( january open post ) hello, hello, hello

[skaikru]

Who: clarke griffin & you!
What: Sometimes couples therapy is you, your ex, and the person you both befriended.
When: (gestures vaguely at mid-late january)
Where: all over, like her own personal "welcome back" tour!
Warnings: none of note, will add as needed

i. i'm waking up at the start of the end of the world ( meta )

( something something falling in love is like falling asleep; slowly, and then all at once. except the last time clarke griffin remembers falling either in love or asleep, it'd been more akin to running five miles while already exhausted and promptly crashing on the first viable surface. waking up is easier, gentler. for the first time in a long time she hadn't been dreaming of bleeding out on sandy grass, or melting into the floor with grief in the middle of the labyrinth, or burning alive, or (insert ship or canon based trauma here). in fact, she hadn't been dreaming about anything. it's honestly quite refreshing.

the scratch of the couch is familiar. the ceiling in every single one of these identical cabins is familiar. and as she shifts and stretches with a slight groan it doesn't even register that the far wall is missing the carefully curated murder-board plastered above the desk. and that there's not a dozen prepacked go-bags stacked in every inch of extra space. and that she maybe isn't alone, or at least isn't alone with ruby rose. but give her a few seconds to blink the sleep out of her eyes and really focus, and the mask of relaxation that almost makes her look her age will vanish in favor of those well-worn worry lines.

then comes the "all at once", because clarke's sitting up. then immediately trying to stand up, only to discover her legs are the consistency of jelly from disuse, and thus collapsing gracelessly between the couch and the coffee table. absolutely donks her elbow pretty good on the edge of the table and now has to deal with the violent sensory feedback of the funny bone nerves running haywire across her stale spinal cord while trying to get her bearings as well. in the end, with a swell of disorientation that sounds a lot like waves crashing against her ear drum, she makes a rather graceless exit. )

ii. but it's feeling just like every other morning before ( cabins | closed )

a. natsuno yuuki
( immediately outside the cabin she pauses to read the number plaque beside the door frame. 113? what an odd place to end up; she can't even remember who occupied that room, the active list of ship occupants somewhat abandoned months (and months) ago. but it's not that far from what she'd still (begrudgingly) consider home. it's just a few paces, and slipping through the side hall between laundry and elevators to be back on the side with even cabin numbers. there's an initial instinct that demands she not be seen in this harried state of confusion and mild distress that has clarke keeping her head low and footsteps swift. at the door of 108 she's fishing out her shiptalk phone and scanning it against the lock, not even waiting for the telltale sound of the lock unlatching. just immediately reaching for the handle and coming up short when it rattles but doesn't give way.

what the hell?

but it's okay. it will be okay. and she's got a near immediate secondary plan of action.

back past the laundry and elevators, and raising a fist to hammer impatiently on the door of cabin 109, clarke swallows any embarrassment that flares up at the idea of recounting hey i woke up in a strange room and can't get into my own, help as she waits for natsuno to answer the door. she fidgets, bouncing on the balls of her feet in preparation to take off down the hall and hunt him down if he doesn't answer at all. )

b. rita mordio
( and after being clued in the fact that she's been locked out of her room because she'd been gone for four months, a lot of things shift around inside her skull. a new perspective forms, patchwork and full of holes; so much could happen in four months. eventually she'll extricate herself from natsuno, promising (promising) to see him again later. and most of her attention is diverted to making a mental list of items to immediately shop & pilfer the infirmary for, as this new segment of life on board the serena eterna means starting over essentially from scratch. thus far the list goes: sundries, bric n brac, also breakfast i'm so damn hungry right now. and then, maybe belatedly, oh, my other friends.

oh, rita.

rita who is right here, just across the hall from 109.

when raising her fist to knock on the other girls door, clarke briefly remembers how early it must be. there are no windows in the hallway to clue her in on if the sun has risen or not yet, but any other time she'd died the wakeup call had been a rude 6:00am. it's maybe 7 by now? is vanishing akin to dying? who even knows, and yeah, kinda feels like it. but there's not even enough time to properly descend into the mental depths of why did i come back and not some of the others — before the door slides open and she's preemptively holding up both palms. )

Okay, don't freak out but apparently I'm ba—

iii. now i wonder what my life is gonna mean if it's gone ( so open!!! )

( past tearful, high pitched reunions, clarke slots right back into well trodden pathways throughout the ship, head swimming. a good chunk of the people she's met in life both here and on earth would likely give a kidney to "start over", but in this reality she's found that building ones life from scratch is a major headache. there's a rolling list of places to visit, things to get, people to avoid or passively greet. there's the whole idea of reestablishing herself in a place that feels like it's worked into her bloodstream; such a familiar cage, now gone dusty in her absence. so much can change in four months, but! rusty survival skills prevail.

out of the corner of your eye, you may spot a familiar head of blonde hair darting among:

( a. ) the shops!! all of them get a pretty immediate visit from one clarke griffin as she seeks to remake her emergency stash go bags. she can be found on the floor. she can be seen in bric n brac, pulling a handful of novelty tote and drawstring bags off the hangers. or kneeling on the floor just past the checkout counter in sundries, shoving travel sized amenities and snacks into aforementioned bags. the infinite tommy bahama gets a visit too, where handfuls of socks and underwear meet the same fate as toiletries and she's haphazardly draped athletic gear over her shoulder for personal use.

(the infirmary gets robbed too, but she's in and out so fast — scalpels, a bone saw, gauze, needles, drugs — that it isn't a great spot to catch her. not even really worth the mention, unless you're fast.)

( b. ) or else playback, which is admittedly an entirely self serving, nostalgic stop. apparently there's a new addition to the teen area, and she spends more than a few seconds surveying the build-a-bear stuffing machine before systematically stepping on the pedal and wrapping rolls upon rolls of high grade polyester fiber around her knuckles. these could probably be useful.

another few careful, lengthy moments are spent at various arson sites from back on launch day, surveying the scorch marks like they're great works of art. and in whatever hallway maximilien had open fired on ari, clarke can briefly be found slotting fingers into the pitted bullet holes in the wall.

and then —

( c. ) she's been absolutely starving since she woke up, but had shoved that gnarled hunger to the back burner until later in the day, when it absolutely demands to be acknowledged. clarke takes a late 1pm lunch in stellar. it's a calculated choice, she can't remember ever seeing people flood to the fine dining area during its specified meal times. and she picks a table far off in the corner, shadows allowing the illusion of privacy whilst absolutely stuffing her face.

( d. ) it takes a bit of time to work herself up to visiting the memorial, but gritted teeth and the mental reminder she's done harder things in life means clarke doesn't allow herself to avoid the spot just because of the difficult emotions it might bring to the surface. she tries hard not to look at too many of the tokens placed in remembrance of the fallen. plenty of those who disappeared never came back, but the jury is out on if coming back is a gift or a dragged out curse.

but regardless of deeper meaning, clarke still feels resolutely naked without a weapon at her side. and as she hadn't asked where her gun and knife had ended up. maybe??? it'd be among the offerings here? (and if not, it's not as if she's above grave robbing but hopefully it doesn't come to that.) a great deal of effort is put into not focusing on the various artifacts spread around; a self imposed set of blinders settling over her eyes which only really alights upon a friendship bracelet stapled to a sketch page. when recognition hits, she rips that from the paper without much ceremony and spends an odd amount of time just running the pad of her thumb over the gently fraying fibers.

somewhat belatedly, and as a last act before vacating the scene like she'd just committed a crime, a remnant of hippo breath is also snatched up and plunged deep in the confines of a pocket. don't ask why, clarke genuinely has no explanation other than it called to her. )

iv. now it's over for me and it's over for you ( bridge | meta )

( even before her little impromptu, nonconsensual vacation it'd been a long time since clarke had hiked the stairwell all the way to the very top and parked herself outside that immovable door. what feels like ages ago, it'd been one of the first places on board the serena eterna she'd ever visited, and had kept a semi-constant vigil in those early days until it became obvious the captain was never going to open up and let them talk. maybe for others he'd materialize out front, and for even fewer select passengers (skulduggery pleasant and gal friday) they could step inside. but for clarke griffin the wheel had never turned, and it'd eventually been more a place to find silence and solitude than any real answers.

would things have played out differently if the captain had ever entertained her hostile negotiation intentions?

given everything, probably not.

whatever.

today it's a picnic venue. still so, so hungry after reawakening, clarke settles criss cross applesauce against the far wall and pulls out the freshly hoarded supply of sundries snacks from an inner pocket of her coat. pops pre-packaged trail mix while running through learned blood sigils just to make sure they were still fresh in the memory, or else humming to herself between chews of beef jerky. artificial evening eventually begins to color the sky... )

v. i believe the world is burning to the ground ( library )

a. open
( the last stop on this days venture is the one she'd purposefully avoided for as long as possible. the stacks still smell like thick pressed paper, leather bindings and leather armchairs, and the musk of mildly stale air. any signs of previous ship-wide vandalism are minimal, pretty much everything seems in good working condition, and...

and the chairs she and palamedes sextus spent so many hours occupying in quiet, mutual thought are unoccupied. they almost beckon, as much as any inanimate object can. and clarke's previous avoidance is well validated, as nothing seems as inviting in the moment as picking up a new book and curling into one of those chairs. she's heckin' tired after this full day of reacquainting herself with the world, and deposits various bags of acquired goods on the floor with a solid thump before taking up residence in a far corner chair. turns out being assigned a new cabin to sleep in was the worst shipwide betrayal of all, and — exhausted, but — with currently no plans to return to cabin 113 tonight she slinks down low and settles in. )

b. steve harrington
( clarke is halfway to dozing, huddled over a table and using her forearms as pillows when the sound of human life (footfalls, breathing, the rummaging through shelves) grates against the animal instinct dwelling in the back of her brain, and jerks her into an upright sitting position. one hand drops to her beltline but grasps at nothing — i still need to find a gun. never mind, there's still steak knives stolen from the dining areas stashed down by her ankles. but in the time it takes to reach for those implements of self defense, the cloud of sleep clears; the low lights of the library in its evening shroud still illuminate enough features, and her thoughts right themselves enough that recognition can works its way through surprise.

the shock comes in at last place, and has her half-rising — the scrape of chair legs against the floor high pitched and grating. )

I — Harrington?

( why is it so much more astounding to see this previously lost passenger back on board than to grasp the fact she'd been gone for a number of months herself? well, introspection on that bit requires a deep dive into how little one clarke griffin values her own importance. but also snakes back around to the fact it feels like a literal minute since she'd last been on board, and the several months he'd been gone take precedence.

also, maybe it's a little nice not to focus on her own vanishing for a second. maybe it's a little nice to see a familiar, non-hostile face. maybe, belatedly, a mild swell of hope will bloom in her chest that he won't be the only one. )

vi. oh well, i guess we're gonna find out ( ari )

( there's nothing quite like being laid up under witness protection, healing from grievous wounds and suddenly being texted by a ghost, is there? )

I'd like to speak with you.

vii. let's see how far we've come ( wild card )

( hit me, bitches. the girl is back, i'm hype for endgame, hmu for any specific plottings you'd like and let's dive back in! )

Comments

vi.

[astrogator]

i bet you would
prove you are who you claim

[Ari Tayrey's text messages are usually lengthier and friendlier, but eye injuries and paranoia have taken their toll. She's not risking leading an enemy straight to her. Caution is needed.]

[skaikru]

( all very fair and valid on ari's part, but on clarke's end it's the first time she's had to prove that she is who she says she is since returning. there's been having to prove she was real and not a stress hallucination, but nothing quite like this so, uuuuuh....

for a second clarke scrambles, prodding at hazy memories of her previous ship life and coming up with two examples that feel foolproof. )

When we first met, I was having a tantrum at a wall. And we talked about making tea out of those elderberries you won, but don't think we ever got around to it, did we...

[astrogator]

[It's her. Tayrey didn't tell other people about either of those things, so it must be her. Clarke, back here. The woman she had always expected to stand in her place as mission commander. It feels like so long ago that she disappeared.

She's reminded of Cassandra's horrendous theory that the people who return aren't the ones who left, but copied bodies, implanted memories. It makes Tayrey feel sick even to contemplate it. She doesn't believe it. This is Clarke Griffin, not some monstrous replica. A real person. A person who matters.]

it's you
sorry you're back in this nightmare
i'm hurt bad
many enemies
keep location secret?

[skaikru]

( honestly, ari had always been so prim and proper with her textual correspondences — just like palamedes — that the first tip off something was significantly wrong ought to have been the lack of capitalization. by now she's been given various sparknotes versions of the successful launch, and plenty of indication that tensions are running high in the aftermath. but reading those three little words "i'm hurt bad" have her eyes widening in response to the fluorescent screen.

it'd been foolish to think that relatively decent, refreshed and well rested mood she'd woken up in could last. it's just another day on board the serena eterna, and right back into the thick of things.

keep location secret? )

Of course I will.

How badly are you hurt?

[astrogator]

[She's not going to sugarcoat it, because Clarke needs to know what she's coming back into. What these people will do to a prisoner who tries to escape. It was never their captor's retaliation she was worried about; why should he lift a finger when his lackeys will do it all for him? Number Two hadn't tortured her personally in the Village either. This place is just the same.]

crush injuries bruised everywhere
lucky internal bleeding stopped
left arm fucked up
face is bad
will be covered in scars
not much vision left
hope it is temporary but ???

[Clarke is spacer-born, she might know what that means for someone like Tayrey. An astrogator. A pilot.]

i'm in arthur's cabin

[skaikru]

( in conversation with others, clarke makes a conscious effort to only ever refer to the other woman as "tayrey". that's how she'd introduced herself more than a year ago, that was the assumed preference, and even during the initial conspiring phase they never really got to know each other past the surname. thus that's what clarke uses out of a mark of respect, same way natsuno is only ever referred to as "yuuki" past the tightknit friend group. but.

reading that list of injuries like a shorthanded medical chart, she finds herself letting out a long sigh. ) Oh, Ari...

( like getting punched in the face with brutal reminders of raven reyes all over again, the brilliant mechanic shot in the back by one of their own and unable to walk without immense amounts of pain. it's a parallel that slots together all too neatly; just a few hours ago she'd been thinking fondly of her old friend and rockets. in the end, raven had managed well enough. raven had done more than her part in saving them all. and if hope could count for anything aboard this ravaged ship, clarke holds dear to the idea that parallel could become prophetic.

"arthur's cabin". the list she'd kept of rooms and occupants is probably gone, but it doesn't matter. she'll find it on instinct. )

You seen a doctor yet?

[astrogator]

[She's been Tayrey to everyone since she was thirteen years old. There are degrees of formality in her society; the only people to regularly use her unadorned first name are her father and her childhood friends. If others use it, people who care for her, it's rare. It has a particular significance. That something is very wrong.

So she'd appreciate it from Clarke Griffin, that once. If she knew.

A doctor. She'd laugh at that, if laughing wouldn't pain her so badly.]

seen no doctor
don't know where watson stands
infirmary not safe
friends patched me up
got meds

[skaikru]

( after disappointing and abandoning her friends to wallow in their own heartbreak, the second most upsetting part about disappearing was how quickly her stockpile of supplies had vanished. done away with, passed around, or maybe still locked in the cabin she has no ability to enter anymore. all the snacks pilfered from sundries, the handmade maps and murder boards, the sketches and magical items and hoarded steak knives just gone. medical supplies too.

but clarke's been anything but idle this first day back, and had already set upon the infirmary like a kleptomaniac tornado. she spends the next ten seconds hastily taking stock of every roll of bandages, antiseptic, painkiller, scalpel and needle currently in her possession, and shoving them into the pockets of her quarter-zip tommy bahama sweatshirt and then making sure her boots were laced up well. )

I was training to be a doctor, you know.

( that's the last quick text that'll be sent from clarke's end. let it serve as important information in case of future injuries, and also maybe a bit of a warning that ari will be aggressively fussed over in approximately two minutes.

the next contact the two of them will have is the sound of sharp, impatient knocking outside arthur lester's cabin. )

[astrogator]

[It's not Tayrey who opens the cabin door but one of her minders, one of the kind people keeping her safe while she's in no position to defend herself from another attack. Whichever of them it is today, they slip out to let her talk to Clarke uninterrupted.

Ari Tayrey is in the cabin's sole bed, propped up in a seated position. She wasn't exaggerating her condition. Her face is swathed in bandages and dressings, with one eye completely covered and the other still swollen. Her left arm is similarly obscured. More clean white bandaging, thicker at the shoulder. There's a red welt across her throat, just beginning to fade. The visible skin on her right arm is covered in bruises and scabbed cuts. Tayrey's wearing a loose vest - for once not that Tradeliner jacket she's so proud of. Beneath it lies more damage. More deep cuts, dark bruises all over her torso.]

Peace and prosperity. [There is neither peace nor prosperity in this absolute hell that is Tayrey's life on this ship, but still she says it. She says it because she remains a Tradeliner, and because she holds out hope for something better. She won't give up. Won't accept that there's nothing for her but this.]

I didn't ask. How are you? [If she's not staring at Clarke in wonder it's because the other woman is too far away to be more than a blur. She's not so wrapped up in her own pain that she can't think of others. She realised, between text messages. Tayrey is having a rough time, no doubting it, but Clarke? In the unrelenting torture of the Nothing for months? It's the young lieutenant who should be comforting her, really, not the other way around.]

[skaikru]

( it wasn't like clarke was expecting ari to answer the door herself, not after the tellings of a vicious animal attack that went so far as to reduce the other woman to not capitalizing her sentences. but when one of the minders opens the door, there's a hint of taken aback. the beginnings of a fighting stance before she must remind herself that they're on the same side here, even if not close friends. and in the end, that moment of trepidation was all for nothing anyways. they vacate the room, leaving just her and the heavily bandaged silhouette of ari tayrey.

for a long moment, she hesitates by the door. but the stilted, pained welcome of peace and prosperity pulls her out of the imprints her boots make on the carpet. draw her near. )

Compared to you? I'm doing great. ( it isn't meant to be an unkind barb, just blunt and to the point. clarke steels herself, then creeps forward bracing for the scent of blood, pain sweat gone stale, or maybe even infection out of habit. she does not ask before perching on the edge of ari's sickbed, but moves slowly. a lot of effort is exerted in the effort to not look at the other woman with an overwhelming amount of pity, but it's hard. some absolutely leaks through, then redoubled on itself and leaves clarke feeling a tad guilty she'd not been here to prevent something like this — as if she'd ever been able to prevent suffering on board the serena eterna to begin with. )

Like I just took a four month nap that I don't even remember.

( other than it feeling distinctly uncomfortable that ari would be the one extending a comforting hand at this time in her life, there's also literally nothing to comfort. coming back has been hard — clarke has been punched, magicked at, and lowkey tossed down a flight of stairs. but the only really hard part has been looking into the faces of friends she'd unintentionally left and feeling their grief wash over her.

and that's nothing. )

[astrogator]

[Ari hadn't grieved for Clarke, as such, because they hadn't been close enough for that, but she'd felt the loss. The loss of someone outspoken, and as dedicated to escaping as she was. She had a certain respect for the other woman back then, a sentiment that led her to call Clarke commander until she'd been told to cut it out. Ari Tayrey, looking for a hierarchy, looking for someone to play loyal lieutenant to because that's what she knew how to do and she was very good at it. Yet that person had never been Clarke. She'd never wanted to lead this desperate revolution.

Now Tayrey is the mission commander, for whatever it's worth.

Clarke draws closer, and yes, the sickbed aroma carries a little stale sweat, a little blood - but antiseptic, too. Tayrey's no medic, but she'd had to play nurse through a temporal rift once and it left her with a horror of infection. She'd rather not lose a limb. Her wounds have been cleaned, the dressings changed as regularly as she can manage, but that's it. It's probably overdue. She's tired. She sees Clarke now, a face close enough to come into hazy focus. Ordinarily she'd feel shamed by that pity that she can see in the other woman's eyes, but today she just accepts it. It's better than the scorn and anger and hate that lies outside the door.]

You don't remember it? The Nothing?

[Her visible eye begins to water, because that is Tayrey's terror, the very worst that can be done to her, the reason she fights so hard.]

I'm glad for you. That you were spared that. I- how much do you know already? About what happened?

[Knowing how to focus through pain doesn't mean it isn't an effort. She doesn't want to repeat a story already told.]

[skaikru]

( on her end, clarke has no idea reporting her month-long nap in the nothing as "honestly, kinda restful and rejuvenating" is about to cause ari an existential crisis about all she's fought to avoid. for whatever it would be worth, she remembers the agonizing hours (hours which felt like eternity) spent floating in the nothing on that halloween. after all, there'd been a reason that the first time they'd met, clarke had been so hostile and was screaming at the ships ghosts between throwing bowls of tomato soup at the walls. )

Not this time, at least.

( clarke even goes so far as to offer a half hearted ghost of a smile, an additional reassurance that she's alright. but then clocks the distinct wet look that comes across ari's one visible eye. her face falls, she retracts that sentiment internally and tries to buckle down. there is still the inescapable urge to tend, as her hands hover around the bandages and drugs that bulge out of her pocket. but right now they seem to be moving right along towards business, and clarke can't fault that either.

she knows a little, but wants to know everything. that's the real curse of having been gone so long, there's so much she hasn't been able to dig her claws into and learn from.

with a hard swallow, ) I know you managed to breach the barrier. I saw all the destruction it took to get there. I know you were trying to call for help, but that a lot of people here didn't take kindly to it. ( she pauses to inhale a deep, almost rattling breath through her teeth. ) And I know I'm sad I wasn't here to see it.

But I'm here now. And I want to help, Tayrey. What else should I know?

[astrogator]

[Ari wants tending. Needs it, even if she didn't want it - but business must come first. Even like this, when she's in such a state that in the worst moment of the worst war her people had ever known, they'd have taken one look at her and told her she was off duty and probably on the next shuttle out of there.

There is no off duty on this ship. Never has been. Nothing but the work.

Clarke wants to know. Clarke needs to know. Where to begin?]

There was [an excursion] a torture trip, last month, and one of the bastard collaborators signed my name for it because they were too cowardly to confront me. It was rough. Near as bad as this, what they did. Weeks of it. And then I'm back here without a mark on me, like I'm some fucking toy. Like it was all simulation. Imagine it. If we all carried the marks of all the things that were done to us here. The scars. Evidence for when they talk about their friend, their fucking captain like he's anything more than a depraved torturer.

[This isn't business, Tayrey, it's a rant. She can't help it, though, that rage and frustration spilling over.

She stops, tries to take a deep breath and winces when her bruised ribs make their protest.]

But what you actually need to know - I need your word, first. Word by contract that this information goes no further than I allow. That you...respect my decisions, as mission commander. [She'd stepped up, because nobody else was going to.] People will get hurt, if you break your word. So no tricks. No claims that contract doesn't matter in your culture, which is the excuse I've heard for the animal who did this to me after agreeing by contract not to harm me. If your word by contract means nothing then pledge on your honor or your soul or your dead ancestors or whatever damn thing counts for you. [She coughs, turning her head into her uninjured shoulder, and then gives Clarke a determined look, that eye shining brightly.] Your loyalty. Not in every matter - but in this one. I need it.

[skaikru]

( honestly, it's a welcome rant. so many of her own sentiments are being parroted back to her right now, each laden with the appropriate amount of derision and hatred. it's refreshing, it's validating. it's making clarke regret her absence — and even before that, not sticking herself to ari tayrey's side like glue so they each could fuel the others resolve. earths recent history is dotted with plenty of missteps and mistaken moments of trust pertaining to one clarke griffin, and even on the ship once upon a time she'd imagined skulduggery pleasant to be fit to tackle their communal captain problem.

look how that had turned out.

anyways, the end goal is still to peel back those bandages, get a proper look at the wounds beneath, and render any additional aid she can. but in the meantime clarke is stock still, listening intently as ari's rant washes over her like waves. )

I don't know. I'm kind of glad my arm got reattached.

( this almost passes for a joke. somewhat light and airy, a fraction of a smile working through the pressing concern and focus that veil her face. but the battle royale is still such a sour, sour memory that digs hooks into the back of her brain. and then there's the knowledge that her body has been dissected and a kidney withheld upon reassembly back in the earlier days.

but ari buckles down. bites back even more unkind (and entirely just!) sentiments she may desire to share. the other woman is respectable as always for the way she muscles through pain and anger to get right down to business, just like so many leaders clarke's known before her. better suited for the task at hand than her, with the odds still in her favor — maybe no one would die needlessly on the heels of ari's plan.

time would tell. but let her hope. and in the meantime, let her scramble for what of possible worth she could pledge upon. )

I swear. ( but what does she have of value to offer? not her own soul, and there's no sparkling, honorable reputation in sight here. a great deal of her culture has already been erased when the ark crashed down planet side, and she's been on the serena eterna longer than they'd ever lived on earth.

but what counts? what actually matters to clarke griffin? (what always has...) )

On the lives of my friends. Please, tell me.

[astrogator]

[It counts. She won't say it, because they aren't out on the Tradelines and pride can be a prickly thing, but with those few words, Clarke has joined the team. To Ari's mind, she's one of Ari's people, just as sure as if she'd been Clarke's section lieutenant back home. And Lieutenant Tayrey will go to exceptional lengths for her people.]

You must wonder why I made the... tactical blunder of announcing what I'd done. [It certainly wasn't done to quell the riot, which she'd have happily let rage until it burned itself out.] I knew they'd need a target - and I have a team behind me. People who put their trust in me. Worked hard to accomplish this. So I knew someone had to take the fall, be the target for Skulduggery and his allies, and I knew it was me. My real miscalculation? I thought the low-orbiters in the middle might be upset about the fires but have hope once they heard my plan. I thought some of them might thank me. [A bitter, pained laugh.] Instead they're spiralling as if I'd invited in every possible monster in every possible universe and there are no good people who might just... answer a distress call. To help.

Siffleur when he did this to me? He made out that I was entitled. That I should be happy here. Happy my captor gives me food and a bed. Not wanting any more out of life. It's...a profoundly disturbing mentality but maybe more of them have it than I thought.

Anyway. The team. Yuuki and Rita. Crichton and Arthur. Fever. Cassandra. Sparkles. [She doesn't hesitate or wait for a reaction here, just carries right on.] They all want freedom just as we do. Don't all like each other, but they can set that aside for the mission and that's all that matters. Sparkles is the one who found the probe. [So Sparkles is an integral part of the team, like it or not.]

[skaikru]

( and good leaders will do anything for their people.

clarke may not have seen the potential in ari before, but the more she's learned and the more the other woman talks, the more it sinks in. the more old voices begin to filter through the neural mesh of her brain, inviting thelonious jaha to remind her that leadership is a lonely pursuit. she hears prince roan instilling the fact that someday, they will thank you for this.

i have a team behind me, ari offers to explain why she'd voluntarily taken the brunt of the fallout. and clarke translates that in her own brain to palatable, familiar terms. i bear it, so they don't have to. she nods in understanding, but her heart subsequently aches. she has her own thoughts about the prospect of good people answering the distress call, because there was no guarantee it'd be people at all who responded and at the end of the day there were no such thing as good guys. but in the end none of that takes away from the victory ari has accomplished just getting anything out of this prison sphere. and what she's been peddling to the likes of ava and valdis since reawakening is a message of hope. there are three options available to them now: no one ever hears the s.o.s message, someone does and comes to help, someone comes to conquer and they fight their hearts out against it.

the idea they ought to be grateful for basic ammenities? clarke finds herself shaking her head before even meaning to. sure, running water and an abundance of food and medicine is arguably great, but ) I'd have rather suffered without than be shackled with. ( unspoken: i would have found a way to survive it.

a fierce sort of pride leaks in at the mention of natsuno and rita being at the helm of this coup. the first names ari mentions, the people clarke had kept close the entire time she'd been on board. the other names are filed away as potential allies, but the last one.

the last one... )

I still don't know how I feel about Sparkles.

( there is an acceptance in her tone regardless. one cannot always choose their battle mates, but as already illustrated that doesn't mean like has to factor in. clarke's last memory of the shadowy child figure had been it looming above them with fio's comatose body slack on the rooftop. dig a little deeper and maybe it's just mystery more than dislike. sometimes she thinks things could have turned out different if the captain ever deigned to open up the bridge door and talk to her, but it's too late to dwell on that now. )

I'd like to talk to them myself, but I don't know where the go for that.

[astrogator]

[Some decisions are inconsequential and some make history. What would have changed if long ago a djinn had opened his door to a nervous young lieutenant who thought she was going to speak to a truly alien captain who had taken her captive? Everything? Nothing at all?

She'd been looking for someone else to take action, at first. Someone she could throw her weight behind. Until she'd realised that nobody here would save her, that if she was going to get out of this nightmare she'd need to do the work herself, to be the leader she thought she needed. Nobody could fault her single-minded dedication from that point on, driven by her longing for home, her fear not of mere death but of eternal torture. Death is nothing to Tayrey now; she'd take it in a heartbeat over continued imprisonment here. This ship being utterly destroyed is an outcome she'd take over where inaction leads, and anyone who can get them out to freedom, no matter their price, is good in her eyes. Better than this.

She nods, slowly, at Clarke's response to her mention of Siffleur's attitude. Of course. Arilanna Tayrey may have been raised in luxury but she's faced her share of adverse circumstances out in space, and even at the worst moments - loss, injury, desperately trying to find a safe path through deep space while half-starving on half-rations - neither she nor any member of the crew would have agreed to a comfortable imprisonment in place of their hardships.

And this isn't comfortable. She's never been the same since the labyrinth room. Too much damage. Then the Village, unspeakable torture that didn't break her because she had the launch plan to focus on, but which came damn close all the same. Then the launch, which should have been her moment of triumph but instead led to hatred and violence against her. When she'd gone to her team with what she thought was good news only to be told their mission was a failure, to face the threat of her own people handing her over for more torture - no, not intentionally, but it would have amounted to the same thing. Tayrey's nerves are in tatters, her body pains her with every breath, but still - there is work to be done.]

Sparkles caused terrible harm because it wanted to be free. And then it stopped. It's a child, really. A child who never had a chance in life. People tell me it's the same person as our captor but I don't see that. Closer to a child of his, maybe. A clone, at the place of splitting. But Sparkles is an individual who has been harmed by him just as we have. I'm teaching it to do better. Not saying you have to forgive, or... well, talking to it can't hurt.

[A pause, another little pained gasp.] The cabin next to mine. Knock, and expect it to appear beside you. Tell it you're a friend of mine. Might help.

[Might not. She's not so sure that Sparkles isn't jealous of Crichton for that very reason, but that's something to soothe when all this is over. A concern for after.

How much can she trust Clarke? Enough. She tries to sit up straighter, stifling a groan as she does.]

One more thing.

Someone saw our beacon. I had an answer.

[skaikru]

( clarke is still ultimately unsold on sparkles. it certainly means something for it to become an ally with them in these darker times, but it had also forced her into a room with the dead body of her best friend and tricked her into grief overcoming the will to live. and clarke knows children to be some of the most brutal creatures around.

she'll have to mull this one over, or at least compose herself enough to try to seek it out and see if a new conclusion could be arrived at. the cabin next to ari's. knock. tell it they were friends. all noted.

the other woman moves, scooting up her pillows with her face the picturesque equivalent of pain, and bedside instinct kicks in. clarke shifts forward a little, reaching out to... what, help her up? push her back down? don't strain yourself. or to maybe finally pick at those bandages that really look like they need a changing. all good intentions coming in, crowding ari's space. only to be hit with a proverbial right hook of information. her mouth falls open and may never close again, for a long few seconds clarke just gapes at her. )

You what?

( like, seriously ari babe — )

You should have lead with that. I, what — who?

[astrogator]

[Maybe she should have, but trust is so hard these days. She has no response to the look on Clarke's face but a small incline of her head, a little apologetic twitch of her lips.]

An anonymous 'friend', with a ship. Wants to help us gain freedom, with this ship itself as the price. Claims to have some kind of interdimensional museum and wants it for an exhibit. All we have to do is put this special red string around the neck of our captor. It'll enable our correspondent to get through, while maintaining the integrity of our bubble.

[A long pause, a soft sigh.] I don't think it's that simple or that we can take the message purely at face value, but I think we're capable of dealing with the complications. And to have an answer at all! Probability smiled on us, to get one so soon. Only-

[Sorrow, now, in that one eye of hers.] I took it to my team and they called the mission a failure. They thought it could be offering freedom for me and nobody else, because of linguistic ambiguity, as if I- [another sharp breath, and when she speaks again, it's much more slowly and deliberately.] I have always said that if I found a way out it would be for everyone who wants it, all of his prisoners. I meant it. Even Skulduggery. Even Siffleur. My word means something. That's what I'd negotiate for. [She's criticised so often for her rigid adherence to Tradeline codes, and yet people still don't understand what they mean. Integrity, even when plain selfishness would be easier.]

And they fretted over our captor. Thinking this person might want to keep him in their exhibit. Frankly I do not care what happens to a man who kidnapped and imprisoned and tortured tens of thousands of people. I really don't. I care far more about getting the surviving innocent people out of his prison. But they care. And they wanted to tell the whole ship about the letter. I had to point out explicitly that people like Skulduggery and Maximilien would have no qualms about hunting me down and torturing me until I gave up the string's location if they knew - and how long could I hope to hold out, in this condition? [They hadn't thought about her at all, and she'd panicked, thinking they were discarding her, their failed commander. It had taken everything she had to pull back from that.]

I secured their silence in return for delay. They want more information before we use the string. That's reasonable. To a point. If they can find it. [But she won't delay indefinitely.]

[skaikru]

( once more, clarke must repeatedly kick herself for her untimely disappearance. they still don't know enough about why people vanish when they do, but the thought has been kicked around that maybe their souls give up and grow too weak to last here; the misery becomes too much, the fight too hard, and then just — poof one day. and if there's any scrap of truth behind that sentiment, she knows herself to be guilty of it. starting from the labyrinth and the subsequent disappearance of palamedes, things hadn't been right and she'd been unable to regain her slippery footing. the captain's wants and systems had become inevitable, their salvation unlikely. and then she turns back up in the midst of chaos, with a lot to catch up on, but an effervescent, blinding beacon of hope burning like wildfire in her chest.

and all of that is thanks to ari. and if only clarke had been here when it all went down, and spent the time to get situated in ari's good graces and trust, things could have turned out differently. )

I know you meant it, ( is all she can get out at first. the words strangle themselves a little in the back of her throat, but they make it out with all the emphasis of someone absolving a loved on on their death bed, trying to ease the pain. and she nods vigorously to go along with the affirmation. the following summary of ari's disappointing conversation with her conglomerate stings a little, and sets an un-scratchable itch beneath her skin at the likes of skulduggery and maximilien snuffing out this little flame of hope kindled in her heart. it sounds like ari made the right call, and at least pacified her people as best she could before being laid up in bed. but it still leaves too many playing pieces on the board, and a knot twisting clarke's insides.

she has to swallow hard. )

I don't know. Short of getting another rocket through, I don't see how they could get any more information.

( the need to be useful claws at her insides with sharp talons. she wants to offer to carry a portion of this burden for ari, but isn't so bold to ask to take custody of the string. and is far to disoriented by how things have changed in her absence to take up the mantle of spokesperson. but ari has trusted her with this much, so it doesn't feel completely out of place to ask: )

Could I read the letter?

[astrogator]

[It hadn't even been before. Lieutenant Tayrey had dragged herself out of bed to hold that meeting, held off Rita's concerns about her with the thin assurance that she was fine, that she'd explain it later. But the sight of her had spoken for itself. They must have seen what people on this ship were willing to do to her, and that out of pure revenge. How much worse would it be if their cruelty had a sharper focus?

She never had to decide whether she'd be willing to go against the others, if after the delay they still don't want to use the string. They might never get this close to escape again. A good leader shouldn't disregard her people. Solid arguments either way, but the truth is that she's physically incapable of doing what would need to be done. Trying to use it and failing would be the worst of both worlds, and not something she will risk.

Clarke, though. They were never as close as they could have been, existed mostly in parallel. Tayrey's fresh hope had met with Clarke's weary suffering, once, and now she's the damaged one. That bright flame gone to embers, a small, small thing in need of a shielding hand, a breath of invigoration that might never come. I know you meant it, says Clarke, and that prompts a pained smile from her. It matters. It matters that there are still people who don't think the worst of her. She always stood by her beliefs. Lieutenant Tayrey was never a passenger.]

I don't know. Some of them think Sparkles might know something. I think they meant to talk to it. Or the others, carefully. I talked to Ava, she says our captor has given up, that he's defeated and it's all ending soon anyway because he can't maintain this place without thousands of tortured souls to power it. Could be true. Could be to give me a false sense of security. [She was skeptical, right after the little leap of pride in her heart that she'd done what she always said she would, made him regret kidnapping a Tradeliner - because why would Ava freely share that information? And if it were the truth, why did Ava's allies hate her so much for trying to find a way out? They value her captor more than her, yes, and that disgusts her, when she wants freedom for even the worst of them - but what about their own lives, if staying here isn't an option for them any longer?

At last she circles back to the important question. It's an easy decision.] You can read the letter, but you'll have to help me to my cabin to get it. I can walk. Ankles look a mess but the damage is mostly superficial. [Dragged back by them as she'd tried to crawl away. Slipping on her own blood. The flash of sharp teeth and - no. Not the time, Tayrey. Hold it together. She forces herself to focus on Clarke in front of her.] More of a security escort. If you'll do it.

[skaikru]

( perhaps in the deep fabric of space and time and fate, there was a real reason they'd never become friends. perhaps, as much as clarke would like to believe she'd side unrepentantly with ari if given the opportunity, things wouldn't have played out that way. friends fall out, commanding personalities clash even if one is reluctant. maybe they'd been strategically kept afar like distant stars so they — their ideals, their ambition, their goals, their drive — could collide just like this. just in this moment. regardless of any regrets, or the ifs, ands or buts, one could not deny the heavens seemed to have aligned perfectly at the end. )

Ava and Valdis implied as much to me, too. They both looked tired, too tired to put up a front.

( both women had more or less drafted their obituaries out loud to clarke in the library, expecting hell and not letting slip any plans to avoid it. the masses are beaten down, the commander is bloodied and broken, and she'd returned fresh and ready to undertake their fight.

a gush of hot relief courses through her as ari assents to sharing the letter with her. it's old-ish news where clarke's concerned, something she already missed and now another piece of the puzzle to slot into place before moving forward. it's a solid stepping stone on this steep mountain pass they still need to summit, and it's another sign of abject trust between the two of them that makes her stomach flip flop with aggressive butterflies.

but also, like, ari. dude. )

I don't know how much of an escort I can be. Almost all my belongings were spread out or destroyed, I don't even have a gun anymore. And I meant it — once upon a time I was going to be a doctor, and cannot in good faith ask you to move right now. You need to rest.

[astrogator]

[She considers arguing the point. She was up on her feet for that meeting, and it hadn't caused too much damage. Maybe she'd bled through in a couple of places but she hadn't even noticed it until after, with how heated it had all gotten. Yet she knows, on some level, what a needless argument it would be. She has trusted Clarke this far. What's a little further?

Another little sigh, but this time she leans back against the pillows.] I'd say I'd rest when I'm off-duty, but that's... not until we're free. [Not terribly helpful, then.] Only a good Tradeliner listens to her medic when she's wounded instead of just pressing on, right? [This is Ari, relenting.] The bottom drawer below the covered flatvid screen. [The television, which has a cloth draped over it at all times.] There are a set of paper folders there. It's inside the one marked Tradeline In-System Flight Regulations, towards the back. [Something dull enough that even someone trying to snoop around her cabin wouldn't discover it, especially as that drawer is full of similar printouts from her slate computer. Lots of uninteresting Tradeline material.]

I'll give you my cabin keycard and you can read it. Read it there, take as long as you want, but then put it back; don't carry it through the ship.

[After a fractional hesitation-] And be careful with Valdis. Ava's loyalties are clear enough, and not with us. Valdis - you remember how she was at our meetings? She thinks she's superior to us mortals, and she'd turn on a commander in a heartbeat if they made a decision she didn't like. [Tayrey saw that long ago, with Nobunaga.] She's upset that she wasn't taken into confidence over the launch, I think. [Crichton had seemed to suggest it.] She's not a bad person, but I don't regret that particular decision. I believe that had she been told, if she didn't tell our captor about it outright then she'd have informed one of his allies.

[skaikru]

( ari's form of relenting is still stubborn but ultimately not painful and drawn out. clarke exhales a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, pleased not to have to fight about this. if she recognizes the mirrored tendencies to say i'm fine and move forward, they are not mentioned and thus her own hypocritical nature does not need to be evaluated; were the tables turned, they'd be limping down the corridor together, blood trail be damned.

to the instructions, she nods. ) Bottom drawer, boring papers near the back. Got it.

( read it, leave it, don't carry important materials through the ship. that's solid enough advice, seeing as she still doesn't know if darcy is going to hunt her down and slaughter her over a stupid sentimental rock, and if they did it wouldn't do to have evidence in her pocket. and that should be all clarke needs to get up and get going, but she lingers on the edge of the bed, at the edge of ari's personal space. still wanting to provide some sort of care, or a fraction of pain relief before departing — and then thoroughly distracted by the analysis of valdis.

all of which is... probably pretty accurate. but not nearly as pressing from clarke's standpoint as it seems to be ari's. and that's probably on misplaced self confidence rearing its ugly head for the first time in a long time. )

Technically, she is superior to us mortals. Most of the people on this ship are. ( oh how difficult it's been to be boringly, painfully human during this long haul. but also — look where the humans got. ) I'll be careful. And I'll keep my mouth shut, but. Don't worry too much. I think I can handle Valdis.

( a hand comes out for ari's shiptalk phone, which is the keycard necessary to unlock the other woman's room. )

And when I get back, I'd like to look at your wounds.

[astrogator]

She is not. [That's firm, that's something close to Lieutenant Tayrey's shipside voice-of-command, diminished by the fact that it comes from a frail and bandaged figure lying in a bed, but carrying something of its old quality just the same.

She continues more quietly:] None of them are. Having the ability to hurt other people doesn't make you superior. Having genetic advantages or powers that others don't doesn't make you superior. [Something taught to her in childhood, a moral lesson for little Citizen Arilanna born out of the genelab with every advantage her wealthy family could bestow. It didn't make her better than other people. If she wanted to be better, she'd have to work for it.]

What matters is your character and your principles and the values you hold. Don't ever under-value yourself, Clarke Griffin. You're worth every bit as much as any of them.

[Only then does she hand it over, Clarke's means to enter her private cabin. Perhaps she should be more worried about this, but it doesn't seem to matter the way it once had. Clarke already knows her secrets.]

I'll show you it all when you get back. Not a pretty sight, I warn you.