"So," Lexa said awkwardly, the heat of the bath not so hot against her skin anymore. "Now what?"

Lexa didn't really know why she thought she could get away with asking such a pointed question. She knew whatever next happened was in no way under her control. And yet, not for the first time, she thought at ease, she thought less close to danger than she should be.

Clarke's gaze remained on her for a long moment, and Lexa could see the woman thinking, she could see her gauging thought and idea. She was happy to let the other woman consider. If only because it let herself think, too. Things that Clarke had told her made at least a little sense. She still needed proof, of course. She wouldn't throw her people into the middle of a war without something more concrete than what she already had. But if even a fraction of what Clarke had told her was true, then it made her stomach recoil, it made her taste bile on her tongue.

How could it not?

People being harvested as a resource, being drained of their blood, being treated as nothing more than livestock disgusted her. And so Lexa knew she needed proof. But she knew that easier said than done.

"What did you do?" Clarke said suddenly. "Up there?" and she lifted a single eyebrow.

Lexa swallowed the awkward lump in her throat as she came to realise that their shared nakedness and intimacy would continue for a little while longer.

"I was in charge a resource we needed," Lexa said and she tried not to make it too obvious that she simplified her explanation. She didn't want to get on Clarke's bad side— she didn't even know if she had managed to find her good side yet.

"What resource?" Clarke asked, her cocked to the side as the water continued to lap at her chin.

"Energy," and Lexa shrugged a naked shoulder. "Things that power our technology."

Clarke nodded at that answer, and though to some it might have looked like she simply accepted the answer at face value, Lexa was sure the other woman understood more than she let on.

"Continue," a pause, subtle, enough that Clarke seemed to enjoy the silence before speaking again, "Lexa," her name seemed clipped, oddly pronounced as if Clarke played with it in her mouth before letting it free for any to hear.

"Everyone had their power rationed," Lexa said slowly, not really for Clarke's benefit, but rather so that she could give herself the time to censor anything she would say that could lead to her people's downfall. "Sometimes I needed to choose who went cold or without lights if our supplies were low."

Clarke nodded a knowing nod, her eyes just slightly losing the mirth that had danced within the icy blue moments earlier.

"You ensured that the sacrifices of some of your people would allow the rest to survive," Clarke said eventually.

"Yeah," and Lexa shrugged again and this time she found herself taking in the way Clarke's pale grey face flushed a subtly darker shade of darkness at the tip of her nose and her cheeks. "I guess so."

"Admirable."

And with that Clarke stood.

Lexa's eyes widened, she gasped and she turned her face lest she be caught gaping. But Clarke didn't seem to care. She chuckled and Lexa felt the water swash around her as Clarke began moving to the water's edge before stepping out of its searing heat.

Lexa peered over her shoulder cautiously to find that Clarke was in the middle of drying herself off with a large towel. Whatever steam that had once hung heavy in the air had subsided enough that Lexa could see the far end of the room and the door she had entered.

Clarke must have sensed her gaze for she turned and looked at her with a quirking of her head. Their gazes met across the distance, and not for the first time did Lexa distinctly feel like she was being toyed with. Clarke let the towel drop at her feet after a moment longer before she dressed herself, the clothes she wore seemingly hidden somewhere Lexa couldn't see.

"Dress," Clarke said once she straightened and turned to face her completely. "Quickly."

And with that Lexa found herself alone in the bathhouse.

Despite Clarke having told her to dress quickly Lexa found herself unable to move for minutes. Part of it was the fact that her mind was trying to sift through everything she had been told. The other part of it was simply because, now that she was alone, she had time to really take in the fact that there was in some way a distinctly different species of human that lived on Earth.

There was no other way to explain what she had seen when Clarke had cut herself only for the wound to heal. There was no other way to explain the fact that the woman's blood was black, that her skin was as pale as a corpse, or that her blood had the ability to heal.

Lexa swallowed, she blinked and for a moment she wondered if she had somehow been poisoned or drugged. But as her memories stayed firm, and as her vision wavered not, she knew the only thing she could do is trust her eyes, and her instincts.

She stepped out of the still slightly too hot water, she was thankful that she could now see no one else was within sight and she made her way to the clothes Ontari had dropped on the floor. Lexa's body shivered in the air, the once oppressive steam just a little tempered now.

Lexa found that taking cautious step forward after cautious step forward was a still a little difficult, doubly so due to the slippery tile underfoot. Her body still needed time to adjust to the heavier gravity, her muscles just that little bit too weak for her liking.

But Lexa shook those thoughts from her mind as she came to stop where the fresh clothes had been dropped. Her own dirty clothes remained where she had awkwardly left them, ratted, dirtied and at places torn and frayed. She couldn't help but to turn her nose up at them as she realised just how dirty they—and she— had become since crashing to the ground.

But then her attention was pulled to the towel and the new clothes so clearly intended for her use. A dark brown shirt that she assumed to be leather was neatly folded atop an equally brown leather pair of pants. Undergarments were tucked between both larger pieces of clothing, their fabric soft, supple, thick and very clearly well made.

Lexa felt herself flush just a little at the fact that Ontari and surely Clarke would both know exactly what she wore underneath her clothes, but she wouldn't complain, in part because she quite sincerely believed it would end in her head being removed, and in part because she didn't mind having clean clothes to wear.

And so Lexa dried herself as quickly as she could, she twisted her hair into a hastily made knot that she knew would bother her tremendously in the coming hours and she pulled on the undergarments with as much awkward dexterity as could be expected.

It took her longer than she liked to admit to figure out the chest binding, but once settled she found it comfortable enough that it wasn't noticeable. The bottoms were easier, she'd be ashamed if she couldn't them out. Lexa had even been given socks, both of them a wool that was soft, enough that she knew her feet would sing their praise if forced to march countless hours through the forest.

Before too long Lexa found herself standing in her new undergarments and calf high wool socks, her toes happy as they danced against the wool, her body feeling a little less self conscious about the quality of clothes that adorned it.

But her attention was pulled to the pants she held in her hands.

The lining of the pants was an odd texture, perhaps somewhere between rough and soft. There was a slight fuzz to it that almost made it seem shaved down to reveal the very fibres of the animal's hide. The outside of the leather was harder though, not so hard that it would feel like protective armour, but she knew it hard enough to more than likely protect from blunt form trauma. Whatever the process for the leather's creation she knew it slaved over, intricately crafted. Even the stitching, the seams and the few subtle details that adorned the pants made her think of an artisan, someone weathered in face who had imparted as much love into the clothes as they could.

But most importantly, they were tight.

Lexa grimaced as she tried pulling her leg through the first opening, she winced as it hugged her calf, her thigh and she grunted as she forced her second leg in. She had never worn pants so tight before, but as she let it settle against her flesh she found it oddly perfect. Though tight, she didn't think it too tight to constrict her movement, though thick, she didn't think it too oppressive or heavy enough to cause her to stumble or fall. Even the pant's waist that sat above her hips, that hugged her frame didn't seem too tight or too loose.

And so Lexa sighed. If wearing tight clothing was all she needed to do to keep her people alive then she'd happily do so.

The top that came next was equally as form fitting, it's sleeves ending just above her wrist, long enough that it didn't expose too much skin, short enough that it didn't get in the way of her hands at all. A mottled brown-green leather jacket came next. The interior was fur lined, so very soft against her skin and with more than enough pockets sewn into it that Lexa was sure she would never make use of them all.

The last thing Lexa saw were a pair of heavyset boots. These she could tell were as equally well made as the clothes she wore. But the thing that really took her attention was the shin guards that were seemingly attached to the tongues of the boots. She couldn't quite tell how the guards had been attached, only that they were.

Perhaps she hadn't quite noticed it at first either, but as she reached down to pick up one of the boots she found herself eyeing the sleeve of her jacket. It took her only a moment to realise that each outer layer of clothing she wore had at least some form of protective element incorporated into its construction. The jacket sleeves being far more padded than the rest, it's back perhaps a little stiffer as if to provide at least some protection lest her back be attacked, but not enough that it would limit her ability to move through the forests unhindered. Even the pants were noticeably thicker around the outside of her thighs while being just a little bit thinner near her joints.

It was perhaps with that simple realisation that Lexa found herself understanding just what kind of society she had stumbled upon. She had been acutely aware that war, violence and brutality was a core element to their culture. That had been obvious from the scarred faces she saw, from the tribal tattoos that adorned face after face and even the younger children she had seen armed to the teeth. But the simple fact that even seemingly normal clothes, ones without the metal plates of armour, that had been given to her incorporated armour spoke lengths as to just what humanity on earth now prioritised.

She was under no mistakes then, that should her people come into conflict with Clarke's, that the suffering would be felt by only one side of the conflict.

And so Lexa took in a steady breath as she straightened herself, both boots surprisingly well fitted, shin guards firmly strapped against her lower legs.

And with that Lexa began moving for the door, her mind trying to guess just what would await her now that she wore the clothes of someone who could just as easily be friend as they could be foe.

It was somewhere between oppressive and mesmerising walking through the underground tunnels. Hushed voices echoed out around her and Lexa tried not to misstep, trip or bump into anyone she passed. It wasn't too hard to avoid that for every single person, warriors, child and youth that they passed stepped aside and made space for them as they continued walking.

Lexa knew they weren't stepping aside for her. That was obvious from the way the warriors bowed their heads as Clarke nodded in greeting. She even heard whispered Heda's be uttered with something between reverence and awe.

She couldn't take her eyes off Clarke's back, though. Even though Ontari walked behind her, close enough that she knew the other woman would be more than capable of incapacitating her in half a second. But Lexa couldn't pull her gaze from the way what little of Clarke's skin she could see glow in the candle light. It seemed ghostlike, ethereal in beauty and nightmare inducing if she looked a little too hard.

And yet Lexa found she could not look away.

Above the simple fact that she now knew humanity had somehow evolved into something different, was the second revelation that she had no idea about these people's internal politics. An older man walked beside Clarke, his stature tall, blonde hair short cropped against his head. She didn't think him the same as Gustus though, for as she looked at Gustus, the brute of a man she found his attention turned outwards and to any they passed as if he were daring them to attack.

So no, Lexa didn't think the second man another of Clarke's guards. Perhaps an advisor, an old mentor maybe or even a general of sorts. But one who still showed Clarke as much deference as any. Lexa had even been able to at least guess there were at least two people in the combined underground force. Most had tattoos with dark brown and muddy green leathers and furs. But the second group had a distinctly different aesthetic. Much like Ontari, those who were paler had what could only be described as ornamental scars across their faces, and their clothes were a lighter, paler grey and white combination of furs and leathers. Lexa was even sure she could spy a few warriors from a third, fourth or perhaps even a fifth clan amongst the mass of people.

But what really pulled Lexa's attention was the woman who walked with them surrounded by two other warriors. The woman's hair was shoulder length and full of curls. Her skin paler than most of the green-brown warriors, yet her face had no scars upon it that would give her away as someone from Ontari's clan. There was something about the way she moved that seemed slightly different, too. Lexa couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she thought it odd enough that she took a mental note. If anything, she thought it could prove useful in the times to come.

Before too long, and after countless steps through the dark tunnels, some filled with warriors, others not, they came to a set of stairs that lead upwards. It didn't take them long to ascend and as Lexa walked amongst the warriors she realised the air seemed fresher and far less thick upon her tongue.

And so after another short few moments Lexa found herself stepping out of the stairway and into what must have been a large structure with shuttered windows and more warriors milling about.

Lexa could tell they had come above ground though for she could see the cracks of daylight through the shuttered windows, she could hear the rustle of the wind and she could smell fresh air.

Clarke turned to face that same older man with blonde hair. She whispered something to him before he nodded his head and turned to leave, three other warriors quick to peel off with him as he set out to do whatever Clarke had clearly instructed.

Lexa swallowed whatever lump was in her throat as she looked around to try to gauge what might be happening. But all she saw was the weathered stone of the building that rose up around her, the thick metal gate that hid the stairs that led down underground and the few warriors that still milled about.

Clarke turned to face her then, and her gaze was curious. Silence lingered for a longer than comfortable moment and Lexa kept quiet, if only because she didn't quite know what was happening.

Lexa took whatever the moment was and she began to look around herself a little more purposefully. Above ground the warriors with tattoos seemed to dominate the numbers. Barely any with face scars stood around. But Lexa saw younger warriors, many clearly youths, their faces barely aged to time. But each one wore clothes that were clearly intended to be used for violence and war. One child, a girl with a spiral tattoo snaking its way up her throat wore a metal plate of intricate detail across her chest, the patterns hammered into the armour ornate and intricate. Another, a boy, perhaps a few years older than her had a thick leather vest of sorts that wrapped around his torso with sections of it thinned out that seemed purposefully designed to allow him to bend with ease. Others stood around, some with weapons in their hands, others sorting through other tools whose purpose Lexa couldn't discern other than the obvious fact that they could very well be used to maim or kill.

Two older warriors stood amongst them. Both men were weathered in face, tattooed and broad shouldered and barrel chested. Lexa watched as one man approached a youth who seemed to be struggling to restring a bow. She watched as the man did nothing to help other than let his presence become overbearing and oppressive. The other man seemed content to run a clearly well trained eye down the length of the broadsword he held out in front of him as he seemingly inspected its cutting edge.

"A scouting party," Lexa turned at the words to find Clarke looking at her with curiosity in her eyes.

"Why so young?" Lexa didn't really think she needed Clarke to answer.

"They must learn," Clarke said simply before she turned back to watch the youths and the two men.

Lexa stayed silent as she continued looking around them. But before too long the scouting party began to move. She watched as both of the men stepped aside and gesture for one of the younger members of the party to take the lead. Even that seemed so very foreign to her. And yet, she could already guess the reasoning behind it. In some way it even made sense. If only because she knew in some way or another that there was no better way for someone to learn than to be forced into the situation feet first.

A low hoot echoed out around them and Lexa startled a bit as she felt someone grip her upper arm and begin moving her forward. As if as one Clarke, presumably her guards and Lexa marched out behind the scouting party. She didn't quite know what was happening, she wouldn't even try to guess just yet. But she grimaced as they rushed out of the building amongst the youths and their mentors.

Lexa blinked in the afternoon light. She wasn't given much more than a few seconds to look around her, but as they began moving quickly across the open ground she realised they were in what could only be described as a village centre of sorts. The dirt underfoot was hard packed, there were benches around a large fire pit and even a number of wooden tables. Other buildings spread out from the city centre, their construction a mixture of stone, wood and metal. Parts of the buildings were twisted metal, others intricately carved wood. Vines and mosses, greens and forest life grew over many of the buildings, and Lexa was sure that if she were to look at this place from outside the village centre it would appear more forest a dilapidated ruins than lived in wonder.

More people moved about outside too. But these people she thought not warriors for she saw elderly, she saw those whose years had long since left them behind. She saw more youths, these very much children and too young to be given whatever responsibilities already thrust upon too young shoulders. She saw mothers and fathers, tradesmen and village people move about and seemingly not even react to the sudden appearance of the scouting party and whoever Clarke was to their society.

But then the hand that gripped her upper arm, Lexa winced and she realised Ontari had been the one guiding her. Their group broke off from the scouting party and Lexa found herself ushered into another nearby building, this one large and quite clearly intended for grandeur due to the banners she saw hanging above the doorway she was pushed through.

Other warriors stood inside this building and Lexa grimaced when she saw what was clearly a group of warriors preparing to head out in what she could only describe as something far more dangerous than a scouting party. Each warrior was armed to the teeth, she couldn't even begin to count how many weapons she saw strapped to their bodies, from small knives, larger ones, swords, battle axes, bows and arrows and spears. Even their faces seemed different, seemed prepared, accepting of whatever violence was soon to be met, whatever fate was soon to be had.

Lexa was forced down a small hallway, Clarke's figure slowly swallowed by the dark in front of her, and then she found herself carefully moving down another stairway. But this one wasn't so long as the last. Instead of disappearing into the depths of the earth it levelled out after only a few short paces to reveal a large chamber full of candles.

At its centre was an enormous table that spanned almost the entire chamber's length, its size enough to seat tens of warriors easily. A large map lay sprawled out atop one end of the table, its corners held down by models carved from stone. Other smaller models littered its surface, and Lexa was sure each one marked places of interest.

But the man thing that stole her attention was the food that she could smell and see piled atop the table. As if as one, each warrior that had filed into the chamber took their place amongst the available seats leaving Lexa awkwardly alone as she stood where Ontari had left her.

She didn't know what to think about whatever on earth was happening in that very moment. Part of her thought she had gone mad, another part of her thought this all some kind of ploy that would only result in her being reprimanded or imprisoned if she so much as made a move to one of the few empty seats.

Lexa stood in place for another moment before Clarke sighed. The noise drew her attention and she found Clarke's hand gesturing to a chair opposite her between two broad shouldered warriors.

"Sit."

Lexa swallowed as she stepped forward, she winced and she cursed as the chair scraped across the stone floor and she tried not to show her awkwardness too visibly upon her face as she settled herself in the chair.

It'd be funny, too, Lexa thought, if she wasn't scared of being killed. And it'd be funny for the warriors who sat around her, each one brutish, large, overbearing in ways she could only imagine, all seemed to be waiting with such respect and politeness that Lexa couldn't help but to think herself in some kind of holo-vid where each warrior should be wearing tuxedos rather than the leathers and armours and furs that adorned their body.

Plates of food, meats and cheeses, fruits and vegetables and pies spread out atop the tables surface. Glinting cutlery and beakers of drink were placed evenly between the food and even a few brave candles had found a spot amongst the feast that surely awaited them.

For a split second Lexa felt her fingers beginning to reach for the fork nearest her but she was sure she heard the quietest of grunts from the man beside her. She looked up and she saw his eyes seemingly glare at her motion as if to tell her to wait, as if to warn her that her next actions would be met with a knife in her back.

Lexa wasn't going to push her luck. Not after everything that had happened so recently. And so she swallowed, she clasped her hands in her lap and she looked around at each person that sat by the table.

Ontari sat next to Clarke. The scar faced woman's head tilted to the side ever so curiously as she took her in. That same woman who Lexa couldn't quite place sat beside Ontari, her gaze cast downwards. Beside Clarke was an empty chair, and the next one over occupied by a shorter woman of dark complexion with short hair. A tattoo ran across one side of her face that was also marred by scars she could tell were from injury and not from ritual.

Whatever the reason for them waiting was answered soon enough. Lexa startled as the door to the chambers opened with a scraping echo to reveal more warriors filing in. The same blonde hair man took his place next to Clarke, and for the oddest of seconds Lexa was sure there was a familiarity between both Clarke and the man. She saw the woman called Costia take her place and even the baldheaded man she thought was named Lincoln found a spot between two women, both fair skinned with ritualistic scars etched into their flesh.

But Lexa's gaze snapped to Clarke who lifted her arms in a wide greeting to all that now sat at the table, a smile on her lips that seemed so very genuinely, and that sent a shiver down Lexa's spine as it revealed the slightest hints of her gums that were as black as the shadows.

Lexa watched as Clarke seemed to look every single person opposite her in the eyes before bowing her head to those on her left and her right.

And then, "eat, my friends," Clarke said gently, but this time her gaze was transfixed on Lexa.

And there was something in the gaze, something deeper, something darker, something so unsettling that it made Lexa realised she had so very miscalculated whatever situation she thought she was in.