( that absolute confusion on her face only intensifies at his completely lacking answer to her question. clarke has to take a moment, wrap her head around the phrase big magic cuddle city whilst simultaneously trying to decide if he's messing with her or if he'd been concussed in their rather spectacular crash landings on the beach. the verdict is undecided, but at least she has a somewhat decent response for what he asked. )
Polis. The tower falling apart under my feet.
( sorry murphy. this clarke is not your clarke, has not been softened and made comfortable by a weeks, months, years of not having to deal with the world ending. this clarke is still wound tight as a bow string, running on fumes, full of self sacrificial ideas, and probably in desperate need of a few hugs and the absolution of her constant guilt. )
You were there. You put the Flame in my head.
( he gets to bear witness to a quiet aside: flamed, her daemon insists, and clarke hisses back a somewhat aggressive i wasn't talking to you. )
no subject
Polis. The tower falling apart under my feet.
( sorry murphy. this clarke is not your clarke, has not been softened and made comfortable by a weeks, months, years of not having to deal with the world ending. this clarke is still wound tight as a bow string, running on fumes, full of self sacrificial ideas, and probably in desperate need of a few hugs and the absolution of her constant guilt. )
You were there. You put the Flame in my head.
( he gets to bear witness to a quiet aside: flamed, her daemon insists, and clarke hisses back a somewhat aggressive i wasn't talking to you. )