Octavia Blake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
okteiviakom) wrote2020-05-31 04:19 pm
okteiviakom) wrote2020-05-31 04:19 pm
Polis, Sunday FT
Wasn't really a war Octavia found in Polis. It was a conclave, like the ones they used to use for choosing a new commander. One warrior per clan, in a fight to the death. No guns. The clan whose champion was the last person standing would take the fallout shelter, a bunker underneath Polis, built by a doomsday cult before the first Praimfaya. Other clans would perish.
The timeline of the oncoming apocalypse had shifted. They didn't have months left, they had days. And Skaikru had no fighters trained in hand-to-hand combat, no champion with a fraction of a chance of winning against the best of the other clans.
Enter Octavia.
-----
As this was a conclave - the final one - the Flamekeepers were presiding over the events, led by Indra's daughter.
First up was the official naming of the champions. Gaia called each of them up by name, and asked them to accept the sigil of their clan, and to fight with honor as their champion. Octavia was the second-to-last to be called up. Gaia placed the Skaikru symbol on a small metal pendant around her neck, and she took her place in front of the corresponding flag. Roan was beside her, predictably the Azgeda champion. She looked over, almost said something, right as she heard Gaia call for the last champion.
"Ilion kom Trishanakru. Accept the sigil of your clan, and fight with honor as their champion."
And there he was. Stepping out of the crowd in full armor, his hair tied back.
He should've stayed home with his sheep.
"What are you trying to prove?" Octavia muttered as soon as he took his place on her other side.
"I'm here for Trishanakru," he replied evenly, "not you."
That wasn't what she'd meant. But she forced her attention back on Gaia, who was explaining the rules once again to the gathered crowd. "A battle to the death within the walls of Polis," she was saying. "These warriors will fight until only one remains. When that warrior collects all the sigils from the fallen and delivers them to me, they will be declared the victor. This final champion alone will tell us which clan is meant to susrvive in the crypt of Bekka Pramheda, and which clans are meant to perish in Praimfaya. Osir koma op daun bilaik slip daun kom bleirona, ba mafta op won bilaik hef em op mou beda."
"Daun bilaik ai," called a voice from the crowd. Octavia's heart jumped when she saw who it was, pushing their way past people.
Because it was Luna.
Octavia had heard she'd been in Arkadia a while ago, that she'd brought what had been left of her clan as they'd all begun getting sick from the radiation already in the water. That she'd been the only one who'd pulled through, because she was a Nightblood. That Abby and Clarke had then experimented with her blood, trying to create a way to make other people as immune to the levels of radiation headed their way.
That she'd left when their experiments seemed to bring nothing but death and suffering. And now she'd returned. "I'm Luna kom Floukru," she said as she made her way up to the stage, "and I'm the last of my clan."
"We know who you are," Gaia replied, derision creeping into her tone. "The natblida who ran from her conclave."
"I'm not running from this one."
Gaia looked towards one of her fellow acolytes, and seemed to hesitate. But then she picked up one last symbol hanging on a leather cord. "Accept this sigil, Luna kom Floukru," she said. "But with your clan gone, who will you fight for?
"I fight for no one," Luna replied, and turned towards the crowd. "I fight for death." The crowd erupted into a choir of confused, hurried murmurs. "When I win, no one will be saved."
Octavia wasn't sure who she was actually fighting for, here.
But she knew she wasn't on Luna's side.
-----
After the ceremony, there was one last stretch of time for the champions to spend time with their advisors, train, check their weapons. Do whatever they wished. Octavia was watching the other fighters, and selecting knives from the ones on offer. All of her own were gone, after all.
That was where Indra found her. She reached out, put her fingers under Octavia's chin to lift it up, to tilt her face toward her. Her gaze went up to Octavia's forehead, first. "Lincoln's tattoo," she said. Octavia had first begun wearing this warpaint on Fandom, during invasions, and Indra was right. She'd taken the shape from the tattoo on Lincoln's chest. But what Indra didn't know was that her hair was significant, too. She hadn't braided it in more than a month, but today she had. And not in the style she had before, but rather with three braids on either side of her head, going up along her scalp, pulled up into a ponytail with the rest of her hair.
The braids from a New Year's Day that now felt like it had been a lifetime ago.
Octavia turned away from Indra again. She was here as Skaikru's champion, and Indra was Trikru. She assumed it meant they were done, and Indra had just come over because she'd seen the warpaint, and wanted to see if it was what she thought it was.
But to Octavia's surprise, Indra said, "Don't fight with aggression. Don't reveal your next move before you strike."
It was the same counsel she'd given when Octavia had first begun training under her guidance. "And never leave myself exposed," Octavia concluded as she looked at Indra again. "I remember."
"It's okay to be afraid," Indra told her.
"I'm not," Octavia replied, instinctively. But she was, wasn't she? For the first time in a while, fear was breaking through everything else. She knew everyone else had trained for their whole lives to become the warriors they were today. She was good, but five years ago she'd been a girl hiding on a spaceship.
Indra didn't look like she believed her, either. After a moment, she reached down and pulled her sword from its sheath at her hip. "Gaia would never accept this," she said - and held the sword out for Octavia. "But I hope that you will."
Octavia was stunned. She glanced past Indra's shoulder, at where she could see the other champions training. "Why are you helping me?" she whispered. "If I win, it will be the end of your people."
"Yu," Indra replied, her voice breaking, "laik ai kru." Octavia had never seen her like this, emotion in her voice, tears in her eyes. Not even the last time she'd told Octavia she was her people. Octavia took the sword, then Indra's offered forearm. The woman tugged her in close, chest to chest, and whispered in her ear.
"I taught you how to fight, but who you fight for, is up to you."
-----
Kane and Bellamy came to her during the last moments. Kane had been observing the other champions, and told her who was left-handed, who was strong but slow, and reminded her to stay close to cover because there was no telling when black rain would fall. And all the while, Bellamy looked like he was objecting in his head, like he was anxious to say something. She'd known him her whole life, she knew when something was up. "What, Bellamy?" she snapped, exasperated. "If you've got something to say, just say it."
"You don't need any of this," he said. "When the starting horn blows, just stay out of sight and let the others thin out the competition."
What? They'd wanted her to be their champion, and now this? "You want me to hide?
"You don't need to go up against the strongest warrior from every clan."
She suppressed a sigh. "I came here to fight."
"You were the girl under the floor," Bellamy continued, and suddenly, he finally sounded like the brother she remembered again. "Use that. Just like mom taught us."
"Bellamy's right," Kane cut in. "You don't have to kill all 12 warriors."
And it dawned on her. "I just have to kill the last one."
Just then, one of the Flamekeeper scouts called out for ambassadors and advisors to go to the tower, and for the champions to get to the flags of their clans in the streets. The battle was about to begin. Kane pulled Octavia in for an embrace that was much firmer than she'd somehow expected. Not that she'd expected it at all. He nodded to her as he pulled away, and left, leaving her with Bellamy. And right in this moment, she couldn't find the hatred she'd harbored for him in the past weeks and months.
She tried to draw in a steady breath, and said, "May we meet again."
Bellamy gave her a stern nod. "Damn right we will." For a fraction of a second, Octavia wondered whether he was going to pull her in, too - and whether he was wondering the same. Then he just nodded.
And then he, too, was gone.
And all that was left was for her to make her way out onto the street with the other champions. She could see Ilian, Roan, Luna all marching up ahead. The Trikru champion, Fio, was the same guy who'd beat her into pulp when she'd first been trying to show Indra she had what it took to be trained into a warrior. He told her she'd come a long way, and that it was a shame he'd have to kill her today.
And then she was standing by the Skaikru flag underneath an archway, with Indra's sword in her hand.
And the scouts sounded the horns.
[ooc: NFB, NFI. Taken from The 100 S4 episode 10. Part 1 of 2. Surprisingly no violence in this one!]
The timeline of the oncoming apocalypse had shifted. They didn't have months left, they had days. And Skaikru had no fighters trained in hand-to-hand combat, no champion with a fraction of a chance of winning against the best of the other clans.
Enter Octavia.
As this was a conclave - the final one - the Flamekeepers were presiding over the events, led by Indra's daughter.
First up was the official naming of the champions. Gaia called each of them up by name, and asked them to accept the sigil of their clan, and to fight with honor as their champion. Octavia was the second-to-last to be called up. Gaia placed the Skaikru symbol on a small metal pendant around her neck, and she took her place in front of the corresponding flag. Roan was beside her, predictably the Azgeda champion. She looked over, almost said something, right as she heard Gaia call for the last champion.
"Ilion kom Trishanakru. Accept the sigil of your clan, and fight with honor as their champion."
And there he was. Stepping out of the crowd in full armor, his hair tied back.
He should've stayed home with his sheep.
"What are you trying to prove?" Octavia muttered as soon as he took his place on her other side.
"I'm here for Trishanakru," he replied evenly, "not you."
That wasn't what she'd meant. But she forced her attention back on Gaia, who was explaining the rules once again to the gathered crowd. "A battle to the death within the walls of Polis," she was saying. "These warriors will fight until only one remains. When that warrior collects all the sigils from the fallen and delivers them to me, they will be declared the victor. This final champion alone will tell us which clan is meant to susrvive in the crypt of Bekka Pramheda, and which clans are meant to perish in Praimfaya. Osir koma op daun bilaik slip daun kom bleirona, ba mafta op won bilaik hef em op mou beda."
"Daun bilaik ai," called a voice from the crowd. Octavia's heart jumped when she saw who it was, pushing their way past people.
Because it was Luna.
Octavia had heard she'd been in Arkadia a while ago, that she'd brought what had been left of her clan as they'd all begun getting sick from the radiation already in the water. That she'd been the only one who'd pulled through, because she was a Nightblood. That Abby and Clarke had then experimented with her blood, trying to create a way to make other people as immune to the levels of radiation headed their way.
That she'd left when their experiments seemed to bring nothing but death and suffering. And now she'd returned. "I'm Luna kom Floukru," she said as she made her way up to the stage, "and I'm the last of my clan."
"We know who you are," Gaia replied, derision creeping into her tone. "The natblida who ran from her conclave."
"I'm not running from this one."
Gaia looked towards one of her fellow acolytes, and seemed to hesitate. But then she picked up one last symbol hanging on a leather cord. "Accept this sigil, Luna kom Floukru," she said. "But with your clan gone, who will you fight for?
"I fight for no one," Luna replied, and turned towards the crowd. "I fight for death." The crowd erupted into a choir of confused, hurried murmurs. "When I win, no one will be saved."
Octavia wasn't sure who she was actually fighting for, here.
But she knew she wasn't on Luna's side.
After the ceremony, there was one last stretch of time for the champions to spend time with their advisors, train, check their weapons. Do whatever they wished. Octavia was watching the other fighters, and selecting knives from the ones on offer. All of her own were gone, after all.
That was where Indra found her. She reached out, put her fingers under Octavia's chin to lift it up, to tilt her face toward her. Her gaze went up to Octavia's forehead, first. "Lincoln's tattoo," she said. Octavia had first begun wearing this warpaint on Fandom, during invasions, and Indra was right. She'd taken the shape from the tattoo on Lincoln's chest. But what Indra didn't know was that her hair was significant, too. She hadn't braided it in more than a month, but today she had. And not in the style she had before, but rather with three braids on either side of her head, going up along her scalp, pulled up into a ponytail with the rest of her hair.
The braids from a New Year's Day that now felt like it had been a lifetime ago.
Octavia turned away from Indra again. She was here as Skaikru's champion, and Indra was Trikru. She assumed it meant they were done, and Indra had just come over because she'd seen the warpaint, and wanted to see if it was what she thought it was.
But to Octavia's surprise, Indra said, "Don't fight with aggression. Don't reveal your next move before you strike."
It was the same counsel she'd given when Octavia had first begun training under her guidance. "And never leave myself exposed," Octavia concluded as she looked at Indra again. "I remember."
"It's okay to be afraid," Indra told her.
"I'm not," Octavia replied, instinctively. But she was, wasn't she? For the first time in a while, fear was breaking through everything else. She knew everyone else had trained for their whole lives to become the warriors they were today. She was good, but five years ago she'd been a girl hiding on a spaceship.
Indra didn't look like she believed her, either. After a moment, she reached down and pulled her sword from its sheath at her hip. "Gaia would never accept this," she said - and held the sword out for Octavia. "But I hope that you will."
Octavia was stunned. She glanced past Indra's shoulder, at where she could see the other champions training. "Why are you helping me?" she whispered. "If I win, it will be the end of your people."
"Yu," Indra replied, her voice breaking, "laik ai kru." Octavia had never seen her like this, emotion in her voice, tears in her eyes. Not even the last time she'd told Octavia she was her people. Octavia took the sword, then Indra's offered forearm. The woman tugged her in close, chest to chest, and whispered in her ear.
"I taught you how to fight, but who you fight for, is up to you."
Kane and Bellamy came to her during the last moments. Kane had been observing the other champions, and told her who was left-handed, who was strong but slow, and reminded her to stay close to cover because there was no telling when black rain would fall. And all the while, Bellamy looked like he was objecting in his head, like he was anxious to say something. She'd known him her whole life, she knew when something was up. "What, Bellamy?" she snapped, exasperated. "If you've got something to say, just say it."
"You don't need any of this," he said. "When the starting horn blows, just stay out of sight and let the others thin out the competition."
What? They'd wanted her to be their champion, and now this? "You want me to hide?
"You don't need to go up against the strongest warrior from every clan."
She suppressed a sigh. "I came here to fight."
"You were the girl under the floor," Bellamy continued, and suddenly, he finally sounded like the brother she remembered again. "Use that. Just like mom taught us."
"Bellamy's right," Kane cut in. "You don't have to kill all 12 warriors."
And it dawned on her. "I just have to kill the last one."
Just then, one of the Flamekeeper scouts called out for ambassadors and advisors to go to the tower, and for the champions to get to the flags of their clans in the streets. The battle was about to begin. Kane pulled Octavia in for an embrace that was much firmer than she'd somehow expected. Not that she'd expected it at all. He nodded to her as he pulled away, and left, leaving her with Bellamy. And right in this moment, she couldn't find the hatred she'd harbored for him in the past weeks and months.
She tried to draw in a steady breath, and said, "May we meet again."
Bellamy gave her a stern nod. "Damn right we will." For a fraction of a second, Octavia wondered whether he was going to pull her in, too - and whether he was wondering the same. Then he just nodded.
And then he, too, was gone.
And all that was left was for her to make her way out onto the street with the other champions. She could see Ilian, Roan, Luna all marching up ahead. The Trikru champion, Fio, was the same guy who'd beat her into pulp when she'd first been trying to show Indra she had what it took to be trained into a warrior. He told her she'd come a long way, and that it was a shame he'd have to kill her today.
And then she was standing by the Skaikru flag underneath an archway, with Indra's sword in her hand.
And the scouts sounded the horns.
[ooc: NFB, NFI. Taken from The 100 S4 episode 10. Part 1 of 2. Surprisingly no violence in this one!]