It's that same vein of humanizing the Captain that'd had Clarke touching his chest and feeling for a heartbeat before being absolutely laid out on the floor by a donkey kick to the chest. The thrum that'd reverberated up her arm upon contact hadn't been like any pulse she'd ever felt, but still gave some insight into the idea that something powering him was resting beneath his ribcage. But she's not exceptional at this — despite the lengthy kill count that should have been tattooed on her back, back home Clarke's the commander. She's more likely to oversee and negotiate, dictate and delegate. Imagine violent ideals and watch her friends follow through with them, but until recently, she'd been... Well, not friendless here. Not even without guard dogs and protectors hovering in her atmosphere. But still resolutely holding onto the thought that the people on this ship weren't the same as her people. She owed them nothing, but in equal measure held no importance to them. She could play as recklessly with her own life as she pleased, if the outcome past pain and death was knowledge.
New developments... complicate that outlook. But Clarke's had her first proverbial taste of blood, and wants another bite. Forget Goya, she wants to be Saturn in this instance.
"It's not the screen that makes the difference, it's the backdrop. Tell people from the start that their island vacation ends in murder, it's not surprising when it does, right? But invite people to a fancy dinner, and cut a throat like one'd cut a ribbon, it... Leaves a different taste in the mouth. No welcome speech, no rules set. Just blood and the invitation to do whatever we want... I'd say he wanted to see what we'd do."
And... they'd played right into it, hadn't they? The attempts on the Captain, Maximilien stabbing Ebalon, Natsuno flipping La Pluma off the table... Clarke had initially entertained the idea of stabbing the woman on her table with a steak knife, but had turned her sights to larger prey and. Still ended up playing a game she detested. Because it had felt justified. She sighs a little, adding another layer of self imposed disappointment to her own attempt.
"I don't know how much time we can waste parsing out exactly why he does the things he does. He's bored, and all powerful, and has zero regard for life. I'd rather focus on how to stop it than understand it. Wouldn't you?"
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New developments... complicate that outlook. But Clarke's had her first proverbial taste of blood, and wants another bite. Forget Goya, she wants to be Saturn in this instance.
"It's not the screen that makes the difference, it's the backdrop. Tell people from the start that their island vacation ends in murder, it's not surprising when it does, right? But invite people to a fancy dinner, and cut a throat like one'd cut a ribbon, it... Leaves a different taste in the mouth. No welcome speech, no rules set. Just blood and the invitation to do whatever we want... I'd say he wanted to see what we'd do."
And... they'd played right into it, hadn't they? The attempts on the Captain, Maximilien stabbing Ebalon, Natsuno flipping La Pluma off the table... Clarke had initially entertained the idea of stabbing the woman on her table with a steak knife, but had turned her sights to larger prey and. Still ended up playing a game she detested. Because it had felt justified. She sighs a little, adding another layer of self imposed disappointment to her own attempt.
"I don't know how much time we can waste parsing out exactly why he does the things he does. He's bored, and all powerful, and has zero regard for life. I'd rather focus on how to stop it than understand it. Wouldn't you?"