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CHARACTERS: Lexa and Carata
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: Day :011
SUMMARY: Speaking to an old host about stuff, also bombing and where she can act next.
WARNINGS: To be updated if necessary.

[It's not that speaking to Nirad hadn't proved helpful. Lexa had gained a wealth of information from him, as well as an idea of the varied sentiments toward the Nest as a whole. No, she wishes to seek out Carata simply because she hasn't much since she's arrived here. Lexa had been uncertain about the woman's cheerful demeanor as a whole since she arrived, but she believed (or hoped) that her current problem could be met with more of a direct answer. While Lexa is well aware that she and Bellamy are hardly the only Hosts who come from the same world, she doesn't want to give any indication about her situation to other people without having a measured understanding of where to begin.

Besides, that isn't the only thing she wishes to discuss, and while the other Hosts might have goals in line and plans in place, one of the senior-most individuals likely has an idea of things are being organized. They've been here longer, and they may be able to assist them.

The recent bombing did set Lexa on edge, and the graffiti that's appeared in the day following makes her uneasy. Now armed with a greater familiarity with what lies inside of her, she finds herself needing to know where to act with that information. Dying is not an option for this cause, and she doesn't want to martyr herself to try to attempt to change the direction of things in this world.

Besides, with all the rumors flung around, she's beginning to grasp that the matter of their mission may not be as simple as it seems. In fact, what if there's a chance that their objective is somehow wrong? Lexa doesn't think so from what Nirad said, but someone (or something) is determined to make it seem that way.

When she approaches Carata, it's after returning to the Bearings after having lunch outside of their humble abode. It's clear that her mind is troubled, but she's trying to put it at ease for this conversation.]

Can we speak somewhere private? If you're available. [Lexa's abrupt, demanding nature is beginning to ease up a bit, except for moments where she thinks it will serve her.

She assumes that it won't here.]

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[The day after the bombing finds Carata much the same as the day proceeding- in the central living area, curled into a rounded chair near one of the large windows, barefoot and focused on a holo-pad, scanning over streams of information and looking, for all the world to see, at perfect ease.

This isn't anything she hadn't suspected, but it did clarify things, at least. She would need to leave, soon-

But not before speaking to Lexa, who looked to carry so much tension in her it seemed like she must believed the only way to achieve anything was to pull as hard as she could on herself before she snapped. Carata wasn't very familiar with her, but she felt she was similar to Nirad, in some ways. She looks up from her lap, smile on her face, loose layers of her tops shifting slightly as she toes the chair to swivel, slightly left, slightly right.]

If you like. [Although Carata doesn't really see the need. For privacy. Trying to keep secrets from the Nest was not something she saw much of a point in. But then again, she never had.]

Is there somewhere you have in mind?

Edited 2016-06-07 00:59 (UTC)

The roof has served its purpose for these things. If you don't mind. [Speaking to Rhys up there had been a comfort, and there is a part of her that craves the heights right now. While being on the eighteenth floor affords them with some sense of that, she still likes the way it feels when she's outside, looking out before a city with a sense of power filling her.

(It's not a traditional sense of power, but there's something to it just the same.)

Keeping her privacy is hard, but it's something she likes to maintain the illusion of, if nothing else. She knows it's pointless. She knows that her other broodmates may even be able to provide the answer she seeks, but she is forcing a separation right now because she finds some level of comfort in it.]

[The way she stands serves as her answer, setting her little pad down on the side table and straightening her top as she walks barefoot past Lexa and towards the elevator, stopping just long enough to slip on her shoes, glancing out the window before reaching out for a coat- too large to seem like hers.]

The weather seems to be turning.

[There was a lot of chatter about it on the net. How the game old hold up under a thousand different possible environments. If it were hotter, cooler, more humid, raining, if the wind blew from off the mountains or the water-

Countless predictions that, in the end, wouldn't change a thing. She pulls the sleeves up her arms as she slips into the elevator, turning neatly to wait for and watch Lexa.]

[Seeing her grab her coat, Lexa takes it as a cue to grab her own. The one she draws out is black and simple, with a zipper that draws up and ensures that it fits her in a snug fashion. Though it's not the warmest of coats, some part of her actually wishes to experience the chill in the air. She always had back at home, high on Polis with the wind hitting her face. There was almost always a comforting chill there, one she couldn't find even if she slipped back inside.

As they take the elevator up, she remains silent, eyes fixed on a spot in the elevator that is decidedly not Carata's face. She turns as they reach the top, and she heads out, head high due to training. Lexa always carries herself proud and easily, shoulders shoved back, spine straight, and neck long. It always makes her seem taller, even if she is just slightly above average height.

When she stops walking, she is nearly at the edge. She turns, the same grace afforded all along in her steps.] Nirad told me he couldn't give an age for as long as he's been a Host. I assumed it would be the same with you.

[These words are introductory words. Were they prepared in advance? (Yes. To a degree.)]

I hoped that you had come across my ... predicament before. It's not just the matter of someone showing up from my world. It's that his mind has confirmed, quite vividly, that I'm dead. [To the point. Lexa hopes the reason for their privacy is now clear.]

[For all that Lexa is focused on one point, not on her, Carata looks around. Out the slim window down the back of the elevator, on a leaf that had blown inside during the last time, it seems, someone had taken it to the roof. To a notification in the corner of her eye, her interfacing device still helpfully earmarking for her. To Lexa, and her severe posture and her equally severe jacket. She doesn't make any attempt to disguise her attentions, either, and by the time the elevator stops and Lexa turns out of it, breaking her own forced silence, Carata is following, a great deal more loosely, a great deal more interested in pushing her hair back against the blowing wind, in turning to watch the clouds move across the sky.]

I was right.

[It was turning. They were going to get rain. She tips her face back to Lexa as she speaks, waiting patiently as she works past whatever it is she means to say. Her words aren't met with surprise, either in Carata's expression or in her open thoughts.]

Oh, no, I could tell you, but it's not like we measure time the same. I've been a Host for about sixty seasons. That's [she pauses, hums slightly, turning towards one of the plants, it's broad leaves soft to the touch as she checks a browning spot-] Ah, twenty years? Nirad is a little younger than I am. He has trouble remembering some things.

[It's not an excuse, precisely, because she sees no problem with it. What did it matter that he had a hard time keeping track of time? In the end it meant very little to them.]

And yes, that happens, sometimes. You are hardly the only one here with such a situation, I think. [Her thoughts wander- to the ones with the powers- Anakin, Ahsoka, Ren. To Steve, his new, old friend. Many who knew each other. This was an unusually hatch, in that sense. She frowns slightly at the leaf, scuffing at the dark spot with her thumb as the first raindrops begin to peter down.]

There are countless universes. I do mean that. Countless. Some of them are as different as this one, where your planet is some cold rock, if it's anything at all, and your own. And some are as similar as yours and his. Practically the same in almost every way. For some reason the you from his universe was not quite as suitable as the you from your own. Not a perfect match. And so you are here, and she, it seems, is dead.

[The words don't trouble her, not in the slightest. It simply was what it was. This Lexa was not that Lexa. There was little point in dwelling on it.]

What is the predicament, exactly?

[She, as if she speaks of someone else, and not Lexa herself. It should give her some comfort and some hope that she might return to her people someday, but it doesn't. Even if this Bellamy doesn't come from the same ... universe as her own, his mind tells her that he is just the same. He has made the same choices. He has done the same things. He knows the same people. She recalls Clarke sitting there, black blood blowing into her veins.

When Carata asks her question, she wonders how the predicament itself isn't clear. Her words about Nirad haunt Lexa. Even now, though she knows that to be stronger, she has to give a part of herself away to the Nest, she's afraid of it. Hadn't she always been prepared to live and die for her people? Hadn't she always been ready for that moment? Is this not the same in some way?

She considers her next words. Never one to worry about the matters of mortality, she finds herself stuck on it now. It's hard to ignore the fact. Another Lexa died. She should be dead.]

If our enemy hadn't found me, is it possible I would have died in the same way? Or does it not matter because we're all as good as dead to our people? [Does Carata have a people? The thought flickers in her mind soon after her questions.] When I'm done as a Host many years later, my people might be dead anyway. Is that right? [Time moves. It doesn't stop.

And so a simple solution will not present itself, no matter how much she wishes it were true. She will have to give herself to this life, or die. Or fall into a long coma. The option of returning home had never been there, had it?]

[It's not clear, at all. Carata is seemingly shameless in the way she turns her attention to Lexa's mind, like running fingers through sand looking for little hard-shelled animals. She's anxious, thinking about what she has to do, so much about what she has to do, what she has to be. It's strange. She's not that person anymore. Hasn't she realized that yet?]

It doesn't matter. The enemy did find you, as they always find us. No one could know if you would have died the same as she did, because it didn't happen. [She straightens as she says it, shaking her head slightly.]

And you won't be done. Why do you think you will be done? [A genuine question. Couldn't she feel how much she'd already changed? You could not go back. You could only ever go forward.] What happened, happened. You cannot live in the past, and attempting to dwell in it will only cause you senseless pain. Things are as they are.

[She lets out a deep breath, a sigh. It had been difficult, learning to see life as it was. To understand that loss was simply a fact, and that nothing was ever truly yours. It had been difficult, but she was very grateful, in times like these, that she had been raised into it.]

Edited 2016-06-09 01:16 (UTC)

When my people go to war, we mean to end it. We mean to win. [It's strange to think of it in any other way. Even if that war ends with an alliance, or a coalition, it is still a war. Lexa thinks of how difficult it had been for her to accept Azgeda into the alliance after Nia had killed Costia, but she had believed it was necessary. Ending war and adding strength to their numbers had been more important than the pain she felt.

The pain she still feels, as she's had callously pointed out to her before.

She is clearly far more rigid than she had been moments before, shoulders thrown back as if appearing stiffer will somehow lend her more control. Lexa knows that it doesn't, but she is trying to hold back how she feels at the moment, to not let her emotions get the best of her.]

Doesn't it concern you that you've been taken to fight in a conflict that is never ending? [Her people have always been quick to go to war, and for that reason, some can say that they have been no different. But just as she had pointed out to her, all conflict can come to an end. There can be a point where someone puts down their arms to stop the constant cycle of bloodshed.

To her mind, it seems as if they are directed to focus on the smaller picture instead of the greater one. It makes little sense. Much of the Nest grants them certain abilities that would help them, and yet ...

And yet, she thinks of how Nirad criticized the lack of name for "the enemy." That thought sticks with her now. Not knowing anything about their opposition makes her feel helpless ... it makes her feel weak.]

[A larger drop splatters on her forehead, and she wrinkles her nose, scrubbing the back of her wrist over it.] That doesn't matter. Even if this were a war, and it could be won, you would still be a Host.

[The Nest had existed before it was hunted, she knew that, even if the memories of it were- faded. Distant and unreliable. There was still need of them then. She doesn't imagine that would change, if she put any energy into imagining a future that she would never likely see.]

Imagine this. You live in a village by the sea. One day a great wave comes. It swallows your village and your home and your family. It is a force you could never hope to stand against, as you are. Afterwards, along with many others, you help begin a seawall. It will not be finished until long after you are dead, but eventually it may be.

[There is the sound of waves over the gentle pattering of rain, the scent-taste of the sea- although it's warm in her memory, and calm. The sun through a window, the low patient tone of an elder. It is an old story.

Does it concern her? She hadn't died, and she easily could have. Yes, it was a bad thing that happened, but bad things that you could not control happened all the time. To all kinds of people. Some were far less lucky than she was. And if it never ended, she knew at least that she had taken the steps that she could to do her part. It would be enough, because it had to be. There was nothing else she could do. If you couldn't be satisfied with that-

Carata knows she's weak. Even with all of the strength she's gained. She's relatively inconsequential, in the grand scheme of all things. Didn't that make things easier?]

[It's odd for Lexa, who has always believed in the immediacy. Mourning for the dead has its place, but those who survive are far more important. Take revenge for those who are lost, but not at the cost of your people. Protect those who live, because they survive. As the Commander, she has never thought that she'd live forever in the more general sense of the word. She has never believed that her heart would beat forever, and that she would be able to offer protection to her people into eternity. She has never allowed herself to be stuck on that notion.

For that reason, she understands what Carata is saying. She's not foolish. It had been her who told Clarke that the dead were dead and the living were hungry, ensuring that Clarke would look forward instead of being trapped in the past.

In creating the coalition, she had hoped to help her people unite and become stronger for years to come. They had a common enemy when they came together, and now that the enemy is gone, they have the opportunity to stop the warring between their people so they can look to the future. The coalition is her creation, and that is absolutely the truth. But it is not a thing that is meant to live and die by her, no matter what Titus or Gustus or many others believe. She wanted it to outlast her. It was meant to outlast her.

Yet at the same time, she has been born to be a warrior and to, eventually, lead her people. The (second) strongest of all the novitiates, she has never doubted her own strength. Only Luna had been more powerful, and though Lexa had some doubts in being chosen as commander after Luna abandoned their people, she saw it as how things should be. Luna had proved that she would be a poor leader. She lacked the ruthless perspective that they all required.

Everything about being here is a reconfiguration of identity. From being raised as a warrior to her transition as a novitiate and then as a commander, she has always believed in her importance to her people. Now, her people will never get their flame back. Now, her life as a Host will put them at risk. They may end this war tomorrow, but there is no returning.

Accepting it feels like clawing her skin off and replacing it with something new. She protects her people by being here, but without her people, she is still lost. Uneasy. Uncomfortable. Here, she is not who she was born to be, and it lends doubt to it. And if she had not come, she would have died. One way or another, she would have died. It may be as she says, that she could have lived on if they hadn't found her, but she still finds no peace in that notion. Death seems to be the answer no matter what, and she felt it through every moment in which she spoke to Bellamy.

She will fight this war and die, another entity among a herd, just a warrior and not a commander.

It's a hard thing for her to swallow.]

My people fought an enemy for over fifty years. They captured us and took us into their home, turning us into monsters or draining us of our blood before throwing us away like garbage. We were used, and no matter what we did, they had a way of controlling us. They made us believe that we could not arm ourselves with powerful weapons, or they would destroy us. And, on multiple occasions, they showed exactly how they would do that. [She had only heard of the one missile, but the other ... she had been mere feet away from the blast. The image of the missile crashing into TonDC flashes in her mind. Along with it comes the understanding that Lexa had to allow this to happen, or else their greater goal would be compromised.

She regrets it now. Like many things she's decided swiftly, she hadn't thought of other options. No matter how much of a visionary she believes herself to be, she has often allowed herself to be limited to ruthless tactics. No matter how unemotional she makes herself out to be, she can be like a battering ram in other ways, certain and unwavering in all of her decisions.]

I created a coalition to fight this, but even with that, it was another, foreign group of people who brought forth change. They were a catalyst to making things better, and I used them. [Betrayed them. It's implicit in her words.]

Because even if they could offer us the relief we had been seeking, I saw a method to save my people and took it. Again, that is why I'm here. I will not die before they are stopped, lest more of my people come here. I will see the seawall's completion.

[And then ... what? Lexa resents the Nest, even as she knows it makes her stronger. She resents that she has to define herself by it, and risk losing parts of herself in the process.

She knows she is stuck on her thinking, knows that she is reluctant to give up her ways, but she has already lost so much.

Accepting that she will never see her people again is difficult, and that by being here, she is giving her life to both her people and the Nest. Accepting that she will never see Clarke again verges on impossible, and it's a notion that flickers in her mind and then is shoved away.

She will deal with it later.]

[Carata lets Lexa's cycling thoughts slip through her fingers, pass her by. She doesn't try to snatched at any of them, and she doesn't attention to re-directed them or calm her. She was remaking herself. It is late coming, by Carata's standards, but it is necessary. She would need to shake off the past- not hide from it, not forget it, not deny it, but leave it behind her, a thing that simply happened.

It didn't seem like she'd be successful, this time, but it was hardly, Carata's place to say.

It's an interesting story, though. Carata has not heard one exactly like it, although there were themes that carried. Still, for her it is just that. She pulls her coat tighter around her shoulders and glances up at the sky. It looked like the start of a storm.]

Maybe. Maybe not. [It sounded like the was intent to make the same choices, always. What a difficult and painful path to place yourself on. She was a difficult person. Carata sighs again, a soft sound, turning back to stand under the awning in front of the elevator. Her hair would go unmanageable if she stayed out in the rain.]

Do you think you will watch the game? Tickets are hard to come by, but there's plenty of places that will be broadcasting it.

[After a beat, she offers Carata a puzzled expression. It's an odd shift, but that's because Lexa is someone who is so focused on making a thing happen or determining that a thing must happen that it's surprising to be jarred out of her thoughts. Even the rain drops have done little to change her. She merely lifts her strands of wet hair out of her face where they won't disturb her.]

The sport that people enjoy here doesn't amuse me the same way. I prefer for things to be a touch more personal. [While she lives and breathes, at least.]

There was another matter, one that's just as heavy. If you don't mind. [It may be that Carata's attention has shifted, drifting away. Or maybe she had been meaning to make a point about the game. Lexa is openly puzzled, assuming that it was just a necessity at the time.]

It isn't my favorite entertainment either, but it's interesting to see, at least once, while you still can.

[It was loud. Violent. But there was a passion in it, and something charming about being a part of something that big. They were, already, but the Nest wasn't like that. The surge of energy that came with being in a crowd was unique.

Unfortunately, Lexa didn't seem like she wanted to discuss the unique experience that she had the chance to enjoy...]

If that's what you want. [There's an edge of weariness to her thoughts. She was willing to answer, even if she would rather talk about something less serious.]

Edited 2016-06-11 01:04 (UTC)

[For someone like Lexa, who is all strings as tightly wound as much as possible, leisure doesn't come easily. It's not that she's without her hobbies: she loves reading almost as much as she loves holding a sword. Reading helped her gain valuable lessons as a leader, but it was still something that was fun—something that she did and kept to herself.

She recognizes that she's very different from Carata in that way. Rigid instead of accepting. Cold instead of warm. These are truths she recognizes.]

Then perhaps when we're done, we can find a place broadcasting a match. You can feel free to explain what you can, or I can pick up on it on my own. [It's an offer to show that she's at least willing to try to make these necessary connections, even if she does a better job at thinking of the world as a problem to solve.

She pauses, not going on, to see if Carata will take her offer. It seems like a wise idea before she plunges forward like a hammer slamming a nail too deep into a wall.]

[The words- or perhaps simply the willingness- to bend her neck some little amount, is met with a clear, obvious, honest swelling of joy. A certain amount of anticipation. She may not love the game, but she would very much enjoy that.]

That would be nice. It has been a difficult few days, and it does not seem like it will get easier.

[She is not dwelling on possibles or maybes. She simply has a wealth of experience and the knowledge of how the mission has gone to this point. She is calm, she is not naive.]

What is it you need to know?

[The fact that she delivers both joy and anticipation does, at least, make Lexa happy. Finding a way to make things better for others is part of her goal as a commander, but she realizes she has to shift her thinking here a bit. This is just step one ... and she imagines that she might have to repeat it countless times before she makes it a habit.]

The difficult days are why I wanted to speak with you. Thanks to a combination of that individual showing up from my world and some help from Angel, I've learned more about a device that's inside of my neck. I believe I can access it to better help us with our goals here, but I'm having a difficult time fathoming where we should begin. [Calling the Flame a "device" feels strange, and there's a spike of uncertainty with the word, like she's trying to distance herself but it feels wrong all at the same time.]

What this can do is ... offer a technology that might heighten the technology here, offering it an evolutionary advantage. [Again, these words feel strange on her tongue.]

But as you can imagine, I don't want to paint a target on myself, nor do I want this information to fall into the wrong hands. But I think we do need to move quickly. There's a reason why this is all escalating.

[Carata feels the shape of her words, compares them with her thoughts, like distinguishing between tastes that linger on her tongue. She's not entirely certain, but from what she does know Carata understands a little, both her discomfort and what it is, exactly, she thinks she could do.

She hums, a thoughtful noise, but she's uncertain herself. Cautious. Reluctant.]

I understand why you would think it a good solution, but I cannot say I would agree. Our goal here is to undo the damage that has been done, not to counterbalance it. We should attempt to interfere with these people as little as possible.

[Her thoughts collect slowly, grains of sand filling a jar. She worries what would happen if the AI were given more power, all at once, hot on the heels of these attacks. Escalation would be only natural. Or perhaps not. Perhaps nothing bad would happen. Perhaps an asteroid would destroy all life- even artificial- on this planet in a week. Still, she doesn't think she would like to make a choice like that herself.]

It is, however, only my opinion. Whatever you chose to do, I suggest you keep the information and the study between yourself and your fellow hosts until you know how you want to use it.

[Revealing it to any of the citizens of Concordia was a surefire way to lose control of it.]

I agree with keeping it to ourselves. I don't want anyone to react to the possibility of it right now. [She has slowly revealed it to the Hosts one by one, seeing their reactions and weighing them. Her trip with Steve also offered helpful insight, and she knows that she still needs to speak to Anders about the similarities they share beyond what they've already noticed.]

But I had hoped that it would mitigate some of the concern. My people are hardly eager to embrace technology, but we've eagerly passed it from leader to leader. Its origins were lost to us until I came here, but it's still ... saved us and offered us hope. I had hoped it would help those who think this place is losing life would see that it can still remain.

[But that might be idealistic. What would her people do if they knew the truth of the Flame? Up until mere days ago, she had believed it to be an actual spirit, and not an evolving piece of technology.]

It might, for some. But there are many others who wouldn't see truth even if you laid if bare before them. For them, how they feel, their real and imagined slights, their fear is far more tangible. And there are others who would find your truth to be a confirmation of what they already fear. That steel and circuit can be life.

[She picks at her nails as she speaks, listening to the rain across the leaves, hitting the roof above them, patterning across the plasticrete under their feet. She sighs again, shaking her head, a loose shrug.]

It is a very complicated situation, I'm afraid. But I think you are right to learn what you can about it.

[Even if it didn't end up helping them here, it could help her in the future. It could help the rest of them, as well.]

I'm sorry if that isnt as straight forward of an answer as you were hoping for.

[It's genuine, but she doesn't feel too badly. She wasn't here to lead them, simply to lend a more experienced hand.]

Edited 2016-06-11 03:43 (UTC)

[The experience is precisely what she had been seeking. Lexa is hardly an unintelligent person, but there is still a great deal here that she is beginning to grasp. Understanding the underlying cause of the conflict here does not come easily to her, so she has hoped that she could provide something that could appease things. People fearing what must be inevitable will be difficult, but Carata's words at least offer her the depth and understanding that she has been seeking.

It will also offer her direction. Even the matter of questioning people would be difficult given her current position (one that she's building upon).]

Very little is straight forward in my experience. [She doesn't seem too bothered by it. Yes, it's disappointing, but she knows better than to act rashly. Besides, the other Hosts might have information on how to apply what she has within her just the same.] And you have been here longer, gathering information. We're all indebted to your knowledge.

[If it seems like gratitude, it's because it is. She sees Nirad and Carata as scouts sent ahead before a full operation could commence. She's fairly certain she's not wrong.]

That is kind of you to say, but we are just as grateful for your help- [Indebted wouldn't be the word that Carata chose, ever. She did not entirely believe in such things. But she thought she understood that sentiments such as that were important to Lexa.] It's not something we were counting on, but it is a definite boon.

[There were many aspects to this mission that Carata and Nirad were uniquely well suited for, but it wasn't always enough. The interference was shockingly well disguised, and it may, in the end, come to some kind of a fight. In that situation they wouldn't fare as well.]

Come on. I think I would like a warm drink before I return to my work.

[She glances out again across the rooftop gardens, many of the flowers closed to protect their fragile petals from the rain, the water beginning to pool enough to slip into the subtle grating. Better to be inside and warm, on a day like this.]

Edited 2016-06-11 17:25 (UTC)

[It wasn't something they were counting on? Curious, though not wholly surprising. Lexa hadn't thought there were any Hosts before she had come here—that is, aside from Cathaway, The Prince, and all the new individuals who had woke up at the same time or after her. Finding out about Carata and Nirad had been a surprise (and, admittedly, a relief: it meant that they weren't all fodder to be thrown away).]

That sounds like a good idea, [she says agreeably, and just as she had led before, she leads now, heading back toward the exit from the roof.]

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