[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

[wrackful]

[The new hatch has Murphy's nerves on edge, some vain hope that Cathaway would keep the new Hosts up on the station quashed as soon as Collector's voice chimes through his mind. He stays out of it. He'd never been good at the welcoming committee, and this one - hi, welcome to the brain bug family, Cathaway thinks we're all going to die here - strikes as one to definitely avoid.

But some things are unavoidable. He feels it like a ripple through Bellamy, proximity, maybe, the forged connection between them pulling taut. The familiar sense of home, of space and earth, stars and trees and blood. Clarke, Bellamy says, and Murphy doesn't jump to his feet like the other man, but he sits forward, all ease in his posture gone as his attention pulls sharp and present on the door.]

[skaikru]

( later, clarke will stop and wonder at how her feet carried her with a blind sort of purpose. all it takes is a brush of familiar conscious — actual familiarity, not the forced sort of intimate knowledge she'd woken with about her broodmates — and something hooks in her ribcage, drags her to a door that is wrenched open the second she raises a hand to push. and on the other side is )

( Bellamy? )

( hopeful and weighted. a question, because he doesn't look like himself, swaddled in layers of bright fabric just the same as she is. but a declaration too, there's no denying the tangible rush of relief that almost always colors their reunions. a pound of tension melts off her; clarke's shoulders drop and the breath she sucks in through her mouth rattles against her teeth. it's been little over a day since he'd held her hand, slipped the chip onto her tongue but hey, a lot can happen in a day that leaves you feeling adrift and ill at ease until slotted alongside someone who's weathered the worst of the world at your side again.

wait, two someone's. pointed focus on her from the corner, from a person sitting stiffly on a couch that's only a fraction harder to place than bellamy. blood, grass, wind and rope, blood again. ascende superius. ) I — Murphy? ( genuine surprise. the foundation of their relationship had never been as solid, it's really not a wonder she'd picked bellamy's strain of consciousness up before john murphy's, but it seems fitting that he's here. that initial rush of reassurance and warmth, that extends to him, too.

there's a beat, her attention divided between the two of them, head snapping back and forth in a swish of blue and black fabric. and then —

yeah, those stern talking-to's about not showing their faces anywhere someone outside of their team might chance them? those are being shoved to the wayside in favor of clumsily shoving back her hood, making to rip down the thick veil across her nose and mouth. some old friends needed to be gazed upon without obstruction, just to reassure that they're real. )

[wrackful]

[Bellamy opens the door on another Host, another figure entirely wrapped in layers of fabric, but neither of them need to see her face to know it's her. The stillness of surprise holds in the room for a heartbeat, two, like a held breath, hope blooming fragile against the expectation of a grimmer reality bursting a moment of happiness.

But those aren't Murphy's feelings. Clarke being here is a surprise - a good one, he thinks - but he's never felt this deeply about her. Mixed experiences, tentative trust, maybe a pinch of faith with some loose loyalty shuffled in. He realises he's caught in Bellamy's reaction the second Clarke reaches to pull her hood down, the needs of the mission (of keeping everyone alive) wrenching to the forefront of his mind.]

Whoa, no.

[As he moves up and off the couch, pushing past Bellamy at the door to grab Clarke's arm before she can do more. Pulling her in by the same grip.]

You get inside before you start doing that.

[But Bellamy had been uncovered too, and someone might have still seen. His own head wrap was only half undone, and he pulls it back into place over his face, glancing back to catch a look at Bellamy's face - Bellamy, staring at Clarke like she was the only thing in the world that had ever mattered, like she might disappear if he looked away - before stepping out to check the corridor.

He closes the door behind him. For safety. For privacy, as much as any of them could have in the Nest. Any greeting he'd have for Clarke could wait. He doesn't need to be involved in this.]

[deployed]

[ It's a fast exit. There's a mix of emotion radiating from Murphy, but Clarke holds Bellamy's attention like a lodestone. Murphy closes the door behind him, and there's no flicker of alarm or warning to signal that Bellamy's made a mistake to open his door uncovered. With the promise of security, there's nothing keeping him from falling headlong into Clarke, eyes moving back to her veiled face as Murphy's presence recedes to a pinpoint in the back of his head. ]

They can't see our faces, [ Bellamy tells her, explaining what he already knows as he steps forward, gripping her gloved hands before he lifts them to her veil. ] But it's safe. This room's safe.

[ Bellamy had checked it twice over before he, Murphy and the wayward ooze baby had started getting comfortable. It's safe to start pulling at the layers of her veil, gently but purposefully, desperate to see her face. It's Clarke. Bellamy already knows beyond question. He can feel her in his mind. They've never been connected this closely, but nothing in her head feels alien to him. ]

You're safe here.

[ When had he ever been able to promise her that? It's only barely true in this moment. They aren't quite safe, but they're miles from the situation they'd come from. The fear of it is still fresh in Clarke's mind, where Bellamy's months past it. Lexa's throne room comes back vividly: Clarke's shaking hand in his own, the brush of her lips on his thumb, the unyielding push forward of grounders and Arkadians alike as Bellamy had braced himself in front of her, end point of Kane's weight pinning him down. His thumb grazes the skin of her cheek, and Bellamy realizes he's smiling. A greeting feels like an afterthought; it never makes it to his lips. (It's so good to see you.) Clarke, and likely everyone else in the Nest, has to feel the sentiment as it radiates through him, unrestrained. ]

[skaikru]

( being hauled bodily into the room doesn't feel particularly called for. clarke had frozen with her hands to her face when murphy had snapped at her, but offered no resistance when he made to drag her over the threshold. it was probably for the best considering her legs felt like weights. there's a flicker of understanding; right, the mission and their disguises. but no chance to apologize ) Hey — ( he's slipping past her and closing the door behind him.

and that's a little off putting; even if they weren't close, there was a part of her genuinely relieved to see him too. but with no further need to split her attention, clarke can focus entirely on bellamy blake, who is touching her face with an almost absurd amount of reverence; gently and carefully undoing the remains of her veil in a way that reminds her of the destroyed subway cave. there's no gag between her teeth this time, but it's still a little difficult to muster words. )

You have no idea how happy I am to see you.

( and yes, she's happy — relieved and encouraged, suddenly not so alone and having found a familiar face that at least seemed to have a better idea of what they were doing. but there's that heavy guilt that will always prevail above all else, sneaking up on her to bitter the mood and drag that ecstatic, genuine smile from her lips. she'd failed, and it was important that he knew, even if there was nothing they could do this far away. )

Bellamy, I couldn't do it. I couldn't get to the kill switch.

( at the forefront of her mind are those last few clear memories of home. well, not home. the city of light. tall grey wash buildings, sleek windows, rain on concrete. the ground trembling and splitting, the urge to run, and the stranger who'd pulled her upright, then uprooted her from her mission. )

[deployed]

[ Her emotions snag his, hook in deep. Part of this is the effect Clarke's always had on him. She heightened everything. Bellamy had moved in tandem, matched her without considering it any further. Even her guilt is familiar; it's a twin to his own, and it weighs on his heart the same way. It makes her smile face in a way Bellamy wished he didn't already know by heart, and he's already shaking his head. ]

No, Clarke. [ But he won't tug at Murphy's mind to call him back. Bellamy already recognizes the futility of that action. ] Murphy was there. You saved us all.

[ Does he need to tell her he's happy to see her? The joy in her presence is radiating even if his need to reassure her of her success has taken the forefront. His thumb strokes along her cheek, unconsciously reassuring himself of her. ]

I can't explain how it works. But I saw it, in his mind.

[ The aftermath, the part that Bellamy hadn't quite made it to see. It had been real in Murphy's head. There wasn't any doubt, and that's clear in Bellamy's reassurance. He doesn't think Murphy had been lying to take the sting out of failure for him. ]

[skaikru]

( well, that... isn't what she'd expected to hear. some revision of we'll figure it out, or nothing whilst his face contorted and preemptive grief swept through him. but instead — nope. bellamy says she saved the world, a pure sense of joy emanates from his chest to envelop her like a hug, and clarke's confused. again.

her lips purse around a silent what?; she doesn't understand the concept that she somehow managed to save everyone between running from an inhuman creature and waking up here. but the thing about bellamy blake is that she's never had to search his mind to discern if he's lying to her, not when his face is an open map of emotions. and rationally, seeing things in murphy's head made sense. with the wealth of personal oversharing that had occurred between herself and her new broodmates in the short time between waking up and landing here, clarke had been subjected to thoughts, feelings, and flashes of memory that hadn't made sense but had been undoubtedly true.

the pull of his thumb against her cheek jerks a few tears loose; relief turned liquid to wash away the long hours of hating herself for running, for seemingly putting her own life before everyone else's. the timeline doesn't fit and clarke still has no recollection of finding anything resembling a killswitch, but maybe that faceless monster had seen fit to destroy alie the same way it had sought to destroy her. there's a sharp, ragged inhale — a breath clarke had been waiting to take for a whole day, and then, inch by inch, some of the smothering defeat melts from her shoulders. she's a gloved hand on his wrist, thumb pressed to his pulse; his heartbeat reverberates in her chest, urges a wet, bright smile to work its way back up her features. )

So we saved the world? We saved everyone?

( something warm sparks alongside their heartbeats. oh right, that's what hope feels like. )

[deployed]

[ Clarke's reaction amplifies the happiness building in Bellamy's own chest. Hope has been in short supply. Clarke's always had a readier access to it than Bellamy did, but at the end, in the midst of a wild, desperate play to save their people, it had felt as if they'd left hope at the base of the tower in Polis. And now it's all the more potent as it radiates from Clarke down the line to him.

He recognizes the breath she takes. It's the same one Bellamy had taken when Murphy had told him what they'd done. Their people were safe. Everyone would be safe, alive and whole. Bellamy smooths the tears from her cheeks, shakes his head. ]

You did. That was you, Clarke.

[ What they'd done was keep her alive while she performed that miracle. Bellamy wanted to remind her of that, before he tackled any of the thornier subjects at hand. Bellamy's faith in Clarke had taken a beating, but it flourishes in this moment as he reminds himself of what she'd done. What they had done. ]

It's over.

[ And that had brought Bellamy some peace, knowing he couldn't leave this place until the war he'd inadvertantly signed up for was finished. ]

[skaikru]

( that was all of us, she thinks forcefully, brows knit and discontent with bellamy downplaying his role in apparently saving the world. there were things clarke griffin was capable of all by herself, and things she was only capable of doing with her friends at her side, with bellamy at her side. saving the world isn't a solo sport. )

Looks like we get to do it all over again. ( wry, almost-humor. the sort accompanied by a little half smile as clarke brings up the hand not tangled up in his and wipes at her other cheek. this new enemy, this mission — there's a striking resemblance to their old world, old life. it's refreshing to be in the company of someone who would get that; understand where all her misgivings came from, know why she saw holes in this attempt at subterfuge with so many agents in play. because she knows bellamy must have felt similar dread, be reliving certain nightmares. at her smaller mission brief, rhan and siva'co had aired on the side of ambivalent disapproval when talk of destroying this planet had come up, and all she could think of was pulling a lever. )

He said you were here. ( a distraction, her mouth moving of its own accord. in her mind she draws up an image of the darkling, preening and teasing her with a mental assault of his face. her reaction had been... emotional. the brief memory is vivid and charged, clarke feels the ghost of the same frustration she'd felt at the other man's answers to her questions, none of which had made sense at the time. ) And I didn't believe him, ( but ) — ( another tangible rush of warm, heartfelt emotion where words fail. sometimes it's much easier to just impress upon a person how happy you are to see them, how good it feels to be wrong. it's an overwhelming sensation, heightened by the waves of sentiment pouring off bellamy and tangling up in her own; it bears repeating. )

[deployed]

[ Though Bellamy's grown used to voices in his head over the past few months on the Station, with the Nest, he hasn't completely shaken the jarring sensation of having words rattling directly into his mind. Some members he hasn't gotten used to. Some, like Murphy and Lexa, had settled and deepened to the point where the whisper of their presence isn't an invasive presence. But Clarke is different.

That isn't necessarily a surprise. Clarke's always been different, even from the first moment they'd locked eyes as he'd reached to open the dropship door. Her mind feels as if he's known it forever. The strength of her emotions completely swamp Bellamy's own conflicted recognition of the Darkling. His hatchtwin is almost inconsequential in this moment, when Bellamy's near-drowning in the outpouring of sensation from Clarke's mind. It's hard to separate out what belongs to Clarke and what belongs to him, and Bellamy isn't totally convinced he wants to. The patterns of their thinking align in their reaction to each other, to the mission at hand, and Bellamy exhales hard. ]

I'm here, [ He tells her, stating the obvious because he's too overwhelmed to come up with something better. His mind has already cracked open, spilling out all his own joy and dread at Clarke's presence. ] And getting through this is going to be easier with you here. Then we'll go home.

[ Bellamy tells her this almost apologetically, because the former is true but the latter is beyond his ability to guarantee. It's just blind, stubborn hope that Bellamy can't let go of. But Clarke's here. Anything is possible when Clarke puts her mind to it. She's proved that over and over.

The pull of warmth hooks directly into his chest. It amplifies both his obvious joy at her presence and the regret that she's been pulled into this world the same way he has. The bright wash of her emotions are blinding, and they reel him in; Bellamy finds himself crumpling into her, hand dropping from her face to settle around her waist and hold her as if answering an unspoken request as much as capitulating to his own impulse. ]

[skaikru]

( home. and this is the first instance since her hatch that clarke has not been obsessed with the tumultuous world they'd called home; isn't fixated on the events playing out back in polis, or the mission she'd felt she had failed in the city of light. isn't thinking about the braided bruises on her mothers throat, the hoard of climbers, or ontari's caved in head because bellamy had said it would all be okay. and because she wants to believe that so badly, she allows herself to. at least briefly, clarke shrugs off the all consuming cloak of guilt and preemptive grief, and lets herself fold into bellamy's embrace. it's like wrapping one self in a security blanket, and at least in this moment, that promise of safety feels legitimate.

(there's something else there, too. it's different from the last time they'd hugged in a way she can't quite pin down, and thus disregards as a shift in atmosphere. this may be the first time they've ever had the chance to celebrate the survival of their people without another immediate upset, but even that is inaccurate.)

her arms circle around his neck, standing on the slightest of tip toes in order to rest her chin on his shoulder, and clarke just breathes. exhales relief and reassurance into his hair; squeezes bellamy tight in a physical show of the gratitude coursing through her veins. he still smells the same, she notes lightly, an afterthought. they stay like that for several long moments, content. this is nice. which means it can't last for long, and clarke disentangles first.

but she's smiling, and for once it doesn't even seemed forced. back to business — ) Where do we start? What have I missed?

[deployed]

[ Bellamy wants to linger here. Holding Clarke momentarily blots out everything else that weighs on his mind. The relief their contact provides to her compound his own. Briefly, there's nothing but the way they fit together, the way Clarke sighs and the way the tension leaves her body. He could almost ignore the demands of reality, and maybe he would have, if Clarke hadn't pulled away first.

His hands lift back to her catch her hands, anchoring her before Clarke can move too far from him. Lexa's face flickers in his head. That first day, the first time they'd spoken face to face without anyone to intercede and he'd felt the blinding strength of her feeling for Clarke. She must know I'm coming, she'd told him and Bellamy agreed, but he finds himself no better equipped to tell Clarke now than he was a breath ago when he and Lexa had traded those words. ]

There's something—

[ He breaks, hesitating as he tries to think of the best way to explain. ]

Lexa is here. She's alive here. [ A stipulation Bellamy only makes because Lexa isn't present. He doesn't understand how, and it's been difficult to reconcile with his and Murphy's various plans for escape. ] She's on her way.

[ The realization that he will have to leave then settles slowly. Bellamy is careful to keep it contained. His own complicated reaction will have to wait until he's out of the room, where neither Clarke or Lexa would feel it. ]

[skaikru]

( so, before — earlier; feeling bellamy's mind and instinctively recognizing it, ripping open the door, seeing his face, and being held so fiercely — that had felt like relief. like home, and warmth, and like the safety he'd promised.

contrarily, this moment right now feels like the world has shifted beneath her feet. stones and the buildings very foundation ripped out from under her, sending clarke pitching into a bleak landscape somewhere between disbelief and... anger. dormant grief, shoved wayside to deal with alie, then the station, and now hyrypia, raising its head and demanding to be felt. twisted like a knife in her chest, presenting as irritability and confusion. was that supposed to be a joke? or a cruel lie?

but... no. that doesn't ring true. between the flashes of memory and who she knows bellamy to be as a person, that's not right. but that realization does nothing to soothe the whirl of tumultuous and tragic thoughts rising up the back of her throat.

all clarke can really manage is: )

I — what?

[deployed]

[ Even though Bellamy had told himself he was ready, he couldn't possibly brace against Clarke's reaction. Her pain slices into him. Bellamy is so closely attuned to her that there's no avoiding the immediate backlash of grief. It isn't surprising. Bellamy had seen it in her as they'd desperately hunted a way to defeat ALIE; Clarke had clutched at the flame like a totem against the loss she was feeling, and Bellamy's upending everything she must have told herself to cope with it.

He's sorry for it, even as he recognizes the necessity of it. Of course this isn't as simple as a reunion. Bellamy isn't even sure he'd wanted it to be or not. His hand lifts back to her face, cupping her cheek as his fingers dip along the hinge of her jaw. ]

I can't explain how. I thought—

[ His voice breaks as he veers away from the truth of his first assumption. Clarke doesn't need to know that Bellamy had thought he'd died too. ]

But it's true. You can see her, if you want.

[ Lexa's hooked into the back of his head. Bellamy's uncertain if the anxiety he's feeling is his own or Lexa's. ]

Do you?

[ They've had so few choices in their time together. Bellamy wants to give her this one. ]

[skaikru]

( clarke's shaking her head within the gentle cup of his hands, the wetness in her eyes had never really left, and swells to the point of tears sticking her eyelashes together. it's not a no, but neither is it a yes. clarke hadn't been ready for the city of light, hadn't been ready for the station, or the emotional feedback from the other hosts courtesy of the symbiote. she wasn't entirely ready for this mission, either, but that hadn't cracked her resolve beyond repair. the thought of seeing lexa again shatters it.

there's an emotional pain turned physical within her ribcage, overrides her awareness of anything he might be feeling in turn. the visceral sensation people call heartbreak, a ghost of the fist that had curled around her lungs while lexa had bled out on white fur bedclothes. it's a fresh kind of hurt — it's grief and guilt, and a most unwelcome sort of hope. a hint of selfish fear, because for the first time since waking up in pod, clarke's scared for herself. what this could do to her.

she'd buried losing lexa like all the others. locked it down and forged ahead to save those she still could. now, teetering on the edge of a precipice of guilt, all clarke can bring herself to do is whisper. )

Bellamy — ( you killed her, titus had told her, looking every bit as broken by the loss as clarke had felt, felt right now. i may have pulled the trigger, but you killed her. she's not ready for this, but eventually tears imploring eyes from his face, chances a glance at the door with a numb sort of awareness that someone she'd give anything — but was terrified — to see again could be on the other side.

none of this would be truly real until the handle turned. )

[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]

[ 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. ]