( the blood is fresh. a majority of it comes off her hands with relative ease, but it's still under her nails and all over her sleeve and where she'd touched her shirt before he'd offered her the rag. it was a lucky thing the carpet was a relatively deep red, but the faintest smear of blood is visible regardless, setting in the carpet and staining the fibers. she'd held finn while he'd bled out, waited until it was far too late for any grounder healer to save him, until he was unconscious and couldn't feel the comfort she'd tried to pass to him in his final moments. she can still feel him, and taking in just how saturated her clothes are isn't helping. are they still wearable? on the ground when you've got no spares, yes. she'll still wear them, but every smudge and stain is going to remind her of what she'd just done. forever.
clarke's so deeply engrossed in her head, in her own misery, that she visibly snaps out of it when he speaks to her; jerks her head up and stares at the boy — boy, teenager, young enough to be one of the 100, but not one of her people — with wide eyes and parted lips. she stares at him for a long while, processing. but eventually pulls her mouth together and presses them into a thin, white line, as if sinking her teeth into her lip would help with the composure she's really not feeling right now. )
Yeah. Yeah, I can stand.
( what she'd really like to do is sit here and wallow for a little bit, maybe go back into the dark room and find a dark wash room. but she hasn't got time for that, not when she has things to do, things to figure out, and people to find. so this is clarke scrambling to her feet and cautiously putting a few more inches of space between herself and the boy who'd offered her the rag. which, oh — is now ruined. )
no subject
clarke's so deeply engrossed in her head, in her own misery, that she visibly snaps out of it when he speaks to her; jerks her head up and stares at the boy — boy, teenager, young enough to be one of the 100, but not one of her people — with wide eyes and parted lips. she stares at him for a long while, processing. but eventually pulls her mouth together and presses them into a thin, white line, as if sinking her teeth into her lip would help with the composure she's really not feeling right now. )
Yeah. Yeah, I can stand.
( what she'd really like to do is sit here and wallow for a little bit, maybe go back into the dark room and find a dark wash room. but she hasn't got time for that, not when she has things to do, things to figure out, and people to find. so this is clarke scrambling to her feet and cautiously putting a few more inches of space between herself and the boy who'd offered her the rag. which, oh — is now ruined. )
...do you want this back?