[ It's hard to say anyone here is a complete stranger, all things considered; he recognizes the name, vaguely recalls a face. Then again, maybe that's all to blame on Clarke's connection.
There's a short pause while he mulls it over. For once, his first response isn't stubborn or indignant resistance. ]
( Scouting? Will it be of much help?)
[ War and fighting are things he likes to avoid. Scouting's something he actually enjoys, when he's got the luxury of ignoring the larger context. ]
( clarke's rather impassive to the idea of scouting; holds no love for it but recognizes the reason and importance of knowing what was coming your way before it actually got there. mostly she's just clamoring to find a way to be useful, to be involved. waiting in camp whilst the others rode around on mechanical deer hasn't sat well with her, and her thoughts are tinged with the conviction of the ready. )
[ That drive for usefulness is so inherently other to Mat that it's one of the few things he can easily identify as hers, not his. It's easy enough to feel now, though it reads as charmingly enthusiastic rather than obnoxiously pushy. So far, anyway. ]
(And so long as we don't slip and fall off the flaming cliffs altogether. )
[ He's kidding (mostly). His agreement's in the lack of a clear no. ]
(Probably before sunrise.) ( color clarke surprisingly optimistic, encouraged by the lack of refusal and rejection, or just keyed into his thoughts but she knows he'll come. her thoughts take on that light, airy humor; a joke between friends. )
( any stern rejection of his probably is brief, a flash of disapproval in place of what would have been a finger-wagging lecture. )
(Yes. He's from the same place I am.)
( because in her excitement to do something productive, clarke multitasks; she's peeled out of their sleeping tent on a mission to procure water bottles and some form of carb-heavy snacks, and only as an afterthought offers mat a window into home. it probably looks a little familiar: the snapshot of metal paneling running the length of hallways on the ark, like a ghost of the station. the busy dropship camp, forests and a hazy outline of alpha station nestled in the turrets of arkadia.
a beat.
the throne room in polis, borrowed confidence and john murphy at her back, clarke with her head tipped forward obediently. whatever fledgling trust there is between the two of them, it's there. see? home. )
[ It looks awful is what it looks like. It reminds him of the ship, and that reminds him that they're theoretically meant to go back to it, all those looping corridors and solid walls. His creeping discomfort with that idea trickles back across the link despite his best efforts to belligerently ignore it. The camp and the forests are better, of course, even if some parts don't fit.
And then there's the throne room. There's a flicker of surprise, then something that feels a lot like squinting. ]
(Blood and bloody ashes, woman, don't tell me you've been royalty this whole time.)
[ Followed very quickly by a flash of irritation, though that's all for his own incompetence. ]
(She'd told me you were a leader.)
[ She carries a few hints that Clarke, if anyone, is sure to catch; the sense of Lexa's mind, her voice. ]
( mat's unease at life suspended in space is brief, just a flicker of anxiety, but clarke still catches it. even if they're not speaking face to face, a sympathetic smile tugs at the edges of her mouth as if to comfort; to say i know, or it's not that bad. the sentiments are there, if not suddenly dwarfed by a rush of confused humor. royalty? no, not her. not quite. )
(Oh — no. No, I'm not royalty. We weren't governed by a monarchy.)
( even the throne room she'd shared a snapshot of hadn't belonged to a queen, but rather a commander — nominated for her blood lineage, true, but elected through her own strength. and the organized massacre of her contenders, but clarke doesn't share that tidbit. she's too awash with brief nostalgia for all the times bellamy had called her princess without venom backing his tone. then with warmth, for the hint of lexa that mat passes along the neural bridge. )
[ His thoughts on royalty are still Mixed. He hardly would've turned her out for having titles, but there's a sense of approval at her firm rejection. It's followed by a brief moment of embarrassment when she calls him out for gossip, though he rallies quickly. ]
(A bit. You'd be asking about me if you had anyone to ask.)
[ Which is another thing altogether. The pull of homesickness is dull, already worn out and easily ignored. He's gotten used to going months without seeing his people, so it'd be foolish to start pining when he's barely been here two weeks. ]
(I spoke with Lexa. She called you her advisor.)
[ She hadn't said much past that, but he'd felt it all the same — the fondness, the trust. There's an unavoidable trace of it in his delivery that makes it feel just slightly mischievous, like maybe "advisor" isn't the right word. ]
( here we have a solid example of a bold faced liar. or at least a case of severe double standards, but clarke has neatly compartmentalized and tucked away the recent memory of interrogating misato about kaji (and the rather uncomfortable territory that conversation had veered into). it hadn't offered any new information. and besides, mat was miles more approachable.
even his ribbing is good-natured, and whatever impression of a light snort clarke presses across the link doesn't quite eclipse the underlying affection, nor the way her heart kicks up a beat. no, an advisor was only part of it, though she sticks to lexa's script and doesn't overshare. )
(I was an ambassador for my people on her council. She and I were working towards peace between all of the clans, but plenty of the other representatives were against us joining their coalition. Lexa insisted.)
[ He doesn't need to say anything for her to catch his dubious response to that first claim. Mat doesn't know her quite well enough to call her on it, but that doesn't mean he's buying what she's selling.
The all-business response isn't surprising. It's also more likely to make him homesick than anything else, which is a sad statement about how tangled up he'd been in other people's politics. It also turns out 'advisor' was the wrong word, which is significant because— ]
(You're equals, then? Both—) [ Digging deep for this one, clearly. ] (Hedas?)
( the answer on the tip of her tongue is no. no, because they're such different people, and such different leaders. both effective and brutal when called for, but with ideals rooted in a very different sort of upbringing. lexa had been raised to guide her people through war and win, while clarke had fallen rather haphazardly into the position less than six months ago, now desperately trying to play catch up and decide what sort of person she really was.
she'd tried to learn from lexa. one day hoped to be as comfortable with the weight of command. she'd been a nightblood for all of five minutes —
how she settles on describing it comes with an air of indecision. ) (Not exactly. Lexa won her right as the Commander and the leader of the Twelve Clans, and I was just one of her constituents. Back in Arkadia, my mother acted as interim Chancellor, but the people elected Marcus Kane.) ( who had been just and fair and taken the brand to make them the thirteenth clan. clarke's thoughts are colored with approval for all of a few seconds for the peace kane had strived to achieve.) (Then Charles Pike.) ( bitter vitriol, for the man who had successfully torn that peace to shreds.
but it's hollow. beneath all the political upheaval and the change of regimes, a darker presence had lurked that threatened them all. )
[ Twelve Clans, Marcus Kane, Charles Pike. None of the names or titles hold any meaning, but the emotions underpinning them do — respect, anger. The indecision that comes with stumbling into leadership, more than anything. He's not quite sure how he'd explain his own position, no matter how straightforward it ought to be on the surface
And, of course, that gnawing awareness of a larger threat. Mat's always done a good job of giving it the middle finger and trying to go about his business, but that doesn't mean he's blind to it. ]
(It's all brought you here, one way or another.) [ It matters. Mat doesn't have enough faith to think this whole mess was part of the grand plan. He just isn't stupid enough to think experience doesn't have an impact, either; Clarke's who she is for a reason. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills cuts in as an absent thought, unavoidable despite his usual efforts to avoid speaking it aloud. ]
(And she seems to think you've earned your title, whatever it is. That makes you equal enough in practice.)
[ A little fixated on the intricacies and setbacks of dating people with authority?? Maybe. ]
( ah, the intricacies and setbacks of dating people with authority, the scandal accompanying fraternizing with those who were painted as the enemy. the unjust pressure born from putting their people before themselves, the fleeting peaceful moments inevitably interrupted by some manner of pressing business, the direct heartbreak that made itself known when they knew they were saying goodbye to each other. the guilt of causing the other's demise...
there's a hum, quiet and thoughtful in response to mat's faint praise. it's filler mostly, as clarke chews on words that have been bubbling up in her chest since setting foot on hyrypia, but in a spectacular display of denial and compartmentalization, haven't been spoken aloud. now it seems necessary, though. lexa is speaking to others in a way that elevates clarke's status, mat seems to be buying into it, and he has to know — )
(She died.) ( it's flatly delivered, a little out of nowhere. but he has to know that whatever approval lexa had stamped her with, the endorsement was undeserved. )
(Lexa died, and it was my fault. What does that make us?)
[ The strange thoughtful hum is all the warning he gets, though it's better than nothing. Even if he could've masked his surprise in person (which is doubtful), the link makes it a challenge. Surprise for a second, then confusion, somewhat skeptical and sour around the edges.
He has no idea what that makes them. He doesn't know how it happened or how Clarke thinks it's her fault, and the truth is that he doesn't really want to know. ]
(She's not dead now.)
[ Like it's that simple. Where he's sitting outside one of the tents, he pulls nervously at the scarf on his neck. He never bothered to wonder what Rand thought of it, if he felt responsible. He was, in a roundabout way — but Mat would never blame him. There's a moment where it feels like he's about to throw reason at her, to keep things objective and dodge her guilt issues entirely. Then it turns, swept up in a spike of raw memory; water in your lungs, a knife in your gut, an arrow in your neck. Mat mutes the thoughts quickly, but they keep his voice curt. ]
(Does she remember it?)
[ It doesn't really occur to him to ask how someone can be living when they've died. He hasn't run into it here yet, but it isn't a completely new concept. ]
( the thing about comfort — about emotional absolution — is the party on the receiving end has to at least be slightly ready to forgive themselves for it to work. and clarke just isn't there yet. she does a good job choking it down around lexa, around murphy and bellamy, but the guilt is always there. titus' blatant vilification had eaten at her very soul until she'd internalized the message and come to believe it; i may have pulled the trigger, but it was you. he may have shot her, but it was me. the words pound all the heavier in her ears every time she and lexa have been close enough to touch, and swell in her throat like a wave ready to crash upon rocks.
she's not dead now, yes. but if they were to ever return home again, like clarke has sworn to herself she will, lexa will be dead there too. again. so perhaps the real question is: what did those desires make her? )
(I don't think so.) ( there's the rumble of memories on the other end of the bridge, loose rocks giving way under pressure. and clarke very much wants to dig into the emotional avalanche emanating from mat; wants to drown with him, use the borrowed sensation of being stabbed to lend an outlet for the constricting pain that curls in her gut every time she's left to her own thoughts about the complications that are her and lexa. but doesn't. her suffering should be her own, and they weren't going to get anywhere in terms of preparation if they allowed themselves to fall into that visceral feedback loop. )
(She knows it's happened. The others have told her, but she didn't experience it yet.) ( she's still moderately confused on how that works in the realm of things. interdimensional multiverses hadn't been covered in between earth science and math class. and clarke doesn't know if saving lexa from her own death had been a mercy or a slight. )
[ Clarke's doing a good job of pulling back from his thoughts, but he's having a hard time doing the same. Her guilt feels like a tangible weight. Maybe it's the familiarity that makes it difficult to shake off, calling like to like rather than just claiming her grief for his own.
Except that whatever's between Clarke and Lexa is stronger than whatever he'd had with Melindhra. The comparison feels selfish, and in the end it's more an objective consideration than anything else; grasping at where she's coming from, if not quite hitting the mark.
He turns over a handful of responses, some close enough to the surface that she'll likely get a sense of them — that Lexa might say otherwise, that she's got a second chance. True enough, in his opinion, but he's been on the other end of placating remarks. They usually don't amount to much. ]
( I could talk for hours trying to make you feel better, if that's what you want. But I reckon you should be asking her what the two of you are, not me.)
( a half-hearted cop-out. she should bring her guilt and reservations to the surface in a proper discussion with lexa, clarke knows this. and yet every time she looks at the other woman, the words get stuck in her throat; pushed to the darkest recesses of her mind in favor of just appreciating her existence and allowing her heart beat an uneven rhythm in her chest. because, yes, this was a second chance. but clarke was continually waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this peaceful coexistence between the two of them to crumble in the same spectacular nature it had back home. maybe she didn't want to hear lexa's answer to that question, for fear of it contradicting or complimenting her own.
the problem with loving someone, losing them, and finding them again was — you knew what losing them felt like. that isn't a feeling one could so easily shake.
and yet, clarke tries. clears her throat, sniffs; like those two composing sounds would mask all the overflowing sorrow in her heart. there is the urge to be useful, to use her hands and her brain for anything other than dwelling on this sudden and unwelcome swell of feelings. )
[ Mat's the last person to call someone out for dodging their emotions. There's a pull of disappointment in their link, all the same; at her for avoiding the issue, at himself for not coming up with some miracle fix.
Clarke's question is followed by a heavy pause. He could pursue the subject, but he's not sure to what end. Upsetting Clarke, most likely. ]
(I'll be awake when I'm awake.)
[ Except the undercurrent says yes, a steadfast confirmation that he'll be there when she asks. If he can't offer any resolution to her real problems, he can at least be on time. ]
( stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. she can respect that.
and while the good-natured, friendly tone of their conversation had flickered and died sometime around the first mention of her homeworld, clarke has adequately buttoned up her weepy mood and retreats from his mind with the faint impression of a small smile and a nod.
(and an unspoken threat along the lines of i know where you sleep and i'm not opposed to rolling you out of bed — just for good measure.) )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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There's a short pause while he mulls it over. For once, his first response isn't stubborn or indignant resistance. ]
( Scouting? Will it be of much help? )
[ War and fighting are things he likes to avoid. Scouting's something he actually enjoys, when he's got the luxury of ignoring the larger context. ]
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( It can't hurt so long as we're not seen. )
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( And so long as we don't slip and fall off the flaming cliffs altogether. )
[ He's kidding (mostly). His agreement's in the lack of a clear no. ]
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( says the one who later proceeds to not be careful and almost falls off said flaming cliffs. gj clarke. )
( So you'll come? )
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( Depends. Will I have to wake up early? )
[ Yes, he'll come. ]
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( And you'll need to pack your own lunch. )
moRE GOSSIP
[ He's not really going to get drunk on the top of a cliff. Probably. ]
( This John Murphy, he's a friend of yours? )
bless u
( Yes. He's from the same place I am. )
( because in her excitement to do something productive, clarke multitasks; she's peeled out of their sleeping tent on a mission to procure water bottles and some form of carb-heavy snacks, and only as an afterthought offers mat a window into home. it probably looks a little familiar: the snapshot of metal paneling running the length of hallways on the ark, like a ghost of the station. the busy dropship camp, forests and a hazy outline of alpha station nestled in the turrets of arkadia.
a beat.
the throne room in polis, borrowed confidence and john murphy at her back, clarke with her head tipped forward obediently. whatever fledgling trust there is between the two of them, it's there. see? home. )
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And then there's the throne room. There's a flicker of surprise, then something that feels a lot like squinting. ]
( Blood and bloody ashes, woman, don't tell me you've been royalty this whole time. )
[ Followed very quickly by a flash of irritation, though that's all for his own incompetence. ]
( She'd told me you were a leader. )
[ She carries a few hints that Clarke, if anyone, is sure to catch; the sense of Lexa's mind, her voice. ]
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( Oh — no. No, I'm not royalty. We weren't governed by a monarchy. )
( even the throne room she'd shared a snapshot of hadn't belonged to a queen, but rather a commander — nominated for her blood lineage, true, but elected through her own strength. and the organized massacre of her contenders, but clarke doesn't share that tidbit. she's too awash with brief nostalgia for all the times bellamy had called her princess without venom backing his tone. then with warmth, for the hint of lexa that mat passes along the neural bridge. )
( You've been talking about me? )
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( A bit. You'd be asking about me if you had anyone to ask. )
[ Which is another thing altogether. The pull of homesickness is dull, already worn out and easily ignored. He's gotten used to going months without seeing his people, so it'd be foolish to start pining when he's barely been here two weeks. ]
( I spoke with Lexa. She called you her advisor. )
[ She hadn't said much past that, but he'd felt it all the same — the fondness, the trust. There's an unavoidable trace of it in his delivery that makes it feel just slightly mischievous, like maybe "advisor" isn't the right word. ]
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( here we have a solid example of a bold faced liar. or at least a case of severe double standards, but clarke has neatly compartmentalized and tucked away the recent memory of interrogating misato about kaji (and the rather uncomfortable territory that conversation had veered into). it hadn't offered any new information. and besides, mat was miles more approachable.
even his ribbing is good-natured, and whatever impression of a light snort clarke presses across the link doesn't quite eclipse the underlying affection, nor the way her heart kicks up a beat. no, an advisor was only part of it, though she sticks to lexa's script and doesn't overshare. )
( I was an ambassador for my people on her council. She and I were working towards peace between all of the clans, but plenty of the other representatives were against us joining their coalition. Lexa insisted. )
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The all-business response isn't surprising. It's also more likely to make him homesick than anything else, which is a sad statement about how tangled up he'd been in other people's politics. It also turns out 'advisor' was the wrong word, which is significant because— ]
( You're equals, then? Both— ) [ Digging deep for this one, clearly. ] ( Hedas? )
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she'd tried to learn from lexa. one day hoped to be as comfortable with the weight of command. she'd been a nightblood for all of five minutes —
how she settles on describing it comes with an air of indecision. ) ( Not exactly. Lexa won her right as the Commander and the leader of the Twelve Clans, and I was just one of her constituents. Back in Arkadia, my mother acted as interim Chancellor, but the people elected Marcus Kane. ) ( who had been just and fair and taken the brand to make them the thirteenth clan. clarke's thoughts are colored with approval for all of a few seconds for the peace kane had strived to achieve.) ( Then Charles Pike. ) ( bitter vitriol, for the man who had successfully torn that peace to shreds.
but it's hollow. beneath all the political upheaval and the change of regimes, a darker presence had lurked that threatened them all. )
( I'm not sure any of it matters now. )
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And, of course, that gnawing awareness of a larger threat. Mat's always done a good job of giving it the middle finger and trying to go about his business, but that doesn't mean he's blind to it. ]
( It's all brought you here, one way or another. ) [ It matters. Mat doesn't have enough faith to think this whole mess was part of the grand plan. He just isn't stupid enough to think experience doesn't have an impact, either; Clarke's who she is for a reason. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills cuts in as an absent thought, unavoidable despite his usual efforts to avoid speaking it aloud. ]
( And she seems to think you've earned your title, whatever it is. That makes you equal enough in practice. )
[ A little fixated on the intricacies and setbacks of dating people with authority?? Maybe. ]
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there's a hum, quiet and thoughtful in response to mat's faint praise. it's filler mostly, as clarke chews on words that have been bubbling up in her chest since setting foot on hyrypia, but in a spectacular display of denial and compartmentalization, haven't been spoken aloud. now it seems necessary, though. lexa is speaking to others in a way that elevates clarke's status, mat seems to be buying into it, and he has to know — )
( She died. ) ( it's flatly delivered, a little out of nowhere. but he has to know that whatever approval lexa had stamped her with, the endorsement was undeserved. )
( Lexa died, and it was my fault. What does that make us? )
http://www.zingerbug.com/Comments/glitter_graphics/yikes_pink_purple_glitter_wiggle.gif
He has no idea what that makes them. He doesn't know how it happened or how Clarke thinks it's her fault, and the truth is that he doesn't really want to know. ]
( She's not dead now. )
[ Like it's that simple. Where he's sitting outside one of the tents, he pulls nervously at the scarf on his neck. He never bothered to wonder what Rand thought of it, if he felt responsible. He was, in a roundabout way — but Mat would never blame him. There's a moment where it feels like he's about to throw reason at her, to keep things objective and dodge her guilt issues entirely. Then it turns, swept up in a spike of raw memory; water in your lungs, a knife in your gut, an arrow in your neck. Mat mutes the thoughts quickly, but they keep his voice curt. ]
( Does she remember it? )
[ It doesn't really occur to him to ask how someone can be living when they've died. He hasn't run into it here yet, but it isn't a completely new concept. ]
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she's not dead now, yes. but if they were to ever return home again, like clarke has sworn to herself she will, lexa will be dead there too. again. so perhaps the real question is: what did those desires make her? )
( I don't think so. ) ( there's the rumble of memories on the other end of the bridge, loose rocks giving way under pressure. and clarke very much wants to dig into the emotional avalanche emanating from mat; wants to drown with him, use the borrowed sensation of being stabbed to lend an outlet for the constricting pain that curls in her gut every time she's left to her own thoughts about the complications that are her and lexa. but doesn't. her suffering should be her own, and they weren't going to get anywhere in terms of preparation if they allowed themselves to fall into that visceral feedback loop. )
( She knows it's happened. The others have told her, but she didn't experience it yet. ) ( she's still moderately confused on how that works in the realm of things. interdimensional multiverses hadn't been covered in between earth science and math class. and clarke doesn't know if saving lexa from her own death had been a mercy or a slight. )
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Except that whatever's between Clarke and Lexa is stronger than whatever he'd had with Melindhra. The comparison feels selfish, and in the end it's more an objective consideration than anything else; grasping at where she's coming from, if not quite hitting the mark.
He turns over a handful of responses, some close enough to the surface that she'll likely get a sense of them — that Lexa might say otherwise, that she's got a second chance. True enough, in his opinion, but he's been on the other end of placating remarks. They usually don't amount to much. ]
( I could talk for hours trying to make you feel better, if that's what you want. But I reckon you should be asking her what the two of you are, not me. )
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( a half-hearted cop-out. she should bring her guilt and reservations to the surface in a proper discussion with lexa, clarke knows this. and yet every time she looks at the other woman, the words get stuck in her throat; pushed to the darkest recesses of her mind in favor of just appreciating her existence and allowing her heart beat an uneven rhythm in her chest. because, yes, this was a second chance. but clarke was continually waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this peaceful coexistence between the two of them to crumble in the same spectacular nature it had back home. maybe she didn't want to hear lexa's answer to that question, for fear of it contradicting or complimenting her own.
the problem with loving someone, losing them, and finding them again was — you knew what losing them felt like. that isn't a feeling one could so easily shake.
and yet, clarke tries. clears her throat, sniffs; like those two composing sounds would mask all the overflowing sorrow in her heart. there is the urge to be useful, to use her hands and her brain for anything other than dwelling on this sudden and unwelcome swell of feelings. )
( Early tomorrow, got it? )
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Clarke's question is followed by a heavy pause. He could pursue the subject, but he's not sure to what end. Upsetting Clarke, most likely. ]
( I'll be awake when I'm awake. )
[ Except the undercurrent says yes, a steadfast confirmation that he'll be there when she asks. If he can't offer any resolution to her real problems, he can at least be on time. ]
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and while the good-natured, friendly tone of their conversation had flickered and died sometime around the first mention of her homeworld, clarke has adequately buttoned up her weepy mood and retreats from his mind with the faint impression of a small smile and a nod.
(and an unspoken threat along the lines of i know where you sleep and i'm not opposed to rolling you out of bed — just for good measure.) )