[mission: hyrypia] not fare well

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: Everyone
WHERE: The Red Coast
WHEN: MIDDAY :023 - DAY:027
SUMMARY: A half day's journey from the far side of the Finger Maze sits a village of stone against a red sea.
WARNINGS: None! Will add as appropriate. Have something you want noted here? PM the mod account.

HYRYPIA - THE FAR SIDE OF THE MAZE
MIDDAY :023

A SHARP RELIEF
BY THE TIME the shadow of the airship has sailed away from them, the members of the pilgrimage have had time to take in their surroundings. Gone are the acres of endless grasses, and behind them are the whistling cliffs. What lies ahead is rocky highland, not bordered by steep walls of rock but stretching around them and meandering downward. The ground here is mostly stone, almost barren outside of the occasional scrubby tree and the small, hardy looking creatures with rounded haunches and blockish faces that dart behind the scattered stones and into clumps of pale violet grasses that they seem to eat, along with the lowest leaves of the trees.

It's a half a day’s journey to their next destination. The path they follow meanders, and though it's some kind of a road there are far more potholes for the baggage cart wheels to catch and the hardness of the ground comes as something of a surprise after their opulent journey over the Finger Maze. The Envoys are again left to mingle and make their way, the sounds of music and chatter beginning again. After some hours, the scent of the air has noticeably shifted. The sea-salt air is the first sign that they have neared their destination.


HYRYPIA - THE RED COAST
LATE DAY :023

A WARM WELCOME
THE RED COAST does not come upon them all at once. Instead as they continue wandering the twisting stone paths, the Pilgrimage is brought ever downward and the coast's features slowly reveal itself. First comes a view of a dark sea on the horizon, then the shale eventually gives way to reveal the tops of buildings and narrow, winding streets of a small town clinging along the coast. The town - or fief - almost perfectly compliments the landscape which it hugs. The buildings are small and stone, rough hewn or perhaps simply worn down over the ages. The streets, much like the path the Pilgrimage followed from the Finger Maze, seem to wind their way randomly through the town, following the natural curves in the stone down to the shore which is lined with docks.

In the distance across a misty stretch of dark water, a great towering city can be seen. Sky ships fleck the air around it - a reminder of the realities of the modern life of this planet. However here the Hyrypian locals seem removed from that. They populate ancient looking stone and bobbing wood docks and go to sea in vessels made almost entirely of either wood or some kind of hardened fiber. Divers can be seen distantly in the red waves of the coast, bobbing up in the surf then disappearing under the water again.

As the Pilgrimage comes into the town, they are greeted by local Hyrypians which line the sides of the streets. They stand against the sides of their homes and places of business, daily tasks set aside for now to greet their guests. There are smiles and waves. Several locals pass trinkets into the hands of the passing envoys. None of these are quite the same - there are some beaded bracelets and other small jewelry, hair pins, flowers, and small paper figures of animals and boats and Rabadocean-like figures. All the gifts have a handmade feel to them.


A MOMENT'S REST
THE PATH leading to Tyrisson village doesn't actually lead down to the beach, though it may seem to. Instead it weaves out away from the town towards a low manor above the town. Just beside the manor sits a large stone clearing - the most level ground they've seen since the Graze. The courtyard consists of stone bricks arranged in intricate circular patterns. Covering this large stone yard is an almost overwhelming number of identical, simple stone buildings with single entrances covered by cloth and several broad windows similarly curtained. Each small unit is lit and from within there is the scent of food - the walk and the scent of salt piquing appetites. The members of the Pilgrimage's many envoys are lead to these buildings. Each unit houses roughly fifteen individuals, complete with rows of beds and long dining tables - all of which are far simpler than the great berths of the airship.

The Carbauschians are lead to a cluster of three of the barrack buildings and are politely informed that these will be theirs for the length of their stay on the Red Coast. Then they are left to their own devices to unpack and enjoy the hot dinner that has been prepared and left for them inside.

DAY :024

SIMPLE HOSPITALITY
FROM THEIR BARRACKS the sunrise over the shores of the Red Coast is breathtaking. The red sun sits in a red sky, all of which is mirrored by the red water along the coast. Late in the morning, a polite knock at the exterior of each dwelling summons all of the members of the pilgrimage out into courtyard where they're greeted by pleasant-faced and loosely dressed members of the Tyrisson household. The envoys are provided with a breakfast - warm buns stuffed with savory filling. Many of the local Hyrypians seem deeply curious and eye the Carbauschian veils and layers with interest. When the twin heads of Tyrisson house come before their gathering, the assembled servants bow deeply. As on the airship, they deliver their prepared speech smoothly between them:

"Welcome to the Red Coast and Tyrisson village. This place was once the very definition of Hyrypian industry, the very busiest place on the entire continent. Now, we hope you welcome and enjoy what has become a more sedate way of life. With all that's happened in the last few days, we invite you to take your time - to relax - to partake in the history of this place at your own pace and to enjoy the hospitality provided by the people here.

"There might be a special surprise or two to be fished up toward the end of your stay here," says one of the twins with a wink. "But we can promise they're good ones."

With that, the twins step down and the servants file back into the manor house. The guests are left to their own devices. The town below is open to them, ready to share their skills and traditions with visitors. Over the next few days there are a number of tasks for the Pilgrims to take part in, including:

SEA WEAVING - Along the edges of the docks there are a handful of Hyrypians in small outbuildings, open to the sea breeze and light. Inside the artisans - mostly older and with a certain paleness along the edges of their facial crests - weave grasses taken up from the seafloor. Their skilled fingers fold the strands over and under to create baskets, mats, and even the beginnings of the odd, lightweight boats which line the edges of the docks. They are eager to teach and many seem to be delighted by the chance to tell stories of ancient weavers that their younger family members have tired of hearing.

LISTLE DIVING - At the farthest edges of the port there are high cliffs over deep waters. From these, local Hyrypians dive into the red tinted waves and go deep to the edge of stones to pry off clustered, barnacle like creatures. When they are brought up it is revealed that the secretions they use to glue themselves to the rock form translucent resins somewhat like amber which are tinted in a variety of colors. The divers are eager to teach those who wish to learn their skills --which isn’t you. Robes and water don't mix. Still, they are glad enough to talk and the diving is exciting to watch.

FISHING - The lightweight woven vessels are almost all at sea on these fine days, each one occupied by one or two anglers standing on the boats' broad bottoms. They dangle their swarms of lines away from the hustle and bustle of the shore; when they return to the docks with their prizes, the fishermen are perfectly willing to allow a couple of passengers along as they head back out for their next catch. The boats cut through the red waves using long pole-paddles. Once out on the water, the locals are happy to hand over their poles and teach you how to haul in the wriggling eel-like fish that seem to be the most common catch.

JEWELRY MAKING - In the high village there are numerous open stalls, some of which are occupied by jewelers, hard at work turning the resinous listle pearls into beads or hammering the half-hard portions is listle resin into fibers that are then spun into thread for weaving. Sea grass and metal are made into cords and chains. These artisans tend to have focus lines between their eyes and they talk less than many of the other craftsmen, but they will nevertheless hand over their delicate tools to teach the skills necessary to shape the valuable listle resin into art.

POTTERY - While the sea-grass is beloved - lightweight and shockingly sturdy -, it’s not nearly as abundant as the clay from the cliffs. The red tinge seems to be from the microbiol life that has given the water and the coast its rusted color, staining even the ground. In the stalls besides the jewelers, Hyrypian potters shape clay into anything from common flower pots to fine dishes. The off sideways spinning wheels have many open seats.

HUNTING - Where the Gryer and the Elin ruled the Graze, here there are the small scrappy goat-like Ridin. They are fleet and agile, capable of fitting into shockingly small spaces and disappearing behind rocks and scrub and trees. It’s no surprise then that the denizens of the Red Coast prefer hunting on foot with the help of Britt. The britt are small amphibious creatures with a passing resemblance to seals-- if seals moved like whippets. The Red Coast Hyrypians use them to drive the ridin out into the open where they can be brought down with small slings. They ridin are hunted for their meat as much as to keep them out of the small orchard of trees behind the manor where salty-sweet fruits are grown.

---

((OOC Notes: This log serves as a general catch-all for events from midday DAY :023 through DAY :027. Please feel free to create your logs outside of this one and be aware that there may be additional mod-driven posts/logs which occur within the timeframe of this log. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information to find setting information for the Red Coast. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[adamance]

[Her words don't come for a long time. Lexa debates how to proceed. The silence is partly a play of control and partly a matter of convenience. She can use it to her advantage, and that's what she means to do. But she also needs to think. Above all else, she needs to think.

She knows that she's at a different impasse—with herself. She had voiced her frustrations to Clarke about people's expectations of her sentiments, her emotions, and the response in turn had been that Lexa couldn't expect people to respond to something that had no voice in the first place. It was a fair sentiment. That didn't make it any easier.]

I'd like to believe that it was easier before she showed up. [Clarke. Of course, the two of them are bound to be referring to Clarke at any moment, unless Bellamy happened to be referring to Octavia instead.] But I believe it's more that we didn't hear each other. For a very long time.

[Some part of her wants to redact that statement. She admits fault there. More than that, she's admitting the same fault as him—putting them on equal footing. Every part of her training under Titus tells her that this is the wrong decision.

But the words were spoken. She can't take them back.]

[deployed]

[ The ways Lexa navigates a conversation aren't much of a mystery to Bellamy anymore. He's learned to be patient while he chooses her words, even if he hasn't emulated her approach. The matter at hand is difficult. It might even be more fraught than their first clash upon his arrival, or when he had shown her the fate of Polis on the rooftop on Concordia.

It would always have come to this. They've both made certain assumptions, and it's blown up in their faces. He doesn't deny Lexa's assessment, only offers a single confirmation: ]

I can't give up on Octavia. I can't.

[ This will very likely manifest itself to Lexa as a weakness. She wouldn't be completely wrong, but there's strength in all Bellamy's convictions, this one included. He'd fight this war with every breath in his body to get back to Octavia, just as he would to protect his people. The term has stretched to include Lexa. She's been set aside Murphy and Clarke since they came to that uncomfortable truce in the Bearings. ]

I can't give up on the possibility of going back when we're finished here.

[ There are too many variables to rule out the possibility. As easily as centuries could pass in their absence, they could return to find it's only been minutes. But Bellamy doesn't root his hopes in that kind of science. He'd hold on to that hope even if he'd never been told how time had gone strange around them.

It's different for Lexa. He understands that, and with a little distance from his own grief and anger he can take that into account. But he doesn't know how to sacrifice his own hope because of her, even if he'd wanted to. ]

[adamance]

[Bellamy's words act like a knife slammed into her thigh. The wound itself isn't fatal, but the more he speaks, the more the knife twists and carves deeper into her flesh. There's a tightness in her throat that she's glad he can't perceive, and she inhales deeply, suddenly wishing for a different atmosphere and a setting that doesn't require them to hide themselves.

She wants to breathe—to truly breathe. To destroy this planet. To be done with all of this.

Why aren't they done with it?]

Clarke insists that you know that isn't possible. [Clarke believes, because she wants to give Bellamy a break. She wants to offer him an excuse.]

According to her, I'm too hard on you for your faith. Deep down, you know that this possibility isn't true. According to her. [She punctuates that for a reason. If only she could meet his eyes. Lexa prefers having the full control of her body when she's speaking to someone. That, too, is something she misses.]

So, which is it, Bellamy? Whose word should I listen to?

[deployed]

[ Comparatively, Lexa has excellent composure. It makes the moments when she does slip hit harder. The muffled impact of her pain steals Bellamy's breath. It hits like Octavia's fists in the wake of Lincoln's death, like the explosion in Mount Weather that had nearly burned him alive. He takes a deep breath in tandem with her, arms folding over his chest to ward off the impact of Lexa's pain.

Maybe Clarke's right. Maybe in a year's time he'll come to terms with that Lexa and Murphy had been insisting upon. Maybe he'll resign himself to fighting and dying in this war without hope of a victory and a departure. Just thinking about it loops back the same crush of agony Lexa had experienced, threatening to drown them both. ]

Is this about what I think, or about Clarke?

[ Since bridging the gap between the pair of them had been Bellamy's intention, but the way Lexa frames her response suggests a different conflict at hand. Bellamy's even less equipped to navigate it, though that doesn't stop him from trying to address it. ]

[adamance]

Clarke already knows what I think about her beliefs. [The words come like a warning, but the emotion behind them shows the pain in saying that. Lexa knows it's not his fault that he loves her. It's hard not to see why anyone would; it hadn't taken her very long to throw away Titus' words. When she tried to reclaim them, to shield herself with them by betraying Clarke, it was too late.

If she hadn't, where would she be?

Everything begins with that betrayal.]

You showed me what I lost. You were the one to tell me what happened. To me. [Not in full detail. No, that had been Murphy, who never wanted to be the bearer of that particular set of information.]

You told me once that you wouldn't leave me behind. But those words are a salve for you and you alone, Bellamy. The rest of us can't afford to live in an illusion.

[The rest of us have no choice.

Lexa had only about a month to pretend she could win this war and return to her people.

Now, for any version of them, she would be a corpse, a monster returning that should never be there. And to her Polis, she would be the one who betrayed them by leaving. What she had done to save them would have led to their ruin. Had led to their ruin already. She's certain of it.]

[deployed]

They weren't meant to be a comfort for me.

[ Temper colors the words, marring the explanation Bellamy is trying to offer. The promise had been complicated. It was an attempt to comfort Lexa while also expressing loyalty. Bellamy wouldn't have left Murphy behind. He wouldn't leave her either, though the circumstances of Lexa returning would be more difficult to navigate. It hadn't dissuaded Bellamy.

But he doesn't want to revisit this argument. It's only going to lead them back to the tent, and back to Bellamy separating himself from her. They couldn't go on that way, for Clarke's sake if no one else's. ]

Hope isn't an illusion.

[ And maybe it will be torn from him, sooner or later, by more vicious circumstances than an argument in the aftermath of having felt death pass so close to them. But Bellamy won't surrender it before then. ]

What do you want from me, Lexa?

[adamance]

[There is a long pause while her anger bleeds through, allowing him to know exactly how she feels. Or perhaps it's his temper, then reflected back on him. Lexa is too used to being around Bellamy to tell the difference. It's been more than two months since she had a broodmate now. For too long, Bellamy has been the closest to all she's had—and he thinks that empty promise is what she wants to hear. He thinks that comforted her. Or would comfort her.

It's time to switch gears, to be abrupt and strange to anyone who might be curious, but this isn't the type of anger that belongs in anyone else's ears. It's too odd to continue down this course without having to define what it is that they're saying.]

( Why do you think I'm angry, Bellamy? ) [Through the link, though, there's an echo of her words: Why do you think that promise hurt me? That your delusion hurts me? It's difficult to put it to words, like she's trying to smother the embers of these sentiments so no one else can experience them.

But her mental walls have been fragile since that day. There's little to change that now.]

[deployed]

[ Their anger knits together. Bellamy can't clearly delineate between what's Lexa's and what's his own. There's no clear thread of grief; they are both mourning. Hearing her words in his head is like a door opening a crack. Bellamy could put his eye to it but he wouldn't be able to see enough to understand. In some ways, it has always been like that with Lexa. Even when Sam had broken them both apart, he hadn't gleaned enough of Lexa's mind to be able to clearly map her out. Bellamy has drips and drabs of Lexa, but his interpretation is faulty. Understanding that, he knows better than to hazard a guess at her question. When he and Clarke argued, they both understood immediately the ways they were hurting each other. But Lexa's pain comes from somewhere Bellamy doesn't grasp; unable to correctly pin down the source, Bellamy is left without a way to assuage him.

The urge to reach for her takes shape in the back of his mind. Maybe it's a mirror of Clarke, or maybe it stems from the same instincts that propel him endlessly to reach for Murphy. Actions have always been the best way Bellamy knows to express himself. ]

( I think you should tell me. )

[ If he tried guessing, it would not be the first time Bellamy had been wrong. But being wrong in this conversation would do too much damage. Bellamy doesn't think the fragile web of connection between them could weather it. ]

[adamance]

[Her anger only twists and turns at his response, like she's irritated because he chose not to play along with her game. Lexa wants to correct him. She wants to cut into him and help him realize precisely how nearsighted he is—and she wants it to hurt. But he doesn't offer her any ammunition. Perhaps it's wise of him. Or perhaps he's afraid of what he might have to say, well aware that he could make things worse. That could be a matter of wisdom or stupidity. Lexa hasn't decided.]

( Being here now means that you have only lost your people. Your sister. I've been reminded from the first day that I'm no longer who I was raised to be. When I attempt to right a situation, I'm countered by it. Accused of trying to do more than I am. And even, once, blamed for the circumstances that would've led to my death. ) [That was her perception of the situation. She doesn't accept that last part, and her frustration is apparent in those final words, like it's been a constant festering problem since the words first came from Murphy's mouth.

(But even with how raw she is, Bellamy will have no way to know that Murphy inflicted that wound. He may be able to guess—but to Lexa, it's just one incident among many that's marked her existence as a Host.)]

( I've had no choice but to accept my losses. And to rebuild my life. The person who's been closest to me all the while has been you. In turn, you live in a fantasy based upon empty hopes. No one can use what you've lost as a weapon. )

[deployed]

[ Lexa's anger snares like the traps her people set. It threatens to drag Bellamy from his self-control. Not for the first time, he thinks this would be easier if they could settle it with their fists. Speaking plainly of their feelings takes care and Bellamy feels the tightening cinch of his temper with each passing moment.

Maybe Lexa's trying deliberately goad him as much as she's trying to explain. Even knowing that Bellamy can't let her succeed in it doesn't keep her words from registering as an insult. His hands restlessly knot his cloak in his lap as he directs his gaze back to the potter's work. Beneath the veil, his jaw is tight. ]

( No one. )

[ The repetition is pointed. Lexa uses his sister and his people now like a bludgeon. It mirrors the impact of her grief. Bellamy can't ignore it. He has never told Lexa what his mother charged him with as they raised Octavia side by side. Lexa was raised to lead her people. Bellamy's only duty had ever been protecting Octavia, even before it had stretched to include his people.

But he can't be distracted by the harshness of her words. The explanation is there, plain enough that Bellamy can grasp it. Lexa's lost her identity along with her people. Even though the expectations and ritual the grounders imbued their commanders with are still a mystery to Bellamy, he can feel the magnitude of what's been lost. It's bigger than having lost her life. She's been cleaved from her past as well. ]

( I can't give up on her, Lexa. I'm sorry. )

[ But he understands why Lexa has taken this stance. Lexa is crafting a life here because there is not another way forward to her. But for Bellamy, there is no way to keep moving if he loosens his grip on the idea that he can return. None of them can afford Bellamy's grief. ]

[adamance]

( She trains under Indra. In your absence, she'll fight and live on. What you fear most is that she'll be in a grave like Murphy suggested. If she can survive the death of someone she loves, she will keep surviving. ) [So long as she still lived when Bellamy left. If her life is dangling in the balance, then Lexa would understand. But her most recent "update" on the situation came when it was about Lincoln. Before that, it was what Lexa herself saw: someone willing to fight to right things no matter what. Maybe she wouldn't give up on Bellamy returning, but time would pass.

Perhaps.

But she doesn't grasp the depth of his relationship with Octavia. Lexa nearly had her killed once. She had seen her as little more than a pawn, and it's difficult to affect any real attachment to her now. She wants to (possibly because of her close proximity to Bellamy for so long), but she can't bring herself to do precisely that. She's too stubborn, too fixed in her ways sometimes.

After all, she needs a foundation in what she builds for herself now. She has a choice of what makes up that foundation.]

( Was it the same with Clarke? Was it a matter of not giving up? )

[Lexa had, but in a different way: she never wanted Clarke to live this life.]

[deployed]

[ He would to believe what Lexa asserts about Octavia. Octavia is strong and capable. She channels her grief through violence in the same way Bellamy has done. As long as Clarke succeeded, Octavia would make it through the endless wave of enslaved people clawing their way into the throne room of Polis.

Bellamy would like to think he's given up on any illusions that he could protect his sister. But Aurora's influence is strong. Bellamy wants to be there to watch over her, even if Octavia can't stand to look at him. Maybe in time, they could reconcile. Maybe if they'd reconciled before the battle and before Bellamy was chased into the waiting arms of the Nest he'd be less desperate to get back to her. ]

( Yes. )

[ Right now, his focus rests on Octavia alone. But if Clarke weren't among them now, she would have been included alongside Octavia. ]

( Would you have been able to give up on her? )

[ Surely Clarke was something separate from all other things for Lexa. Bellamy couldn't understand how Clarke wasn't set apart. ]

[adamance]

( I believed she could be the strength our people needed in my absence. You could say that's giving up on her. I say that there's no truer sign of my belief in her. ) [But there is still the sense of sacrifice, of hardship, of feeling that she doesn't deserve Clarke. Lexa is an odd individual when it comes down to it. She feels certain about her abilities. She knows that her perspective is often the right one. None of this is something she doubts. But that also means that she's all too willing to cut away the things that might challenge that.

She never gave up on Clarke.

She just never wanted to pull Clarke away from their people, knowing how hard it would be for her. Here, it feels almost like she's demanding that Clarke do the same. The "it" here isn't the act of asking Clarke to give up on going home—it's asking Clarke to deny the bond between her and Bellamy. (Even as she continues to do it. Even as she baffles Lexa by continuing to do it.)]

( Even as Polis burns, I know the Clarke of my world will do her best to preserve it. Commanders don't live long lives, Bellamy. The fact that I lasted as long as I did was unusual. I had to be prepared for this. But unlike the previous Commanders, I know I will never help whoever follows in my footsteps. I won't have that to make peace with. )

[deployed]

[ The question flips into his mind: couldn't she do that if they went back?

But it passes unspoken. He'd be asking her if she wanted to return to her own death. Whatever Lexa says about being prepared, Bellamy still remembers the emotion that had radiated from he when he'd told her what would happen. There can't be any easy way to accept that she'd be marching home to die. ]

( She will protect your people. And so will I. )

[ In fairness, they hadn't exactly discussed what would come next. But they'd survive and Clarke would want to protect everyone and Bellamy would support her in that. They'd find a way to make it work. After saving the human race from assimilation, that might even be a breeze. ]

( Would you rather live out a long life here? Like Cathaway and Prince? )

[ She'd hardly be alone. Angel, Asuka, Lexa wouldn't be alone in embracing life within the Nest over any alternatives. ]

[adamance]

( You would be more inclined to think I abandoned Clarke again. At least with my death, no one can say I did that again. ) [Oddly enough, there's some mirth to these words, in part because Lexa doesn't bother to point out the passage of time to him. Whereas there might be complications (how do their worlds not move at the same pace? how is it that Bellamy can come from the end of the City of Light, but she can come from long before that battle? especially when Clarke is factored in), she still believes in that time for herself. Going back means having been missing from her people for four months.]

( But I don't mean to live my life fighting another war. I want to win. I want the only people in my mind to be you and Clarke and the Commanders who guide me. I don't know what comes after, but I don't mean to live it owing my life to anyone. )

[It's a major declaration, but a part of being a Host is living so that her people can be protected from both the symbiote experience and the Enemy—so they can then move on.]

lmao takes a month to write this tag

[deployed]

[ The picture she paints doesn't align with what Bellamy craves for himself, though his resolve is blurrier than he lets on. Futures diverge before him. Bellamy recognizes they've settled into an impasse, the same as he had with Murphy. Clarke's assertion was still correct: the future was far off, and the present deserved their full attention. He turns to look at her fully, though the motion is useless in their current garb. Lexa's face is hidden from him. Bellamy might not have been able to read it even if she weren't veiled; he's learned quickly, but there's still a disconnect between them. Their argument had illustrated that clearly.

His acknowledgement comes as a physical act. Bellamy reaches between them to take her hand. It's as weighted an action as the offering of the jewelry had been. He laces their fingers, the sensation of having done the same with Clarke and distantly, Gina, ghosting along the edges of his mind to fill in what Lexa's proposition of victory and peace does not. ]

( Alright. )

[ His acquiescence is fraught. For once, Bellamy doesn't try to hide how even that single word feels from Lexa. It feels like something tearing loose in his chest; it feels like being stretched between two possibilities. He wants the things she does (whether that's wholly his own desires or Lexa's taking root there and amplifying them) and he needs to hold on tightly to the possibility of seeing Octavia again. ]

( I'm sorry I hurt you. )

[ If he can't give up his own hopes, he can at least apologize for what he's inadvertently done. In spite of everything, he had never meant to cause Lexa pain. ]

[adamance]

[For a moment, her arm stills. There is no feeling of rejection in her mind, but the closeness of their touch isn't like the times before. Before, they were moments of sharing, of passing along information, or of desperately trying to clean to themselves. They were steadying points. This action is something more, rooted in the bond they've shared, as well as the pain she felt (genuinely felt) in believing that Bellamy refused to see her perspective.

Her lips twist downward as her head lowers in acknowledgement. He can see her face, but the sense is there. It's bare enough that he can grasp it. There is no shroud around it. She acknowledges and accepts his apology.]

( If there is some way for us to return to our people, to develop a plan, I will act on it. Giving up something implies that there was something to let go in the first place. )

[And none of them took the offer for help knowing how they might lose even that in the process.]

wrap this?

[deployed]

Thank you.

[ They're words that should be said aloud, even with their mind so closely linked in this moment. Bellamy's gratitude washes unchecked between them. He can offer her nothing in return but his fealty here. If they return home, there will be no easy way to carry Lexa with them. Knowing that his initial offer had hut her, Bellamy doesn't repeat it.

There's more that could be said. They could talk about strategy, or about how best to get through this mission. But Bellamy doesn't push. The physical link between them underscores the closeness of their minds, and for now, that seems to be enough. ]