indie COMMANDER LEXA rp account. based on THE 100 television show with an equal focus on an adapted YELLOWJACKETS verse. but adaptable to panfandom roleplay. prose-heavy & strictly 18+.
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i'm already coming up with upsetting yj headcanons and you can't stop me!
#LEKSAKOM / I MAGINE DEATH so much it feels more like a memory. when’s it gonna get me? in my sleep? seven feet ahead of me? if i see it coming, do i RUN or do i LET IT BE?
an independent commander lexa from the 100. heavily adapted for yellowjackets. loved by bucku ( who refuses to let go of the past ).
@shelassos said: “ when you talk, i wonder whether you lie or tell the truth. ”
lexa seldom sports her surprise on open features. & so, even though the question stokes a jumping interest beneath the buckled clasp of her sash, she turns toward it with a singular, slanting brow to mark her curiosity. “ i was not aware i’d given you cause to DOUBT my honesty, ” she says plainly in a way that though noncommittal in its intent begets the beginnings of a challenge.
‘hiroshima mon amour’ writing prompts.
@revyrie said: “I heard stories about you.”
the smile that splits her features does so without hesitation ; there’s a wildness that spins the misting haze of springtime into the baby curls slipped free of her braid & a comfort settled into the silhouette of a woman who has learned both to LEAD & LOVE with time. there’s an old ache that wakes on mornings like this when there is little more than grey clouds billowed out rolling thickly with unspent rain. it nudges just north of her navel ; the skin is silvery & stiff down to the last notch of her spin before she gets to stretching.
but she still moves well. she is still warm muscle, warm blood recouped from the black inkblot on the furs, a warrior shaped out of spring ferns & wintered pines.
“ all rooted IN FACT, i’m sure, ” lexa relates with the pleasantry of it all climbing up to her cheeks, still ornamented by warpaint even if there’s no longer cause to sport the symbol between her brows. “ tell me, goufa, ” dazzles the rare emerald spark glittering in her gaze. “ what have you heard about me? you have my ear & i'm curious to know what it is that your nomon has to say. ”
“That’s what this is about?” Usually, Clarke is to blame in some way when he’s captive to the grounders, but his stomach sinks as he looks for any other scapegoat for his crimes. He can’t incriminate Emori. He knows how grounder justice works. He might lose a hand but she’d lose her life. Murphy panics and latches onto the only other useful information he knows.
“If I were you, heda, I wouldn’t worry about petty theft when you’ve got bigger problems. No one’s going to miss the rat cart at the market this week. But this–this ALIE–she’s going to kill everyone. Just like last time. Look–look, just check my bag if you don’t believe me okay? They’re making chips.” He sounds crazy, Murphy knows it. How does he even start to explain artificial intelligence to a grounder?
“ that you, john murphy, are A THIEF? ” she asks it with a hedging hilt of her brow ; her temper is a steady thing beneath the low prow of contemplating hovering her brow. “ do you think yourself so above the laws of this land that you are to avail yourself to the resources that others have FOUGHT & DIED for? ” she shields her the flickered annoyance underneath the diplomacy that holds her accountable for the living & breathing for thirteen clans of mothers, fathers, children.
“ there are no matters too small for my command. you’d do well to learn this. ”
“ you may assume that no one will notice they’re missing a bolt of fabric or an apple from their cart, but small losses add up. there is a village dependent on the goods they bring in from the market. ” the monologued practicum in pragmatism & evened justice comes to an end wither a furrow digging between her brows. a furtive glance to the tatters of his bag sullies. “ chips? ” echoes an unfamiliar word for this type of consideration. “ —— what is the meaning of this? ”
do you understand what you’ve done? you have 90 minutes to complete. (insp.)
i am so sorry that this took so long for me to put out – december was not kind and i had family things to do on christmas day and today was the only time i could get to a laptop. but @gunbitchalicia - i’m your secret santa and sorry that i couldn’t send you more messages like i want too but here is the graphic that i promised! – i also promised it wouldn’t be angsty – i lied.
also big thank you to @swan-heda for putting this together!
nofable·:
lexa becomes the soiled roots of a grand tree, the growing bark devouring the earth below… but clarke had always been the summer winds, the faint dusting of air [ she binds herself to her people, but to very little else – she has been in captivation long enough to know that she can only survive when freedom surrounds her… she knows her people feel the same, even if their words are sometimes distorted with youth and inexperience ]. but is is nice to view someone who lives with the world, growing with the wildlife that struggles against this pitiful world. THERE IS STILL SO MUCH FOR CLARKE TO LEARN – there is still so much for her to fear… but in this quiet world of faux - meditation, there is nothing but a desire to enjoy the sweet moment they had trapped themselves in, the scar of it running deep against her ribs. she takes her seat, across from lexa, legs folding towards her body. ‘ do you know how to speak in anything but riddles? or is this a leadership skill i haven’t heard about yet? ’ there is an easy smile in clarke’s voice – maybe she is growing complacent. ‘ you must know how i find it. i’m not secretive. ’
she is finite ; this is a TRUTH of being made of bone & tissue no matter the color of the ink fueling her veins. & so though clarke’s zephyr-ed spirit tips kilter plans, the well-oiled machinery of a world that runs on jus drein jus daun she is as evergreen as a sentry of pines in the forest biding their time for the moment when the juniper fades. she knows how to make it through a cruel winter just as well as how to weather the high-sunned afternoons in july. “ it’s called diplomacy, clarke, ” hugs the corners of her barely-bidden smile. though the musing bend of her lips is restrained, it manages to make its way up to charm the wealth of fern in her gaze with a summery gold flirtation. “ it will come to you in time. i’ve found that sometimes stating your intention does not get you to the end goal. ”
( but, lexa is human no matter how bandied & flexible she is to make her way through the endless battlement of seasons & clans. & so when it comes to clarke, she bends toward the easier response, the one that makes her realize there is still green in the center of her limbs ; she is a young woman still. )
“ perhaps i’d like to hear it from you, ” lexa posits, all the steady calm & contemplation slipping away in favor of an earnest inquest. the rounding edges of her mouth tip wry. “ surely your people have this custom of conversation. ”
You rip out handfuls of grass and shower our bare legs in the leaves. The work leaves green stains on your hands.
❝ dead zone. ❞ it is a macabre echo, a confirmation of the name that imparts such a sense of cheer within her that she can hardly wait to traverse it. ❝ i’m sure it’s lots of fun. ❞ aloy is only disarmed in sentiment when she sees the same from the other woman, a sort of stalemate that can only be attributed to the whittling of the woman’s resolve over aloy’s obvious ignorance. she is not a threat, she cares little for the rise and fall of the tribes in this land … in this time ; should she fail none of it would matter.
honestly contains the best policy in affairs such as this where might is questioned and means are to remain hidden - a lie would be more believable than what aloy has to provide.
❝ i’m from the future. about … a thousand years or so ? the world ends. ❞ aloy doesn’t impress upon the how or the why - there is only one answer that suffices the common understanding and the rest is ire. ❝ which is why i can’t really afford to care about what’s going on here because … if i don’t figure this out it won’t matter anyways. ❞
this is not the first apocalyptic portent ; that lives all around them in rubbled buildings & distorted version of creatures, in a language cobbled together out of CODE WORDS over a radio. “ you’re from the future, ” she echoes all the same, puzzling it out in a stoic scrutiny that studies attire that seems to fit within this time, within this place.
this is a universe where people fall from the sky like shooting stars & bring ruin along with them.
“ you say the world will come to an end, ” lexa starts to draw ahead of @grievences in long-pulled steps that disrupt the bedding of leaves crumbled underfoot on their journey. the sun is their guide from its homing space high over the canopy of brambled branches & canopied foliage. her palm remains settled over the hilt of her sheathed blade should she need it. “ & yet you’re here in my time. ”
“ you may not care for the politics of my people. ” peril toward the people of polis & its surrounding areas has her attention. “ but if you wish to make it through unharmed, you must understand it. ” her horse hoofs at the detritus with a blustered when they meet him. she strokes a hand down his mane, brow carving upward. “ ----- ride with me ; tell me your story along the way. ”
it’s noisy, loud, nearly impossible to hold on to multiple lines of coherent thoughts, and jason suspects it to simultaneously be one of the most peaceful places in the city. there’s a certain cohesion to the disorder, chaotic as it might be, as he imagines to be more reminiscent of people who actually … got along. not perfectly, but perseverance was the key. traces of it conjure old ideas and older memories, but nothing quite parallel to the energy here.
jason clinks the surface of a fingernail against his glass, amusement the whisper of a laugh behind closed lips. “ that would require actually eating dinner in the same room, ” is what he offers over quirked grin, “ which hasn’t happened for awhile. they’re uh, a little judgmental. kinda stuck in their ways. so i tend to avoid ‘em when i can. ”
“ they sound charming, ” is the dry observation that lexa offers in that moment.
A CLATTERING BANG shatters the solemn moment between them. a slew of curse words paired with what sounds like a spoon clashing metal & dishes clanking irritably tells her that anya is at the helm. a low, gravel growl resounds gustus’ begrudging disagreement with whatever spurred the outrage.
lexa’s arched brow marries up with its mate before she exhales a long-suffering sight. “ though i know how that goes. they think want the BEST for you but it’s sometimes difficult to see it from their perspective. ” her chin still balances on her knuckles so that she can study his reaction for any timbre of longing for somewhere else to go. “ you’ll find there is no shortage of camaraderie here. though i recommend sitting two down from anya if you’d like to keep your fingers. ”
there are pieces of her soul that she’ll never get back, but as a wet snowflake lands on her nose clarke starts to grow new ones in their wake. the deep, misty woods provide her the solace of privacy with the one person she trusts enough to share it with. clarke spares lexa a quick glance as she sweeps under the cloak, but soon enough her gaze returns to the slow flakes in the sky. ❝ we should get that tarp for your room in polis, ❞ she reminds. clarke, the terminal workaholic, never dawdles for long. ❝ patch up the balcony door panels before it gets colder … ❞
as the flurries settle crystalline & glittered silvery between the fawning furl of clarke’s lashes, lexa BLINKS against a host of them on her own. there is nothing but nature all around them. the cool-crisp blanket of white coating the mossy greens & wrapping itself around the spiny treetops like a cloak of its own is such a stark contrast to clarke, who is a season all to herself in a dash of red & bright blue eyes. “ i can handle a little cold. ” there’s an uncharacteristic mirth hugging at the purse of her lips ( maybe it’s born of all the wonderment or of the close warmth huddling near her shoulder ). “ but perhaps if you’ll be a frequent visitor i can take that under consideration. you should be comfortable during your stay. ”
The Solar Storm
an edit of this artwork, I made on a request. :) (s6)
fightear·:
distrust has been a plague to those from the sky and the ground. the toll of unnecessary deaths continues to rise, no matter which side of the argument a person stands. “doesn’t it though? isn’t that what you did to clarke?” it was the one time peyton felt any sense of compassion for the other. she put her faith in the wrong person. “you haven’t given me a reason to understand you yet, other than the common desire to protect. but i’m not on that list for you and you’re not on that list for me. so where do we start?” the blonde takes a step in, cautious but willing. “where would you start?”
“ clarke understands that decisions must be made. ” she is so used to facing the wrathful bolt of vengeance, of BLISTERED BETRAYAL that she is able to meet it with a solid, steady acknowledgment. the bow of her nod lists downward, all solemnity culling her calm. “ & that not all of them are easy. the world does not exist in black & white. ”
if it did, the bitter-acrid flavor of grief for loss of both individuals ( costia, gustus ) & the myriad members of her clans ( the 300 murdered in rapturous flame, the SLAUGHTERED PEOPLE whose blood will sully the fields for months yet to come ) would be a deciding factor enough. instead, lexa nudges the chess piece forward for consideration ---- there are times when pawns curry more power than queens, when a sacrifice begets a larger victory ---- in the proposal she sets forth.
“ sometimes a common goal is the only thing you need to start a powerful alliance, ” insinuates a gentle suggestion rounding her brow. “ we should start there & see where it takes us. trust must be earned ; i am well acquainted. ”
