#versus ei's “i will take on the dangers because this body can be replaced”

[primowishes]

//Meanwhile Ei will happily eat dessert until her teeth fall out and it's nbd to her because she can just replace the teeth because of the nature of the body they inhabit

[kieraswriting]

Coffin Chapter Twenty-Nine

Masterpost

Logan was very surprised to hear Virgil’s voice when he picked up the phone.

“Hi, Logan.”

“Virgil. Good morning. I trust everything is going well with you?”

“Mmhmm. Um… I had an idea, and I talked with Patton and Roman, and they said I should talk with you about it.”

“Yes?”

“What if… um, if I made some social media accounts? Told my story. I… sort of told someone, and they said that they hadn’t heard of things from a vampire’s side before. I was just hoping… maybe it could help, if people knew.”

Logan considered, taking a long breath. “Alright. Putting aside the dangers from already telling someone, we would have to get you a new phone, a vpn, and a fake email address and ID, to begin with. I believe that this idea has merit, but we wouldn’t be able to begin immediately.”

There was a pause. “Really?”

There was a lot of emotion in that voice, not something easily unpacked by Logan ever, much less over a phone. “Yes. I think your idea is a very good one.”

“Thanks.” Virgil’s voice was still choked with emotion, and Logan hoped that it wasn’t a bad thing.

“Why don’t you send me the details of what you’ve said already and where you’ve said it. I’ll try to be sure it’s as untraceable as possible, and I’ll help you set up for the other as soon as possible.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll send it to you. Thanks, Logan.”

“You’re very welcome, Virgil.”

As illogical as it was, Logan felt like he could almost hear a smile before Virgil hung up.

“What happened?” Emile asked.

Logan was relieved that Emile asked, especially in so light a tone. He’d seemed pretty upset earlier, and Logan knew that a lot of it was his fault, a point which was driven home by the glares Remy kept sending him.

“Virgil wants to try making social media accounts to spread information from the vampire side of things.”

“Oh.” Emile nodded slowly. “Ohhhh, that could be a really good idea! Getting our side of things out to the public could change a lot!”

“Our?” Logan said.

“Yeah! As people trying to help vampires. If you watch TV, you’d never guess that anyone ever did it.”

Logan considered, and didn’t have to think long at all to realize that he’d never seen any stories about resistance to the sweep by humans, other than vague ‘infringing on freedoms and privacy’.”

“Can I help?” Emile asked.

“Ah, yes, of course. I’m sure that something like this would work best with more help.”

Emile pulled out his phone. “Virgil’s using Roman’s phone, right?”

“Yes, but you can’t post anything yet, not when it could be tracked.”

“I know, I’m just gonna talk with Virgil for a bit.”

•^*^••

Whoever has the phone, can you pass it to Virgil? -Emile :)

Virgil blinked at the text. He hadn’t expected this so soon after talking with Logan.

Hi, Emile. This is Virgil. He wrote, and then erased the last bit, replacing it with -Virgil to match Emile’s.

Hi, Virgil! How’s it going? Logan told me you idea, and I really like it!

*your

Thanks. Virgil wrote, and then his mind blanked. How was he ever supposed to answer questions online if he couldn’t even hold a half decent conversation with Emile?

So I was thinking, and you don’t have to go with this if you had an idea, but what if you chat with me for a bit and I can ask questions, and then we can write up a ‘big story’ type of thing that we can post later?

Yeah, I like that. I wrote down a lot of it, but if you want to ask questions, that would be fine.

You know, I think you’re really brave for doing this. Opening yourself up like this to help people.

Virgil didn’t know what to say to that. He felt both flattered and dumbfounded. Thankfully, Emile was texting again.

As far as questions, should we split them up by anything? Like pre-vampire/post-vampire? Or general vampire questions versus Virgil only questions?

I don’t know. I’m not like most vampires, so I might give the wrong answers for the general questions.

I’m sure all vampires are a bit different. Remy’s with me, and I can talk with him, but he’s going to have different answers too, since he was born a vampire. Also, he says ‘Hiya, babes.’

Ok. We can try questions. Thanks for helping. (Should I say hi back to Remy?)

You’re welcome! :) And yeah, if you want to, I’ll tell him whatever you say!

Then Hi, Remy. After a moment of thought, Virgil changed the period to an explanation point before sending the text.

He says drink some coffee in honor of him. (But please don’t unless you really wanted to, he’s mostly joking) Anyway, first question! What name do you want to go by?

Virgil hadn’t considered alternate names for a while. Probably V would be unsafe to use, or any other derivative of his name.

What about Anxiety?

Anything that makes you comfortable is fine. :)

Ok. Thanks.

You’re welcome! ;) So, first question, how is a vampire made?

A human on the brink of death can be turned, and… there’s something special about it, but I don’t know exactly what. Virgil thought for a minute. Maybe ask Remy?

There was a bit of a gap before Emile texted back.

Remy says that it’s instinctual, at least for him. That it feels similar to making a thrall at first, but then it changes as they become a vampire.

Ahh. Should I write that down?

Logan’s been keeping notes, but thanks for offering! :) So next question, how and when were you turned?

Virgil had to pause. He’d already told this story before, but it didn’t seem to make it any easier now. Especially when it seemed that Emile was reading the texts out loud, and both Logan and Remy would hear. But this was the way to help people, and he would probably get asked this question a lot.

It was about two years ago, my dad, who was a vampire, drank too much blood and then left me. I thought I was going to die, but then a different vampire I knew turned me and kept me with her.

Virgil, I’m very sorry that happened to you.

Virgil wished he could remember how to make the shrug emoji. He didn’t really know what to say. It certainly wasn’t pleasant to think about, but it was done now. He’d probably never see his dad again, so it wasn’t like it really mattered.

Thanks. What’s the next question?

There was a bit of a pause before Emile texted back. Remy says let him know if you want him to, and he’ll go after your dad.

That actually made Virgil crack a smile. He didn’t want Remy trying to find his dad, but it was surprisingly nice to have that offer.

“Hey, Virge, done with the phone yet?” Roman asked, peeking in through the door.

“Oh. Um… kind of, I mean, I finished the call but,” Virgil stammered. He really should’ve asked before just starting a whole new conversation.

“Nah, it’s fine. What’re you up to now?”

“Emile’s texting me.”

Roman grinned. “Tell him hi from me then, yeah?” Without even waiting for an answer he waved and left.

Virgil glanced back down at the phone.

Second question: How much do vampires need to eat, and how often?

Well, a quart once a month would probably be fine, but most vampires I’ve known preferred to have smaller meals more frequently, and a really big meal every few months. Also Roman says hi.

Hi, Roman! And that’s interesting. Remy says he likes more than that, but that might be because he’s a born vampire. It would be interesting to have this conversation with Dee also.

Maybe Dee would want to help?

He might! I’ll call him in a bit and see if he’s interested.

He might not though. I don’t think he likes talking about his past.

And if he doesn’t, that’s fine. I’ll just ask. Ok! Question three: Do vampires actually go into blood-frenzies?

It depends I think. Some vampires are half-crazy from the time they get turned, and I think they would. I never did. Though, if I haven’t eaten for a really long time, it gets hard to have humans near me. What about Remy?

•^*^••

Logan was increasingly intrigued with the answers, especially getting the information from two such different sources, and in such a way that he believed it all to be true and grounded in experience.

“Ehh, I don’t know about frenzy,” Remy drawled. “And it’s different too, cause if you get too full it’s almost like a high, but too empty and that’ll really mess with your head, but in a very different way. I don’t know that I’ve ever been much more violent because of it though.”

Emile just nodded, typing away.

“Can you ask Virgil what the differences between human hunger and vampire hunger are?” Logan asked.

“Sure!” Emile said, typing again. “Oh, he says he’s never been that full, maybe it’s just a born vampire thing?”

Remy shook his head. “Nah, I’ve seen it on enough vampires. Poor kid.”

Emile got a worried frown as he nodded.

“Em.” Remy said, more seriously.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t offer to let him drink from you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re… sweeter, than most humans. Way more than hunters, certainly. It’s like having a really good espresso after cheap gas station coffee, and if he keeps drinking from hunters it’ll just make him want the other. Not fun all around.”

“Ahh, yeah, I think I get it. Poor Virgil.” Emile’s frown disappeared as the phone buzzed. “He says that it feels like human hunger, but it makes him get all jittery, and it gets to where he feels like he’s losing control over his body.”

Logan nodded, comparing Virgil’s explanation to how he’d acted when Logan had ‘tested’ him. It did make sense.

“I’m asking him what the relationship between a vampire and their sire is like,” Emile said.

“Mmm, well, I’ve never been on the other end,” Remy said, keeping his eyes on the road. “But it’s a little like a thrall. A lot weaker, but they’ll be all doe-eyed and lovey, especially if you want them to be. You can do a lot of forcing too, but not completely.”

“Virgil said it felt like she was his mom and dad mixed together.” Emile got a really sad look on his face. “No wonder he was so devastated that she was killed.”

Logan nodded. He hadn’t thought that the relationship would’ve been that strong, and he’d discounted Virgil’s grief about it the few times Virgil had spoken about it. He honestly was glad that Emile was the one asking, as Emile was consistently considerate about things like that, whereas anyone else would likely cause Virgil to clam up.

“Would you ask him what sunlight feels like?” Logan asked. “It certainly doesn’t affect vampires the way it does in myth.”

“It stings,” Remy offered. “Hence the jacket and glasses. It’s manageable, but it’s better just not to.”

Emile stared at the phone for a bit before replying. “He says that it’s like the middle of summer, when you can feel the sun hitting your skin, and you just know that you’re going to be burnt despite the sunscreen, but all the time, and that the temperature is still whatever temperature it is.”

“That truly is interesting,” Logan mused, writing down both answers. “Would a vampire be injured by remaining in the sun for a length of time, or would it heal as quickly as other injuries seem to?”

“It depends. Sun-injuries, like silver injuries, only really heal if we have blood in our system. So a vampire held outside without eating probably would be hurt by it. Might even die.”

“Virgil says he doesn’t know, he hasn’t tried,” Emile piped up.

Logan nodded seriously, writing it down.

•^*^••

Virgil’s mind was spinning. After just twelve questions he’d asked to save more for later. Even he hadn’t thought that long about vampires and how they worked. And he was a little annoyed that he only had half answers for so many of the questions.

“Roman? I’m done with the phone now.”

Roman’s head popped up from the log at the table, and he shoved something underneath it as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What are you doing with the log?” Virgil asked, holding out the phone.

“Uhhh…. I’ll tell you, but I won’t show you.”

“Why?” Virgil asked suspiciously.

“I have a knife.”

Virgil took a step back.

“Oh, no, wait!” Roman pleaded. “This is why I hid it, I don’t want you to feel threatened. I’d never, ever go near you with it. Give me a minute to put it away, and then I’ll show you what I’m doing.”

Virgil suddenly didn’t trust Roman enough to close his eyes. And he hated that he didn’t, because he knew that Roman wouldn’t hurt him, but he just couldn’t seem to believe it.

“Tell you what, just head back into the bedroom for just thirty more seconds so I can put it away.”

Virgil nodded, and backed into the bedroom so he didn’t have to turn around. Roman called him back only moments later.

Roman had turned the log around, showing that part of it was all cut, and there was a vague shape in the middle.

“It’s supposed to be a bird, but I really need something to look at to make it do right, which is why I came to see if you were done with the phone earlier.”

Virgil squinted. “Yeah. You definitely need a reference picture.”

Roman crossed his arms, his face more pouting than angry. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad! And I'm not even half done yet.”

Virgil grinned. He had a sudden desire to try one himself. But he wasn’t certain that he could handle touching anything that was silvery, and he wasn’t sure he could sit near Roman doing it either. But he absolutely didn’t want to kick Roman off of his activity just to help him.

And at that moment Patton got back from grocery shopping. Virgil hid a smile at his fake mustache that didn’t suit him at all, and the baseball cap pulled down half over his face.

“I also got pizza! And it’s probably still warm!” Patton said proudly.

“Aw, yes!” Roman cheered, racing outside to get the pizza.

[textsfromninjagoblog]

💜🎂Happy Birth-Date, Pythor X Reader for @anti-cosmofangirl (Part 1)💜🎂

Bright sun and cool breezes gently swept through the village of Jamanikai. Excitement abounded as happy couples strolled through the streets, while the fountain in the center of the square peacefully bubbled away. Meanwhile, merchants from all around were setting up their stalls for the Valentine's Day festival.

It would be hard for anyone not to feel giddy amid the chattering and joyful bustle, but this afternoon was extra special for you. That's because today was your birthday!

This was the first time you ever celebrated your day outside of Ninjago City, and you couldn't wait to see what the festival had in store. Your friends who'd been here in past years had only hyped you up farther, with tales of rose petals floating down the village's waterways, to talented kabuki street performers, to the sugary delicacies in the window of the sweets shop!

However, according to the schedule pamphlet you'd picked up, there'd still be a while to wait before the festivities began; so you decided to check out some of the area's natural beauty in the mean time.

You found a small trail leading into the nearby forest. As you maundered up it, the songs from the birds that perched in the pines sounded crisply through the air; while the last piles of snow seeped into the earth. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath of contentment, barely remembering the last time you felt so calm....

...that is, until you took just one more step forward!

"AHHHHHHHH!" You screamed as the ground gave way from under you!

Even though you'd braced for the sudden impact, it still stung immensely as your body landed in the soil. Slowly cracking your eyes back open, you could see the hole you'd fallen through and hazily estimated that it'd been at least a ten foot plunge! Turns out, the melting snow had made the ground more than a tad unstable.

"Great," you thought as you dusted some of the rubble off yourself, "how do I get myself out of here?"

Turns out the answer to that question was just a few feet away, bickering amongst themselves!

"Now remind me," Skales hissed, "why are we taking the mountain path back to Ouroboros? There's much faster routes..."

"To throw those troublesome ninja off our trail!" A certain Anacondrai replied matter-of-factly, "I've heard tell that their patrol's have been rumbling directly over the tunnel to the desert!"

Suddenly, the loud crash and scream from your fall boomed through the cave! The duo slithered quickly ahead towards the source, expecting that they'd spoken of the devil and would soon be doing battle with a particular team of Spinjitzu masters!

But as they neared the cave-in, some of your struggles to get un-stuck from the earth could be faintly heard. Pythor signaled Skales to halt as they examined the situation from a safe distance.

"Excellent," Pythor exasperatedly said, "now I'll have to divert some Constrictai to fix this mess before it's discovered..."

"A bit late for that, with a land dweller down here." Skales snarked back.

"Well at least it's not a Ninja!" Pythor replied.

The Anacondrai turned his attention to the mound of rubble.

"Hello, you there!" He called, "Are you alright? Can you stand?"

"I think I'm OK!" You called back, happy that some kind of help had found you.

You'd finally managed to wriggle free enough to stand, using the cave wall for support. However, when you went to take a step, a sharp pain shot from your right ankle! You let a yelp of discomfort and lost your balance; though you reacted quickly enough so that you leaned your back onto the dirt wall versus falling flat on the ground again.

"Just what I thought..." Pythor muttered as he slithered into view.

Your heart nearly stopped when you got the first glimpse of your mysterious savior. The deep purple hue of his scales glistened in the small rays of light that filtered in, with his gold and gemstone laden ornamentation only adding to his regal appearance. His keen eyes glowed an arresting fuchsia, and they were unwaveringly fixed on you.

"Y-you're, you're, an Anacondrai!" You mustered through your shock, quickly realizing just how dangerous your situation had become!

"An astute observation," the Serpentine said, curving his long neck so that his face was now level with yours, "now, are we going to just stand around talking about the obvious, or would you like some help for that leg?"

"I guess I could use a hand..." you said, trying to bite back your nerves.

"Well, we should be on our way then!" Pythor said as he held his arms open. "No need to be so frightened, I don't bite."

He couldn't help but let a small chuckle at his own joke as he scooped you into a bridal carry. At this point, Skales had also emerged from the shadows, shaking his head at his ruler's antics. You couldn't believe what was happening!

"Why would any Serpentine soldier, let alone an Anacondrai, be so nice to a human?" You thought, now a captive as the three of you continued your course.

The truth was, Pythor had no clue why he felt so generous towards you. Land dwellers like you were too far beneath him to be of much concern; yet your pathetic state was oddly..... endearing..?

He wasn't quite sure what was happening, but he'd decided to just go along with it for the time being. After all, this could prove to be a golden opportunity!

"Perhaps I'll be able to bribe some intel out of her on the Ninja," Pythor schemed to himself, "worse come to worse, we could just use her as bait for a trap!"

The silence in the tunnel had began to get awkward by now, Skales's occasional glares not helping matters.

"Apologies for not introducing myself sooner," Pythor said, attempting to break the ice, "I'm Pythor P. Chumsworth, who might you be?"

"I'm (Y/n)," you replied, "(y/n) (l/n)."

"I should've guessed you were called something so lovely." He said, hoping his charisma would charm you just as had done with that brat Lloyd.

"Oh," you stammered, feeling your cheeks begin to flush, "thank you."

~~~~~

In no time, the three of you had arrived to the legendary lost city. Skales took his leave, apparently fulfilling an order to gather some Constrictai and begin construction on the cave-in.

The ancient pillars took your breath away with how they glittered against the sand; your anxieties slowly being replaced by curiosity with your new surroundings. It was definitely a relief for you to be above ground again, as that tunnel was starting to get claustrophobic.

"Where are we headed?" You absentmindedly asked, trying to soak in each passing alleyway of the mysterious city.

"To the infirmary, of course." Pythor replied, "The Venomari are some of the best when it comes to medicine, you'll be fixed up in no time!"

He'd taken notice of your wide-eyed expression and couldn't help but smile. He knew the Serpentine's ancestral stronghold was truly a marvel to behold, and to a human who might've believed it all to be a myth, it must've been like walking into a fairytale. He somewhat envied the innocence and pure wonder that shined in your eyes.

Soon enough, the two of you made it to the infirmary. Your nerves were starting to return as Pythor gently laid you down on the stone examination table.

"Great, are they going to spit their poison in my eyes?" You thought, "What if this is actually some kind of trap!?"

Before your thoughts could fully run away from you, however, a Venomari healer slithered into the room. They gasped in shock when they saw you, clearly taken aback by the sight of a land dweller.

"Oh, she's no enemy," Pythor reassured the other Serpentine, "she's my guest. The poor thing took quite a spill on our way is all."

"I see," the healer replied, having regained composure as they examined your ankle, "that's pretty twisted up, but as long as she doesn't put any weight on it for the rest of the day, it should be fine by tomorrow morning."

The healer then rummaged through a nearby cupboard, producing a small jar of lime green cream.

"This is going to be cold," they warned as they scooped out some of the substance, "but it'll take away most of the pain."

You tensed up as the cream made contact with your skin. You shut your eyes tight, expecting to soon be higher than a kite from whatever crazy venom was surely in the foreign substance....

But instead, your joint felt pleasantly numb.

You tentatively cracked an eye as you flexed your ankle, breathing a sigh of relief. Pythor couldn't help but to snicker at your reactions.

"Anticipating something a bit more....hallucinogenic?" He teased.

"Was it that obvious?" You replied with a sheepish smile as the healer helped you onto a set of crutches.

~~~~~

Finally discharged from the infirmary, it quickly became obvious that there wasn't any way you were going to get back to Jamanikai in time for the festivities.

Despite this, you weren't disappointed. In fact, you actually weren't fully sure how you felt, especially in regards to the charming snake at your side. Lost in thought, you let out a small sigh as you and Pythor slowly made your way back through the crowded streets.

"Is something wrong?" Pythor asked, sensing how you'd become distant.

"Nothing really," you replied, the butterflies in your stomach growing worse, "I guess this is a far cry from how I was planning on spending my birthday is all."

This development was a curveball, but one that Pythor knew he could work with. Now was his chance to impress you!

"Well then," he replied, "this calls for a Slither Pit! After all, that's how we celebrate most things around here."

"Sounds good." You said, without a single clue as to what you were in for, yet kind of excited all the same.

[tsthrace]

For Us - My 3.07 Fix-It

My one-shot attempt at fixing 307, starting right after Clarke and Lexa's sex scene. Lexa doesn't die (obviously).

No content warnings. Rated T (almost M, but not quite IMO) 2,171 words

She still feels Clarke all over her. Her fingers on her spine, her mouth on her neck, her skin sliding over her. She closes her eyes, letting the memory wash over her. She shivers. Then smiles. Then sighs.

Now will be the time for goodbyes.

She runs her hand through her hair and takes a breath. She checks her shirt, her pants, looks in the mirror. She’s glowing. She smiles. She’s stalling. But she knows every minute she waits puts Clarke in more danger. She takes a long breath and turns to the door.

A crack rings out, slicing through the warm quiet. Her heart jumps. It came from Clarke’s room. She runs.

--

Pain rips through her. Silence. Her vision narrows, sharpens. She sees Clarke, her blue eyes wild and full of worry. Across the room, Titus looks down at the gun in his hand. He’s shaking. The gun lands on the floor with a heavy thud.

She looks down. A black stain spreads over one side of her shirt. She takes a breath. The air moves through her chest, her stomach, and finally out into her limbs. She balls her fingers into a fist and then slowly unfurls them. The pain goes quiet, replaced by white rage that moves like a storm through her. She feels her face turn to ice. Then she launches.

She shoves Clarke out of the way and springs onto Titus. Instinctively, Titus deflects her punch to the throat and pulls back into a defensive stance. His movements are smooth, graceful.

“Lexa, I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes dark with regret.

Impulsive, she berates herself. Emotional. She puts up her hands and bends her knees, spreading her weight evenly.

“Lexa, let me explain.” He lowers his arms halfway in partial submission.

She spins into a kick that catches him in his side. Titus absorbs the blow, jerks back, and inhales. He bends his knees. Teacher versus student.

He shakes his head with sad eyes. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You did this.” Her voice is even, sharp. “On your knees, Fleimkepa.”

He closes his eyes. Nods. Then falls to his knees.

“All the way down, Titus.”

He obeys, prostrating himself before her.

“Clarke, get the gun.”

Clarke nods and dashes around the bed and picks up the gun.

“Now keep it on him.”

Clarke stands over Titus, the gun pointed at his head.

She takes another breath. Stumbles. She looks around. Someone else is here. Tied to a post. She shudders. Pain screams through her, erasing all her questions.

“Lexa!” She hears Clarke’s voice call out before the world turns black.

---

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” A voice cuts through the fog. She hears rustling.

“So she’ll be okay?” Indra.

“We can hold off on planning the conclave.” She can hear the half-smile in Clarke’s voice.

“Clarke?” she mumbles from the darkness. She can’t seem to open her eyes.

“Lexa, stay still.” Clarke’s voice calms her. “You’re okay, I promise.”

Her right side pulses with a dull, deep pain. She reaches for it. Clarke grabs her hand and wraps her own hands around it, her thumb moving slowly back and forth over Lexa’s skin.

“Stop,” Clarke says gently. “The bullet grazed you. Maybe cracked your rib. There was a lot of blood, but it could have been a lot worse.”

“Titus?” Her throat is dry.

“He submitted. He’s locked up.”

“He shot me.”

“Lexa.” Clarke takes a deep breath. “He didn’t mean to.

She opens her eyes, squinting as the room comes into focus. Her head pounds. “Are you defending him?”

Clarke lets out the breath. “He was trying to shoot me.”

She closes her eyes again. “I’m glad he missed.” A tiny smile creeps across her lips. She feels Clarke squeeze her hand as she drifts back into a black sleep.

----

A day later, she is in the throne room. Titus is chained to a metal pole in the middle of the room. The same metal pole that Emerson had been chained to not long before. Indra is there, a sling on her arm and dark circles under her eyes. The novitiates sit to her right, cross-legged and wide-eyed. Trikru warriors fill the rest of the space. Clarke sits in shadows.

She stands, working hard to conceal the pain that floods her body, the wince that threatens her face.

“Gona,” she says, her voice ringing clearly through the room. “Titus kom Trikru stands accused of harm against his Commander. An act all the more treacherous because he is the fleimkepa, entrusted with the care of the Commander.”

Titus throws his shoulders back. Stern lines crease his forehead, but his eyes are sad.

She looks down at him, narrowing her eyes. “Speak in your defense.”

“I am guilty of harming the Commander, that is true.” He looks at her steadily as he speaks. “But I am not a traitor.” His gaze travels over the crowd of warriors. “I was caring for Lexa. Protecting her leadership. Protecting the Coalition. Protecting Trikru.”

“By shooting her?” Indra’s voice is quiet but carries.

“I wasn’t trying to harm the Commander. I was trying to kill her.” He looks at Clarke.

“Why?” Lexa growls.

“Lexa, Clarke is putting you in danger.” Titus’ eyes are sincere. “She insists on mercy when justice is called for. Skaikru killed 300 warriors who you sent to protect Arkadia. And yet you did nothing. Because of her. Then Skaikru attacked another village. And you again denied your people justice. Because of her. Wanheda puts all of us in danger.”

“I made those decisions.” Her voice is low but sharp. “Not Clarke. I declared that blood must not have blood. Not Clarke. And yet you tried to kill her.”

Titus looks down. “She convinced you. Because…”

Lexa’s eyes are smoldering. “No one makes me do anything—”

“Heda.” Indra has stepped forward. She bows, her shoulders slumped but her face steady. “Forgive me for interrupting.”

Lexa takes in a breath and the room stands still. Finally, she exhales and gives Indra a nod with her eyes.

“I have spent time with Skaikru in Arkadia. Trained with their warriors. Slept just on the other side of their wall. They are not just one thing. There are some good people. People who want peace.” She looks at Clarke. Then her eyes turn back to Lexa. “But you saw that battlefield. You saw our people’s blood.” She looks out the open doors over the valley. “I saw Skaikru’s eyes when they came. They didn’t see people...” Her voice trails off. Finally, she looks back up at Lexa. “I believe Clarke when she says she wants peace. I trust her because you trust her. But Skaikru is not just one thing. And Clarke is not their leader. When the leader they chose sees us, he doesn’t see people. And it’s not just him.”

“I know I can get my people to overthrow Pike.” Clarke steps into the light. Her voice is fast, desperate. “I just need more time.”

Indra’s face stiffens. She doesn’t look at Clarke. “Clarke keeps asking for time. But whenever you give her people time, your people die.”

Lexa’s jaw tightens. “This isn’t about Clarke.” She forces herself not to look at Clarke, keeping her gaze on Indra. “Are you speaking in Titus’ defense?” Her voice is cold.

“No, Heda.” Indra shakes her head. “He was careless and put your life in danger. It was a dereliction of his duty.” She looks up at Titus. “But I do believe he thought he was helping you.”

“By attempting to kill an ambassador?”

Indra takes a deep breath. “By removing an ambassador who seems to have great influence over you.” 

She and every other warrior brace themselves for the Commander’s reaction.

It doesn’t come.

Lexa turns, walks to her throne, and sits. She looks out at her gona. Finally, her gaze settles on Titus. “Do you want peace, Titus?” she asks evenly.

His sad eyes gaze back. “Yes, Heda. I do. It’s why we worked so hard for the Coalition.”

Lexa nods then shifted her eyes on Indra. “And you, Indra, do you want peace?”

“Peace without justice is not real peace.”

Lexa looks at Clarke. “He was trying to kill you. What does justice look like now, Clarke? What does peace look like now?”

Clarke searches Lexa’s eyes, but all the warmth and want from the day before is now gone. Finally, she looks down. “He did it because he cares about you.”

“I’ve killed people I care about before,” Lexa says quietly. After a few moments, she stands. “This is my decision.” Her voice cuts through the room. “Titus is banished from Polis.” Titus’ head drops. “Until there is peace with Skaikru. He will go to Arkadia to work on it.” Clarke’s brow furls. “When he succeeds, he can return as my fleimkepa.”

-----

The thump of quick footsteps thunder closer. Lexa doesn’t look up when Clarke crashes through her chamber doors.

“Are you out of your mind?” Clarke is all anger.

Lexa’s eyes remain on the book in her hands. “You want mercy, I showed mercy. You want peace, I gave you help to achieve peace.”

“Help?” Clarke scoffs. “He tried to kill me.”

“He shot me.” Lexa finally looks up. “By our law, he should be tied to a pole and...the same as others guilty of less.”

“So why isn’t he?”

“The same reason Emerson is running around in the woods somewhere.” Lexa tries to set the book down, but a flash of pain shoots through her. She gasps and slams her eyes shut. The room seems to shift as the pain washes through her. She feels arms around her, slowly lowering her onto her back. Then she feels hands brushing hair out of her face, then lips on her forehead. She opens her eyes. Clarke is looking down on her, worried.

“Hi.” Lexa smiles softly.

“Hi,” Clarke whispers back. “Are you okay?”

Lexa nods and reaches up to grab the front of Clarke’s shirt with the arm that doesn’t hurt as much. She pulls her down until their lips meet. They kiss slowly for a moment until Clarke pulls up and looks at her with soft eyes.

“I was afraid I would never get to do that again,” Lexa says, her green eyes steady on Clarke’s blue.

“Me too.” Clarke’s face is suddenly sad. She takes a deep breath then lets it out. “I think I need to go, Lexa.”

“Now?” Lexa had understood why Clarke needed to leave before, but after all that had happened...

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Clarke takes Lexa’s hand, twining their fingers. “It’s...well, you heard what Indra said.”

Lexa nods, wincing. The pain returns at the strangest times.

“If we really want peace,” Clarke continues, “I think we need to...I don’t think I should be here.”

Lexa closes her eyes. “Is that what you want?”

“Lexa, I want you to be safe.” Clarke puts her hand on her cheek. “And I just seem to bring you harm. Your people don’t trust you when I’m here.”

Lexa huffs. “What kind of commander am I if the people I love—” She stops, feels the flush on her face.

“Hey,” Clarke bends down and gently kisses one cheek, then the other, then her forehead, then the tip of her nose. She stops just short of Lexa’s lips. “I love you, too,” she whispers.

Something swells through Lexa. Not pain, but warmth—and struggle. She feels tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She takes a breath practiced a thousand times—the breath that commands her feelings, that puts them back in their box. She wants to run, she wants to wrap her arms around Clarke. It will all hurt. She takes another breath. It doesn’t work. The tears build for a moment before they spill down.

Clarke wipes each one away with a finger stroke. Lexa silently lets them fall.

“Clarke,” she says haltingly as she tries to catch her breath. “The last time I...I loved someone and she left…”

Clarke shakes her head, resolute. “That’s not going to happen.” She leans down to kiss her again. Lexa tastes like salt.

“I can keep you safe here.”

“No, you can’t. And you know it.” Clarke sighs and gently nudges Lexa over. She lays down on her side next to her, her head propped up on one arm. “If we want this to work, we need to be who we are.”

Lexa turns her head, looking straight into Clarke’s eyes. She smiles a little. “Who is that, Clarke?”

Clarke shrugs, closes her eyes, then shakes her head. She sighs. “We need to lead our people.”

“You’re a strong leader, Clarke.” Lexa looks away.

“So are you, Lexa. Your people love you.”

“Not all of them.”

“If I leave, you’ll get them back.”

Lexa nods slowly. “I do want peace, Clarke.” Her voice is quiet.

“I know, Lexa. So do I.” Clarke leans over and kisses her again. “For us.”

If you liked this, give me some love and a reblog! If you really liked it, check out all my stuff on ao3. 

If you weren’t really into it, god bless you for reading to the end. Let me know what you didn’t like or what you thought it was missing. (I love concrit, respectfully given.)

[borealtwilight]

Not Today

Red Team are a family. Two brothers, and one sister. Always sticking together; always tight-knit. They’ve fought their way through hordes of bloodthirsty Covenant. Struggled through crowds of the hideous Flood. But this? One Brute, versus three Spartan-IIs? Normally, it wouldn’t be much of a contest. But Atriox is something else entirely...

A/N: So I guess this is my take on The Signal’s cutscene, where Red Team meet Isabel, before battling Atriox for the first time. Wanted to write something angsty, and I have a lotta love for this rag-tag trio of Spartan-IIs... so here y’all are. Hope you enjoy! Rating: Ehh, let’s put it to a T for Teen and Up, only because lbr, the Halo universe is pretty damn violent. Also because cusswords. Characters: Jerome-092, Alice-130, Douglas-042, Atriox, those other Banished Brutes are mentioned   Pairing/s: Red Team BrOTP all around, my dudes  Warning/s: Violence. Blood. Angst. Swear words.

«This guy is a pain in the neck»

Alice’s text popped up on his HUD, and Jerome couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his lips. This Brute was certainly proving to be troublesome, but there was only one, and there was three Spartans that made up Red Team. The challenge would be there, but it would be over as soon as it had begun.

«Aw, don’t worry Al, we’ll kick his ass»   

Another text, this one from Douglas.

Jerome was glad to know that his team were certainly not worse for wear, considering that they’d all woken up from a twenty-eight year cryonap. And their bond was as strong as ever, which was a nice bonus.

The Spartan raised his M6C, firing off a few shots, only to have the weapon knocked free, and the Brute snarling in his face. This close, he could see that his headlamps were illuminating the mish-mash of armour that the hulking, gorilla-like alien was wearing.

Weird.

A flash of anger shot through him when he recognized the chestplate as one belonging to an ODST.

What the hell?

His momentary distraction was quickly replaced by a surge of adrenaline as the Brute raised its gravity hammer and smashed the thing sideways against his armour, sending him flying. He scrambled to his feet, watching as Alice and Douglas darted in and out, but they too were pounded backwards, this time by a shockwave from the gravity hammer.

He rose to his feet, yanking his combat knife free of his sheath, charging towards the Brute. His wrist whipped out, making ready to stab the alien in an exposed part of its midsection, but was slammed backwards a second time, cartwheeling through the air. As he regained his senses and began to rise to his feet, he saw Alice darting in with her own Magnum at the ready, only to be taken down with a shoulderbutt. 

And then Douglas was there, charging in with his shotgun at the ready. The weapon was tossed aside uselessly, the Brute chuckling in the Spartan’s face. And Douglas was striking, fast, faster than Jerome had been. Stabbed once, the Brute grabbing at him and missing. Stabbing again, and this time, the simian alien’s hand clamped onto Doug’s shoulder.

Jerome heard the MJOLNIR creaking and groaning as it was put under immense stress. He also heard, much lower in volume and much quieter, Douglas groaning with effort.

Come on, you can kick his ass, Doug...

But even the armour could not withstand the great pressure that was being heaped upon it. The armour was cracking, cracking, cracking—

And the armour broke, and Douglas screamed in pain.

Across the room, Alice flinched hard enough for it to be visible through her kit, and Jerome cringed inwardly, feeling sick - sick with fear, sick with anger, sick with the stabbing pain of sympathy.

Everything was going wrong; how could it all go so wrong; how did one Brute reduce three Spartan-IIs to nothing but mere cadets?

And Douglas was flying, spinning across the room, a gash in his chestplate, his helmet tumbling off. He was crumpled in a heap, panting hard, unable to rise despite his best efforts.

Something cold and hard clamped down in Jerome’s chest, and anger burst to the surface, bubbling, boiling, white-hot rage. He backed deeper into the shadows, and retrieved his BR, waiting to see whether or not the Brute would kill Douglas. He eyed Alice from where she, too, was backing into the shadows, fingers flexing on the trigger of her Magnum. That Brute could clearly have wiped them all out in an instant, starting by finishing off Douglas, and yet, he was not.

What was the alien doing?

“As I suspected...” The furry behemoth picked up Douglas’ helmet, crushing it in his bare hand. The visor cracked and shattered, and the lamp on the side died out. “Nothing but a man.” The useless piece of armour was tossed aside, and the Brute grinned, as it looked over the wounded Spartan on the floor.

SQUADCOM crackled to life, but Jerome barely heard the voice over the echo of Douglas’ scream ringing in his ears. ‹Red Team, this is Recon One. You have multiple hostiles approaching your location.›

He strode forward, almost in a daze, pointing his BR towards the Brute, and he saw Alice doing likewise with her M6C as they moved closer to their fallen comrade. He barely even heard his own voice, as he said softly, “Alice, we’re leaving.” Beneath his golden visor, he glared at the Brute, walking backwards to cover Alice as she began to drag Douglas away.

“Yes. Run, little Demons.” The Brute laughed mockingly, its gravity hammer still held as though he intended to attack, although he began to turn away from the retreating Spartans.

“Command, this is Red Team. We have a Spartan casualty.” Jerome was running on autopilot, the adrenaline flooding through his body, the words falling out of his mouth with no inflection to them. Everything was beginning to feel numb, and fade away, except his ire at the Brute, and fear for Douglas. He almost did not notice as he and Alice picked up the pace once they moved closer to the exit, hurrying to get away from the scene as quickly as they could. “Immediate EVAC requested.”

What he did notice, was his teammate fading. What he did hear was the rapid, pained pants for breath, as Douglas struggled to remain conscious.

“Douglas, stay with me.” he urged, and there was a quaver in his voice that he could not hide. Red Team had not survived through so much together only to lose one of their own now. It was not going to happen. There was no way.

But the hand that held onto his broken shoulder dropped to the ground, and the Spartan went limp, his eyes fluttering closed. He couldn’t fight it any longer; he was out cold. There was nothing that could be done. Not with whatever was pursuing them.

A chill of fear shot through Jerome, and it bled straight into his tone as he called out for his friend. “Douglas!”

They raced outside, Alice stringing Douglas across her shoulders as she hurried to the awaiting Warthog. Jerome, however, lingered and stared, seeing hundreds upon hundreds of Brutes, standing upon the cliff’s edges high above them. However, he snapped out of it when he heard more of the furry creatures crashing through the hallway they’d just exited, and without bothering to aim his rifle, fired into their midst. He then whirled and hurried after Alice.

“COME ON, COME ON!”

“Do we have a plan?” Alice questioned, looking over her shoulder at him.

Again, that cold, hard feeling shot through him like a lightning bolt. “We do.” he answered, and he was calm, collected, cool. He was level-headed; he was the leader. He was angry; he was hurt. Yes, oh yes, he had a plan.

His teammate nodded as she deposited Douglas into the passenger seat, and as she scrambled up to take the Vulcan turret, Jerome jumped into the driver’s seat. “Jerome to Spirit of Fire.”

Something akin to relief flooded through his veins, as the Spirit was quick to answer. ‹Cutter here. Status?›

“Sir. Requesting danger close.” He started the Warthog, and the vehicle growled to life, giving him an immense feeling of satisfaction. “On our location, trailing north.” Behind him, he heard the chaingun clanking, as Alice spun it into position, to cover their six. “Commence five seconds.”

“Interesting plan!” Alice sounded pleased, and that, too, was a relief.

‹Understood. Archer missiles, inbound.› SQUADCOM hissed closed, and the Warthog roared as Jerome punched the accelerator, the vehicle shooting away from the Research Outpost.   

Nothing else mattered now. All they had to do was get out of here, and make sure Douglas made it back to the Spirit of Fire alive. Once he was safely aboard, only then would he have a chance. And Jerome and Alice would do all they could to ensure they got “home” in one piece. No matter how tough those damned Brutes were, and no matter how many there were, they would not lose Douglas.

Not today.