Good talk

[Clarke Griffin]

Bellamy Blake

Clarke stood in the door for a while. The night was approaching, the suns were setting, painting the place in an eery, but very interesting light. Under different circumstances she would have wanted to paint the scenario now. All these years, she dreamed about going to the ground, she six years on the ground in peace, almost. And then it all went to hell again, fantastically so even. THeir home planet, the dream they grew up with, was no longer surivable and there was no going back. They had destroyed earth. And she had a hand in it. Clarke guessed she had her place in history now, if they would record it. Wanheda, in so many ways. And now, after Monty told them to do better, they already lost one of their own, almost lost one of their own and she was forced to spill blood again. At least this time, she really was force to do so. It was, in a way self defense and defense of Murphy, while influenced by whatever they hallucinated of. There were other things though, personal history. While they were here, on the ground of this new planet, they had not had the chance to speak, especially not after Montys message. He himself, mainly, when not influenced by an eclipse, was someone who would prioritize getting settled before settling something like this. And it helped that they were, for the first time in a long long time, trying to achieve the same goal. Maybe they could indeed do better here.

"Sorry about the leg." Clarke said almost softly as she approached him finally. With most of their people gone it felt safe to open the conversation like this. It was a safe opening, too. It gave her a beginning, but for him, it gave him the opportunity to not go into it, to shut out her intention of speaking to him about all the things they did, mostly those they did to each other. In a way she understood why the others were acting like this towards her, especially some of them. While she didn't outright blame them, the irony of what she thought was the reason for it, was not lost on her either. Sometimes she wondered if it hadn't been better if she hadn't been a nightblood the day the death wave killed over 90% of the earths surface.

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Clarke Griffin

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

The room was mostly empty, quiet. It gave Bellamy a chance to think; process what had happened so recently. Not even a day in a new place and already things had grown tense. Already there was another threat in the atmosphere. Another fight for survival. It seemed to be a constant state for them; even on the Ark, every day had been about surviving. He couldn't help but wonder if that would ever truly change.

A familiar voice broke him out of his thoughts as he saw her in his peripheral. She apologized for stabbing him and he knew that that was one thing, she did not need to do. "Don't be," he responded quietly. His tone not rude or short, but also sincere in that she did not have to apologize for stopping him. He had needed to be stopped. "Sorry for, choking you." An underlying tone of shame for what he had done, and almost done. Nearly drowned Murphy and choked Clarke to death. He hated to think what could have happened had they not all fallen unconscious. Had he not fallen unconscious.