[hatch log / mission: hyrypia] the winds that will be howling at all hours

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72; Hyrypia - Naerstone House
WHEN: DAY :002 - :003
SUMMARY: New hosts hatch on the Station, are briefed, then make their way to Hyrypia to join the rest of the hosts… while they attend a very important history lesson.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

STATION 72
DAY :002

NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP are are suddenly changed. --No. That's not right. You're you and there's no suddenly about it. It's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or surfacing up from the darkness of some wine dark sea. Nothing is different and everything is because right there in your own head there's something both familiar and strange. You know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye.

But here you are, a small miracle of the multiverse: lying in a small, faintly hexagonal chamber with a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. If you were injured during your escape, those injuries have been healed. If you were anxious or frightened or distraught, those feelings have been calmed. There's something peaceful about waking up here - like you belong. That feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But once the tube's disconnected? Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills that peaceful void - fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety. A matching dread. An easy comfort. 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 happening behind a nearby 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. Maybe it's time for a change? Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone.In fact there are lots of you and none of them are the strangers they should be. Some even seems like people you've known for a very long time.They are as familiar as this place you've never been is.

Welcome to Station 72. Beyond this room it's quiet and still, feeling for all the world like a hollow shell.

--Or it does until a voice separates itself from the white noise in your head:


BRIEFING
THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD isn't really a voice at all. It's the warm tang of camaraderie, tinged with a flash of impatience like ticking hands on a clock face and a flicker of wonder: a falling star. It says:

( My, you're all very fresh aren't you? Unfortunately, the multiverse waits for no spring chicken. Once you've figured out which way's up, won't you all join us? )
Join 'us' where is the question. And yet, once you're ready to meet the owner of the voice in your mind, your footsteps simply lead you there naturally. Two strangers sit in a small circular briefing room - a tall being covered in short brown fur with a rigid demeanor, and a pale alien with yellow washed frills at her jaw and throat who is smiling cheerfully.

"Hey there, sunshine," says Rhan, her frills humming as she speaks. "Why don't you take a seat so we can get started?"

[ooc note: please see here for the catch-all briefing thread]


THE STATION
WITH A LITTLE UNDER 24 HOURS before it's time to make the trip to Hyrypia, this is as good an opportunity as you're going to get to familiarize yourself with Station 72 before you leave it. There's plenty to see, but a distinct lack of people to make conversation with. It's lonely and quiet and there's a sensation of dust gathering even where there is none. Maybe studying the briefing files on your databank and going over your mission kit is the most proactive distraction, but if not? Well there's plenty of places to get lost...

HYRYPIA - NAERSTONE HOUSE
DAY :003

MEETING
A SINGLE SHIP LANDS in a field the color of burnished gold, returning to the place it had until late the night before occupied. It's carefully inserted beside dozens of other spacecraft bearing more than faint similarities, though each has its own unique aesthetic. When the gangplank drops, the loud engines powering down, it reveals--

New hosts. Seven fresh faces - obscured as they are in layers of intricate fabric - are led down the gangplank by Rhan There to greet them is a number of other hosts - any who answered to the sweet crystalline ring of Collector’s voice in their heads hardly a half hour earlier, speaking with certainty born of truth:

( Rhan and Siva’co are returning. Shall we see what stories they have to tell? )

Despite the solidarity that both combined groups provide, there's a feeling of eyes here. A number of guards along the edge of the shuttle field are watching the reunion like hawks. Better perhaps to return to the apartments where they'll be able to speak in private and teach the new hosts what it is that has been learned since their arrival. --Or explore, for those who prefer not to rest. Naerstone House's grounds are vast and they are almost entirely open to the parties of the pilgrims to explore.

THE PERFORMANCE
AS THE SINGLE RED SUN of Hyrypia dips low on the horizon there is a long, low, mournful sound. A deep bell-- or a horn? Or maybe it's something else entirely, but the call is heard and answered as any nearby servants inform the guests of the house:

“There will be a performance of the First Journey in a quarter turn. All guests are invited to attend.”

There's no mystery as to where the event is occurring. A steady trail of guests and servants lead out past the Veranda into the central garden where a number of pillars have been mounted and a large tiered platform festooned with with numerous draped curtains and abstract representations of trees and mountains - a great stage - now sits. The stage is surrounded by numerous low settees and tables, piles of thick cushions and richly colored rugs around which guests can be found clustered, lounging while sipping thick, syrupy drinks.

Each table is illuminated only by a single glowing orb at its center. Otherwise, as the sun sets it pitches the garden into darkness as even the castle itself has been left unlit. There are no lights in distant windows or on Naerstone House's high walls; these small orbs and the glitter of stars in the black sky might very well be the only points of light in the whole universe.

The allotted time passes and the performance begins. A sun rises over the stage. It's a much larger, more intricate glowing orb and reveals a number of players dressed far more simply than the Hyrypians the hosts have met. They wear complex machine masks upon their faces that shutter into different expressions as their hands flitter across their faces: dramatic caricatures to accompany the droning sound of their singing voices as they unfold the tale at the center of the performance - the one which drives this pilgrimage and for the Nest's very presence in the universe at all. It's the story of lost Rabadoceans coming to a planet near barren intent on brutalizing them - about loss and hardship until finally a single player separates from the rest. The orb of the sun over the stage turns, it's mechanical face shifting and resetting to indicate the passage of time as the very central platform of the stage begins to turn so that this lone player might walk. And walk. And walk through deserts and scrub land, through dark woods and dark caves, against the wind and with it. Through it all, the orb over the stage slowly lowers until at last this lone player can take it in their hands.

It cracks like an egg and brilliance streams from it. Braziers catch fire in the darkness. The garden illuminates itself. Every light in Naerstone House comes to life.

With that, the silence of the crowd breaks. There is applause -- each culture in its own unique fashion -- and then there is a rise of chattering conversation as the guests are served several small dishes and talk about the show they’ve just seen - and whatever possible clues it might give to the pilgrimage they themselves would soon be undertaking.

---

((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new hosts as well as the evening's performance. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find a more detailed overview of the host hatching process HERE and additional setting information about the Station HERE. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

cw: gore

[wrackful]

[Bellamy yanks, rough and imploring. Murphy doesn't have chance for a response, a fractured piece of the maelstrom of his mind unfurling outwards, lashing angry and frenetic like--

the shock of an explosion between one word and the next, one step and the next, nothing left of Harris but a falling splatter of blood and body, someone screaming, screaming, scrabbling backwards over the sand until--]

( I don't need your protection, Bellamy. )

[Sharp-edged and vicious, slicing outward, but there's nothing cold in him right now. The relentless churn of his anger won't settle to it.]

( Don't let your costume go to your head. )

[redheadcarrier]

[ Asuka tallies up a (small) victory for herself and then her attention shifts as the conversation does. More important things to worry about than digging in more little needles. At least for right now. ]

( An enemy we've never met and have no idea how to find. How effective at fighting them are we really going to be if we can't even ID them? )

[ She's much more used to having a target she can fight. To having a gun, to having her Eva, and being told to destroy. This is all new to her and it still feels strange and awkward and more than a little weird. ]

( They can't even tell us that much about this "enemy". It's so irritating... )

[adamance]

[Lexa's preparations are swift—though not as swift as she'd prefer. Her usual coverage is a scarf around her face, a hood drawn over her head, and a cloak combined with them. It's during this moment that she decides that these delicate clothes and their heavy hold on her will not get the best of her. It's at this moment that she decides that she will be better suited to being without them as a burden. In this case, unburdening herself means mastering them, knowing how to draw them on swiftly. But that's a lesson for another time.

She steels herself as she heads toward Bellamy's quarters, but she's halfway there before she can feel the flood of grief and discomfort. After months together, she knows Bellamy's mind well. The anxiety that's present is his alone, one that she's grown accustomed to surfacing time and again, especially in more dire times. Is this one of them? Or has Clarke found herself more confounded by this? She knows that it was unfair to ask Bellamy to tell her, but at least she's had a moment or three to conceptualize what it means for Lexa to be here.

(It's odd now, to think she had been a Host in her new life for about a month when Bellamy arrived and informed her that she would have died if she had stayed. No matter what, she would be dead.)]

( I'm coming in now. I can feel her. ) [The words themselves don't demonstrate how it is that she feels. Lexa wonders how Clarke might react to her mind: to knowing that she can finally confirm every frustrated accusation she once threw in her face. At the time, Lexa herself had been annoyed by those remarks. That's because they were true. No one has ever been so pointed as Clarke had been (or so correct). Murphy's come close since then, but it differs.

As it is, she knows better than to overwhelm Clarke—at first. The strict barriers she maintains are momentarily fortified as she pushes open the door and closes it behind her. Seeing Bellamy's hand against Clarke's face like that sends an odd twist through her stomach at first, a hint of jealousy that she can't altogether ignore. But she stifles it, glad for her mental foundations. She would have wanted Bellamy here regardless.

Lexa moves like Lexa as she leaves her spot before the door, proud steps somehow managing to cut through the space as she moves to take off the first layer of cloth, holding it in her hands. Her green eyes look out at the room—or, more specifically, at Clarke's rattled features.]

I never ... we never prepared for this moment. That was an oversight of mine. [Would it have been better if they had? Would they have somehow wished her here sooner? It's hard to say, as neither Bellamy nor Lexa are fond of believing that their wishes can just come true. And preparations like that would be close to admitting longing through action.]

[deployed]

( There's no one person. )

[ Bellamy is already bracing against the protest he expects from her. ]

( We decide our approach together. Right now, we're just observing. )

[ There's a flicker of discord in his thoughts, remembering the briefing. But would it really be a surprise to know that their approach had been hotly contested? ]

[shri]

[ her look is perfectly mild, and her tone as considerate as a light showering: simply falling down without excuse about what it is. ]

He should be killed.

[ She looks down at her bonds, scowling at them. ]

No. Not until the one that put me in them, undoes them. ]

[earthborn]

( What, no creepy, silent stage dramas where you're from? Wow. )

[Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor. Shepard may claim to have standards, but... does she? Does she really?]

( I'm partial to an action vid, myself. This is just plain dull. What about you? )

[adamance]

( I intend to. ) [These words come so easily from her mouth that it's as if she already knew what he was bound to say. Lexa's protection is quite unlike Bellamy's: while his is singular and focused, hers is always spread around, like a wall that is meant to determine the safety of those she cares about. In that, her words are likely foreign in their delivery. She never speaks of individuals when she thinks of their mission ahead. Even though Clarke had always been an underlying motivation, Lexa would never let her be the only motivation. She feels that it's a sentiment that would be felt both ways.]

( When I ordered my warriors to go to Arkadia as a barricade and carry out my kill order on anyone who stepped outside of it, I invited her to stay. I knew she wouldn't, but it's what angered Titus. ) [Murphy accused her of not understanding the source of Titus' anger, of knowing that she had driven him toward that. Her skills with empathy are lacking compared to some, but she's not blind. It had been easy for her to make that connection.

From her seat, she tilts her head forward.]

( Titus ... knew my grief. I loved once, before Clarke. It wasn't planned at all, but one of my future attendants and I grew close after I arrived at Polis to train under the Commander. We remained close even as I ascended, and that led Nia to killing her. Chancellor Pike had no way of knowing this when he killed my warriors. ) [Lexa highly doubts that he would have listened. There were ways to prevent that massacre, just as there were ways to prevent her death, but she knows none of them came into fruition.]

( I am not the person I was when I loved Costia. I was changed by it. By how I dealt with it and how I could move forward. I don't know what I'd do if she turned up here. ) [It takes a lot to share this with Bellamy, but there's some trust in it. There's a great deal for the two of them to talk about, but she finds herself so lost when it comes to Clarke's grief.

How Lexa had managed was to eventually stuff it down inside and pretend to be stronger. It was that method that Titus had tried to utilize against her again and again, until she almost could no longer recognize her feelings for Clarke beyond her duty. Or rather: she proved her dedication to her duty by disregarding her feelings for Clarke. It was no easier than it had been to feel anything at all, so wrought with the recognition that wanting her was selfish and something individual, something that would barely benefit her people. Her means of dealing before and after had been in contrast or because of Titus' teachings, and she struggles with them now.]

[unsea]

[ accept HIS wtf ]

( Shiro. )

[ he sounds amused, the way one might be with a bright-eyed child who has missed the point. ]

( We're in the middle of a three-front war full of very, very desperate beings. If you cannot see this for the fight that it already is -- I fear things may become dangerous for you.

I have fought wars like this. Lead a desperate people, as well. If I push you, it is because I want to ensure you are aware and safe. )

[deployed]

[ Nothing Bellamy could say would be enough in this moment. All the comfort he offers is wordless, projected directly into her mind as the sharp, alien accusation washes loose from Clarke's mind. This wasn't your fault, is what Bellamy returns, trying to replicate what he had once done for Murphy, trying to crowd out Clarke's demons rather than allow them purchase in her head. Lexa's word settle in the back of his mind as if from a great distance, but Bellamy knows she's close, even before the doorknob rattles. His attention is taken up wholly by Clarke. By comparison everyone, even the newly arrived Darkling, feel far from him.

Still, his hand catches Clarke's elbow to steady her immediately. He knows what come next: he will have to walk out the door, because whatever has to pass between them isn't something Bellamy can be present for. But it's hard to tell himself to let go of her. Until this moment, Bellamy hadn't realized how badly he'd missed her. His hand drops from her cheek. ]

Of ours, [ Bellamy corrects, because he's as much at fault. He hadn't wanted to think about Clarke being here either, never mind considering how to explain Lexa's presence. ] This is real, Clarke.

[ He offers the reassurance quietly; Bellamy still remembers her after Finn, and wants to circumvent that as best he can. His grip tightens on her elbow, not loosening until he feels Clarke straightening up. ]

Lexa can explain it all better than I can.

[ Which is Bellamy's attempt at a graceful exit, even if his emotions are in turmoil. Ooze baby has scuttled surreptitiously towards the door, and it's time Bellamy followed. He feels Lexa's spark of jealousy flash in his chest, uncertain whether it is wholly hers or something of his own, but it doesn't change the fact that he is a few moments away from intruding on a reunion that demanded privacy, best left for Clarke and Lexa alone. ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

( I am gonna take you flying one day, though. )

[ It's a crime that he hasn't already, really - it's just that the hangar of the Station isn't all that great of a view, and they keep going places where Sam can't fly openly. It itches a little, like a tug between his shoulder blades the longer he's grounded, but he can ignore it.

He can focus on Shiro, and there's a brief note of an apology at the way it makes Shiro jerk in surprise - but he's not sorry for saying it. He's never gonna stop, really, not as long as they're dating. One day Shiro might get used to it. ]

( I was flirting, sweetheart. It's not a serious proposition. )

[ Well. It would have been, except that he knows that Shiro is uncomfortable doing anything with anyone in range, and he's respecting that. As much as he can, even though it's - well. It's difficult. Sam's not great at keeping his hands to himself when it comes to casual physical affection, especially these days. ]

[shiro2hero]

(You know I'm always up for that.)

[He's always up for something to take him up and away. Something to recapture that feeling of flight whenever possible. Nothing's ever going to compare to the Black Lion. But... shared experiences with someone like this? Probably as close as he'll get.]

[He has to swallow a little, though.]

(Sorry.) [For a lot of things. Being so jumpy, being so on-guard, so hesitant to do much of anything physical with Sam, beyond kissing, where people can "hear". He appreciates it. He really does. And he hopes Sam knows it.]

[His hand reaches to wind fingers through Sam's.] (You're really amazing about all of this. You know that, right?)

[shiro2hero]

[Cue the mental, internal groan.]

(Sorry if I'm not used to you asking other people for help.)

[Because usually, aside from the odd "I need to borrow your car", this scenario tends to be the other way around.]

(I get it. And I'll be honest -- it's easier to fight when you have a general idea of where the hits are coming.)

[Aside from "any of these three groups".]

[wille]

It's conscious. Just because we don't understand how, or what it wants us to do, or why, doesn't mean it isn't.

[ She is dead certain of this. The stern look she gives him is meant to ensure he believes it too, because she says so, because she has met consciousness of the kind so foreign to humans that it was easier to believe they were less. Less deserving of life, less deserving of a home. There was nothing morally right about mankind's claim to Earth, she knows this now, a bitter pill as it is. It's all wrong, it's all confused, her mind is a tangled mess of wires and she doesn't know where to even start.

So this is how she starts, drawing a breath for fortitude and squaring her shoulders. ]

But we still have a choice. I chose to give a damn about you. I didn't care much about Sirius, I didn't know him, and didn't care to. The symbiote can't make you or me care about Parker or Sirius or anybody, it has to be a choice or it's not real otherwise. It's a sham. It's like playing house while hating each other, the hate won't go away. So this, all of this-- [ Her words pick up, stopping short of turning into a rant when she draws her knees close, brows knit in consternation. ] I've thought about it all wrong from the start.

[skaikru]

( there's a flicker of doubt, a waver in the confidence of her conclusion. would a sociopath care enough to try defining himself, or wrap himself up in a warm blanket of reassurance at being labeled as such? that didn't quite fit, maybe she was wrong. but the masterful way he picked apart the anatomy of a liar equally terrified and fascinated her.

clarke would like to think she'd learned enough to know when to distance herself from dangerous individuals. but she's not shifting in her seat, not trying to disentangle herself from their conversation and flee just yet. there's the press, the question in the tight line of her lips — ) ( To them, it's not insanity at all. So what are you then? ) ( — that's all but whispered as he tries to withdraw from their connection.

but maybe she doesn't really want to know right now. and they'd flimsily agreed to stay out of each others heads. so returning to playing at being two separate people again, clarke leans to settle her elbows on the tabletop again. reaches across to his side of the board to move the pawn in front of his castle forward one square, then back to her own side to push forward a bishop past her exterior defenses. she'll continue playing the game for both of them, unless kaji interjects. )

Not really. ( a brief glance at his face. and a peek into what passes for humor for her people now a days: ) If I'm not a good liar, I can at least be direct.

[skaikru]

( maybe aloy doesn't want to linger on the homesick sentiments, but clarke catches those images. fleeting but beautiful. whatever nostalgia hooks in aloy's chest reverberates in her own, but it's weakened by the shadow cast by snowy peaks and rough rock faces. people had called her the mountain slayer, and while that reputation didn't carry over into this new world, the history of mount weather subsisted within her mind. its downfall linked with her own.

still — )

( That's beautiful. )

( clarke lingers for a moment on her own question, thinks of what she misses. the novelty of earth had worn off quickly, replaced with a healthy fear and respect for the turbulant planet. but damn if she didn't feel robbed of familiar soil beneath her feet, the smell of decaying leaves, and the taste of river water. they'd only had a few months on the ground. )

( I miss my people. )

( already. she's been here two days and has been plagued by desperate, dirty, pained faces in her memory for the entirety. bellamy, lexa, and murphy had eased the ache, and they'd all in turn assured her that her mission in the city of light had been a success. but in the end, that only partially alleviated the guilt of having abandoned those who needed her. )

[skaikru]

( they're not that close, and it feels wrong to try to soothe whatever undercurrent of thought has murphy soured and angry. by this point, clarke had essentially accepted that's just who he was, but that does nothing to quell the tendrils of concern, poorly contained. she's turning her head to actually look at him through the obscuring black cloth over her eyes, like the folds of fabric wrapped around would give away the same tells as his face. )

( You tried to get it out? )

( like okay man she's been here less than 48 hours and hasn't completely backburnered the idea of shocking the crap out of herself to short circuit the symbiote like they had the chip. but even without being expressly told the details of the trek into brain surgery territory, clarke can tell it had been a bad idea. )

( Tell me you didn't try to cut into the back of your head by yourself. )

[skaikru]

( a new thought blooms, born of the edge of suspicion and the assumption of constant danger among new faces that has been building since clarke had woken up. her memory digs up rhan and siva'co, the name cathaway, which kaji had muttered over a game of chess with a conspiratorial tone that matched all of her own misgivings. )

( Can't or wont? ) ( it's more mused aloud than an actual pointed question. clarke's second one is more direct: ) ( Do you trust everyone here just because you can hear most of their thoughts? )

( because that is a dangerous mud slide she's been slipping down, especially in regards to her broodmates. )

[shri]

[ And in the same tone that she had taken with - with - oh, whatever her name was that started with R, Lakshmi is scathing without much mercy.

Probably wise to brace against it. ]

( Even Godwin knew better in a time of crises. This is idiotic. )

[ Erg. ]

( No matter then. Observing at least is useful. Everyone has kept to that? No one has run off like an idiot? )

[ Distantly, faintly, there's a stab and a regret, - Galahad, you fool. That comes up no further after it is sent away. ]

[huntsmachines]

[ Aloy feels some gratification when others admire her home, even if only through her memories. She smiles and her head ducks a little at Clarke's words. Beautiful. Yes, that was home. But would she ever see it again? ]

( It really is. )

[ Clarke's sentiment is also reciprocated. The people are who she misses, though she's not sure sometimes if she misses her people specifically. The Nora had always been uncomfortable with her one way or another and she wasn't sure if that would ever change. ]

( I miss mine, too. I think that's why I was drawn towards Lexa. She reminds me of home. )

[ Was that weird? Don't be weird, Aloy. ]

[adamance]

( If you're speaking of a divide between science and magic, I believe that Katie may be able to enlighten you about how both are one and the same. ) [There's a surprising amount of amusement to her words, and it's a sign of Lexa's fondness. Pidge had been rather open about what she believed in, and that bluntness had been enlightening for Lexa.] ( It may be possible that the three of you can combine your energies to find an answer. Plus, someone has arrived from my world who's known as a healer ... ) [Which is ... one way to refer to Clarke. Among many.] ( She may be able to help, as well. Once she adjusts. She will adjust. )

[Those final three words reveal her faith in this newcomer, and undoubtedly the source of her heightened emotions earlier in the day.]

[redheadcarrier]

( Trust? Not really. People are assholes. There's no reason to trust any of them. I mean, I guess they pulled me out of the hell-hole I wasi n before, but that doesn't mean I trust any of them. )

[ It's easy to do what you're told, though. Asuka's good at following orders, especially when she thinks she has a clear target and a clear objective. The cloak and dagger stuff leaves her more frustrated than anything else. ]

( But... I don't know. I guess hearing thoughts makes it a bit easier. It's still a bit freaky. It reminds me of Third Impact... )

[ Which was mostly a barrage of thoughts and emotions and feelings, not all of which she could identify as hers. ]

[ryohji]

It wasn't like that.

[ if only he were so lucky. if only it were so simple. if only his wants had anything to do with it. apparently, to judge by kaji's thinly disguised smile, some passion had crept into his recollection. ]

I followed the truth, wherever it took me. I didn't have the luxury of choosing sides.

[redheadcarrier]

What? That's stupid.

[ Asuka kind of gets being stubborn. That still sounds like a stupid plan. ]

What's the big deal about whoever put them on you?

[ryohji]

[ he only had one stolen alien creature under his belt, but that creature also happened to be a celestial body who once resided in the higher dimension from which all unborn souls originated, so kaji likes to think any sword measuring contest would only be an exercise in false equivalencies. he can tell bellamy all about the it; if he so wants. ]

Lucis Caelum? [ oh, he remembers that man's outrageously extravagant surname. in fact, he thinks he'll probably need a concussion before he could ever forget it. ] Already, it's destined for greatness.

[ let's hope kaji hadn't just jinxed anything with that quip. the next part is met with silence as he chews over the reply, and its implications. carefully: ]

- Do you trust them?

[deployed]

[ The memory is a shock. It hits like a fist to the chest, and knocks the breath out Bellamy. Maybe some of that is bled through from Murphy's mind, a by product of being pressed in so close, but it feels like the only reaction that should follow watching a man blow up inches away. He grabs Murphy as they round a corner, fingers snaring his upper arm. He's caught hold of Octavia like this before. The same frantic urge to protect and soothe is driving him now. ]

( I'm not leaving. )

[ Stubbornness underscores that statement. His jaw is set beneath the fall of the veil. ]

( You don't have to talk to me, but I'm not leaving you on your own. )