Reducing population to make time for — ( behind her mother's back, clarke can see a short redheaded girl. her mouth is moving, and seemingly distantly she hears the shouted demands of an explanation which is, you know, fair. but also feels distinctly unwise given the number of guards that crowded in at abby's back, each and every one of them outfitted and heavily armed. same time though, what's a little mouthing off going to do? they're all about to be executed right? ) — the rest of you.

( wet blue eyes flick from one nameless guard to another to the girl — all without really seeing them. her hands are shaking a little as her mother pulls back from the embrace, and abby griffin briefly glances back towards rita as well. holds up a hand not towards the other delinquent, but to the man at her back who's half raised his rifle. explanation incoming, so just wait.

then back to her daughter, with a gentle but urgent sort of unspoken bid. calm down. don't fight. listen to me. ) Clarke. You're not being executed. You're being sent to the Ground, all 100 of you.

What? ( clarke's voice rasps with disuse and emotion. it's higher pitched than anyone on the serena eterna has ever heard, vestiges of innocence and youth. and where rita'd arguably seen clarke scared after they'd crashed into the rover, or as those elevator doors had dinged closed in the promenade while she'd been water logged nursing fresh burns, here she gets to see her absolutely terrified. stumbling over her words. ) But it's not — safe. N... no, we get reviewed at eighteen.

Shh, ( abby tries to soothe.

and the first direct acknowledgement for rita from someone who she hopefully still calls a friend: ) Mom. Mom, she can't be more than thirteen.