[There was a time when separation was only meant to be a sign of what more could come in the future. After Clarke was behind the lines of Arkadia, after Clarke had managed to manipulate and connive and scheme to bring Pike to justice. After all of it. But that separation never came to pass, one that she had hoped would be temporary. Titus' desperation had led to him driving a permanent wedge between her and Lexa—and Lexa and her people.
Now, it's hard for Clarke to leave her. To see her leave the bathroom. She watches her just the same.
Clarke's torn. She wants to take a swift shower, to return to Lexa's side, but she also wants to give her head time to clear itself. In that way, Clarke and Lexa have always been similar. They need time to pause and regroup, and Clarke ultimately decides to take advantage of this opportunity.
Her shower is longer than it should be, as evidenced by the eventual warning and then cold water coursing over her body. It hurts, but she actually relishes it. And then it shuts off, because that's still too much. It could be worse. She's smiling as she leaves the shower, putting back on a set of clothes, and toweling her hair as she returns to the room with the cots.
(Clarke doesn't have any problems with restrictions in place, so she doesn't mind. She's seen what people can do to a world, and what drastic solutions can be proposed to deal with them. She's not arguing here.)
Clarke settles in near Lexa, but not directly next to her. Crimped strands of hair hang loosely over her forehead. She's had more time to let it grow, and she thinks she might keep it short now.]
Honestly, I'd give anything to get to take you out of here right now. I hated being cooped up at first. [A weird opening, but an honest one. Clarke's arrival and shower were out of necessity: refreshing herself before sitting and helping others, like taking on a shift for a job she swore to keep doing to a man who's been gone for some time. She didn't want to owe herself to these people, and felt strange about it at first.
And yet—she's here. It's never simple to just walk away. Clarke in particular has always been poor at it, no matter how hard she tries to do differently]
I'm sure you noticed, but the world outside is ... what I think Polis might have been like. Before Praimfaya hit. [The first time, not the second. She doesn't liken it to the City of Light. Lexa wouldn't get that, and perhaps it's better that she wouldn't.]
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Now, it's hard for Clarke to leave her. To see her leave the bathroom. She watches her just the same.
Clarke's torn. She wants to take a swift shower, to return to Lexa's side, but she also wants to give her head time to clear itself. In that way, Clarke and Lexa have always been similar. They need time to pause and regroup, and Clarke ultimately decides to take advantage of this opportunity.
Her shower is longer than it should be, as evidenced by the eventual warning and then cold water coursing over her body. It hurts, but she actually relishes it. And then it shuts off, because that's still too much. It could be worse. She's smiling as she leaves the shower, putting back on a set of clothes, and toweling her hair as she returns to the room with the cots.
(Clarke doesn't have any problems with restrictions in place, so she doesn't mind. She's seen what people can do to a world, and what drastic solutions can be proposed to deal with them. She's not arguing here.)
Clarke settles in near Lexa, but not directly next to her. Crimped strands of hair hang loosely over her forehead. She's had more time to let it grow, and she thinks she might keep it short now.]
Honestly, I'd give anything to get to take you out of here right now. I hated being cooped up at first. [A weird opening, but an honest one. Clarke's arrival and shower were out of necessity: refreshing herself before sitting and helping others, like taking on a shift for a job she swore to keep doing to a man who's been gone for some time. She didn't want to owe herself to these people, and felt strange about it at first.
And yet—she's here. It's never simple to just walk away. Clarke in particular has always been poor at it, no matter how hard she tries to do differently]
I'm sure you noticed, but the world outside is ... what I think Polis might have been like. Before Praimfaya hit. [The first time, not the second. She doesn't liken it to the City of Light. Lexa wouldn't get that, and perhaps it's better that she wouldn't.]