Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Feb 5, 2019 19:33:27 GMT
Clarke saw the first touches of orange as the sun set, about to turn a long day into a night that would hopefully bring healing to those who so desperately needed it. She sat by the balcony she had once stood on with Lexa, nothing more than a prisoner of circumstances. The former commander claimed it was to keep her safe, but it changed nothing about the fact, that it rendered her a prisoner, unable to come and go as she pleased. It was all because a society decided she could do something they wanted. They decided she had a power and that killing her would grant whoever did that power. They overlooked that while Clarke could commit genocide and was ready to have her hands bloodied like that, she could command death in another way, too. She and her mother could heal like no grounder could at this point. It was something she could not understand yet.
Clarke loved the solitude given to her in this rare moment. She had sought out solitude after Mount Weather, wanting to be alone, needing to even. She had not rejoined society on her own terms and now she knew she had no choice but to stay. With a new catastrophe on the horizon, what else was she meant to do but stick around and once again try to do the unachievable. This time she had no idea how. This time she had no idea how to even get up. Thinking about what she was through, she knew she should give her body a moment to relax. She had no idea how deep the scalpels went. She had no idea what the nightblood did to a person, especially if administered like that. Not to mention the chip. And she was not the only one who suffered from so much.
From the corner of her eyes Clarke could see people moving, including her mother. She had encouraged her to go talk to Marcus. She didn't regret this. Down on the ground their perspectives had changed. Clarke had grown up. She was no longer the girl from the space station. And her mother was no longer the woman from the space station. They had both changed. In a way neither of them was who they still were. And yet the unconditional love of a daughter to her mother remained. As she saw her better, turning her head slightly, she offered her a tentative smile. "I am glad you're okay, Mom."
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Jan 27, 2019 20:14:37 GMT
"But the others." Clarke complained. "They might need you." They probably would. Bellamy, like her, had done something down here, that others weren't willing or able to do: To do what it took. Bellamy, when it came to it, made hard decisions, decided to kill if he had to. He was willing to sacrifice people as well. They needed people like that. The others were great in their fields, but doing what had to be done, that might break some of them. Clarke closed her eyes. She was grateful, of course, that he was here, but they needed him. They needed him way more than they could need her or than she probably needed him. She, in a way, deserved to be alone. And yet she was very, very grateful to have him here.
"Thank you." She finally said. Even though she didn't think she was necessarily worth it. It would probably be helpful to have him around. And if anyone could survive down here, alone and with minimal resources, it might be them. They could do what they had to do and they would do it. "We could try and get up and get to a proper bed. I think our backs might thank us eventually." She sat up, tried to stand up and look around. She was shaking, badly. Walking was not there, but perhaps slowly crawling might do the trick. Bellamy she could trust with her weakness in this regard as well. He would not judge her. "What do you think?" Maybe together they might make it relatively fast and so rest. Resting was perhaps the best thing they could do. "Or we...sleep a bit down here. Our bodies need rest."
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Jan 27, 2019 18:35:52 GMT
"No, I think...if I would hallucinate anyone else it would be dad and that would give it away." Her father was dead, floated, there was no way he was real. If anything her mind would provide her with Bellamy, someone she still thought possible who was alive. But she had touched him. She knew he was alive. She had given him the night blood. Her mind would be extremely creative to imagine him alive and with her. Maybe it would be what her mind would do, had he not been alive with her there. To retain some form of sanity, if there was such a thing if there was any hope for it.
Clarke, for once, listened to him without hesitation. He drank and offered it to him again. It was a simple thought behind it: Bellamy could be as stubborn as she was. They could go back and forth, telling the other to drink or not and not get from this moment. So giving in was the best idea she had in that very moment. Once more she held the water out to him. "Drink, your body needs it." Both their bodies needed it. "Bellamy...don't. Thank you for...staying. But also that was incredibly stupid and reckless of you! You should have gone up with the others. The chances of survival were so much better that way! What were you thinking?"
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Jan 27, 2019 18:04:18 GMT
"I guess. You seem to be still alive. If not, you need to tell me now so I know I am hallucinating." Which she doubted. It was a little bit more ironic than intended. Clarke still felt like this was surreal, especially the fact that they were alone. But it could have been worse. It could have been so much worse. She could have been all alone and that was something that she did not want to experience. Five years all alone on a bleak planet, if she even survived that long. That was not even a guarantee. Eventually the two of them would have to try and go out. They would have to go and find food and water. There was only a limited supply here, one that would not last for five years, not for one person and certainly not for two.
"I feel like...I have been burned alive and ran over by the rover." It was sad, but true, because she had basically been burnt alive, her insides were under so much stress, comparing that to the trauma caused by a car was not far off. "Lets just...ignore the world for a bit." They had to heal a little bit more. "Unless you are hungry. Are you?" She could use some water actually so she sat up and scrambled shakily to her feet to get the canteen of water she had closeby. Her still burnt hands slowly opened the canteen and held it out for him. He needed it more. He had a way closer brush with death than she did.
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Jan 27, 2019 17:38:16 GMT
Clarke watched, fascinated and in a weird way shocked and in wonder, how Bellamy woke slowly. She felt like throwing up, naturally. What happened to her was still taking its toll and a heavy one at that. But it seemed like it was no different for him. She still did not want to move a lot. Her body still ached, still struggled with the effects of ARS despite it all. At least it worked. At least Bellamy was alive. it would have been a horrible day if he was lost to this world. This world needed him, especially if they were to rebuild the earth, together, with those underground and up in space. "The wave." She said simply as she heard his question. It was so simply said, but it had such deep consequences.
"I gave you the treatment, Bellamy. The nightblood." Otherwise he would have probably died. She couldn't take the risk. He was here. She could save him. There was nobody else around. So many people they had wanted to save, but they couldn't. And now here they were. Even if some survived, the radiation would soon kill the others. And when they didn't speak, everything was silent. Not comfortably so, not now. The silence felt like a lack of life around them, like everything was left dead and bleak. The world had ended, once again. And now they were perhaps the last two people on the surface of the ground. "How are you feeling?"
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Jan 26, 2019 13:35:54 GMT
It was after the Mountain, that Lincoln and Clarke left together. Back then, he was, technically, still with Octavia. He left her. He left with her. They hadn't planned to end up together. Love was the furthest thing from their minds when they set out. Starting a family, especially together, was even further from their minds. But circumstances gave them opportunity and opportunity turned into something beautiful. In Lincoln, she found the loyalty and the pacifistic tendencies that kept her in check. With him she was a different person. He took so much of the weight off of her shoulders. She could relax around him.
And now here they were, they last people on the surface of the earth, with a baby on the way. If only the child survived. Clarke tasted so much in their kiss, but everything went to the background, because there was so much hope in it, hope that she had struggled to maintain for so long. He was her source of hope. With the renewed surge of hope, she looked at the ultrasound and took it. He would get his will, if their child was alive. If not, she would have to walk him through a gruesome procedure, that he would hate, but he would still perform it, because, as he said, he could not lose her.
"If our baby is dead, we will have to remove it. If it's dead we can't rest yet." She didn't want to explain it all. She hated the concept of it, if she was honest. It meant that their baby was decomposing inside her and it was poisoning her. But it was, sadly, the bitter truth of life.
She pulled her shirt up and started. Within a few moments - Clarke did know what she was doing - a flutter of a small heartbeat was heard, like the flutter of a hummingsbirds wings, accompanied by a slower, stronger one, Clarkes own. "There it is. That's the heartbeat. It's alive." She placed the tools back and simply lay back, intending to do exactly what he had asked of her: Rest.
Lincoln |
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Nov 19, 2018 18:20:17 GMT
37 My muse confesses to being a drug addict.  Being on the ground had been different from what Clarke imaginend. She had been looking for an escape when she left the group a while back, after Mount Weather. What happened after spiraled out of control in so many ways. Clarke harboured many secrets. The biggest one stemmed from an injury and condition she had carefully hidden away so nobody could see, so nobody could know how deep her pain ran, how hard she struggled with even just breathing. When she left after Mount Weather, she had stayed away all winder. Clarke had never experiennced winter before. She had not been on the ground long enough. The first nights were the hardest ones, as the snow fell. She paid a price for it. Ever since that winter she was in pain.
But there was one thing, one plant that dulled it, not only to managable portions but so much she didn't feel it. In her mind as long as she took them, she was clear, sure a bit more prone to rash and hot-headed decisions, but so far, they were decisions she could stand behind, mistakes or not. From the position she had, they were the only logical ones. She couldn't regret that. She only regretted now being stuck in Arkadia, freshly out of the herbal drug she had been using. She knew people were looking for her. With praimfaya coming, they needed her to be around. They needed her to be able to think. Instead she sat on her bed, a blanket around her shoulders, shaking. She was in withdrawl, but she had to stop it. She had to get her drug or she would be useless. In pain she could not think. All she could think was that the pain was getting worse and worse.
Clarke went out just to see someone, her face stoic as she asked someone to bring Monty, as it was urgent. When he came, she was hidden deeper under the blanket, but stared at himas he came in. "I need your help. I need painkillers. Special ones. I have been taking them for a while and...I need them. I'm having...withdrawls and...the pain is back. I can't deal with the pain. Please, I need your help!"
Monty Green
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Nov 14, 2018 16:02:06 GMT
Clarke stared at the child she gave birth to, a nightblood, carrying on genetics she had thought to be gone. Both kids had been born with a burden they might not even recognize yet. It all depended on what would happen in a little over four years, when the doors to the bunker opened and her sons clan would once more roam the earth, share this place with them. Depending on the development of it all, they would have to be careful. He was the last piece of him this earth had. He was...precious. Perhaps their fling was short, doomed to end anyway, but he meat something to her. He was one of the few not afraid to oppose her. He was someone who could love her, oppose her, be her friend, but most importantly: He held her trust and never truly betrayed it. It was rare. It was valuable.
"He's gone, Madi." She whispered. "He's gone. And his loss hurts. He was so important Madi" She had never once mentioned Roan. She had only drawn him once and had put the drawing away, safely hidden. She guessed, given how crafty Madi was, that she might have seen it once, might even guess that he was the father of the unborn child. Now Theo was with him and he was already showing his fathers dark hair. She guessed he might be very close in appearance to him. In a way, she hoped for it. His father was a very handsome man. "To me... but not just to me. He was just and fair and frank. He fought for his people, his clan and he never pretended otherwise. He never said he was fighting for everyone when he was just fighting for his clan. HIs clan always came first and he let everyone know that, but if his clans survival could happen without killing the other clans, he chose that way. We could have had peace with him. He...was so kind and brave and a great king. He was the king of Azgeda. And as far as I know Theo is his only child. Azgeda might...want to take him away from us because of that. So they can't know he is who he is until we are sure they won't take him."
Madi
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Nov 11, 2018 15:42:38 GMT
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Nov 10, 2018 17:04:42 GMT
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Nov 10, 2018 17:03:21 GMT
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Nov 10, 2018 17:01:50 GMT
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Nov 6, 2018 17:27:06 GMT
Clarke was shaking. Her hand hovered over her stomach, placing it there to steady herself, to protect herself. She had managed to reach what she wanted. In a way it was good. In a way it was hard for her, because she would hardly see him. She knew her needs and wants were secondary. They did not matter in this. This was defying an entire culture. This was giving them a new way of seeing things. When they spoke about punishment, about satisfying the living, Clarke saw an opening. She had seen the village and that had been her opportunity to argu, to argue for Finns life in stating that he had taken the work force of men and women, leaving their family with less, less chance to survive. And suddenly her arguments changed, they spoke of benefits, they were sweeter than before. It was still a punishment.
As the commander announced what was to be done with Finn, Clarke was allowed to let him down from where he was hung against a pole. Two guards stood by her side, taking over his hands. "I...managed to...negotiate a way for you to survive. I told them that the living would not benefit from your death, but they would if you survive. So you get to live. In the village, helping the families of those whom you killed. You'll live. That's the most I could do."
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Oct 28, 2018 20:02:28 GMT
Clarke felt her eyes sting, sting with the threat of tears as everything in her burned, burned with feelings she didn't think she would feel again. She felt good. She felt wonderful even. She felt alive. Her heart was beating fast, present in her chest, not bothering if it almost jumped out of it. If she was honest she hadn't felt this alive in a long, long time. Perhaps since Finns death, the one she brought about. They were both paying a heavy price for what they could do, for the lengths they both could go to to save their people, to be what they needed, even if they did not want it. They had sacrificed parts of themselves for survival. This was living. This was being more than a cold killing machine. It was not about betrayal. It was about love, care and so much more.
Lincoln kissed her like a man drowning. She should be thinking about Octavia, she knew. She should feel bad for betraying her. But her mind circled back to the fact that Octavia was not here. She had a choice. She chose to let Lincoln leave. She chose to separate and not put what he needed as her priority. And Clarke chose to go with him. They both chose to go away, but then they chose to go the way together. To this cave. Some would perhaps call this unhealthy and Clarke was aware that perhaps the attraction she felt to him was purely based on the guilt and the need to feel alive. Part of it was, part of it wasn't. She knew it as he kissed her back. She knew it as she pulled back to look at him.
Her mouth was slightly open, as she took deep breaths. She looked into his eyes and managed a small smile, a genuine smile. She was not alone in this world. She would not be alone in this world. He was here, when she needed someone. Perhaps this was the beginning of somethig wonderful. But words were unnecessary and so Clarke moved to kiss him again. And this time she moved closer her body pressing against his, feeling an urgency and a need to feel more of him. Tears streamed down her face as she felt her entire body feel, spark with desire, with something that felt so similar of love, but she could not call it that. Not yet at least. Perhaps it was a plant that needed watering and would become just that. Her hands reached for his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, wanting to feel closer, to feel his warmth.
|
|
Offline
Nov 26, 2020 21:43:23 GMT
Tag me @clarke
|
|
Post by Clarke Griffin on Oct 28, 2018 16:06:58 GMT
Clarke smiled as she watched Madi make that promise. It sounded painfully familiar. It sounded like a promise a boy once made to a baby, a story she knew all too well. But that was also a dangerous part of their history. Protection was something she could not argue against. But, at no point would she let it stand if Madi called herself responsible for the actions of the little boy. They were and always would be their own people.
"Theo. Theo Jake Griffin" She said gently, looking at the child she had been carrying inside her for so long with warm fondness. There was so much she had wondered about that she knew now. She knew how much she loved the boy. She knew she would do anything to protect her children. And she knew she would do anything to keep Theo away from so many people os his clan. Until he was ready. "It was the name of his fathers grandfather. And my fathers name. I think his father would have liked for...something of his families history to live on in him. Even if he couldn't be there to see it."
|
|
