[Confusion enveloped by guilt, Lexa struggles to untangle what belongs to herself and what belongs to Clarke. The experience is frightening, because even wrapped together in bed sheets, there was always a private layer she could keep to herself. Contain herself. They had only just begun edging at that boundary of intimacy before this in Lexa's perspective. Perhaps the future yielded something different, but for as deliriously happy as it was, this is foreign terrain.
And yet she can't bear to sever that connection. Marking the disparity between Clarke's words and Clarke's feelings - theirs, blended into a single rushing torrent - she squeezes joined fingers.]
Shower. I'll wait for you outside.
[The rest can come later. Lexa allows that, recognizing beyond words (and through physical touch) how much it may be needed. Her urgency is soothed knowing the Coalition survived, so at least her death was not made vain, no matter how puzzling it is to consider Clarke succeeding her when she isn't Natblida.
She withdraws her hand, the blue glow cooling into nothingness, sternum left as if it hadn't been there at all. A strange alternation. She doesn't relish the thought of another digging around in her chest, but she has no memory of the experience. So like the Mountain Men, indeed.
Gathering her scarce new belongings, Lexa will carry them with her into another space to change, then return to her cot to wait for Clarke's return. The separation will, briefly, allow her to process what she's felt and heard.]
no subject
And yet she can't bear to sever that connection. Marking the disparity between Clarke's words and Clarke's feelings - theirs, blended into a single rushing torrent - she squeezes joined fingers.]
Shower. I'll wait for you outside.
[The rest can come later. Lexa allows that, recognizing beyond words (and through physical touch) how much it may be needed. Her urgency is soothed knowing the Coalition survived, so at least her death was not made vain, no matter how puzzling it is to consider Clarke succeeding her when she isn't Natblida.
She withdraws her hand, the blue glow cooling into nothingness, sternum left as if it hadn't been there at all. A strange alternation. She doesn't relish the thought of another digging around in her chest, but she has no memory of the experience. So like the Mountain Men, indeed.
Gathering her scarce new belongings, Lexa will carry them with her into another space to change, then return to her cot to wait for Clarke's return. The separation will, briefly, allow her to process what she's felt and heard.]