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.

and the living are hungry.

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.”

and the living are hungry.

the dead are gone

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.”

and the living are hungry.