Chapter 6: Captive

"Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet."

Roger Miller

Day 1: Hanoi, 2:35 PM

It was quite warm but it was wet. It was Lexa's first day out in Hanoi. The hostel that she was staying in was in Hanoi's Old Quarter, outside the streets were lined up with vendors who spread out their produce on low makeshift tables. Lexa was stirred by all the sights and sounds that enveloped her along the narrow lanes. She was so fascinated having to observe one vendor cut raw chicken meat along the road. Poultry innards were spread on the low table; gizzards, livers, cut pieces and other entrails were placed on separate piles along with duck meat. There was a certain order to how these animals parts were displayed so Lexa thought that it wasn't too morbid. Some people who were new to this sight might be grossed out about it but Lexa was nothing but immersed. She was carefully taking in all the sounds; the language that she could not decipher being spoken around her, the sound of motorcycles and the constant chop chop of butchers and swish swish of vendors washing bundles of vegetables. Fruit and vegetable peddlers wearing conical leaf hats lined the streets as well. Baskets containing vegetables such as chayote, spinach, and bamboo shoots were placed on the ground as the peddlers rested on low stools sipping tea. It was a typical scene that you will find in paintings and photographs of Vietnam. Lexa was so engrossed by the fact that the scenes portrayed in images of Vietnam decades ago are still very much present in the contemporary setting, probably just an addition of more motorcycles. The hustle and bustle of downtown Hanoi was like a postcard scene coming to life. The drizzle ceased moments ago, Lexa was amused by the rapid change of weather despite the fact that it was almost summer in Southeast Asia. Wearing a light windbreaker, quick-dry shorts and lightweight hiking shoes, Lexa set off to wander the marketplace. Looking for ripe mangoes, she found some of the most interestingly shaped tropical fruits as well. There was this flame shaped pink fruit called the dragonfruit, the hairy lychee locally called the chom chom and a round purple fruit with hard skin but soft white flesh called the mang cut or mangosteen. Most of the fruits that she sampled were citrusy, sour or sweet.

After venturing the market, Lexa reached the end of the street where she stumbled upon the oldest cathedral in the city, the Neo-Gothic cathedral of St. Joseph. The cathedral was built in 1886 modeled by the French after that of Notre Dame. Along the church's courtyard, Lexa noticed a number of visitors in a tour groups or travelers who were simply taking pictures. The square was quite busy, so Lexa wondered if she should take a small break from all the walking. Across the church was a quaint coffee shop called Cộng Cà Phê. Intrigued by its appearance, Lexa walks towards the café and is enthralled by the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Baristas wearing army green shirts greeted Lexa. Lexa ordered a cup of coffee with coconut milk, sensing that all the tables at the ground floor were occupied; she found her way ascending the upper floor. The walls of the landing were adorned with posters and other communist memorabilia. The place was pretty popular among the tourists and the young Vietnamese. Lexa found a small cozy corner with a low table and a big window facing the cathedral grounds; she took off her shoes entered the area with a low platform and sat crossed legged on the cushion provided. When her coffee arrived, Lexa took out her notebook and decided that this was the perfect spot to take in more of the city. She proceeded to record her day and took note of the most interesting spots. Usually, Lexa used to write stories outlining budget itineraries for backpackers digesting cities in two to three days. Her work entailed quick lists cramming in all sights and affordable travel tips in about a thousand words. But this time, she thought about taking it slow. She decided that she could probably outline reclusive corners were travelers may be able to connect with an unfamiliar culture at their own pace. After all, not all travelers are in a hurry, some travelers are not ready to go home right away; some travelers can afford to go slow.

Lexa continued to contemplate behind the big window, people continued to saunter around the cathedral's courtyard. This was the best vantage point to people-watch; it gave a good perspective of the city. At one point, in between her musings, Lexa noticed an unmoving figure at the square. Amidst the sea of people, it was quite easy to notice an inert female figure. She wore a black cut muscle tee, dark cargo shorts and boots; Lexa thought that her appearance made her look like a typical hipster backpacker. From afar, Lexa figured that she had blonde hair, despite the wetness of the pavement; she appears to be sitting at the middle of the walkway facing the church's façade. Lexa realized that the person happens to be sketching the church. A drawing pad was balanced on top of her lap, her backpack tossed to the side, her left arm continuously moved back and forth as she scribbled. From where she sat and with her back against the coffee shop, Lexa could not see the other person's face. Lexa was quite charmed by this stranger. Amidst all the movement around her, somehow, she has found a way to lurk inside her own bubble. Lexa also sort of envied this person for being an artist, Lexa thought that her musings would probably sound better if her words were side by side hand drawn illustrations of scenery rather than photographs. Not that her photographs can't be charming at times but there is something about quick hand-drawings of architecture and landscapes that captures the character of lethargic urban capes and country sides. Lexa thought about the coffee table books which she usually purchases during her travels; these were usually sketchbooks of artists who spent months or years immersed in certain locations. Lexa wondered if this stranger was one of those urban sketchers.

Lexa's wonderment was broken when a male figure suddenly approached the woman that she was observing. He crouched beside her for a while and she probably did some last touch-ups on her work. But after a short while, they both stood up and he took her backpack off the ground. As she stuffed her belongings inside the bag, they proceeded to walk hand and hand exiting the church grounds. At this point, Lexa had a glimpse of her stranger's face. Of course, it was not as clear as she was seated at the upper floor of the café, but what she saw somehow captured her attention. The stranger had a beautiful face; structured but soft, strong but delicate and serene yet poignant. These were the contrasting words that she uttered in her mind as she observed this stranger walk away with most probably her beau. As the muse of her thoughts continued to disappear across the street, Lexa struggled to memorize her features but little detail of her face may be observed from Lexa's point of view. Lexa craned her neck out of the window but her stranger slowly disappeared into a horizon of locals and tourists. Lexa had no choice but to get back to her coffee and her writing, hoping that the city may be too small enough for her to probably bump into that stranger again one of these days.

Day 4: Hanoi, 7:45 PM

Lexa was currently enjoying a bowl of beef noodle salad and a bottle of beer at the popular local eatery Bun Bo Nam Bo. When looking for a good place to eat for an adventurous palate, go where the locals go. This street food place only serves about two types of dishes; hence, the food is served fresh and quick. The eatery was typically busy at lunch and in the evening, it was not only popular amongst foreigners but this was a place where locals eat out with their family and friends as well. Lexa ate a hastily, observing that there was not much of a line because people simply ate and leave after a few moments. She had been having dinner here for several evenings now, well, she thought that she could probably eat here every day until she leaves Hanoi.

After finishing her meal and downing the rest of her beer, Lexa stood up to pay at the counter. More patrons started to arrive and Lexa felt that she should make way for them. While she was at the counter, she suddenly noticed a familiar blonde figure at the corner of her eye. At the table, sitting next to the counter, Lexa observed a couple chatting somewhat animatedly as they finished their own bowls of beef noodle salad and ice cold beers. Lexa's heart skipped, was she the blonde that she was observing at the courtyard a few days ago? Both the male and the female looked like typical backpackers, still in trainers, shorts and t-shirts; this must be the same couple at the cathedral. Lexa was not the type to pry, but what are the odds that she would see them again. So, as she fell in line at the cashier, she caught some parts of the couple's conversation since they were speaking in English and not any other foreign language.

"I don't know Bell, I feel like I'm a bit partied out. There are so many other interesting things in this city aside from the night life." The female said as she proceeded to take another mouthful of her food.

"C'mon Clarke, that's why I took this trip, I wanted to see the scene in different places." The male with a messy mop of hair, wearing a muscle-sleeved Sex Pistols t-shirt said as he took a swing of his beer.

"I'd like to visit some of the museums tomorrow; I'd like an early start. You can go without me tonight." The female probably named Clarke said.

"What? It's all the same old stuff, live a little." The man argued.

Lexa thought that this girl Clarke had a point; there was so much to learn about the history and culture of the Vietnamese from Hanoi. For the past couple of days, Lexa ventured into the city's various museums, the One-pillar Pagoda and Temple of Literature and Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum. Probably, not all people are interested at the past of some regions, maybe the present captivates them more, Lexa thought. If this Clarke was indeed her "courtyard artist", then she might really be into historical sites rather than Hanoi's night life.

"My friend Bao's playing at this jazz bar tonight." The man continued.

"Well, you should go then, I can find my way back to the hotel." Clarke seemed upset.

Since she was so caught up eaves-dropping at their conversation, Lexa did not realize that the cashier was already catching her attention since she was already holding the line. Cut out from her daze and too embarrassed of the scenario, Lexa apologized profusely and finished her transaction. Without any reason to linger at the vicinity of the couple, Lexa exited the eatery without looking back, too anxious to find out if in some way, the couple might have noticed that she was watching them as they banter.

Day 6, Hanoi: 6:25 PM

Finally running out of things to do at the city, Lexa decided that she should go visit the Vietnamese country side. Since she was working on a more reclusive piece, she decided to skip the popular Ha Long Bay and considered its landmass counterpart, Tam Coc. So, tomorrow she's headed south of Hanoi to Ninh Binh to visit the rice paddies and the limestone elevations of Tam Coc. She's also excited about going biking at the countryside. This is indeed the change of scenery that she probably needs. Plus, she'll get to see the site of Vietnam's ancient capital Hoa Lu at Ninh Binh. Though not much of the capital is left, it was once compared to the ancient city of Angkor at its height. So, prior to going to Cambodia, Lexa plans to end her trip at the countryside.

However, Lexa had some interesting plans for her last night at Hanoi. As she was taking a stroll at Hoàn Kiếm Lake earlier, Lexa stumbled upon a small theater. As she got closer, she realized that this was no ordinary theater but it was a water-puppet theater. Too curious about what the show was about, she brought a ticket for the 7:00 PM show. Now, she stands in line as the audience is being directed inside the theater in a queue. Being ahead at the line, Lexa entered the theatre first, also with a dozen others. This was a popular activity amongst the tourists, so the theatre was a bit packed. The spectators had the liberty to select their own seats, so Lexa sat at the middle row to get a good view of the stage. The theatre was a bit aged and rustic and the seats were a bit traditional, the seats though not very relaxing, were not too uncomfortable either. Before the show began, Lexa struggled to read under the dim light, the English translation of the synopsis of each act from a pamphlet given to her. This gave her a clue that the show was probably entirely in Vietnamese. Since she was deeply immersed in her task, Lexa failed to notice a slender figure approaching the seat next to her.

"Excuse me, but is this seat taken?" asked a soft female voice.

"Go ahead…"was all Lexa said still deciphering the text she was reading.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you alone tonight? I guess, we're not allowed to speak during the show but I do appreciate the fact that I'm seated beside a person who speaks the same language that I do. Just so that I don't get into trouble by getting lost in translation." Due to her lengthy small talk, Lexa was prompted to look up.

Then it occurred to her, the stranger beside her was no other than the artist at the courtyard. Under the faint lighting, Lexa was absorbed into the most captivating set of blue eyes that she has ever encountered.

"Yes, I am. I've always been…" Lexa stuttered at a loss of words. She realized that her answer was not making any sense. "Sorry, yes I'm just by myself."

"Hah, you are a bit frank, frank but funny. I'm Clarke by the way." Lexa realized that she already knew her name a few days ago. She just hopes that Clarke did not notice her during the noodle shop incident.

"Lexa" Clarke extended her arm for a handshake and at the first point of contact; Lexa could not help but shudder at Clarke's touch. Just a few days ago, Clarke was some stranger from some scene, now it felt a bit surreal that they are seated beside each other and of all places, at a water-puppet theater.

"So Lexa, where are you from?" Clarke asked placing her arm at the armrest beside Lexa.

"Well, I'm from the States and I live at a city called Polis." Lexa replied.

"No way! I'm from Arkadia that's just a few minutes from Polis. This is quite bizarre don't you think?" Clarke exclaimed.

Then before Lexa could even answer, the lights got dimmer; everyone else was at a level of silence after that. The sound of a string instrument started to reverberate across the hall and a male voice started to eerily chant from the stage.

"The show is starting, but this is still so strange for me. Let's watch the show for now but let's talk after." Clarke leaned in and whispered to Lexa's ear.

Too frozen to move because of Clarke's proximity, Lexa simply nodded and placed her full attention to the show. But as she diverted her interest, all Lexa can think about was that Clarke smelled nice despite the humid weather outside.

Author's Note:

Clexa has finally met, please note that this is a multi-chapter fic that I have plans of completing. The next few chapters will focus on Clexa but other characters will be introduced slowly.

Some places in this fic are actual regions and places that I may or may not have visited. I do not endorse nor I am paid to name some places but some names both historical and commercial were and will be mentioned to give you a clearer mood of the settings. Again, I do not own any of The 100 characters. Thank you for reading and a review will be greatly appreciated, so let me know what you think.