( wonder and amazement at new, magnificent experiences are inherently human. plainly childlike, only that's a part of youth not even the harshest realities could stomp out of adults. there's always something that stokes at the dead nerve endings of excitement — even after losing track of how many people she loved on earth, clarke still thinks fondly of the tall stretches of trees, can't contain a twinge of amazement at the sight of horses and butterflies, would sit and sketch wildflowers until her hand cramped if she had the time to spare. misses the ambiance of bugs clicking in the evening shadows, the perpetually familiar blanket of stars above, and below the scent of dirt filled with decomposing leaves and rain just before a storm...
...come to think of it, that's another thing this outdoor camp experience is missing. it doesn't smell right, in concert to the lack of animals and poorly rendered fungi and roots beneath the plants.
if she mourns the dissolvement of the magic puzzle in her hands, it's a quiet and secret sort of sadness. her face remains buckled in thought and as impassable as she can make it, even when he starts crafting a bird out of that same set of stone particles. clarke does take this next bout of magical stoneworking as a more sincere invitation to linger here, though, and now she takes up residence on the second stone seat he'd dragged from the earth. )
I didn't realize there was so much history behind children's toys.
( the stone bird takes its final form and takes to gliding in its own personal orbital pull. clarke watches its stiff flight pattern intently, but still spares a cautious glance at zhongli's face every few seconds. wary, even in the absence of any direct threat. how's a human supposed to look at something or someone so plainly more powerful than them? and despite the urge to reach out again, she leaves the bird be.
if she squinted, maybe it'd even look more organic. like a real bird. god, when did she start missing birds? )
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...come to think of it, that's another thing this outdoor camp experience is missing. it doesn't smell right, in concert to the lack of animals and poorly rendered fungi and roots beneath the plants.
if she mourns the dissolvement of the magic puzzle in her hands, it's a quiet and secret sort of sadness. her face remains buckled in thought and as impassable as she can make it, even when he starts crafting a bird out of that same set of stone particles. clarke does take this next bout of magical stoneworking as a more sincere invitation to linger here, though, and now she takes up residence on the second stone seat he'd dragged from the earth. )
I didn't realize there was so much history behind children's toys.
( the stone bird takes its final form and takes to gliding in its own personal orbital pull. clarke watches its stiff flight pattern intently, but still spares a cautious glance at zhongli's face every few seconds. wary, even in the absence of any direct threat. how's a human supposed to look at something or someone so plainly more powerful than them? and despite the urge to reach out again, she leaves the bird be.
if she squinted, maybe it'd even look more organic. like a real bird. god, when did she start missing birds? )
Or controversy.