[Clarke's own clothes are on the edge of business casual. They're too casual for her to wear on any day at work that isn't the assigned casual day—not to assume that it isn't still Friday—but they're nice enough for the occasion, accompanied by a denim jacket that she pulls on once she's in the air conditioning. It's still warm outside, and the walk over all but demanded that she carry it.]
Hey. This place is—definitely popular. [And definitely out of her price range.] It's fair to ask if we're splitting this, right? [The other issue with being new to money: not really getting all the social mores attached to it. It's yet another "not naive, just also more to the point."]
[Markus shoves a hand in a pocket, then gestures mildly with the other — a dismissive movement, the universal sign of “don’t worry about it.”]
I spoke to the manager. I think he’s enamored with my playing, so I might’ve used that to my advantage to ensure tonight’s dinner is on the house. [He brings a finger to his lips, quirking a brow ever so slightly. Markus’ mood is lighter tonight, a little more playful — all for her sake. How hard he always tries to make his friends feel better when he can.]
Don’t tell anyone.
[Then he drops his hand, turning at an angle to open the door for her to wander inside, making small talk as he then leads them to a table next to a tall exterior window. He skips the host, skips the figurative reservation line; they obviously know him here.]
The piano here... it's a real one, not a virtual one — apparently that’s rare, these days, and something of a status symbol.
[There is very little about this that's surprising. Markus is like a VIP here, with everyone treating him as such. Clarke feels like she's looking at his life from a different perspective. She knows that all of the displaced are likely separate from this, just as her work experience is separate. It's hard to talk about a life for herself that doesn't exist, so as much as she's made "friends" to keep up appearances, she often feels like she's living someone else's life.
Part of that is likely because she doesn't feel right in this world. But do any of them?
While they walk, Clarke slips her hand around Markus' arm, careful not to touch any bare skin at the same time. It's an action that shows appreciation. Even if he clearly carries clout here, he used that to give her a night away from worrying about losing Bellamy. Plus, it's a nicer place to talk about it, drinking in the ambiance. It's a part of this world, for better or worse, and it's a world that's more than made up of shadows and falsehoods.
(Like Mount Weather. Walking into a room like this, with everything being so idealized, definitely feels like Mount Weather.)]
Has the art behind making them been lost? [she asks, turning her head in the direction of where she sees the piano itself.] As you can guess, I've only seen one myself back home. [It didn't last long, as many things didn't in her world.]
[He doesn’t believe himself to be a VIP, but rather something of a novelty; a musician that can manipulate physical keys just as well as what exists in the digital realm. Something unique that this restaurant can tout, just an attraction to bring in business, and is coveted in a way someone covets an asset, an advantage over the competition. Maybe it isn’t giving him enough credit, maybe he does possess a quiet magnetism that’s hard to pin down and describe, but he’s certain of one thing: his clout here is only due to exactly these reasons, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take advantage of it when it comes to aiding a friend.
And so when Clarke takes him by the arm, there’s no reason to hesitate, and he shows none. Long sleeves cover any danger of skin-on-skin contact, and Markus escorts her to their table, situated next to a tall glistening window, reflecting the dim interior lights as scintillating pinpricks. Normally the host or waitstaff would pull out their chairs for them, but this is an independent endeavor, so Markus takes the lead, waiting for her to sit before he does the same.]
Not so much lost as too expensive and impractical, given what can be achieved virtually.
[It’s almost mind-boggling how quickly the world has moved on. How tradition has died in favor of technology (an ironic thought coming from an android), living on only in rare circumstances and those passionate enough to linger in the past. It’s the same with painting, but they’ve already had that conversation before.
Time to delve into something new.]
The house I used to live in… there was one. I played often enough, when there was free time.
[Or when Carl had requested it, only gentle urging, never a command.]
Much like art and sketchbooks, [she remarks. Now that Markus has seen some of her art, Clarke knows that he can see where something has been lost. It's not that she isn't willing to go beyond the pale there, exploring new techniques—but even her world had sketchbooks that could be found and salvaged, pulled up from the rubble that remained. She found one in her time of traveling, trying to seek out what she could find.
It makes sense, though. She's seen a world with even less. Why would they risk all of that just to produce paper, a resource that doesn't have any great value?
(It's just that she values it.)]
There was a piano in one of the last civilizations that we found. It was in a base called Mount Weather. Was—because, well. [That would have been a viable solution for all of them. If Mount Weather continued to live on, the chaos of trying to find a solution after discovering the second coming of Praimfaya wouldn't have been an issue.]
I never saw it much while I was there. Never had a chance. [For other reasons. And after she killed everyone there, all several hundred people, she wasn't feeling any great urges to linger.]
[He settles in easily enough (ignoring his hurt, that dull throb from an injury still not fully healed), looking comfortable as one might expect; visiting the restaurant late at night, with frequency, means that the novelty of their seat by the window, the ambient lights overhead, the design and pomp of the restaurant, do not affect him. They are just adornments at the tail-end of his usual schedule, and therefore slotting into the realm of “regular” where others unaccustomed would gawk at the sights.
It allows Markus to continue their conversation uninterrupted, focusing on the image she continually crafts of her home — or places in it. Wondering if this will loop around to the issue of Bellamy, his departure, and what else she might have lingering in her thoughts.]
[Her eyes turn down toward the table. There is no menu here, only information that's synced into her implant, allowing her to access it visually. She makes note of it, but doesn't take any moves to do that mentally. Trying to find the words.]
A battle went down there. My people won. [Clarke isn't one to stake claim in that victory. It's hard to describe. If anything, the only parallel she can think of is the one here: all of Markus' kind in this world was gone. Wiped away. Erased. Would he think less of her for managing a similar feat? Today isn't the day to find out.]
There were a lot of lives lost, so it felt disrespectful for my people to move in. When they finally did, there was retaliation. As a result, it was gone soon after. It and ... the piano. Actually, I think you'd be frustrated to know that most of humanity's history was in Mount Weather. It's where they managed to gather everything after the bombs hit. Getting to see those relics was ... [Amazing? No. Haunting.] I didn't think I ever would, and I wish I'd spent more time with them.
[And then she hesitates, pressing on soon after.]
I'm going to hope your people are doing better about maintaining those things. Especially since someone took care to make sure you could bring art to the world.
[Her world is so war-torn, so far beyond the state of his own, that Markus has to envision it in his mind — relics of an age past, years and years of history alike, all sequestered in this one place and gone in a flicker-flash. Humans were so quick to conflict, quick to war, and war ravaged everything, left nothing behind but ghosts.
It isn’t that hard for him to imagine, actually. It reflects a fear of his own, something he tries so hard to avoid. He shakes his head, the menu in his vision scrolling down quickly, multi-tasking as he reviews its contents with only a sliver of his true attentions.]
I’m sorry to hear that. That kind of loss is irreplaceable, and not taken into consideration until after the fighting is through.
[People don’t usually think about preserving in the midst of battle. Only victory or survival, only staying alive to fight for another day — only the leaders, the martyrs, think about what’s truly left behind when they’re gone, always bearing that weight.]
My world hasn’t reached that point. I’m trying to avoid a war and blood on my hands. With any luck, the path to victory won’t be lined with excess loss.
I've said this before, but I genuinely hope you do. I think if anyone can, it's you. [Calm. Solid. Understanding. Clarke doesn't have the way with emotions and empathy that he has, and she can't hit someone's heart with her belief and care the way that Markus can. The way that Bellamy can. That emotional reach is so hard for her to grasp, no matter how hard she tries. Her head betrays her heart all the time, even when she tries to make it seem as if it's some other way.
More than anything, she knows better than to think that people can't change. Can't be brought beyond the brink.]
Bellamy's sister accomplished something like that. In the final hours before we knew that the world would end up being destroyed again, she managed to unite all the warring people. [It's this that acts as a transition. Bringing up Octavia, admiring her—and then choosing to separate.] She did it even though I didn't believe she could. I doubted her, but I know that she can handle it. [Does she? Or is Clarke only saying that? She knows the people are trapped in the bunker, unable to escape.
And that Bellamy is in the same situation.]
The thing is ... Bellamy. Octavia. They got separated from each other and from me. Seeing Bellamy here was kind of a ... relief. That I could see him again.
[Markus isn’t always certain he deserves any kind of praise, nothing that would define him as so able, so assured in his victory. But as always, it’s appreciated, and it’s used to bolster his determination moving forward — tempers the steel in his spine, keeping own self-doubt forever locked in a cage kept in shadow. Such is a leader’s burden; such is what Clarke would understand, too.
But this isn’t about him. He listens about Bellamy, the friend of hers that’s gone missing, one believed to not return to this world. His sister, able to bring people together. Brows cinch.]
Clarke, you said there was more to what you needed to talk about, more than just Bellamy gone from this world. Is it... guilt that he’s gone?
It's what I just said. [It's not like she minds that he doesn't get it. How could he? Grasping her world is a difficult trial, to say the least. Very little of it can make sense without trying to understand that all of the atrocities and flaws of humanity can come to the forefront.]
I was alone. I am alone. When I say that I don't know when I'll see Bellamy again, I mean it. He's in space, leading what people made it up there. And everyone else ... including his sister, including my mother, is in a fallout shelter.
[That makes it clearer. Or she hopes.]
I already lived fifty days without him before I got here. Now I have to begin counting again.
[The clarification makes it obvious, makes it clear just how deep the sense of being alone truly runs. Bellamy's departure must've felt like something permanently swept away from her life. Markus, if he were to return to Detroit, at least had the faces of North, Josh, and — later in his future — Connor to see once more. (Simon, left up on the snowy rooftop, white dotted blue with Thirium. He still wonders at his fate, cold claws of memory raking at his insides.)]
But you wouldn’t wish this place on him again.
[It isn’t even a question. He thinks, that despite a longing to a see a familiar face, Clarke is not so selfish to hope for that much.]
Still, I understand what you mean. It’s hard to think of your time spent together here as an unexpected... blessing, but in a way, it was. [And yet—] But you’re not alone, Clarke. While you’re here, with all of us, you’re never really by yourself. For what that's worth. I know it isn't the same, but it's still true.
The Bellamy that was here doesn't know the future he has ahead of him. But the people who ended up in space with him need him. [They needed his heart, someone to keep them together, to remind them of the life they would be able to return to. Bellamy wouldn't let them give up, whereas Clarke might. She knows the difference there. She can push and make a thing happen, but her resilience has its limits. It's Bellamy who often pulls her through, who strikes the match to keep her fighting.
Without that ...]
If that's where he's returned to? To get on that path? That would be ideal. [For all people involved.]
For me ... I know it sounds like I need to be reminded, but I don't. Being here has given me everything I needed. I'm not—[She cants her head to the side. Clarke has a tendency to wrinkle her chin ever so slightly when she's thoughtful, and she does it here. Her brow matches it, right before she speaks.]
I'm not sure how long it'll take us to crack the mystery of being here, but I don't know if I'll ever be ready to go back. Or if I'll want to. [Clarke knows she openly struggles with absorbing these people as her people. While she's spoken of it as if he's happened with Markus, it always grows difficult.] I don't expect it to be the same for anyone else, but I'm not sure I can live ... survive five years without something like this. [The stress. The motivation. Things to keep fighting for.]
[He finds himself leaning forward with his elbows on the table, as if his nearness would keep him more closely connected to Clarke and all that she’s saying.
He understands, again, the overall gist of her point. That the lack of a goal would leave her wheeling, like a compass that can no longer find north; the consequence of being too defined by a role, or a self-imposed purpose that strong wills are unwilling to stray from.
It’s a sorry kind of truth that Markus can relate to, leader to leader. But there’s still a part of this that makes him feel as if he’s missing pieces of the whole. Context still not completely painted for him.]
Nuclear fallout would take five years, at the minimum, to clear up. [Clarke is the only one who could survive. If she had been able to get into the bunker, it would be different. If any of her messages reached Bellamy, it would be different. Unfortunately, neither of these things seem like they're possible. If there was a chance of bringing a solution from here, maybe—but she has her doubts.
Clarke doesn't want to bank on implementing an impossible solution. She wouldn't even know where to start. How to ask. If they could turn them into Nightbloods, and if it would be fair to bring them down from space. Down from their new lives, all because Clarke is alone.
Especially when she doesn't know if the village—the valley thought of as Eden—would actually save her or anyone else long term.]
I got left behind. I thought I would die. [It makes some of Hei's words on the network to her the other day more cutting. She thought she would die. She would have been all right with that, too.] We needed someone to handle a manual task to help Bellamy and my other friends go into space to live for five years, and I couldn't get back in time to join them. I saw them take off right as the reactors went off and irradiated what remained of the Earth. The only reason I'm still alive is because of the black blood that I have. [A breath.] So. Five years alone. It's a lot, and honestly ... it isn't exactly easy to talk about. It's why Bellamy being gone is—well. It is.
Five years alone, when Markus has only lived ten, it sounds like far too much for one person to handle. Especially in circumstances that have ripped friendships away — necessity or otherwise — leaving Clarke to live in an irradiated atmosphere with the remnants of a poisoned Earth. Left only with the memory of what was, just considering it is debilitating.
It’s hard, imagining a circumstance in which one would not want to return to their homes — Markus’ focus is razor-sharp and laser-pointed, his priority always to find a way back to Detroit and fulfill what’s needed of him, what’s expected of him. With Clarke, he thought it would be the same, but to find out he’s wrong is not disappointing as much as it is… humanizing.
His heart twists in his ribcage.]
It reminds you of what’s to come.
[Idly, he thinks that he should be putting in a wine order, at the very least. But all that seems to have fallen by the wayside, mere dregs in the shadow of her words.]
What do you consider New Amsterdam, then? A prison? An escape? [The pause here is prevalent.] A potential new home?
[There’s nothing to say that they must return, beyond what the heart dictates.]
At first? An escape. A moratorium on what would come. Murphy and Bellamy were here. [Clarke doesn't talk about Murphy much, but that's more indicative of the trouble with their relationship. She thinks of him as a friend. He doesn't think much of her at all. No matter what, he's one of hers: her people, and there's no way to deny it. She doesn't bother to explain who he is now. Markus is understanding enough to know the difference between a best friend and a person from their world.] My people were here, so there was something.
[It was something—somewhere—to direct her energies. Give her purpose. Clarke always has a way of finding purpose for herself, but she knows she would have nothing back home.
The thing is, the longer she's been here, she's known the difference between "at first" and what her perspective became.]
If I go back home, I have no way of knowing I'll survive. I found a patch of life, but how long will it last? It was only fifty days after everything burned away. I'm just one person. Staying here has been an option for me for a while. [Abandoning her people.
Is that what it is?]
It's the only option, Markus. I'd be surprised if I were alone in that thinking.
[And her thoughts have nothing to do with Bellamy or Murphy. They're gone. Unlike Rey early on, she has no blind faith that she can just go somewhere and rescue her friends, bringing them to a nominally better world.
[His response to that is quick but gentle, correcting.]
You likely aren’t. And you don’t have to justify your reasoning to me, Clarke. Your circumstances seem to be different than most here.
[Having no one to return to, barely even knowing if she’d survive long if or when she did. New Amsterdam acted as an isolated island in the universe to most, where they were all stranded upon with no ships to sail outward; but it was naive of him to believe that no one would view it as a reprieve.]
Even so, that’s not true. You always have a choice. If you could return home right now, would you choose to stay here?
[Or would she feel like Markus, ridden with guilt, believing herself to abandon something important if she stayed — even if all that awaits her is loneliness and being rudderless?]
Yes. [No need to pretend otherwise. Others have noticed it, have latched on to it. Clarke wants to give people that choice. She's been open about her world, but it's primarily to show the stark contrast to everyone else's. For people who have suggested this is a dream, or have said similar things—she needs to point out the contrast. The situation. It's less of an issue now versus how it had been when they first arrived, pulled from separate worlds and different situations.]
Are you prepared to leave everyone behind? When this is all over, we'll be as much your people as the ... ones you need to lead there. [The ellipsis marks Clarke slowing down her speech, careful not to say anything related to AI.
She doesn't point out that returning home may not be an option. There's no need.]
Though ... admittedly, things are going better for us here. [Her eyebrows raise and shift with the acknowledgement, the final note.]
Am I prepared? [He echoes the question, and it trails off like a weak thing, because he already knows the answer.]
I won't be prepared to say goodbye. To leave all my friends behind, unable to see anyone ever again. But I don't have a choice; I have to, there's too many people relying on me back home.
[But the choice being made for him doesn't make it any easier. Just the thought alone saddens him, makes him wonder how deeply affected he's been by the people here, and how he can ever detach himself from it.
Idly, while these thoughts churn in his head, Markus makes a wine selection. A Sauvignon Blanc.]
You could come with me, you know. If your world has nothing for you, what does this one have once everyone is gone?
[Maybe it's a fool's errand, a long shot, just wishful thinking. But there's something sincere about that offer, easily spoken.]
[There is a long moment where Clarke doesn't know what to say. It's because she hadn't considered an alternative to staying here or going home. Making those connections had never been a goal of hers, but she knows that it was foolish to pretend otherwise. Her alliances have almost always turned into friendships. Deep connections. People she would fight to protect. Her people. Even as she slips in and out of that, defining it different ways time and time again here.
No matter what, Markus definitely fits that.
And even though he has more than a hint of knowledge of what she's capable of, he offers her this. Risks bringing Wanheda to his world. But if it's anything like this one, Clarke knows she'll struggle to make as big of an impact. That's good.
And he is right. Once everyone is gone—assuming that would be the case?
She would have no one.]
Do you think that's possible? [A basic answer, but the fact that it's all she has to say is proof that the offer hit something deep inside of her.]
[Why leave her here? If she was to lead a normal life, potentially a peaceful life, after being detached from her old world, why would Markus ever feel inclined to leave her alone? He extends generosity to those who need it — he extends it tenfold to those he considers his friends, those he considers his people as much as the ones back home.]
There’s nothing to say that it’s impossible. [They simply don’t know. Who’s to say that they can't return to worlds that aren’t their own? With so little in the way of answers, it may be possible. There’s hope to dole out to Clarke.]
But you’d be welcomed. If you can acclimate to this city, Detroit wouldn’t be an issue at all. But more importantly… you wouldn’t be alone.
No. I wouldn't be, would I? [It'shard to explain, exactly, what this means to her. What it means to have somewhere to go, to have a friend that she can rely on. It's why she reached out to Markus in the first place, and why she thinks so highly of him. He may not buy into everything that everyone else sees in him, but that doesn't matter. It would be strange if he did, anyway.]
If it turns out I can, I'll definitely be open to it.
[The issue is that he believes Clarke can be at peace. Even she isn't certain that she can.]
[He'll allow himself some optimism, that stringent spark of hope, so she can find such peace. To let it nestle and grow; or at least give it a chance to.
He might not be the same as a face from her own world, he might not be able to truly relate to her circumstances, being so departed from them. But a friend is a friend is a friend -- Clarke is one of his closest, and he only wants to see those around him happy. It's simple, really.]
Well, you'll have plenty of time to think about it. But the offer will continue to stand, no matter how long it takes for us to unearth all the answers we need.
[He leans back in his seat, smile gone lopsided.]
You'd be able to eat real meat without having to empty your bank account, too. Detroit isn't perfect even on a good day, but I think there'd be a multitude of things about 2038 that you'd like.
You know, before Praimfaya hit ... [Although the word isn't translated—Clarke doesn't speak Trigedasleng enough for it to be translated, not yet—it sounds exactly like how one might expect: "prime fire," with a little more emphasis on the R in the fire sounding like a Y. She doesn't think twice about using it, about speaking it. Referring to it as she's come to think of it comes naturally in Markus' presence.] ... before then, when we all hit the ground in the first place, we used to hunt for meat. I got pretty good at it.
[Smoking was never her strong suit. She could do it when needed, but coming to rely on Niylah had made her life easier. Her struggles on her own were comical at first.]
I miss having that option. I don't know that I'd take it up again, but meat stands alone pretty well.
[Says a teenager sent to earth wildly ill-prepared by "Earth Skills" classes.]
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Hey. This place is—definitely popular. [And definitely out of her price range.] It's fair to ask if we're splitting this, right? [The other issue with being new to money: not really getting all the social mores attached to it. It's yet another "not naive, just also more to the point."]
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I spoke to the manager. I think he’s enamored with my playing, so I might’ve used that to my advantage to ensure tonight’s dinner is on the house. [He brings a finger to his lips, quirking a brow ever so slightly. Markus’ mood is lighter tonight, a little more playful — all for her sake. How hard he always tries to make his friends feel better when he can.]
Don’t tell anyone.
[Then he drops his hand, turning at an angle to open the door for her to wander inside, making small talk as he then leads them to a table next to a tall exterior window. He skips the host, skips the figurative reservation line; they obviously know him here.]
The piano here... it's a real one, not a virtual one — apparently that’s rare, these days, and something of a status symbol.
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Part of that is likely because she doesn't feel right in this world. But do any of them?
While they walk, Clarke slips her hand around Markus' arm, careful not to touch any bare skin at the same time. It's an action that shows appreciation. Even if he clearly carries clout here, he used that to give her a night away from worrying about losing Bellamy. Plus, it's a nicer place to talk about it, drinking in the ambiance. It's a part of this world, for better or worse, and it's a world that's more than made up of shadows and falsehoods.
(Like Mount Weather. Walking into a room like this, with everything being so idealized, definitely feels like Mount Weather.)]
Has the art behind making them been lost? [she asks, turning her head in the direction of where she sees the piano itself.] As you can guess, I've only seen one myself back home. [It didn't last long, as many things didn't in her world.]
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And so when Clarke takes him by the arm, there’s no reason to hesitate, and he shows none. Long sleeves cover any danger of skin-on-skin contact, and Markus escorts her to their table, situated next to a tall glistening window, reflecting the dim interior lights as scintillating pinpricks. Normally the host or waitstaff would pull out their chairs for them, but this is an independent endeavor, so Markus takes the lead, waiting for her to sit before he does the same.]
Not so much lost as too expensive and impractical, given what can be achieved virtually.
[It’s almost mind-boggling how quickly the world has moved on. How tradition has died in favor of technology (an ironic thought coming from an android), living on only in rare circumstances and those passionate enough to linger in the past. It’s the same with painting, but they’ve already had that conversation before.
Time to delve into something new.]
The house I used to live in… there was one. I played often enough, when there was free time.
[Or when Carl had requested it, only gentle urging, never a command.]
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It makes sense, though. She's seen a world with even less. Why would they risk all of that just to produce paper, a resource that doesn't have any great value?
(It's just that she values it.)]
There was a piano in one of the last civilizations that we found. It was in a base called Mount Weather. Was—because, well. [That would have been a viable solution for all of them. If Mount Weather continued to live on, the chaos of trying to find a solution after discovering the second coming of Praimfaya wouldn't have been an issue.]
I never saw it much while I was there. Never had a chance. [For other reasons. And after she killed everyone there, all several hundred people, she wasn't feeling any great urges to linger.]
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It allows Markus to continue their conversation uninterrupted, focusing on the image she continually crafts of her home — or places in it. Wondering if this will loop around to the issue of Bellamy, his departure, and what else she might have lingering in her thoughts.]
You didn’t stay long?
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A battle went down there. My people won. [Clarke isn't one to stake claim in that victory. It's hard to describe. If anything, the only parallel she can think of is the one here: all of Markus' kind in this world was gone. Wiped away. Erased. Would he think less of her for managing a similar feat? Today isn't the day to find out.]
There were a lot of lives lost, so it felt disrespectful for my people to move in. When they finally did, there was retaliation. As a result, it was gone soon after. It and ... the piano. Actually, I think you'd be frustrated to know that most of humanity's history was in Mount Weather. It's where they managed to gather everything after the bombs hit. Getting to see those relics was ... [Amazing? No. Haunting.] I didn't think I ever would, and I wish I'd spent more time with them.
[And then she hesitates, pressing on soon after.]
I'm going to hope your people are doing better about maintaining those things. Especially since someone took care to make sure you could bring art to the world.
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It isn’t that hard for him to imagine, actually. It reflects a fear of his own, something he tries so hard to avoid. He shakes his head, the menu in his vision scrolling down quickly, multi-tasking as he reviews its contents with only a sliver of his true attentions.]
I’m sorry to hear that. That kind of loss is irreplaceable, and not taken into consideration until after the fighting is through.
[People don’t usually think about preserving in the midst of battle. Only victory or survival, only staying alive to fight for another day — only the leaders, the martyrs, think about what’s truly left behind when they’re gone, always bearing that weight.]
My world hasn’t reached that point. I’m trying to avoid a war and blood on my hands. With any luck, the path to victory won’t be lined with excess loss.
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More than anything, she knows better than to think that people can't change. Can't be brought beyond the brink.]
Bellamy's sister accomplished something like that. In the final hours before we knew that the world would end up being destroyed again, she managed to unite all the warring people. [It's this that acts as a transition. Bringing up Octavia, admiring her—and then choosing to separate.] She did it even though I didn't believe she could. I doubted her, but I know that she can handle it. [Does she? Or is Clarke only saying that? She knows the people are trapped in the bunker, unable to escape.
And that Bellamy is in the same situation.]
The thing is ... Bellamy. Octavia. They got separated from each other and from me. Seeing Bellamy here was kind of a ... relief. That I could see him again.
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But this isn’t about him. He listens about Bellamy, the friend of hers that’s gone missing, one believed to not return to this world. His sister, able to bring people together. Brows cinch.]
Clarke, you said there was more to what you needed to talk about, more than just Bellamy gone from this world. Is it... guilt that he’s gone?
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I was alone. I am alone. When I say that I don't know when I'll see Bellamy again, I mean it. He's in space, leading what people made it up there. And everyone else ... including his sister, including my mother, is in a fallout shelter.
[That makes it clearer. Or she hopes.]
I already lived fifty days without him before I got here. Now I have to begin counting again.
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But you wouldn’t wish this place on him again.
[It isn’t even a question. He thinks, that despite a longing to a see a familiar face, Clarke is not so selfish to hope for that much.]
Still, I understand what you mean. It’s hard to think of your time spent together here as an unexpected... blessing, but in a way, it was. [And yet—] But you’re not alone, Clarke. While you’re here, with all of us, you’re never really by yourself. For what that's worth. I know it isn't the same, but it's still true.
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Without that ...]
If that's where he's returned to? To get on that path? That would be ideal. [For all people involved.]
For me ... I know it sounds like I need to be reminded, but I don't. Being here has given me everything I needed. I'm not—[She cants her head to the side. Clarke has a tendency to wrinkle her chin ever so slightly when she's thoughtful, and she does it here. Her brow matches it, right before she speaks.]
I'm not sure how long it'll take us to crack the mystery of being here, but I don't know if I'll ever be ready to go back. Or if I'll want to. [Clarke knows she openly struggles with absorbing these people as her people. While she's spoken of it as if he's happened with Markus, it always grows difficult.] I don't expect it to be the same for anyone else, but I'm not sure I can live ... survive five years without something like this. [The stress. The motivation. Things to keep fighting for.]
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He understands, again, the overall gist of her point. That the lack of a goal would leave her wheeling, like a compass that can no longer find north; the consequence of being too defined by a role, or a self-imposed purpose that strong wills are unwilling to stray from.
It’s a sorry kind of truth that Markus can relate to, leader to leader. But there’s still a part of this that makes him feel as if he’s missing pieces of the whole. Context still not completely painted for him.]
Five years?
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Clarke doesn't want to bank on implementing an impossible solution. She wouldn't even know where to start. How to ask. If they could turn them into Nightbloods, and if it would be fair to bring them down from space. Down from their new lives, all because Clarke is alone.
Especially when she doesn't know if the village—the valley thought of as Eden—would actually save her or anyone else long term.]
I got left behind. I thought I would die. [It makes some of Hei's words on the network to her the other day more cutting. She thought she would die. She would have been all right with that, too.] We needed someone to handle a manual task to help Bellamy and my other friends go into space to live for five years, and I couldn't get back in time to join them. I saw them take off right as the reactors went off and irradiated what remained of the Earth. The only reason I'm still alive is because of the black blood that I have. [A breath.] So. Five years alone. It's a lot, and honestly ... it isn't exactly easy to talk about. It's why Bellamy being gone is—well. It is.
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Five years alone, when Markus has only lived ten, it sounds like far too much for one person to handle. Especially in circumstances that have ripped friendships away — necessity or otherwise — leaving Clarke to live in an irradiated atmosphere with the remnants of a poisoned Earth. Left only with the memory of what was, just considering it is debilitating.
It’s hard, imagining a circumstance in which one would not want to return to their homes — Markus’ focus is razor-sharp and laser-pointed, his priority always to find a way back to Detroit and fulfill what’s needed of him, what’s expected of him. With Clarke, he thought it would be the same, but to find out he’s wrong is not disappointing as much as it is… humanizing.
His heart twists in his ribcage.]
It reminds you of what’s to come.
[Idly, he thinks that he should be putting in a wine order, at the very least. But all that seems to have fallen by the wayside, mere dregs in the shadow of her words.]
What do you consider New Amsterdam, then? A prison? An escape? [The pause here is prevalent.] A potential new home?
[There’s nothing to say that they must return, beyond what the heart dictates.]
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[It was something—somewhere—to direct her energies. Give her purpose. Clarke always has a way of finding purpose for herself, but she knows she would have nothing back home.
The thing is, the longer she's been here, she's known the difference between "at first" and what her perspective became.]
If I go back home, I have no way of knowing I'll survive. I found a patch of life, but how long will it last? It was only fifty days after everything burned away. I'm just one person. Staying here has been an option for me for a while. [Abandoning her people.
Is that what it is?]
It's the only option, Markus. I'd be surprised if I were alone in that thinking.
[And her thoughts have nothing to do with Bellamy or Murphy. They're gone. Unlike Rey early on, she has no blind faith that she can just go somewhere and rescue her friends, bringing them to a nominally better world.
They're gone. And she's here, alone.
But at least she isn't really alone.]
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You likely aren’t. And you don’t have to justify your reasoning to me, Clarke. Your circumstances seem to be different than most here.
[Having no one to return to, barely even knowing if she’d survive long if or when she did. New Amsterdam acted as an isolated island in the universe to most, where they were all stranded upon with no ships to sail outward; but it was naive of him to believe that no one would view it as a reprieve.]
Even so, that’s not true. You always have a choice. If you could return home right now, would you choose to stay here?
[Or would she feel like Markus, ridden with guilt, believing herself to abandon something important if she stayed — even if all that awaits her is loneliness and being rudderless?]
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Are you prepared to leave everyone behind? When this is all over, we'll be as much your people as the ... ones you need to lead there. [The ellipsis marks Clarke slowing down her speech, careful not to say anything related to AI.
She doesn't point out that returning home may not be an option. There's no need.]
Though ... admittedly, things are going better for us here. [Her eyebrows raise and shift with the acknowledgement, the final note.]
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I won't be prepared to say goodbye. To leave all my friends behind, unable to see anyone ever again. But I don't have a choice; I have to, there's too many people relying on me back home.
[But the choice being made for him doesn't make it any easier. Just the thought alone saddens him, makes him wonder how deeply affected he's been by the people here, and how he can ever detach himself from it.
Idly, while these thoughts churn in his head, Markus makes a wine selection. A Sauvignon Blanc.]
You could come with me, you know. If your world has nothing for you, what does this one have once everyone is gone?
[Maybe it's a fool's errand, a long shot, just wishful thinking. But there's something sincere about that offer, easily spoken.]
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No matter what, Markus definitely fits that.
And even though he has more than a hint of knowledge of what she's capable of, he offers her this. Risks bringing Wanheda to his world. But if it's anything like this one, Clarke knows she'll struggle to make as big of an impact. That's good.
And he is right. Once everyone is gone—assuming that would be the case?
She would have no one.]
Do you think that's possible? [A basic answer, but the fact that it's all she has to say is proof that the offer hit something deep inside of her.]
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There’s nothing to say that it’s impossible. [They simply don’t know. Who’s to say that they can't return to worlds that aren’t their own? With so little in the way of answers, it may be possible. There’s hope to dole out to Clarke.]
But you’d be welcomed. If you can acclimate to this city, Detroit wouldn’t be an issue at all. But more importantly… you wouldn’t be alone.
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If it turns out I can, I'll definitely be open to it.
[The issue is that he believes Clarke can be at peace. Even she isn't certain that she can.]
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He might not be the same as a face from her own world, he might not be able to truly relate to her circumstances, being so departed from them. But a friend is a friend is a friend -- Clarke is one of his closest, and he only wants to see those around him happy. It's simple, really.]
Well, you'll have plenty of time to think about it. But the offer will continue to stand, no matter how long it takes for us to unearth all the answers we need.
[He leans back in his seat, smile gone lopsided.]
You'd be able to eat real meat without having to empty your bank account, too. Detroit isn't perfect even on a good day, but I think there'd be a multitude of things about 2038 that you'd like.
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[Smoking was never her strong suit. She could do it when needed, but coming to rely on Niylah had made her life easier. Her struggles on her own were comical at first.]
I miss having that option. I don't know that I'd take it up again, but meat stands alone pretty well.
[Says a teenager sent to earth wildly ill-prepared by "Earth Skills" classes.]
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