tripping over hers. Sam's vicious prophecy had knotted them together, and the effort to completely disentangle is not only more than Bellamy can muster, but unwelcome in the moment.

As always, the shop is quiet. Bellamy's habit is to cut through the overstuffed displays to the bookshelves shored up against the back wall, but instead he indicates the velvet-lined box of discarded jewelry. The owner's eyebrows are raised, but he turns deliberately away. Smart. ]

I don't know what's best.

[ The value of trinkets like that are a mystery. Jewelry before had been buttons strung together and tied loosely around Octavia's neck when she'd played princess, and anything further than that had felt unattainable and then useless. His thoughts flick to Raven and her necklace, her carefully formed namesake tucked safely beneath the zipper of her jacket when they'd gone out scavenging. Set against to the gleam of precious stones displayed on velvet, that all seemed rough, hardly comparable. ]

Just pick something out. I'll find a jacket.

[ Though he's clearly loathe to let go of Lexa entirely. Some distant, incredulous part of his mind is struggling to reconcile this moment with the man he'd arrived as, but Bellamy impatiently dismisses that line of thought. They both have enough swirling between them without a fresh wash of guilt adding to the mix. ]

[adamance]

[Lexa recalls the act of her people slashing their knives through Raven Reyes' skin, and the look on Clarke's face as she desperately sought the clues to stop what had been happening. She had readily accepted that while Clarke would not endanger the alliance her people had with Lexa's, there might be others who would be willing to do the same. It turned out that she had been wrong. Now, her knowledge of Raven lies primarily in her expertise, so what Bellamy offers to her unwillingly is new, largely departed from the "useful" definition that had given her agency in Lexa's mind just before.

She lingers over the thought, quiet, recalling the difference between Clarke and her knife sliding up into Finn's rib cage, and Raven screaming across the field, held back and emotional, everything bared to everyone else. Lexa sees people by how she defines them, because she maintains a curious, and often unhealthy, distance. She tries her best to focus on Raven, only Raven—

—except her thoughts stray as she reaches the jewelry. As her handmaiden, Costia had put on this and more for her from time to time. A memory of Lexa and her alone before a mirror flickers in her mind, silver, but dirtied chain hanging loose around Lexa's neck before Costia's head tips lower to kiss the side of it.

Lexa's eyebrows pinch together as she does her best to focus, to even bring her memories to Clarke, a place where things are somehow safer, but all she can consider is how silver would look better on her than it ever did on Lexa.]

A ring and a necklace. Not silver. [It isn't as decisive as she'd like, but it's clear that she needs to jerk away, to leave behind the heaviness of these thoughts when her mind is eager to stray at a moment's notice.]

[wrackful]

[The two of them don't seem to be getting any better. It's becoming more and more apparent that no matter what attempts of barriers Murphy puts up, the mess they're leaking is still going to splash on him. He's too far in now to really consider thoughts of leaving them, but he wishes it, catching some stray glimpses of Lexa, a girl he doesn't know, Clarke, feelings he really didn't want to know about spilling with them.

He's still frowning over it as they leave him at the jewellery, tempted to get silver anyway, maybe even deliberately to spite her. He's sharper than he probably needs to be as he points out the items he wants to the owner. Not that he cares what the man thinks or remembers of them. His shops smells weird anyway.]

Here.

[He says as he comes to find them, dropping a metal-strap watch in Bellamy's hand and a gold ring and necklace in Lexa's. He's already slid a wide silver ring and cuff bracelet on himself, giving them a full set to guarantee something the bodymod tech will take.]

Did you find a jacket yet?

[deployed]

[ Lexa found a jacket. Bellamy's thoughts are still so tangled in Octavia that he can't find any focus. He's barely looking at what's in front of him. What Lexa shoves at him, he puts on without any critique. The unfamiliar cut reminds him of oversized grounder furs, heavier than his jacket had ever been, blurring between Lincoln and the Ice Nation army rising before him. Bellamy takes a deep, shuddering breath, turning to look at Murphy. ]

Yeah. These will work?

[ His eyes skip to the bracelet on Murphy's wrist. It looks out of place. Though when it comes to Lexa and Murphy, most of what Concordia has to offer looks odd. It jars with the memories he has of them. But now is a bad moment to reminisce. Bellamy has to forcibly stop himself from pursuing that train of though. He takes the watch from Murphy with his bad hand, deliberately clenching his hand around the cold metal into a fist and using the resulting rush of pain as a distraction. ]