MAY MINGLE

[etrayamods]

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: May 17th-31st
WHERE: On Etraya
WHAT: A mingle log!
NOTES\WARNINGS: N/A, please note any needed warnings in threads.

⏵ a hero's return ⏴ As champions exit the Labyrinth, they’ll find that their environment has gone through some fairly drastic changes. Where there used to be larger bodies of water is now thinner rivers going through land; the amount of bridges connecting landmasses has decreased, given what had been individual islands are now much more connected. In addition, Etraya is significantly more green; flowers bloom, birds chirp cheerfully, and there are numerous additional species of insects, mammals, and aquatic creatures throughout the lands. Baby foxes roam through forested areas, bees pollinate the flowers to spread them more thoroughly around the inhabited areas, and it feels brighter. Or perhaps that’s just in comparison to how the Labyrinth had been. There are more areas to explore, new facilities, animals, and Etraya feels significantly more settled than it had before. Aurora’s promise of renovations had been true. And if one looks up, they may notice a city bubble visible on the closest planet that hadn't been visible before. ⏵ coffee break ⏴ After hearing Clarke’s suggestion, Aurora sets up a new cafe close to the apartment complex, and sends out notices to individuals with mandatory coffee hour times listed for them to come to Corrine's Cafe and make a few friends. While the note does state that it is mandatory, there will be no follow-up from Aurora nor the companion bots to ensure those who receive notes do show. Given this is Aurora trying to take suggestions in mind and see how successful they are among the citizens of Etraya, however, following directives may not be a terrible idea. It's up like a modern-day, smaller cafe. One walks in through the front door, and is greeted by a companion bot behind the counter who offers a wave of their hand and a friendly “Welcome! Let me know when you’re ready to order”. The menu offers lattes, mochas, espresso, black coffee, several different kinds of teas, and a few drinks that are a little odd to find in a cafe; ale, canned sodas and coffees, numerous bottles of wine, but only pinot noir. Soft music plays in the background, impossible to place but it sounds as if it may be based on tracks that were popular in the early 90s. Tables and booths are set up to seat two to four, with packets of sugar and small containers of creamer set out towards the middle. There are charging stations set up at every table, which may seem strange considering phones and laptops aren’t widely available, but Aurora’s doing her best. There are also a few bookshelves full of the classics, a few historical fiction, and several written by H.P. Lovecraft. Each seat has a placard in front of it, with a name, and a ‘fun fact’. One might say “Hello! My name is Joe, and I like to paint!” Another may say “Hi, I’m Jill! My sister died tragically in front of me and I’ve never gotten over it.” ⏵ new horizons ⏴ Several of the new bridges found in Etraya now have signs posted just outside of them, and on those signs is a QR code that the earpiece’s HUD can scan. Scanning this with the HUD will bring up a scavenger hunt, listing several items and circling areas where they can be found. Some of these objects will be obvious: find Corrine at Corrine’s Cafe - the companion bot who runs the counter, find a delicious meal at Bangsan Market, break into S.T.A.R Labs, or find room 87 at Point Blanc Academy. Some will be less obvious, like locating a bat, becoming friends with an archer, find a pink shirt, open bagged milk without making a mess, or get a drink at the mutant-friendly pub. Please feel free to make up your own items to find around Etraya! ⏵ NOTES ⏴ Welcome to our mid-month mingle! Please feel free to use this to explore Etraya, put up wildcard prompts (you don't need to use the above!), or use the open prompts to assist in jumpstarting cr. This mingle covers the period from May 17th to May 31st. Our next mission (and next mod log) will not go up until June 7th. ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

clarke griffin | ota

[skaikru]

cw for underage drinking mentioned.

i. a hero's return

( she doesn't win. and that is going to be very disappointing until someone relays exactly what helping to decide the next mission actually consisted of, because if it's not the ability to pitch entirely original, purposefully non-violent, safe options, clarke doesn't want it. but her drive and determination to push through the maze and make it out in a timely fashion pays off in that, on the early evening of the 17th, she rounds one last corner and walks out into a fresh, green open space that isn't bordered by stone walls.

at first clarke can hardly believe her eyes. her shoulders drop a full two inches, like the marionette chords of stress have just been severed. but when she looks around and doesn't immediately spot any familiar faces, that's when her face buttons up; relief immediately replaced with more stress, and turning right back around to try and go back through the exit. when that proves frustratingly impossible, she kicks at the edge of the stone archway hard enough for her foot to go numb, then moodily retreats to sit beneath the nearest tree and wait.

and for however many days it takes, she waits. the overstuffed backpack she'd entered with had been lost to a stream of dragon fire, but the multiple pockets of filthy cargo pants and survival jacket still contain a few snacks, and clarke's far from hungry after the whole ordeal. so she sits. occasionally stands to pace, occasionally chews on a stale protein bar with the consistency of cardboard. and she glowers, and she waits, and will have absolutely no appreciation for the blossoming beauty of etraya until her friends are spit out of the labyrinth as well. )

ii. coffee hour

( someone once said the profound words: my mandatory coffee hour, my responsibility. or — something similar, that might not have been the correct quote, but the sentiment stands!

after finally returning to the city and spending a solid few days alternating between scrubbing her skin raw in the shower to shuck off the last bits of labyrinth dust, or sleeping so fitfully it hardly even counted as rest, she's fine. totally and completely fine. back to normal. good to go out and be around people and definitely not slam her head into the nearest hard surface the first time her communicator pings to life with an invitation to corrine's cafe.

she is morose looking at first glance and visibly bitter as hell upon closer examination. but she's here. and will show up at every one of her appointed times, without so much of a peep of complaint at usually ending up at the four-top cafe tables. despite any desire to flip over or pocket the placard in front of her, it stays put. reads something along the lines of:

"hi, i'm clarke griffin, and this (like a lot of things) is my fault!"

or —

"my name is clarke, i was born in a utilitarian space colony. ask me about the apocalypse!"

or —

"i'm clarke, the best gift i ever received were colored pencils!"

and sometimes there's no name card in front of her at all, because this wasn't her scheduled time. but if enthusiastic participation means a higher chance of aurora listening the next time she has a suggestion, well. clarke can at least participate. her coffee order never varies, to the point the companion bot behind the counter eventually starts to ask the usual? like a scripted unlocked achievement: black coffee, two creamers, and a questionable amount of sugar packets ripped open and bunched together on the tabletop. except the one time she tries for the wine, takes one sip, makes an egregiously unimpressed face and almost dribbles it back into her cup. )

iii. scavenger hunt (wildcard)

( this particular task clarke chooses not to complete. there'd been no mention of a prize, and thus zero desire to drain her already limited emotional energy in playing along. but she can be found around town scanning the qr codes and at least reading the prompts.

can also be seen in and around new locations, a notebook and pen in hand, religiously mapping out the new additions like the provided navigation isn't good enough. maybe even spotted watching a baby fox sleep in a particularly tall clump of grass, completely distracted and for once not looking so perpetually angry at the world. maybe stumbled upon in the dark of early night, seemingly stargazing but actually just staring really hard at the backlit bubble city of a distant planet.

a little more casually, clarke can be spotted: exiting big belly burger with a thing of french fries and a vanilla shake with the lid popped off. poking around the outside of s.t.a.r labs, hands cupped and peering through the glass windows, or else deep in the odd cosplay section (is this a weird gift shop? are there flash merch shirts? if so, snagging two). or else in harry's hideaway pub, scanning the bottle options and immediately ordering a shot of rocketfuel moonshine.

the only task to be followed through on is attempting to open a thing of bagged milk. simply because she was already at the kwik trip "buying" another pocket knife, decided to test its sharpness, and figures it would be easy. (spoiler: this does not end well.)

—

ooc: byoadventure! all of these are the dreaded "come bother her" style prompts, but just use them as a jumping off point, i'm super flexible. OR plot with me, hit me up on inb4circlejerk or discord by the same name! )

not the milk

[relished]

[acquiring his home alleviates some of the unwanted feelings that Hannibal previously felt about being stuck on Etraya. that isn't to say he feels any less of the negative feelings about it, but being able to pry himself away from those wretched apartments and into a solace allows some form of control.

he's idly walking through the grocery section of the kwik trip carrying a basket of the finest ingredients he can find for lunch when he sees the familiar hardened expression of Clarke as she prods at bagged milk with a knife.

he's almost struck by her determination to do so without first going home, or literally anywhere but here to avoid spillage. it looks ... well, it doesn't look smart.]

Clarke-

[an interjection, possibly too late.]

[skaikru]

( this is a fine venture, she's completely got this. clarke's got the bag of milk by its serrated plastic edge like one would hold a kitten by the scruff, and has decided the best course of action is to cut a little line just below her knuckles. she has the sharpest blade of a swiss army knife out and ready, and has only just committed to piercing the bag when —

turns out to have been a massive misstep to ever introduce herself in turn to dr. hannibal, as that's twice now that he's used her name as a means of attempted distraction. only this time it works; he calls out with a light note of warning and she looks up, cutting blind and a little too far downward, and...

and, well. gravity takes over the rest. the tear is too big, angled poorly, and the bag buckles under the weight of the milk, sloshing out all over the floor and drenching her shoes. clarke drops her knife, free hand flying to support the bottom of the bag and salvaging half the contents. but then she looks down at the absolute mess of the tiles — )

Goddammit.

( — and just drops the bag. what's a little more mess, what further harm could milk do to her sneakers and the cuffs of her pants? immediately disinterested, this scavenger hunt is stupid. )

[relished]

[oops. maybe he should have predicted interrupting her focus would absolutely ruin her goal. at least she doesn't have to worry about cleaning the mess up; the companion bots will be by sooner or later to mop it away. his brows raise slightly as he looks from the floor back up to Clarke with a nearly regrettable expression.]

I can't help but feel a bit at fault here.

[a thin smile, disarming.]

Could I interest you in lunch to make up for that?

[skaikru]

( very briefly, just for a flash, clarke favors hannibal with a scowl that really reinforces the fact it was his fault — i had that — but just as immediately, she's crouching to pick up her milk drenched swiss army knife. shakes a few errant drops of, then folds it into the hem of her shirt to dry more completely as the milk bag gurgles and seeps against the tiles.

she stands up again just as expediently, and has a better handle on her face. catches the thin little smile that dances across his. and while she still feels a twang of guilt for how things had gone down in maze, she notes that his nose bears no sign of bruising; the marks on her own throat almost completely melted away too, just the faintest shade of yellow finger indents remaining. )

It's fine. I'm kind of tired of diner food anyway.

( and cafeteria food, and gas station food, and just in general she doesn't feel very hungry. hasn't even noticed the day slip by towards the lunch hour. )

[relished]

[don't go crying over spilled milk. the knife will recover. he sees that her ego, unfortunately, still struggles. he sees the way she fights to truly look at him sometimes, the way her eyes would rather search other parts of him. he's nearly offended at her response. a diner? she thought he was suggesting going to a diner?]

No, no. A home-cooked meal. [he tilts his head down to the basket of food he's carrying.] I'm very careful about what I put in my body. I hardly ever dine out.

[the offer still stands to her; he truly would like to cook her a delicious (and nutritious) meal.]

When was the last time you had someone cook for you?

ii.

[levelshift]

[Accelerator is not here for the mingling. In his opinion, coffee and socialization do not go together, and even though the note they all received from Aurora stated it was mandatory there is no way in hell he's entertaining that idea.

Nope, he's here because this is another source of coffee beyond the hospital, the diner and the Kwik Trip, and therefore it's worth checking out. He gets himself a black coffee, pointedly ignoring his placard at another table, and turns to leave.

He only pauses when he skims Clarke's (therefore getting a name for the weird girl who gave him ketchup a little while back) to see the mention of the apocalypse and space colonies. He actually stops when he sees the mound of empty sugar packets next to the placard. Good god, just seeing that makes his own teeth ache.]

Fuck, your cup's gotta be more sugar than coffee.

[skaikru]

( the elevation from "ketchup girl" to "clarke" is unknown on her end but honestly appreciated. and come on accelerator, it's only three packets of —...

oh. snapped out of her minds narrative by this address, and reevaluating her cup, that sure does actually look like six empty sugar packets crowded on the table, the seventh still in hand. looks like muscle memory and a need to pick at the edge of something paper overruled base reasoning for a good five minutes there, and clarke can already imagine the grate of undissolved sugar crystals beneath her spoon where she to try stirring it.

yeah, she doesn't want to drink this. but if the ketchup girl he'd met in the convenience store had been a bundle of nerves, this post labyrinth version of clarke griffin is a series of frayed electrical wires that spark at inopportune times. she sort of has to drink this now, if the alternative is admitting fault. )

...maybe. Yeah. But — ( time to double down, and she can think of a very easy out. with a slight jerk of her chin towards her own placard, well aware of what it says: )

Coffee and sugar ran out long before I was born. I'm still figuring it out.

[levelshift]

[Ketchup girl has successfully been upgraded to Clarke, and this makes a whole three people whose names he has acquired. Progress!

Anyways, her answer makes an unfortunate amount of sense, even if he thinks that much sugar is overkill.]

I still wouldn't drink that, unless you want to be suffering from sugar high for the next half hour.

[Based on the number of packets, her approximate weight, a rough estimation of her metabolic rate, blah blah blah -]

I can't believe the fucking apocalypse got rid of coffee.

[Sugar, he can see. Or maybe he just doesn't care enough about it to be bothered that it stopped being produced after her world ended. But coffee? That's just cruel.

He sips his own cup, grateful Aurora has made it so available.]

How'd your apocalypse happen?

[skaikru]

( sadly the clarification is one sided, and for now he will still just be coffee boy in her mind. or maybe the sugar patrol with how hung up on it he is — she almost argues that the school of thought behind sugar highs had been disproven as more psychosomatic than based on real biology, but that'd been a footnote in an ancient textbook about something they never had to contend with on the ark — it hadn't mattered enough to commit to memory, and doesn't matter enough to argue here.

she does still take his appraisal as a bit of a challenge, though. raises the cup to her mouth and takes a sip, can't quite quell the way her face contorts when the sickeningly sweet coffee washes over her tastebuds, and swallows with difficulty. yeah, that's enough of that. clarke returns the cup to the table, pushing it a few inches away from herself but otherwise not acknowledging her fumble. )

For what it's worth, the bean plant could have recovered in the aftermath. I've just never seen it.

( yanno, because she'd crash-landed in north america and trade routes definitely broke down. but, moving on.

he asks the question she's been prepping for since glancing at her own namecard and clarke takes half a breath before answering with the practiced summary she'd devised. )

One happened before I was born, nuclear missiles. The second happened when the ambient radiation ate away at all safety protocols and all the nuclear reactors on Earth melted down in quick succession. Both of them killed... pretty much every living thing in its path.

[levelshift]

[To his credit, Accelerator doesn't even crack a smirk when she takes a sip of the coffee, keeping his own face straight as he watches her grimace and push the mug away. At least she isn't as stubborn as Birdway, she would've kept on drinking it just because.

He sips his own coffee as he listens quietly to her answer, leaning more against his crutch rather than sitting.]

Hm. Guess that isn't surprising. [Nuclear war and disasters had been threats back home, though things had never escalated that badly.

(He remembers, when he was nine or ten, being scared that if the incident involving his power escalated various countries would try to use nuclear arms against him.)]

So some of you escaped into space before the radiation hit you?

iii (cw: underage drinking probably)

[neverleave]

[Ever since he collapsed next to Clarke outside the labyrinth with a fuck Echo in lieu of greeting, Natsuno is rarely too far from her. Sometimes they explore the new places together, and other times he's simply around, a quiet presence. Maybe he's reading a book in a corner table while she's sulking by her card, or pretends to nap in a patch of grass while she's watching fox cubs play.

This time they're in the pub, and Natsuno already decided to say nothing if she gets drunk and tries to fight something. As Clarke dawns shots of something particularly foul smelling, he scans the shelves for some Everclear. Always good to stock up on potential explosives.

Then, he notices a particular bottle tucked in a corner. He almost doesn't believe it at first, but there's no mistaking the shape and the smell.]

Hey Clarke, look! [He rests the bottle on the counter.] It's that weird magic wine -

[He takes a swig. Yup, that's DEFINITELY it.]

- the one that affects me.

[skaikru]

( the first time clarke had gotten an arguably solid stretch of sleep had been in the wake of natsuno crashing into the ground beside her, hissing similar sentiments and looking well bloodied, but whole.

this is what they always do. when an arcade is an option, they tend to be drawn towards shooting games as the mood permits, but when that doesn't appeal or isn't available... they go through hell, together or separate, and come back slightly changed each time. and clarke has come to expect the silent present and occasional glint of red iris rings in the shadows as she goes about the calmer parts of her life — to the point that whenever natsuno takes a break and seeks after rita like a shadowy guard dog, she notices and misses him. and when he's present but they're not directly interacting, she'll mutter quiet asides with the trust that he'd pick up her voice in a crowd — do you ever think about those turtles? while out in the fox field or remind me never to open my big mouth again in the midst of a particularly busy coffee hour.

but more often than not they are shoulder to shoulder, prowling the town like a pair of tightly coiled springs, and never standing on the principle of invitation when it comes to investigating somewhere new. (and if natsuno ever requires one, clarke steps over the threshold first and welcomes he follow.) just outside the pub, she'd given him a sidelong glance and shrug that'd simultaneously said i'm curious and i'm preemptively sorry. the intent had just been to look around and add one more feature to her hardcopy map, but once she'd glanced over the bar...

the rocketfuel burns the whole way down, and it's a miracle she doesn't splutter it out. but clarke tells herself she's doing this for raven and monty in equal measure, a little ode to another set of friends she desperately misses. her face is still scrunched into an absolutely disgusted expression when natsuno snags her attention and reaches out to grab a jug. it takes a second, but clarke slots the memory of her best friend texting her while absolutely obliterated — hug. rita. — with a jug that absolutely looks like something the dioscuri would use in a ritual and, it clicks just as he explains.

her eyebrows shoot up as natsuno tips back the bottle to take a swig, and remain up in the long moment that follows. she really looks at him, with the occasional brief flick of her eyes towards the wine; an unspoken question in place, do you wanna...

after all, they'd just been through almost two weeks of incremental torment. if this place was anything like the last, they got at least a little bit of a reprieve. and have never had the chance to do this together before. )

[neverleave]

[The invitations are always appreciated. These buildings are all replicas, anyway, so why should Natsuno be barred just because it looks familiar to someone?

The wine smells nice and even the taste is not too bad. It certainly doesn't offend his hightened senses like most alcohol does. Maybe something you offer the gods has to be of better quality. The real problem is that the wine makes him think about the Dioscuri and brings about the familiar, bitter mix of grief and guilt. Natsuno will never stop wondering if they disappeared because he wasn't a good enough Master, if someone else would've been able to keep anchored to reality. He let them down and will never have the chance to fix it.

He hesitates for a moment when Clarke looks at him. Natsuno remebers the hug rita texts and he remembers the emotional outburst about his dead first love that preceded it. Not to mention the hangover, because magic wine does not equal magic painkiller. They're both in a bad mental state now, so should they?

Fuck it. They're ALWAYS in a bad mental state. Might as well share this experience, too.

He takes another swig.]

C'mon. Let's see who can last longer.

[skaikru]

( clarke had set herself an arbitrary don't get drunk within the first few weeks of a new planet rule, but with the same elasticity she'd bent it upon the serena eterna, she'd already broken it here too. got caught trying to ugly cry in the woods after dispatching the doppelgangers and allowed francis krouse to ply her with bad jokes and wisconsin made beer. and he wasn't even her best friend.

nobody likes the hangovers that inevitably follow impulsive decisions like this, but they don't drink for the hangover. they drink to chase the moment of levity that alcohol can provide, and that is genuinely something she never expected to share with natsuno. the odd rumble in her chest cavity is unfamiliar and goes unnamed, but if pressed she'd call it giddiness. )

Me. It's going to be me.

( not because she's older, but because they have a few more shared instances of her getting smashed off her face and venturing towards recklessness. so like, experience wise, she's got the edge right?

clarke downs two more shots of rocketfuel in a short amount of time, enjoys the way it burns down her throat more than she'd like to admit. her brain is buzzing and fuzzy in short order, but it's still early — she still feels completely in control of herself when she eventually gestures towards the jug. )

Can I try? Or is it, like... dangerous to mortals.

[neverleave]

[He gives her a mischievous grin as if to say, it's ON. It's been a while before Natsuno passed out in Rita's cabin back then, and now he knows what to expect, so obviously Clarke's delusional and he's going to win.

He's a bit more somber when she asks about the wine. Natsuno takes a moment to think: Castor would, without a doubt, carry something dangerous to mortals and then point and laugh as they convulse on the floor. Pollux, however, would never allow such a thing, and since Castor does everything his sister asks the wine must be safe.]

Maybe it'll feel stronger, but dangerous? I don't think so. It's just - [Vague handwave] magic.

II

[redheadcarrier]

[ Asuka recognizes her from their two prior encounters. Even if the first one kinda sucked. Or really sucked. But getting saved from imminent death (or surviving together) takes some of the heat off of that. Even if Asuka has always been prickly and will likely continue to be prickly for the foreseeable future. She has a cup of something hot - some kind of mocha whip combo that probably has an unholy amount of sugar in it - and she cradles it in her hands as she eyes the placard.

She doesn't sit.

Not yet. ]

Clarke. What was your apocalypse?

[ As if she has one too. ]

[skaikru]

( she has been mentally preparing for this conversation since having sat down and reading her own placard, and by now thinks she's got it down pat. glancing up at the person who addresses her and finding it to be asuka doesn't disrupt the practiced speech entirely, though for a second clarke opens her mouth about to override the question with a reference to more recent history — how are you? you okay?

but, she'd brought this situation on the whole township, and has already staked her resolve in cooperating with it out of some weird mix of penance and a desire to prove her follow through to aurora. so briefly, her teeth click back together. then she starts, bland and unenthusiastic: )

There were technically two. The first one happened 80 years before I was born, when a rogue A.I. hacked into security systems and fired off every nuclear weapon in the world at once. The second happened 100 years later, when all the nuclear powerplants collapsed in rapid succession.

I guess technically only the second one was mine.

( yanno, in that she lived to witness it. ha. haha. not that she had a deciding hand in who survived and how. )

[redheadcarrier]

[ Asuka has no real desire to revisit recent history. Reliving the fear and the exhaustion is not on the top of her list..although apparently discussing the apocalypse is, so go figure. She listens in silence for a moment and then she responds, a bit blithely. Maybe a little dismissive. ]

Yeah, Second Impact happened before I was born. Third Impact was... a month or two ago now?

[ She shrugs. ]

That one just wiped out most of us. At least for now.

[skaikru]

( to say clarke's jaw almost comes undone at the hinges and drops like an anvil would... somehow manages to be an understatement. her lips part, then her teeth, and when tongue is revealed it's utterly still — having absolutely no idea how to respond to asuka's almost off-handed counter-fact without a few moments to process. )

Your world had three apocalypses?

( here she was over here thinking two was an excessive amount of world ending events for a reality to experience. everyone else she's ever met from a similar sort of existence only ever had one. )

[redheadcarrier]

Well, the first one killed the dinosaurs so I don't think it counts.

[ Asuka replies. She's... a little bitter and cynical about the whole thing.]

Second Impact killed a few billion. Third Impact... I don't know. It was...

[ She trails off. She's not sure she wants to remember it. It was confusing. Mostly she remembers that she hated it, that she hated having to be a part of something like that. She felt exposed. Terrible. ]

Weird.

ii. coffee hour

[equivo]

[ The cafe door chimes as Krouse pushes it open with his good arm, his left held stiffly at his side. He brushes his still-damp, too long bangs sideways as he beelines for the counter, his new oversized red hoodie left flipped up out of apathy more than intention.

It's been less than forty eight hours since he got out of the labyrinth, and he's spent most of them curled up in bed after his first shower to rinse off his patina of filth and loosen his stiff bandages. When he got this particular civic summons, he entertained a brief, dull fantasy of blowing it off, but forty-five minutes, a second shower, a cigarette, a change of clothes, and four ibuprofen on an empty stomach later, he's here. He accepts his mug of black coffee as the companion bot slides it over to him, then makes his belated first scan of the room.

When he spots a now-familiar shade of blonde, his stomach flips in a way that doesn't have anything to do with slowly dissolving painkillers. The jolt of relief catches him off guard in its suddenness and intensity, and he tightens his battered fingers around his coffee to ground himself.

Clarke's been a good ally. It shouldn't be surprising that he prefers seeing her in one piece. And it's not necessarily anything but a genuinely trivial coincidence they happen to be in the same place at the same time, given the presumably universally distributed invitations. The fact that he passes his name set down at another table on his way over to hers just affirms that. ]

Hey.

[ He stops behind the chair across from her, half-smiling gingerly to avoid reopening his split lower lip. There's a few days old shallow scrape across his left cheekbone like a fat highlighter emphasis of the hollowness of the rest of his face, the dark circles under his eyes as pronounced as if someone dug their thumbs in until it bruised, but his eyes lighten through their red-rimmed exhaustion as he takes her in. ]

Mind trying not to look so happy to be here? All the enthusiasm is really showing everyone else up.

[skaikru]

( there had been a moment while she'd camped packed up camp outside the exit of the labyrinth, reunited with the likes of rita mordio and natsuno yuuki, where she'd had wondered if perhaps she still ought to stay put. the supplies leftover in her jacket pockets had run out, but octavia blake was still out there somewhere in the thick of it and to ensure her safe return, clarke would go without water. and then also... she hadn't seen krouse exit. still had the weight of his gun in her pocket, and it'd been past time to check on his stitches. for him she could probably go without food for a bit.

but the thought had been fleeting. she and the other two had packed off for the city proper to rid themselves of blood and sweat and dirt; to cry if need be, but most likely share their various labyrinth escapades and subsequently compartmentalize all of it — another neat little ball of trauma to swallow. clarke had made good of her dream of standing under a stream of hot water and reveled in the fact no one had barged in to complain about her lack of resources instead of watching the way the water turned black and brown at her feet. then she'd ditched the cargo pants for the foreseeable future, right back into the old world's greatest invention: black athletic leggings and a long sleeved running top. today's is a dark shade of olive green, and on the wrist it bears the damp marks of a creamer cup having spit back when she'd tried to open it.

she is fussing when the setting stain instead of watching the door, because that's easier in this crowded space. hears the jingle of the bell and the general hustle of yet another body entering the shop and placing an order, but doesn't look up until someone looms on the other side of the table and outright addresses her. the placard across from her reads HI, MY NAME'S CLINT AND I LOVE COWBOYS and she'd been steeling herself to ask what are cowboys whenever the owner ever showed up. but instead of being face to face with a stranger upon lifting her head it's — oh. her mouth makes the shape of the word, and a few years melt off her face when both eyebrows raise out of their usual pronounced furrow. )

...hi.

( same method of greeting from the woods, but a different backdrop and a different crisis at their heels. but new layers to their familiarity, as clarke can vividly recall digging stitches throughout the layers of krouse's skin. new layers, as he takes a well natured crack at her, and she barely bats an eye. )

I'll try to tone it down.

( then her gaze maps an uneven triangle; dropping from his sunken, bruised eyes to the little bubble of a scab on his lip, then to the healing scrape across the arch of his cheek. and her eyebrows fall right back into their usual place, a concerned pinch as she tilts her head. )

What happened to your face?

[equivo]

[ All three times he's talked to Clarke in person before were under unusual circumstances. Locked in a room, out in the woods at night, trapped in a labyrinth. He's seen her caged and bloodied and exhausted, whatever engine keeps her going locked into high gear as she gritted her teeth and dealt with the situations at hand.

None of that prepared him for seeing her like this. Sitting in the warm, mellow light of the coffee shop, she looks - better, a word he substitutes for safer before he can finish the thought. Watching her go from guardedness to recognition to the budding cusp of almost seeming happy to see him loosens something winched tight to the back of his throat.

So when she rumples back into concern again, his smile broadens until it pulls uncomfortably at his scab. He touches the top of it with his tongue in absent habit, never really that great at not prodding at his wounds. ]

I fell down a well.

[ Delivered in tones of wry can you believe it? He cocks his head slightly to one side and tips his coffee in the other direction, a little show of reconsideration. ]

Well, [ his smile grows even more at his own lousy wordplay before he tones it back down a notch ] technically, this happened the - I want to say third? Time I fell down the well. It turns out they're slightly harder to get out of than you might think. Who knew?

[ He's not sure that the stone-sided cylinder he slid into from the top of a frictionless slope was actually a well, but a well sounds better. It makes however long he was trapped at the bottom counting water bottles and trying to bait anything mobile close enough to the edge he could use them seem like a funny story, and his failed attempts to climb the rough walls more like slapstick than growing desperation. ]

Speaking of, my compliments to your stitchwork. Not one pop. I'm impressed.

[ Which is adjacent to saying that he's fine. He twists his bad arm at the elbow to show off being able to move it, ignoring the pang of protest that comes with it.

On his hand's way back down, Krouse finds himself leaning forward so he can touch the top of the placard in front of the empty seat, two fingertips resting delicately on the crest of the folded cardstock. He tips it back so he can read it upside down, then glances back up at her face. ]

Anyone you're waiting for specifically, or...?

[ The note of uncertainty in his voice isn't intentional, and mild embarrassment finds a way to drag heat to the back of his neck. ]

[skaikru]

( sorry, he fell down a what?

the look of concern deeps severely in contrast to the light and airy way krouse explains away his plight. dire straits delivered as a funny little anecdote throw clarke for an absolute loop, to the point for a long moment she isn't sure if he's lying to her or not — then subsequently can't figure out why he would. a litany of follow-up questions flood her brain: and you're otherwise okay? and i don't understand, what part of that kind of trap was engineered towards teamwork? the forerunners to tipping over the edge of her tongue and being voiced aloud. she is of the quiet sort of certainty that climbing out of a well was probably just as difficult as she could imagine, because it sounds like it sucked. and her mind immediately flies to the various ways she could have helped if fate had aligned differently and she'd stumbled upon that scene.

had she packed a length of rope in her go bag? no, and that's an oversight that would need to be corrected for future missions.

but, can't turn back time. she couldn't have helped even if she wanted to, and at the end of the day krouse is still here and upright. he'd done well by himself, and clarke will try not to undermine that by allowing her face to reflect as much knee-jerk sympathy as she feels.

he carries on, does what she's come to expect and fills in answers for questions she hasn't even asked yet. but rest assured the faring of his stitches was next on the list; she perks up more at the good news than the praise, and busies her fingers with curling around the warmth of her coffee cup to curtail the urge to peel back his sleeve and check for herself. mobility looks good, and he's walking and talking, not dead at the bottom of aforementioned well. )

Good, that's good. Seems like you beat the odds against infection too. ( she smiles a little, just a tiny bit. and just as promised — ) I'm impressed.

( if it's awkward to hold a conversation while one party is sitting and the other is standing, clarke hadn't noticed it yet. she is vaguely aware of the way she has to tilt her head up to look at his face, but doesn't pay any mind the strain on the neck same as she ignores the faintly yellow fingertip shaped bruises on her throat in their final stage of healing. between the two of them, seems she's the one who had the luck here; not getting trapped in a well, making it out of the maze in a decent timeframe, and stumbling across not one but two healers that'd done their best to erase everything from rope burn to exposed muscle. but this is a fine reunion, she's happy to see him in one piece.

but when he tips the card and asks... )

Technically, yeah. ( the name is right there, they've both read it by now. the buckle around her lips and creasing in the corners of her eyes is vaguely apologetic. )

I don't know if you saw, but all of this is... because I asked for it. I meant instead of the labyrinth, but this is what we got. And now, I guess I've got to go with it.

( she thinks he'll understand. he's smart, and had scrabbled to repay her for that stitchwork with a protein bar and sour candy; he should get obligation, and that at least in this venture clarke's set on sticking to the rules. )