The world was made of good and bad people; mostly bad ones. Of that Lexa was sure. And yet, she had never been able to put her grandmother in either category. The woman was difficult at best, but she was also caring, albeit in her own twisted way, and she loved her granddaughter. Lexa was certain of that fact as well. She couldn't blame the older woman for her strict upbringing, the same one she imparted on the child. She couldn't blame her for the spanking she felt was necessary when Lexa was merely three years old, watching her grandmother's favorite Mexican soap, then explaining to her only real interlocutor how she felt tingly all over when the male protagonist finally locked lips with his soulmate—a chaste kiss if there ever was one. From that beating she took, Lexa concluded that love was weakness, that lust was a punishable offense, and that she was better off with people like Lincoln and Anya whom she had complete power over, around whom she could keep her feelings in check.
Which made her current situation that much more confusing. For the first time in her fourteen years, she was in the presence of her grandmother and another creature—she still wasn't sure Clarke was entirely human, she much preferred thinking of her a sky princess, especially after her appearance out of thin air during the thunderstorm. She had no idea how her grandmother interacted with other people. If she were to guess, she would say the stern woman had the same methods as Lexa; after all, the reserved girl had to inherit her rigidity from someone. Clarke would be in for quite the conversation.
"Hello there Goldilocks, who might you be? Last time we took in a stray, it was this little missy's imaginary dog! Don't worry, she's not retarded or anything, God forbid. We had her checked. She's just 'closed off from the world', doctor's exact words! Why are you standing there gaping at me, come in! Come dry off and warm up. I'll make you some hot chocolate."
To say Lexa was dumbfounded would be an understatement. Had the lightning created a vortex sending her to an alternate reality? Or was this shiny-even-when-wet girl a witch who had cast a nice spell on her implacable grandmother?
"Glad to see someone in the family is capable of speech!" said Clarke through a grin. She passed by Lexa, nudging her shoulder, then looking over her own to add: "Coming? I need somebody to guide me to the marshmallows!"
Bowing her head in defeat, Lexa followed the ray of sunshine into the kitchen, while Anya was whispering to her not to ruin this, and Lincoln was commenting on how carefree and happy the girl seemed, and maybe that would rub off on them? Lexa wasn't pleased with the idea. She hadn't even spoken to the tornado of a girl, yet she was already turning Lexa's flavorless life upside down.