[ What unfolds as soon as she responds from her direction is nothing simple, nothing restrained, it's grief raw and rips apart like a lava flow, because it is every touch and nuance of her mind, nothing escaped it. Grief, utter and whole. It's not a cold deadened thing right now that it might be with time, but it's a raw, twisting, hot thing, it burns and it burns and it burns. She's been crying, she's forgotten to eat, she can't move and it's harder even to think. Something had died in her when Parker had, something was gone, something was irreparably gone, and she will never have it back. Her skin feels heavy again, her clothes are cloying to her skin, like she's wretched and broken, nothing had hurt like this since Eridium, that had been different, that had been pure burning light and the betrayal of the only person she'd ever had, but this --
She carries guilt, she carries so much guilt, like this is somehow one more thing, one less thing, carries it like she deserves it and wants it gone from her because she wakes up in small bouts of sleep, clutching for something that isn't there.
Trusts Lexa or something near it and if not that, likes her, wants so much that surety. Wants to give something like it in return. It's what friends do, don't they? But she's capable of none of it. ]
( Are you asking me if I expected this? Or if I could go back if I could?)
[The immediate pain and grief she experiences nearly plunges Lexa somewhere that she doesn't want to feel. She felt the disconnect with the loss of Anduin, but she's trying to assume it's just that: a disconnect, a separation. It hadn't been as brutal, but there was some recognition that if she felt what she did with Parker, then it would be worse if Anduin had really died. At the same time, she is allowing herself to emphasize the disconnect. To feel nothing.
For a moment, she feels something. She feels guilt for her unkind words to the Prince. She feels guilt for contacting Angel without a single shred of sympathy.
She swallows it down. That isn't like her. She recalls standing alongside others to help them set aside their grief because it is weakness. To some degree, she knows that's a lie, a lesson she's swallowed whole because she's had no choice. To another degree, she believes it completely.]
(None of us have been given a full list of expectations. They merely assume that we'll act on information not provided.) [There is some contempt, and she uses it to cut through the negative feelings stirring in her heart—feelings that don't belong to her. She has no need for them. She is here to push, to redirect, not to care. She cannot be so weak as to care right now.]
(Would you feel the way you do without his words?)
[ She's still laying knotted up in bed, her pillow clutched in close. She's still too new, too childish in ways she'd never been allowed to grow up and process as others might. She'd been raised to care, to concern, if not with either of those things, because it made her easier to manipulate, in some ways, she'd gone so far past a point where it was easily done. She had no good opinions about the world.
In other ways, she cradled that care for others close in like grasping fire in her hands, that kindness that the world seemed so lacking in. The want to save and prevent others from the misery she had gone through, the misery she had been forced to watch and in turn caused.
The world was cruel and without mercy, she refused to be the same. She could not help but want different for herself, for others, it didn't have to be this way, she could see a thousand lives and she knew that there was more than Jack ever lead her to believe.
Even if the price was dry heaving with the pain of it. ]
(Yes. I'll always care what happens to us, to all of us. But not because I am told to. )
[Having the desire to protect and care for her people is one thing. Extending it beyond them is a near impossible task. When she looks at the lives lost in Mount Weather, she sees them as a necessary evil. She feels more connected to what happened there because of the pain she wrought in the people she does care about, rather than because lives were lost. So many of her own people had been lost to the Mountain Men. It's difficult to muster up the same sense of responsibility for "all" people.
It's the same when it comes to the other Hosts. They are still a necessary link, with some preferred over others. She thinks it would be wise to protect herself from the pain of feeling someone die. No, not thinks—knows.
That's how she processes things.]
(Many of us will die. That is why there are so few Hosts around beyond us. How will you manage if you feel such great guilt for all of them?) [Some part of her recognizes that she's being unfair in asking these types of questions of Angel now. She awaits her answer to see if it's a good idea to proceed, or to return later.
She's learned at least that much about her tendency to push others.]
[ For Angel "all" is easy. She is cut down here, and it grates that one town could be too much for her, where once she had been -- a whole planet, a whole moon, a space station that could hold thousands of people and the finite worlds encased in their technology. She had seen so much suffering, more than she could put to words, and there had never been much choice about it.
When Jack had caught her upset, his response had been to ask her to be cold about, to justify himself. 'See? Won't it be better when they're all gone? We can wipe them all out and make the universe a better place.' Because the fact was she had caused more death, more destruction, helped release such terrible things upon the world, than she could even put in a way that was understandable to the suffering she had allowed. She had been wrapped in this guilt for far too long, it was guided her, and kept her focused. Even if now, the pain of it was overwhelming.
( It ruins her, that she's still a product of Jack, even if it was to be defined in his negative space. ) ]
(Because I would rather use this guilt to make me a better person, than be the kind that doesn't feel it at all.)
[Lexa does not want to feel guilt because she sees it as a burden. That does not mean she is cold and unfeeling, but it does mean that she is able to make decisions that are questionable for the sake of all her people. She has only acted on behalf of her guilt once, but she stands by that decision and that agenda. Though members of Skaikru rejected her offer, she knew it was the right decision. She does not regret it (just as she cannot regret sending her soldiers out to die by their hands—it is a necessary choice as a leader).
But she recognizes this feeling. She has seen it in Clarke's eyes as she pressed a knife against her throat, and it was this feeling which dragged a rare apology out between her lips. Seeing someone so burdened by guilt makes Lexa uneasy, and some part of her wants to stop it.
It would be easier for others to not feel that at all. They will be more productive that way. That's what her logic tells her.
She knows human nature is not so simple. She knows that she's not so simple, and that she's had to train herself into being the person that she is today.]
(You treat it as if one is the endpoint of the other. They are not the same.)
[Because if she can do nothing to stop these deaths, if they ultimately fail in their goal to stop the beings who seek to kill them, then she will either be dead or will be lost in an abyss of guilt. It's not wise.]
(You can care without taking responsibility for all of them. It will be better for you in the long run. You will hurt less. You did nothing to cause that death. ) [But then, causality may not be the issue at all. Still, she finds herself worrying (perhaps surprisingly, she hasn't decided yet) of what this will end up costing Angel.]
[ She curls away from it, into herself further somehow, because compassion or worry isn't something she thinks this is only about purpose, about use. Lexa was a leader, brittle on the edges but strong. Full of purpose, just like Roland. She sucks in a breath, tries to find the words to explain something to put her at ease. ]
(I've been like this a long time, it's what it's means to have my abilities, to have done the things I have. )
[ crackles quietly, dulled noise, the tv muted from another room, murmuring pitches without definition to words. Ventures, because it's what she suspects this is really about. Need, use, purpose, it's what it always is, to her own experience. ]
(You don't... need to worry about me. I'm... I've worked through worse than this, trust me.
... It just hurts more than I can say right now.) [ the faint noise of glass clattering against each other, light and too hard it might just shatter. ] (I hope you don't feel this ever, Lexa, I might as well have felt the bullet kill me. )
[There is a flash of a girl's face in Lexa's mind, and after a beat, she stands and holds hands with Lexa. Her coloring is darker, far darker, but she smiles with an ease. The Lexa who stands next to her is younger, quicker to smile, but already a Commander. She's been at this for a while.
The image fades. Lexa swallows it back down. From where she stands, she can feel a tremble of her hands.
(She was hers, and she was taken away.)]
(I already have.) [She knows it's not the same. Physically, it's not the same. She knows that.
But to her, it is. It might as well be.]
(But it will be easier if you don't cling to what you could have done. We could do nothing.)
[In both scenarios, in both situations. Lexa did blame herself for Costia's death, and had taken great care to open up to none of her people after that. It was meant to protect them, and to keep her indifferent and distant.
(And then Clarke.)
Her hands steady. She breathes out. She will manage this weakness as she has many times before.]
[ She can't give much more of herself right now, not much left, empty gun casing, burning hot as it dropped to the ground. But laying there in the empty of much use.
Melt her down, start again. She takes a breath - ]
(I'll be alright in a little while I... just need to rest first.)
(Then rest. When you're ready, we should begin our lessons.)
[She sees it as a way of dismissing her, and she thinks that's fair. Given the mindset Lexa has in relation to this, it's hardly an easy topic, especially with how much it can take from her, too. She'd rather not delve into it, not when that wasn't her goal in the first place.]
[ She lets it go in a crackle. The flickers of light off of a bare wire, dimming like the power was cut. An empty dark room, she supposes that is fitting too. It's what it feels like after all. ]
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circumspector) wrote2016-03-14 03:55 pm
no subject
She carries guilt, she carries so much guilt, like this is somehow one more thing, one less thing, carries it like she deserves it and wants it gone from her because she wakes up in small bouts of sleep, clutching for something that isn't there.
Trusts Lexa or something near it and if not that, likes her, wants so much that surety. Wants to give something like it in return. It's what friends do, don't they? But she's capable of none of it. ]
( Are you asking me if I expected this? Or if I could go back if I could? )
no subject
For a moment, she feels something. She feels guilt for her unkind words to the Prince. She feels guilt for contacting Angel without a single shred of sympathy.
She swallows it down. That isn't like her. She recalls standing alongside others to help them set aside their grief because it is weakness. To some degree, she knows that's a lie, a lesson she's swallowed whole because she's had no choice. To another degree, she believes it completely.]
( None of us have been given a full list of expectations. They merely assume that we'll act on information not provided. ) [There is some contempt, and she uses it to cut through the negative feelings stirring in her heart—feelings that don't belong to her. She has no need for them. She is here to push, to redirect, not to care. She cannot be so weak as to care right now.]
( Would you feel the way you do without his words? )
no subject
In other ways, she cradled that care for others close in like grasping fire in her hands, that kindness that the world seemed so lacking in. The want to save and prevent others from the misery she had gone through, the misery she had been forced to watch and in turn caused.
The world was cruel and without mercy, she refused to be the same. She could not help but want different for herself, for others, it didn't have to be this way, she could see a thousand lives and she knew that there was more than Jack ever lead her to believe.
Even if the price was dry heaving with the pain of it. ]
( Yes. I'll always care what happens to us, to all of us. But not because I am told to. )
no subject
It's the same when it comes to the other Hosts. They are still a necessary link, with some preferred over others. She thinks it would be wise to protect herself from the pain of feeling someone die. No, not thinks—knows.
That's how she processes things.]
( Many of us will die. That is why there are so few Hosts around beyond us. How will you manage if you feel such great guilt for all of them? ) [Some part of her recognizes that she's being unfair in asking these types of questions of Angel now. She awaits her answer to see if it's a good idea to proceed, or to return later.
She's learned at least that much about her tendency to push others.]
no subject
When Jack had caught her upset, his response had been to ask her to be cold about, to justify himself. 'See? Won't it be better when they're all gone? We can wipe them all out and make the universe a better place.' Because the fact was she had caused more death, more destruction, helped release such terrible things upon the world, than she could even put in a way that was understandable to the suffering she had allowed. She had been wrapped in this guilt for far too long, it was guided her, and kept her focused. Even if now, the pain of it was overwhelming.
( It ruins her, that she's still a product of Jack, even if it was to be defined in his negative space. ) ]
( Because I would rather use this guilt to make me a better person, than be the kind that doesn't feel it at all. )
no subject
But she recognizes this feeling. She has seen it in Clarke's eyes as she pressed a knife against her throat, and it was this feeling which dragged a rare apology out between her lips. Seeing someone so burdened by guilt makes Lexa uneasy, and some part of her wants to stop it.
It would be easier for others to not feel that at all. They will be more productive that way. That's what her logic tells her.
She knows human nature is not so simple. She knows that she's not so simple, and that she's had to train herself into being the person that she is today.]
( You treat it as if one is the endpoint of the other. They are not the same. )
[Because if she can do nothing to stop these deaths, if they ultimately fail in their goal to stop the beings who seek to kill them, then she will either be dead or will be lost in an abyss of guilt. It's not wise.]
( You can care without taking responsibility for all of them. It will be better for you in the long run. You will hurt less. You did nothing to cause that death. ) [But then, causality may not be the issue at all. Still, she finds herself worrying (perhaps surprisingly, she hasn't decided yet) of what this will end up costing Angel.]
no subject
( I've been like this a long time, it's what it's means to have my abilities, to have done the things I have. )
[ crackles quietly, dulled noise, the tv muted from another room, murmuring pitches without definition to words. Ventures, because it's what she suspects this is really about. Need, use, purpose, it's what it always is, to her own experience. ]
( You don't... need to worry about me. I'm... I've worked through worse than this, trust me.
... It just hurts more than I can say right now. ) [ the faint noise of glass clattering against each other, light and too hard it might just shatter. ] ( I hope you don't feel this ever, Lexa, I might as well have felt the bullet kill me. )
no subject
The image fades. Lexa swallows it back down. From where she stands, she can feel a tremble of her hands.
(She was hers, and she was taken away.)]
( I already have. ) [She knows it's not the same. Physically, it's not the same. She knows that.
But to her, it is. It might as well be.]
( But it will be easier if you don't cling to what you could have done. We could do nothing. )
[In both scenarios, in both situations. Lexa did blame herself for Costia's death, and had taken great care to open up to none of her people after that. It was meant to protect them, and to keep her indifferent and distant.
(And then Clarke.)
Her hands steady. She breathes out. She will manage this weakness as she has many times before.]
no subject
Melt her down, start again. She takes a breath - ]
( I'll be alright in a little while I... just need to rest first. )
no subject
[She sees it as a way of dismissing her, and she thinks that's fair. Given the mindset Lexa has in relation to this, it's hardly an easy topic, especially with how much it can take from her, too. She'd rather not delve into it, not when that wasn't her goal in the first place.]
no subject
[ She lets it go in a crackle. The flickers of light off of a bare wire, dimming like the power was cut. An empty dark room, she supposes that is fitting too. It's what it feels like after all. ]