"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
04-05-2016, 11:57 AM (This post was last modified: 04-05-2016, 12:57 PM by Lexa.)
the dead are gone
She’s not entirely sure what to do with herself anymore.
Sometime after being knocked out during the battle, Lexa had woken up in the Jungle with a carbon shell at her side. She’d been frozen at first. Numb. She’d lost everything. Her mother and sister, gone.
After some time, she’d finally worked up the courage to dismantle the shell - her sister deserved a proper burial - and had discovered the truth. Larken was alive, somehow. Alive, but very much changed.
Her little grullo sister had turned pitch black, with a vibrant silver mane and tail. And the moment the carbon fell away, the sky had begun to storm overhead. Clearly a magician (likely Larken’s ‘other mother’) had been up to a few tricks.
But it’s easier to recover someone who’s throat has been ripped out, than someone who’s been burned to ash. Larken may have been brought back to life, but Lyris is gone. And Lexa knows that there’s no way to bring her back.
She’s kept to herself since the battle, except for her interactions with the somehow still ridiculous Larken (how had the girl not learned from dying?!). She’s embarrassed, horrified with her loss of control. She’s lucky Lagertha had knocked her out. She could have done so much damage.
But she can’t hide forever. The Jungle needs her, her queen needs her, her sister needs her. As much as she’s still hurting, she can’t allow herself to disappear into the remote reaches of the Jungle to grieve.
Steeling herself, she returns to the Jungle’s central clearing, and settles in to the shadow of an old Kapok tree. Maybe she’ll run into Lagertha, or Draconis … or maybe someone new.
The war brought to to light that which Lagertha had neglected; getting to know her Sisters. Had she been better aware of their strengths and what they could do, perhaps she could have given more direction and turned the tide. But that is far easier said than done, especially when chaos beyond most of their wildest dreams reigned on the field. Having command of one’s self is vastly different than having command of one’s troops. So to avoid that kind of disaster again, she must make a serious effort to dig deeper.
First, with her warriors. Second, with the pacifists. Lexa falls into both, she believes, and while the gray Khaleesi isn’t looking for anyone in particular, the spotted sister is as good a place to start as any. She’s seen the girl’s peculiar armor - not quite like her own, but just as effective (if not more so) - and couldn’t identify what it was. When she spies the girl (always a girl in her eyes) standing along, Lagertha alters her course in that direction, walking at a brisk, but not hurried pace, and with a neutral expression. Perhaps she will be as amusing as her mother was.
“Lexa,” she says when they are within earshot, “how are you doing? And how is Larken?” She wants to hear the real answer, but… appearing empathetic is not her forte. It never will be. She has other questions to ask, too, but niceties must come first. She looks the girl up and down not only to see if she bears any serious injuries from the battle, and also to determine what effects sadness and grief might have on her. Those were the unseen wounds, and often the ones that need the most healing.
04-17-2016, 11:52 PM (This post was last modified: 04-17-2016, 11:53 PM by Lexa.)
the dead are gone
She’s actually a little pleased when it’s Lagertha that finds her. She’d been intending on finding the Khaleesi for her actions during the battle, for preventing her from causing major damage, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so yet. Even now the words are reluctant to come out and she lets the Khaleesi’s greeting and questions distract her. Of course, the questions aren’t really easier to answer either.
“I’m … alright.” True, though that barely scrapes the surface. Guilt ridden, grieving and ashamed would perhaps be more descriptive, but Lagertha doesn’t need to know the details. She’s no doubt feeling some of the same, grief wise at least, given that she’d known Lyris for longer than Lexa has been alive. “And Larken, well, Larken takes after our mother.” Even more so after returning from the dead. “She’ll be fine.” More than fine, she has no doubt. Larken has spent every day since her resurrection practicing with her newfound abilities and waltzing about the Jungle as if nothing has changed. Lexa wonders sometimes if their mother’s death has even affected her (though really deep inside she knows that Larken is just as heartbroken as she is).
But she can’t keep brushing away what she really wants to say, the reason she’d been thinking of seeking Lagertha out. “I … I just want to say thank you Khaleesi. For stopping me during the battle. I lost control and …” She doesn’t want to think about what could have happened. “I won’t lose control again.”
They both know she’s putting up a bit of a front, but the thing is that Lagertha would absolutely do the same thing if their roles were reversed. Everyone mourns differently - some in private, some in public. Some only to their friends. So she does not call the younger Sister out on her thinly veiled almost-lie. The Khaleesi nods instead, a single bob of her head that accepts whatever truth Lexa is willing to offer.
As for the rest, well… Lagertha snorts. “You are young. We all lose control at some point, and like it or not, it will probably happen again.” She pauses, and adds wryly. “Emotions are funny like that. Apparently it’s how you know you’re alive, or some similar saying.” What goes unsaid is that had Sette been injured in the fighting, Lagertha would have gone apeshit, trying to poison everyone and everything that got in her way. She accepts the thanks and seamlessly moves on. She was only doing her duty as a Queen and General, and no thanks is needed for that.
Her gaze tightens in on the girl’s skin, flitting back and forth between her eyes and spots. “Tell me, Lexa, what exactly was it you were doing?” What is the extent of her abilities, and could it be used for other purposes as well? Luckily, Lagertha doesn't need to ask about Larken. She knows what the girl is up to - all she often has to do is look up.
Lexa’s grateful when Lagertha doesn’t pry any further. She has no doubt the Khaleesi sees right through her, but she has no desire to share that part of herself with Lagertha unless required to. She doesn’t know the Khaleesi well enough to want to share her grief, not yet anyhow.
“I certainly hope not.” She could have killed someone. Well, she had killed someone after Larken’s ‘death,’ but it had been an idiot Chamber mare who’d decided to attack her. No one could fault her for that one. But she could have killed one of the sisters or even one of their allies. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if that had happened.
Lagertha’s words do comfort her though. Somewhat. It is at least nice to know someone else understands, and doesn’t blame her for what had happened. She blames herself enough anyway.
Lagertha then asks about her ability and Lexa shifts awkwardly. She hasn’t really discussed what she can do in great detail with anyone before, not even Lyris or Larken, though they know more than anyone else. “Well I …” What exactly does she do? It’s so instinctive, and the parts of it that weren’t before have become so through practice. “I pull carbon from the earth and … shape it. To whatever I want - armour or weapon. Or even other things.” She pulls carbon from the ground beneath her and lets it settle over her coat, forming a thin and flexible, but diamond hard armour. It seems so long ago that she’d had to practice at this, but now it’s as easy as breathing. She pushes the carbon back into the earth, then pulls it back up in great black spikes that pierce through the damp Jungle soil. She lets the spikes disintegrate before turning her head to look at Lagertha. “It has its uses.”
It’s ridiculous for Lexa to start being shy now, when they were getting down to important topics. Her moment of hesitation is irritating for some reason, and Lagertha’s eyes narrow slightly at the young woman, while she purses her lips into a thin, tight line. These are life-and-death topics; A General and Queen asking about battle, not about Lexa’s love life. Not only that, but her abilities are something to be proud of, an inherent part of her and something to be spoken about frankly, as if they were discussing a pulled muscle or battle maneuver.
She keeps her silence, waiting for Lexa to find the words, and then to show her once again what she can do. The Khaleesi hums in the back of her throat, watching closely as armor that mirrors her own wraps itself around the spotted mare, and spikes splinter the damp ground before them. “Carbon? Is that in everything?” If she can pull something from the ground, it must be natural… and there is something in Lagertha, herself, that allows her to form ‘armor’ of naturally occurring things. Could Lexa have the same wide range? “Have you ever tried to apply to something that doesn’t have to do with battle? Do you think you could jump start plants?”
With that pointed question, Lagertha reveals a serious concern that’s been weighing on her mind for weeks - months now. The fire ravaged through the ‘front’ of the Jungle, leaving their first line of defense nothing more than hock-high saplings and shoots right now. Prague was sleeping, and Sunday had disappeared. Lagertha figures that they could wait for the Jungle to heal itself, or they could help it along - which, in turn, helps the Sisterhood. It isn’t essential, but she’s sure it would put many minds at ease. Including her own.
Lagertha
Warrior Queen of the Amazons
WOW so late. But thanks for sticking with me on this! <3
