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Nobody expected to be able to survive the end of the world and yet here she was. Clarke woke with the damning clarity that she was most likely the last living person on the surface of this planet let. Her friends were either in a bunker or had gone back to the Ark in space. And suddenly the calculations on the Ark made so much more sense. Back up there they were taught earth wasn't survivable for another few decades, the time earth would need in order to start to be survivable again from the burning down of the nuclear power plant. Somehow the Ark must have had that data and they had forgotten about that crucial part. No matter what, there had been miscalculations that prevented them from being able to survive up there until that point, not in the number they had been. And now...there was  a chance this was it, the end of humanity itself. 

Clarke dragged herself to the control panels and powered them up. Thanks to the lab being built as it was she could survive here for a bit. They still had some food stored here, water, too, for a little while this would be he haven. Or perhaps not. Five years were a long time, especially alone. With shaking hands she slowly pulled up the footage she could, reviewing the damage done by the death wave. Every single camera was out now, there was none that through luck documented that patch of land that apparently remained. Chances were it wasn't even on this continent.

To her surprise the lab door indicated being opened, which was entirely impossible. It had to be a malfunction so she grabbed tools to hopefully close it... except there was a shadow in the light that came from outside, a human shadow. Someone else survived. Given the height, it had to be ... "Roan?"

Being on the ground had its fair share of problems for them. They were practically invading and mostly because they could not longer survive in space. And being on the ground had plenty of difficulties, especially with the cultures of the grounders, that seemed to be different in and around themselves. Minding those was hard in itself. But it seemed like they had finally found a way to some semblance of peace: By aligning themselves to a strong grounder clan, and strengthening them through their technology and knowledge and vice versa. At first there was a discussion on who would be the one to link their people to the grounder clan, but eventually, Clarkes arguments prevailed. She was, as Abbys daughter and daughter of Jahas best friend the one who would logically be seen as closest to a princess as it would get and the other delinquents did call her that, too, anyway. She wouldn't mind. She didn't mind doing what she had to do for her people. There were other advantages, too. They had a limited genetic pool on the ark, mixing that up would be very good for the overall survival of the human race and so she would be the first to go into a union with the other clan, hopefully not the only one.

Clarke laughed as several people fuzzed around her dress - a thrown together dress - make up and hair. She found it ridiculous. They didn't know what Azgedas customs were and they had none of their own for this thing. But they tried to make her look as pretty as they could with what they had - which was not much - and as desirable. Clarke noticed that they had gone for a look that would have served as very attractive once upon a time: Highlighting her hips and breasts. She knew, through history class, that there was once a time where her looks were very, very desirable, broad hips and large breasts, perfect for childbearing. Of course, they didn't even know if that was the case now. In any case, she volunteered and she stood by it, hoping to form a very successful bond with Azgeda, for her people and, well Azgeda, who would become her people eventually.

"They are here." A guard told them and so Clarke finally had a reason to shoo everyone off and go out. The man she saw was tall, muscular and he held himself very regal, every part of him screamed self-assured, Prince even. So that was probably her husband to be.

"Welcome." She said as she walked over to him. "I am Clarke."

She failed, big time. Once again, actually. But she did what she thought she had to do at the time with the information she had. And some of these things, well they might look bad from the perspective of others, but she was well aware, that these perspectives varied. She knew the perspective of the others and her varied very much these days. Clarke had changed since they came up here. Everyone was getting the ship ready for the ten years it would take earth to recover from this. But her home was gone, destroyed for good now, which was what she tried to avoid the entire time. Well that was it.

After changing into some clothing she could wear during cryo, she looked around, finding herself with some people she didn't know and Octavia. She had a few words to say to her, so she went over to her slowly. "You know, your mother once would have done anything to protect you and Bellamy. I kinda guess I know how she felt now." She knew why she was so ready to sacrifice herself for her kid. Clarke was, too. "She did whatever she had to do to keep you two save. I would do the same for Madi. She was all I had down there. It was just us for six years." It was an opening, one she needed.

Getting the people out of the bunker was connected with a hell of nerves. To her own surprise nobody had found the second child yet. But she had trained the little boy well. He had a very, very different hiding place than Madi and he could be very quiet if he wanted to be. He had one of his toys with him. If in doubt, Clarke knew they would buy it if they claimed the toys belonged to Madi. They did, too, but not all of them. Some of them Madi even made for the small boy. She just hoped the boy would be okay. She had to let her friends know about him eventually, but that in itself was tricky without knowing the loyalties of the Azgeda people. She had to be sure he would be safe first. Otherwise, he or Madi could be in danger and she didn't want any of the two kids she loved as her own to be endangered. One even was her own.

As the people of the bunker one by one she was glad to see her friends still alive. So much could have happened in these years. But then one very, very unexpected face was brought up. Roan. She thought he died in the conclave. She thought she had lost him forever, not that she ever truly had him. Things had been way too complicated before praimfaya. And they were no less complicated now with her little boy now in the picture. One night in the lab and her not realizing her implant had stopped working was all it took to create life after the second apocalypse basically. She didn't even know if he knew she survived or if, based on her not being in the bunker, he thought she was dead or not. In any case she thought he was dead. And now here he was. Alive and well.

Clarke didn't even realize she walked to him until she stood right in front of him, her face full of awe. He was alive. And he looked good. "You're alive...I thought you died in the conclave. I....you're alive." It was more than she ever thought possible. But still, things might not be as easy as her joy made her believe in that moment. She had to tell him about Theo and about her worries with him, but one thing ad the time. Surrounded by this many people, she couldn't.

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.

Clarke felt her gaze on the wounds. They were red and angry, but no longer bleeding openly. They were small, but not fully superficial, but blood was designed to clot up and keep wounds closed. Due to the small nature of them, they already stuck together, stopping the bloodflow already. More bloodloss could be a a lot worse for her. What she had just put her body through was not healthy, could be horrible, if she was unlucky. They had just pumped untested blood through her body, blood of a dead girl. Clarke was blood type 0. That made her the universal donor, but not the universal receiver. She could be on her way to an incompatibility reaction and it would be hard to tell if she was due to the strain the city of light had put her under as well as the wounds. Common symptoms included chest pain, nauseau, difficulty breathing, a strong feeling of doom, all of that applied to her, but all of that could be coming from something other than an incompatibility reaction. For these reasons she debated in her mind to tell her mother what she was experiencing or not. One, her mother woudl worry and maybe blame herself. 

"I'm not." She admitted. If she doesn't speak, her mother couldn't help her. And the sooner she helped her, the less likely it would be for it to get worse and if it got worse, she could...well in worst case have kidney failure or something like that. Nobody needed that right now. "I'm nauseaous, chest hurts, breathing isn't as easy as it should be. Could be from the chip or....the blood." And her mom knew what she would have to do in the later case, the first was still unknown territory.