[ There aren't words to explain it, and she -- feels bad. It's not Lexa's fault. Lexa can't imagine it, quite probably, what it's like to have been such a thing - not a persona, a thing, a tool, removed and alone. Desperate and raised to be demandingly cruel. What it's like to have trust, affection, caring, be used against her.
She's only trying to be there for a friend, and something swallows, on that apology, and she broadens her mind there. What weighs on her then, is what she keeps to herself most often, the sense of blood on her hands, and it's not the result of one or two deaths. She has caused the suffering of so many, and she caries it, tight and sharp in her own heart. ]
(I know you do... it's not you. I've done... a lot of bad things, and got told that I was somehow... making the world better for helping do it. )
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She's only trying to be there for a friend, and something swallows, on that apology, and she broadens her mind there. What weighs on her then, is what she keeps to herself most often, the sense of blood on her hands, and it's not the result of one or two deaths. She has caused the suffering of so many, and she caries it, tight and sharp in her own heart. ]
( I know you do... it's not you. I've done... a lot of bad things, and got told that I was somehow... making the world better for helping do it. )