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PACING HAS BECOME SOMEWHAT OF a permanent habit of Everly's. Since Echo's display of authority and act of war, the remaining members of Skaikru have been split up; either heading back to Arkadia or, like Everly, herded into the temple to discuss further action. It's been two hours of mindless chatter, useless 'strategy' and just Everly pacing back and forth. She can tell it's starting to grate on the others' nerves, Caro has given her multiple side-eyed glares and Clarke has tried to get her to sit but none have been successful.
Battle plans have always been a forte of Everly's; schemes and strategy are a strong asset of hers, part of the reason she was recruited for the guard in the first place. Everly is growing tired of the continuous suggestion to fight their way out and run back to camp - there are twelve clans against one, and even with guns, their best fighters aren't half as good as the grounders (save for Octavia and the members of Trikru who have aided them).
Everly's biting on her thumbnail, right elbow resting against her left arm as it wraps around her waist. She's stopped her pacing, now standing in one spot as she stares at the wall, head tilted and eyes squinted and it's clear she's in deep thought. She's interrupted when Indra, Octavia and Bellamy enter the temple. Everly waits awkwardly as Indra and Kane embrace, tears in their eyes, and she nods towards Bellamy who nods back.
"Well?" Clarke asks arms crossed over her chest. Everly moves to stand next to her, mimicking her posture as she too crosses her arms. Bellamy sighs and shakes his head, "You're not gonna like it."
"When do we ever?" Everly's question is rhetorical and Bellamy rolls his eyes but fails to repress the small twitch upwards of his lips. Indra takes to ignoring Everly's interjection and explains, "When you destroyed the City of Light there were a thousand Azgeda warriors inside the City of Polis."
"Good timing."
"The only way to remove them is by force," Indra continues and Everly scoffs head tilting towards the sky as she curses gods she doesn't believe in. Octavia is calculated and her voice is cold, unfeeling, unrelenting, "Then let's remove them."
"Woah there Buffy," Everly chastises, referencing a show from a century ago and it's clear that no one understands, as she receives nothing but annoyed and confused gazes in return. "Even with our guns there's too many soldiers out there, we can't overpower them and we are not committing another act of genocide just because Octavia can't keep her murder hard-on in her pants."
