( there really is just, zero time to argue. one second skulduggery's traipsing off on his own adventure and clarke's returning to the dirt to seek sigil slapped stones, and the next he's back. she can't even get a word in edgewise before there's the thump of a towel against grass, and the plastic crunch of disposable water bottles.
that's... what? but the lake —
she watches his retreating shoulder blades for a few seconds, head cocked and chapped lips lightly pursed. kindness for nothing in return is still an odd concept to be on the receiving end of, but. those water bottles look frosty and damp with condensation, and the back of her neck has taken a beating from the sun hanging overhead. before the stark white of bones is completely obscured by the treeline, that towel is draped across her shoulders. the cap on a water is cracked, and clarke's taken a few sips to wet a dry tongue. just a little, brief, tiny hydration break with some light introspection.
no subject
that's... what? but the lake —
she watches his retreating shoulder blades for a few seconds, head cocked and chapped lips lightly pursed. kindness for nothing in return is still an odd concept to be on the receiving end of, but. those water bottles look frosty and damp with condensation, and the back of her neck has taken a beating from the sun hanging overhead.
before the stark white of bones is completely obscured by the treeline, that towel is draped across her shoulders. the cap on a water is cracked, and clarke's taken a few sips to wet a dry tongue. just a little, brief, tiny hydration break with some light introspection.
then right back to it. )