(closed) everybody thinks of the noise and the power of you

[heda]

WHO: Clarke Griffin, Lexa
WHAT: Lexa's leg is broken, among other things
WHEN: Backdated to just after this thread
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: nah

[ Not being locked up is all well and good, and Lexa is certainly grateful for that. But she is still miles from home, her guards are at best still a ways behind them, and she is unsure if the tentative hospitality that has been extended to her goes as far as letting her take a horse from the stables. She's unsure if she could manage to both mount a horse and ride it all the way back to Towerhold if it did.

Probably. She can clench her fists a little tighter at her sides as she hobbles down the steps into Skyhold's courtyard and tell herself probably. She has a great deal of faith in the sturdiness of her own constitution and it is not an unreasonable faith. But the truth is that it has been three days and her leg is only getting more broken, not less, and even the toughest warriors must also at some point be realists. She needs a healer, and Skyhold has them, and she is allowed to be here and to seek them out. It would be foolish not to take that opportunity.

She finds the cluster of tents without difficulty except of movement, and gets into the line of those waiting to be seen. She could probably push forward--she certainly looks the worst for wear out of the small group, filthy and pale beneath all the mud smears and only just barely able to put weight on her left leg--but doesn't, just closing her eyes for a moment as she waits, attempting to be patient. ]

Comments

[levered]

[ Clarke sees her first coming out of one tent, headed for another, with poultices in both hands. She isn't a real healer--not like the ones who really work the tents day in and out, with spirits or far more knowledge than she has or both at their disposal--but she tries to help, when she's here. Even when that means fetching things. Mid-fetch now, she stops to look at Lexa, from her momentarily closed eyes to her uneven stance. Her eyes narrow and her mouth tightens, and then she keeps moving. Vanishes back into a tent.

It's several minutes before she reemerges empty-handed. By then she's half expecting to see Lexa has vanished--maybe she was never really there--or someone else has taken pity, but no luck on either front, so she walks down the line to her. ]

You should sit down, [ she says, flat and exasperated. ]

[heda]

[ Lexa's eyes snap open when Clarke speaks, widened by surprise for a second before she gets her face back under control. She straightens up a smidge, shoulders back, chin up. She's trying not to wince as she does it, a little twinge around her mouth most people would miss but Clarke might spot.

It's always hard not to stare a little when she sees Clarke, the occasions too few and far between for the urge to wear off, but she tugs her gaze away now, looking around. At who else might have seen her, and for something to sit on. Seeing nothing, and two more people ahead of her in line, she lifts a brow at Clarke. And then shrugs, but only shallowly, moving as little as she can. ]

I can wait.

[levered]

You're not impressing anyone.

[ Clarke isn't trying not to stare, but there's nothing sweet about it. It's all business and challenge, and there's likewise nothing tender about the way she holds an arm out in an offer of support. Physical support only. Lexa can look after her two and a half emotions by herself--

That's less true than the last time they spoke, but it's still true. ]

Stairs. Come on.

[ The stairs in question are some distance away--the narrow shadowed ones along the wall, unused compared to the broader, sunlit stairway near the gates. ]

[heda]

[ Lexa opens her mouth to say I'm not trying to impress anyone but maybe that's not totally accurate and also what is the point in arguing that, of all the things she'd like to make Clarke believe. She shuts her mouth again.

The word stairs makes her tense, and it doesn't really fade when she realizes Clarke means they should go sit on them, not climb up yet another set. They seem very far away, and taking Clarke's arm feels wrong for more reasons than one. But as soon as she starts to take a step she can feel that her leg wants to give out, and falling on her face after refusing help would be a greater indignity than just accepting it.

But she still hesitates a moment, and swallows hard as she takes Clarke's arm. She tries not to lean on her, tries to touch her as little as possible, and definitely doesn't look at her as they make their way across the courtyard. She falters after a couple steps and her grip tightens, suddenly clutched hard. She loosens it almost right away but needs it again a step or two later and for the rest of the way, most of her slight weight leaned on Clarke by the end. ]

I'm sorry, [ she says quietly, through her teeth, ] It's broken.

[levered]

Unless you broke it on purpose--

[ Don't apologize. But those words are too wrong for her to say aloud, and they've reached the steps, so helping Lexa sit is as convenient excuse to let the half-thought dangle unfinished as anything else.

She sits, too, on the bottom step, even with Lexa's legs to untie the boot on her favored leg. Maybe she'll remember to feel awkward about this later, but for now she's brisk, intentionally focused, refusing to let it mean anything except that Lexa's leg is broken and Clarke is here to work. It's almost as if Lexa is no one. ]

What are you doing here?

[ Almost. ]

[heda]

[ Lexa hesitates, and it's not just that she's frozen a little because Clarke is taking off her boot and what is going to happen next???? (Probably nothing, probably pain, get a grip Lexa.) She also doesn't know how Clarke will react to the truth about why she's here, or if it will somehow be another reason to be mad at her, one she doesn't deserve, this time.

She aims for the simplest version of the truth possible. ] I was caught in a mudslide while traveling, injured, and separated from my guards. Bellamy took me prisoner and brought me here. The Nightingale released me.

[levered]

[ The boot comes off--gently, she's not a monster--and the sock, if Avvar wear socks, and what happens is that Clarke examines her foot for bruising, swelling, pooling blood, and touches the fingertips of one hand to her shinbone. It's the best she can do to hide her reactions to Bellamy and Nightingale, though the shifting of her eyebrows is probably still visible with her head bent down.

She doesn't apologize for Bellamy. She doesn't ask for details. She'd still rather hear it from Bellamy than Lexa. ]

Do your guards know you're here?

[heda]

[ Clarke's examination will reveal whatever the signs are of a leg that was broken three days ago and has been walked on (and briefly--too briefly--run on) and knocked around and punched and not treated at all. There are other bruises and things too, but that's not important.

She'd like more of a reaction than that, something easier to read. But she supposes it makes sense; why would Clarke even care, really? She forces her expression and her voice a shade flatter, pulls the shutters closed a little tighter. Shrugs again. ]

They will have found the trail.

[levered]

Then we'd better get you taken care of.

[ As if she wouldn't otherwise. She would. But the possibility that angry Avvar will appear at the gates and find their thane worse for the wear doesn't lessen her motivation any. She finds the break by heat and swelling and looks up while she considers her options. Her capabilities. How much to lecture Bellamy later. ]

Did you tell him it was broken?

[heda]

He knew.

[ Being taken care of sounds nice. It shouldn't, and anyway Clarke didn't mean it nicely as much as professionally, Lexa knows that. But she said the words and the idea is there now. She swallows and looks down at her hands, beginning to pick dirt out from under her nails. It's pointless given how filthy she is in general, but it's something to do that isn't going to sleep or gazing at the side of Clarke's head and being far too aware of every touch of Clarke's hands. If she didn't also hurt so much she'd prickle with goosebumps at the brush of fingers up shin.

Despite her effort to shift fully back into commander-mode, being out of immediate danger and sitting down doing nothing but holding still and waiting means the strain of the last few days is finally starting to hit her. In her effort to not pay too much attention to Clarke and to not think about the pain and to avoid saying things about her last few days with Bellamy that won't help anyone, Lexa instead begins to sort of zone out for a moment, eyes unfocusing somewhere just past Clarke's ear. ]

[levered]

[ She nods curtly, as if expecting that—which she was. She doesn't care about him out of ignorance.

Still, he's in for it.

Her head ducks back down to focus on Lexa's leg, which Clarke does her best to divorce from the rest of her. It's not connected to any mouths she's kissed or throats she's thought of slitting. It's a broken bone in bruised flesh. Something she can soothe, if not fix entirely. The glow beneath her palm when she presses it to Lexa's shin—it encourages a body to knit itself back together, but it doesn't demand it. Not the way the proper healers can do. ]

You'll want to stay to see one of the spirit healers. [ She glances up for the first time in a minute or two to find Lexa not watching her like a wary, aloof hawk. Clarke knows her face does other things than that, but under the circumstances— ] I can get you walking better, but I... When's the last time you ate?

i'm just going to assume bellamy's a dick who doesn't share food bc cee's not here to stop me

[heda]

[ Magical healing is a strange sensation, a cool prickle of awareness where awareness can't usually reach. It's odd but not altogether unpleasant and by this point it's also familiar, easily ignored. Clarke's touch takes more effort to ignore, but she's managing.

So Lexa doesn't snap back to attention until Clarke speaks, and then the way her head jerks around and she blinks her eyes clear gives even more away about how far her attention wandered than her face had before. But she gets herself together quickly, as ever, and nods her understanding. She may have overestimated Clarke's healing abilities a little, but being able to walk better will do for now, especially compared to how dire things were just a few minutes ago.

The question makes her squint and consider, which is probably answer enough even before she shrugs. ] A few days.

[levered]

[ Very in for it. But she only says, ] You'll want to do something about that, too.

[ She doesn't carry food. Beneath her hand Lexa's bone is sealing, a thin layer of reconnection that could break again with too much pressure, or pressure of the wrong sort. Time could take care of the rest if Lexa were going to stay off of it until then. But that's laughable. Probably. ]

How long do you think you'll be here?

[heda]

[ Lexa wasn't exactly expecting an invitation to dinner, but she still looks at Clarke for a moment in mild consternation, unsure what to make of this reminder. She answers the question instead. ]

A day, maybe two. I am meant to be in Ghost-cat Hold; they were struck by mudslides and flooding. Does that tavern accept goods for trade, or just coins?

[ Somehow she didn't manage to hang on to her wallet between the mudslide and the kidnapping. ]

[levered]

[ Two days isn't bad--for Clarke, who would like to not see her again, or would like to and then would like not to extra out of spite. She's quiet for a moment before she closes her hand into a fist against Lexa's shin, extinguishing the light, and lifts her chin to give her an exasperate look. ]

Going to give them your coat?

[ Mockery is not the product blah blah blah, but it buys her another moment to decide whether or not she's actually going to offer to feed her or not. ]

[heda]

[ Lexa almost says the words, but catches herself in time. She doesn't get to do that anymore, but she does tip a dry, flat look at Clarke instead. ]

I'll make do.

[ She doesn't sound worried, because she's not. Food would be very nice, but finding somewhere safe to take a nap is her primary concern. 'Primary' meaning 'secondary to the importance of her coat,' obviously. ]

[levered]

I'm sure you will.

[ She's prodding Lexa's shin now, fingers braced, testing her work. The swelling has gone down. The bone will hold unless she falls on it in the near future--so a visit to the spirit healers is still in order, but there's time. Clarke sighs and picks up Lexa's boot, holds it out, isn't forgiving enough to put it back on for her as well, but she smiles a little. If you squint it's almost a fond smile, in an exasperated way, but only almost. ]

I'll get you something from the kitchens.

[heda]

[ Lexa watches Clarke poking at her shin, more distracted now by her focus on the sensation and how much pain and discomfort it causes than anything. It seems fine, and when Clarke offers her boot she tips forward to pull it back on. She still moves gingerly--battered and bruised and stiff from her tumble down a mountain and being tied to a tree and a horse for so long--but not enough to prompt concern.

She looks up sharply at the offer, surprise obvious in the jerk of her head and brief wideness of her eyes. She looks at Clarke through her lashes for a moment and then turns back to her boot, finishing making sure it is snug and her pants straight. She considers demuring, but doesn't, instead standing and testing her weight, ready to follow. ]

Thank you. [ Clarke smiled, sort of, so Lexa does too, a minuscule little curve of her mouth in gratitude. ]