( for whatever it's worth — after two years absolutely failing to prompt any positive, world saving change and slowly devolving to something angrier and harsher than she'd ever been on earth, constantly wishing for the comfort of faces from her homeworld and the skillset that came along with their mechanic, clarke griffin would still pick raven reyes first. for world-saving feats, and anything else that matters.
but she's simply gone so long without the other girl — without any of their friends staying — that, on some level, clarke has emptied herself and tried to pour their likenesses into every one of her actions. tried to emanate octavia blake's skillset with a sword, lexa kom trikru's leadership, bellamy blake's heart and the affection he exudes through violent means for the people he cares about, jasper jordan's we should all die vehemence at the end of the world, her mothers bedside manner. at some point, the better parts of her father had fallen by the wayside, but jake griffin's optimism in people isn't sustainable in any world outside of the ark. or even on board the ship, seeing as he'd been floated for trying to do the right thing.
the current theft of the medicine cabinet here? that's a little john murphy flavored.
clarke's got at least eleven vials of proper, medical grade morphine in her arms. and when a voice calls out from the doorway, she startles but doesn't drop them. those precious vials might be useful if she were to make it any distance into the woods, or if the supply ever stopped like it'd been wont to do on board the serena eterna. no, what has three vials of milky white opiates crashing to the floor upon her abrupt turn to face the intruder on her crimes is — recognition. near instant, despite the fact she's gone so long with nothing but her gradually fuzzing memory for the specifics of raven's face. it's like she's been cupping watery reflections of her friends in her hands, trying desperately but failing to not to let the liquid seep through her fingers, and then suddenly being confronted with the real life manifestation of her dreams. in the span of all of three seconds clarke goes from wondering if she's hallucinating, to a tempered sort of excitement, to wondering if she's hallucinating because this place wants to play with her emotions, to blue-screen-spinning-beach-ball of death-ing... )
...Raven?
( and then to gasping, because at some point along the way she'd forgotten to breathe. the defensive air she'd embodied when initially turning to face the voice has melted off entirely. the morphine vials are suddenly unimportant, and she clumsily deposits the remaining eight on the nearest counter.
and she moves without even thinking, trying to immediately cross the entire room and reach out for the other — to excitedly touch, to grab her arms, to look into her face at close range, to reaffirm that this is real — only to clip her hip rather severely on the corner of a chemist table in the middle of the room. clarke is delighted until she's in pain, but even if it's stopped her in her tracks for a brief second, there's nothing that can kill the watery smile the carves itself into her face. tears of relief, tears of ow that really fucking hurt but i won't be distracted from this moment, and pent up tears of an empty sort of longing finally realized in flesh before her — they're all collecting along her waterline and dangerously close to spilling over.
one hand on her probably bruising hip, she's still flooding towards the door like a tsunami wave that promises a really tight hug when she gets to her destination. she'd leave all the morphine right where it lay if it meant she got to keep —)
Oh my god, Raven, you have no idea how happy I am to see you —
clutches my chest
but she's simply gone so long without the other girl — without any of their friends staying — that, on some level, clarke has emptied herself and tried to pour their likenesses into every one of her actions. tried to emanate octavia blake's skillset with a sword, lexa kom trikru's leadership, bellamy blake's heart and the affection he exudes through violent means for the people he cares about, jasper jordan's we should all die vehemence at the end of the world, her mothers bedside manner. at some point, the better parts of her father had fallen by the wayside, but jake griffin's optimism in people isn't sustainable in any world outside of the ark. or even on board the ship, seeing as he'd been floated for trying to do the right thing.
the current theft of the medicine cabinet here? that's a little john murphy flavored.
clarke's got at least eleven vials of proper, medical grade morphine in her arms. and when a voice calls out from the doorway, she startles but doesn't drop them. those precious vials might be useful if she were to make it any distance into the woods, or if the supply ever stopped like it'd been wont to do on board the serena eterna. no, what has three vials of milky white opiates crashing to the floor upon her abrupt turn to face the intruder on her crimes is — recognition. near instant, despite the fact she's gone so long with nothing but her gradually fuzzing memory for the specifics of raven's face. it's like she's been cupping watery reflections of her friends in her hands, trying desperately but failing to not to let the liquid seep through her fingers, and then suddenly being confronted with the real life manifestation of her dreams. in the span of all of three seconds clarke goes from wondering if she's hallucinating, to a tempered sort of excitement, to wondering if she's hallucinating because this place wants to play with her emotions, to blue-screen-spinning-beach-ball of death-ing... )
...Raven?
( and then to gasping, because at some point along the way she'd forgotten to breathe. the defensive air she'd embodied when initially turning to face the voice has melted off entirely. the morphine vials are suddenly unimportant, and she clumsily deposits the remaining eight on the nearest counter.
and she moves without even thinking, trying to immediately cross the entire room and reach out for the other — to excitedly touch, to grab her arms, to look into her face at close range, to reaffirm that this is real — only to clip her hip rather severely on the corner of a chemist table in the middle of the room. clarke is delighted until she's in pain, but even if it's stopped her in her tracks for a brief second, there's nothing that can kill the watery smile the carves itself into her face. tears of relief, tears of ow that really fucking hurt but i won't be distracted from this moment, and pent up tears of an empty sort of longing finally realized in flesh before her — they're all collecting along her waterline and dangerously close to spilling over.
one hand on her probably bruising hip, she's still flooding towards the door like a tsunami wave that promises a really tight hug when she gets to her destination. she'd leave all the morphine right where it lay if it meant she got to keep —)
Oh my god, Raven, you have no idea how happy I am to see you —