hiraeth | c.g. |

xxvi

"You like?"

Lydia looked to her right to see Clary approaching her, the young woman's eyes on the portraits displayed in Maggie's office in the Barrington House. The girl was surprised to see her no longer dressed in the clothing of the Angel of Death, the leather that had once covered her now removed to show her simple clothing. It was like seeing a King without a crown, unnatural but not unwelcome.

Lydia had always been scared to look Clarissa Rhee in the eyes, mostly because the first time she had the warrior had threatened her life. Even as she defended her on their way here, she wondered if the look in her eyes was a coverup for how much she actually loathed the younger girl. However, seeing her with a clean face and a soft smile, she realized now why so many of the people around them loved and respected her.

Lydia was just one of many who watched as the Commander helped elderly members of the procession into rooms, handed children her rations, and watched over her people like a hawk. While she had once been afraid of the young woman, Lydia knew when people were good, and she knew that Clary was.

Realizing the young woman was expecting an answer, the girl nodded, looking back to the paintings. "They're beautiful," Lydia commented, noting the C.J.R. signature in the corners of the painting. "You made them?" Lydia questioned with wide eyes.

Clary nodded with a small smile. "Years ago, when I lived here with my adoptive mom, Maggie. It was before Solaris had been rebuilt." Clary's eyes fell upon the paintings. "She wanted portraits of her family for her office. We spent a couple of days talking while I made them, with her telling me stories of who they were and what they looked like."

Clary's eyes fell on Glenn, her hand resting by her side to graze along the pocket watch nestled in the fabric of her pants. "The one in the middle, Glenn, he was Maggie's husband and someone I saw like a father. They both took care of me when I got to Alexandria." Lydia bit the inside of her cheek, saddened by the look of remembrance in the young Commander's eyes. "You care about them."Clary smiled. "Of course I do," Clary spoke. "They've been my family since I stepped foot into those walls. It wouldn't have been home without them— they made it that for me."

Looking to Clary, Lydia could see both the love and sadness in her eyes at remembering her family. "It sounds nice," Lydia began. "Alexandria, I mean." Clary smiled softly. "It is. It's changed a lot since I had last been there but... It's home."

Placing a hand on the girl's arm, she patted it gently. "You should get some rest. We leave at dawn." With a nod, Lydia watched as Clary stepped away and towards the door of the office.

Going through, the young woman allowed it to shut softly behind her before she moved through the home. She was careful to not wake any of the people sleeping in the home, her gaze falling on each of those she passed to make sure they were okay.

As she left the home, Clary couldn't help the shiver that coursed through her body as she stepped into the cold. She breathed the biting wind in, allowing it to wake her up before she seated herself on the steps of the Barington house.

It was quiet, Clary's mind somewhat at ease with the silence. With that in mind, she removed a small tin from her jacket, opening it to remove a homemade cigarette. It was a habit she had picked up from Daryl after everything that had happened with Jocelyn and the kids. A habit he was less than fond of, but he knew he was the last person to reprimand her about it.

Placing it in her mouth, she flicked open her lighter and lit the cigarette, taking a drag.

"Those things will kill you, you know?" Clary looked over to see Tris approaching, letting out a laugh. "What won't?" Tris let out a half assed laugh in agreement. "Got another?"