Say what you will about her, but Clarke Griffin has great prey instincts. Looking into his eyes, hearing that quiet screaming akin to a dog whistle in his voice but not properly registering it — her body at least has all the appropriate responses. Goosebumps, suddenly everything feels cold, her heart beats a little faster... And again there is that instinct to run away from this conversation, but. He's caught on to the edge of her facade and seeks to rip the mask away. Pries and digs, but most alarmingly challenges her. Right there, at the very end.
The very first words the Captain ever spoke to her on board this ship had been you are so far out of your league, Wanheda. Time had passed and for the most part, Clarke had felt acclimated. Then every so often there's moments like this that really and truly threaten her grasp on the situation...
And she just doesn't really know how to back down.
"...I guess I'll try again."
This time there's no bothering with the pretense of lowering her head or closing her eyes. And those hands in her lap twist and tangle over each other, eventually finding hold enough for nails to bite crescent grooves into her own flesh.
I want to get my people off this ship. And I don't really care about what it takes to achieve that anymore.
It's a safe sentiment, one she's confident others share. But the depth of this want gushes out of every pore like caustic radiation. If Sheogorath wants to dig in a little, there's no resistance in regards to this topic. Feel how easy it would be to kill for this; to lie, to cheat, to deceive, to break promises. Feel the intention to reach her goal, previously wishy-washy but now thoroughly cemented. Grasp the familiarity she has with this route, preemptively tired but set in her way like a bulldog that just got its teeth around a bone. Listen to the rage kept under close lock and key thus far, but beating in time with her heart and indistinguishable from the blood rushing through her veins; it is dark and tacky and cloying. Hand in hand with it all comes the frustration of not knowing what to do yet, the mental equivalent of a beast in captivity gnawing on the bars of the cage and ripping all its hair out. It wants out, she wants an out, and where divine intervention has failed every time before it doesn't feel like it hurts to ask —
no subject
The very first words the Captain ever spoke to her on board this ship had been you are so far out of your league, Wanheda. Time had passed and for the most part, Clarke had felt acclimated. Then every so often there's moments like this that really and truly threaten her grasp on the situation...
And she just doesn't really know how to back down.
"...I guess I'll try again."
This time there's no bothering with the pretense of lowering her head or closing her eyes. And those hands in her lap twist and tangle over each other, eventually finding hold enough for nails to bite crescent grooves into her own flesh.
I want to get my people off this ship. And I don't really care about what it takes to achieve that anymore.
It's a safe sentiment, one she's confident others share. But the depth of this want gushes out of every pore like caustic radiation. If Sheogorath wants to dig in a little, there's no resistance in regards to this topic. Feel how easy it would be to kill for this; to lie, to cheat, to deceive, to break promises. Feel the intention to reach her goal, previously wishy-washy but now thoroughly cemented. Grasp the familiarity she has with this route, preemptively tired but set in her way like a bulldog that just got its teeth around a bone. Listen to the rage kept under close lock and key thus far, but beating in time with her heart and indistinguishable from the blood rushing through her veins; it is dark and tacky and cloying. Hand in hand with it all comes the frustration of not knowing what to do yet, the mental equivalent of a beast in captivity gnawing on the bars of the cage and ripping all its hair out. It wants out, she wants an out, and where divine intervention has failed every time before it doesn't feel like it hurts to ask —
Can you help me with that?