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[open]
CHARACTERS: Murphy & OPEN
WHERE: Red Coast
WHEN: DAY :028 - :032 (see headers for specifics).
SUMMARY: Seviilia goes into a coma, Murphy is left as the last Elnath
WARNINGS: Most likely mentions of past violence and death.
NIGHT, DAY :028 | OUTSIDE THE BARRACKS | CLOSED TO LEXA
WHERE: Red Coast
WHEN: DAY :028 - :032 (see headers for specifics).
SUMMARY: Seviilia goes into a coma, Murphy is left as the last Elnath
WARNINGS: Most likely mentions of past violence and death.
NIGHT, DAY :028 | OUTSIDE THE BARRACKS | CLOSED TO LEXA
[It's late. Most of the other hosts are asleep, and Murphy was heading that way himself when he'd caught sight of the ocean again. The change in the water had already been pretty during the day, but now with no other light to compete against the bioluminescence, it's even more beautiful.DAY :029 - DAY :032 | THE BARRACKS | OPEN
No other light, that is, except the bonfire. Where the brish might be alien to him, the fire lit high in the cliffs has a sharper tug of recognition: the grounder encampment outside Camp Jaha, waiting for Finn's execution. He doesn't let his thoughts stray too far that way, but there's a sense of foreboding all the same. The village is waiting for something, an atmosphere which is almost too quiet, heavy, and even as he stays watching the swirls and eddies of bright colour out in the water, he can feel it pressing down. He doesn't know that he wants to see what they're waiting for.]
[It isn't a vigil. He doesn't sit at Seviilia's bedside to watch over her, make any hopes or prayers about her wellbeing or recovery. He occupies a space opposite her bunk, hunkered down against the wall, and it's more about not really having the strength to leave. She'd torn a hole in him. All his broodmates had, one by one, but Seviilia had been the last, and now there's no one left to try and hold the edges closed with. The remnants of her ice in him are already fading, but after the first day what's left doesn't even really feel like pain anymore. A numbness, instead. Fatigue carved bitter down into his bones.
He's been left alone again. He really shouldn't have expected anything different.]
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(In that, she is indeed very privileged.)
Perhaps they're at odds because they're too on guard to trust someone who takes up a similar stance in so many situations. That's probably wise.]
Do you think we should continue on as we have been? [A different question. But it's the question she wants answered.]
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The should catches a wry tug in his thoughts, though. What should be happening rarely means much, in his experience.]
Haven't seen an alternative.
[They should be organised. They should have a plan, someone leading if only in keeping tabs on what was happening, what information they still needed, where to look next. But he'd seen more than just Lexa's attempts at anything like that fall at the first hurdle. Which meant fumbling through till they made it or all died was all that was going to happen. He shrugs.]
Unless we just head back to the station, but you wouldn't be able to get everyone to agree to that.
[The obvious path of survival, and people would argue on that, too.]
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That's not just the Commander in me who wishes to move there. Of a people like mine. [Before Murphy says it—if he intended to say it?]
We'll slip up more than we have already. It's a matter of time. And that's assuming we haven't been revealed already in our ineffectiveness.
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[He doesn't say it like it's a matter of opinion or theory. Simple, plain certainty rings through the words. Cathaway had shown him her fear, told him the future she'd seen for this mission. There wasn't any leeway, any space where they could screw up but still have a chance to survive, if not fix it. Being found out, that was an absolute.
She should understand that. It was how Grounders operated, most of the time. Like thinking killing everyone here was their best option for getting out of this. He can't argue that she's wrong on the mission going sideways. He's expecting the same. But he hasn't been worried about the morals of the genocide option for a while.]
And that alternative isn't an alternative, by the way. Everyone's been too busy accusing and justifying about it to think about whether we can even do it. [A slight tip of his head, corners of his mouth pressing down beneath the veil.] I don't know about you, but I haven't seen any nukes sitting around up on the station.
[And nothing so far on the surface that'd do the same, either.]
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You think that the means doesn't exist. Even if it was originally suggested as an option. [That's not stated as an accusation. To Lexa, and in her mind, it's more like a revelation: why would Rhan produce an idea that can't be accomplished? To create tension? Problems? Create desperation among those that would be opposed to it? Motivate them?
Truthfully, it's not unlike something she'd do, but perhaps on a much larger scale.]
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You say suggestion, I say mentioned in a maybe example once and never brought up again by the people who'd know where the big "launch bombs" button is.
[Whether it had been intentional to stir everyone up or a casual turn of phrase taken way too literally, he couldn't say. He hasn't spent much time or thought on the senior hosts. They haven't been all that present, and he's been distracted.]
Cathaway thinks--
[He doesn't get any further. Whatever the thought was, it's gone. He's buckling, falling to the ground as a hole rips open inside him. Impact ringing his head empty in shock, his next breath a desperate, choked gasp of air.]
no subject
Lexa moves swiftly, hand falling on Murphy's bicep.]
( She's still here— ) [But barely. Not alive but comatose, with a major unknown factor as to whether she would ever return.] ( Focus on what can be. ) [As if that would help.
It may not help.]
no subject