[Having seen her in the commons, she knows that she's been busy. They all know. Still, Lexa is torn between respecting her desire to keep busy in the face of this and coping with it. If given a choice, she would certainly do the former. But she's not Angel. Most of the time, that's a confusing thing for her.]
(Are you doing what you need to?) [It's an abstract question, one that's purposely left open-ended so that Angel can at least be marginally truthful with herself.]
[ She flinches from the concern like it hurts her. She is in pain, she has been in pain since Parker died. First him, then Romy, and now Ares. What is she being left with? ]
(I had a -whole brood-, Lexa, and now there is three of us left.
I am doing what I have to, to keep going. )
[ It's a snap, hurtful because of it. But even then it's not really angry, it's desperate, clinging to the things she has left to her, these little pieces. Hold on, hold on tight, but it's still slipping. ]
[Lexa draws in a sharp breath from her location. It is a snap, one that leaves her hesitating. It's so unlike Angel that she doesn't know how to respond. She doesn't mind that she's angry, or that she's reacting. It's the unfamiliarity that gives her pause more than anything.
She hesitates for a moment, recalling standing beside Clarke and telling her that she learned that love is weakness. Clarke had come to challenge that later, pressing her back up into a table until Lexa (avoiding the accusations) had admitted that Clarke herself had become a weakness; she had become someone to protect, to save even in the face of her people. She had been a selfish thing to hold on to, and one she had to cut away in an act that later proved to be a severe mistake.]
(Don't apologize.) [The words are abrupt, but not shared with malice.]
(Are you mad at yourself for caring? For letting it hurt you?)
[ It's all her, and it isn't. It's Petre's firey words as they sneer and hurt, it's Aoba call of her name, and the strange roar that comes from him that isn't at all like him. How much she tries to temper them both. She twists over her, guilty for snapping almost as quickly as she's done it. ]
(No.
I am mad at myself for not being able to do anything. For not being able to say goodbye again. I never got to make it up to Ares for scaring him.
Now he's gone. )
[ the could have been, should have done are heavy in her mouth, they taste like ash and dirt she's learning. But she swallows on it. ]
(It seems as if you're seeking reasons to be angry with yourself. Did you try to make him afraid? Did you ask him to fall into a deep sleep so you wouldn't have to deal with that regret? You did neither of these things, I'm certain. Don't let yourself be burdened by additional factors that have no place in the greater picture.)
[Angel already bears the weight of too much already.]
[ and that, that she shuts down on sharply. Sharp rejection of it like she's touching burning metal, dropping her fingers away quick and recoiling. Let it clatter on the proverbial floor between them. ]
(That's... not something I...)
[ Home - Jack - what Jack had made her do. She can't stomach it right now. ]
[She seems to mentally restrain herself, almost like yanking back on a chain. She considers what she's said.]
(A poor choice of words. I don't want you to feel as if you shoulder the responsibilities of everyone just because you have been made to feel that way before.)
[Angel is one of the few people that Lexa would bother to offer the kindness of an explanation.
And an apology:]
(I'm sorry. I hoped to make you see things from a different perspective.) [But she accepts her failure just the same.]
[ 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. )
(If you could be told, you had no point of comparison to know the truth. You cannot relive someone else's mistakes. It offers them power over you.)
[These words may be insensitive, but she can only curb so much of herself.
In truth, Lexa wonders if Angel knows how cruel she has been. Would she accept that Lexa left the girl she loved to die along with the rest of her people? Would she believe that Lexa left hundreds of her people to die, declaring that victory came on the back of sacrifice? She has killed countless times, so many times that she bears no marks for it. It became commonplace for her, and she only hasn't killed since becoming a Host because she understands that the worlds they've visited have different demands.
And she's had to adapt.
But she's even considered taking the lives of Hosts so that they would not be dragged down. She's considered staging events to ensure that they prune the weak.
These are thoughts she has, but doesn't share. Though if they knew her well enough, they would know to expect them.]
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circumspector) wrote2016-03-14 03:55 pm
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( Are you doing what you need to? ) [It's an abstract question, one that's purposely left open-ended so that Angel can at least be marginally truthful with herself.]
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( I had a -whole brood-, Lexa, and now there is three of us left.
I am doing what I have to, to keep going. )
[ It's a snap, hurtful because of it. But even then it's not really angry, it's desperate, clinging to the things she has left to her, these little pieces. Hold on, hold on tight, but it's still slipping. ]
( Sorry, I just... )
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She hesitates for a moment, recalling standing beside Clarke and telling her that she learned that love is weakness. Clarke had come to challenge that later, pressing her back up into a table until Lexa (avoiding the accusations) had admitted that Clarke herself had become a weakness; she had become someone to protect, to save even in the face of her people. She had been a selfish thing to hold on to, and one she had to cut away in an act that later proved to be a severe mistake.]
( Don't apologize. ) [The words are abrupt, but not shared with malice.]
( Are you mad at yourself for caring? For letting it hurt you? )
no subject
( No.
I am mad at myself for not being able to do anything. For not being able to say goodbye again. I never got to make it up to Ares for scaring him.
Now he's gone. )
[ the could have been, should have done are heavy in her mouth, they taste like ash and dirt she's learning. But she swallows on it. ]
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[Angel already bears the weight of too much already.]
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[ She blames herself so often and so much, she doesn't think much to keep doing it. ]
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[It's a heavy subject considering the circumstances under which she's asking, but she's approaching it for a reason.
Lexa assumes the point is inherent in her question.]
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( That's... not something I... )
[ Home - Jack - what Jack had made her do. She can't stomach it right now. ]
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( A poor choice of words. I don't want you to feel as if you shoulder the responsibilities of everyone just because you have been made to feel that way before. )
[Angel is one of the few people that Lexa would bother to offer the kindness of an explanation.
And an apology:]
( I'm sorry. I hoped to make you see things from a different perspective. ) [But she accepts her failure just the same.]
no subject
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. )
no subject
[These words may be insensitive, but she can only curb so much of herself.
In truth, Lexa wonders if Angel knows how cruel she has been. Would she accept that Lexa left the girl she loved to die along with the rest of her people? Would she believe that Lexa left hundreds of her people to die, declaring that victory came on the back of sacrifice? She has killed countless times, so many times that she bears no marks for it. It became commonplace for her, and she only hasn't killed since becoming a Host because she understands that the worlds they've visited have different demands.
And she's had to adapt.
But she's even considered taking the lives of Hosts so that they would not be dragged down. She's considered staging events to ensure that they prune the weak.
These are thoughts she has, but doesn't share. Though if they knew her well enough, they would know to expect them.]