Chapter 1: Cultural Phenomenon

Clarke looked down at the tools spread out on the soft leather as she sat cross legged in front of the fire that was burning low in the hearth. She took a deep breath, she could do this. She ran her fingers over them lightly and then picked up the long slim blade, finely sculpted for a razor edge. Her hand trembled slightly, and she quickly put the blade back down on the leather. She glanced over at the shard of mirror, hoping it was big enough for what she intended to do.

She took a deep breath and reached for the tumbler of clear liquid next to her. She quickly took a drink and winced as it burned all the way down to pool and heat in her belly. She coughed and set it back down. Polis' finest White Lightning. It probably wasn't wise to be drinking when her hand was already trembling, but she needed the liquid courage. She needed to do this.

She grabbed the pitcher of water and carefully poured a small amount in a small bowl and then dumped some crumbled herb-like substance into the water. It was brown and smelled faintly fresh with a hint of spicy tang. She wasn't sure, but she thought pine blossoms were part of the mixture. She swirled a small stick in it, mixing it well and then waiting for it to congeal slightly.

She shifted, growing slightly uncomfortable in her cross-legged position. She hadn't meant to sit so long, but she had needed the time to gather her courage. She glanced across the room to the door, assuring herself that it was indeed closed. She hadn't locked it, but knew that no one would enter without knocking first.

She poked her finger in the congealed substance that had turned to a buttery brown color. It was smooth, almost slimy. Well. She was ready. She sighed and glanced nervously at the door again. She grabbed her tumbler, but hesitated as the potent acidic smell hit her nose. She really shouldn't continue drinking at this point. She set it back down and glanced again at the tools.

"Oh just do it, Clarke. Stop being such a pansy about it," she mumbled to herself. Her slightly hoarse voice jarring her more than she had anticipated. She let out a nervous chuckle and picked up the bowl of soap.

She reached over and grabbed the faded picture that she had found in the Polis library. It had been part of a bound leather book of incomplete cultural phenomenon items. Nothing in the book was really related to each other, and she had aimlessly flipped through but had stopped when she had seen this picture.

The writing was mostly faded under the picture, but the picture was intact. She could just barely make out some of the larger letters at the top of the picture in the left hand corner, but she had no idea what they meant as some of the letters had disintegrated with age. She read the letters slowly: P L _ Y_O_.

She shrugged, the word meant nothing to her without the missing letters. She gazed back at the picture again, trying not to blush. She had thought she had gotten the blushing out of her system back in the library, when she had surreptitiously torn the page out of the leather volume and quickly hid it under her jacket. She had meant to ask Lexa about it, but had been too embarrassed.

But the picture was..well, it was intriguing. It was obviously a photo of a woman, and she understood why the grounder scribes had considered it part of a cultural phenomenon that appeared to be long dead. She idly wondered if Lexa would appreciate the picture, and more importantly if Lexa would appreciate it if she copied what was in the picture.

Only one way to find out.

Clarke set the picture down and scooped up a small amount of the soap with her fingers, rubbing them together, and then carefully brushed her soaped fingers lightly over the hair of her sex. She coated the entire area with the soap and tried not to squirm too much. She giggled nervously again and set the bowl down, reaching for the small blade.

She grabbed the shard of mirror and growled when it slipped out of her soapy hand. She glanced around hoping there was a rag within easy reach. Naturally there wasn't. She eyed her underwear for a minute and then grimaced. She finally shrugged and then just wiped her hand on her shirt. Oh well.

Once her hand was mostly soap free, she grabbed the mirror again and attempted to angle it just right so she could see what she was doing, and hopefully not cut something vital off. She angled it to the right, then to the left, then down, bending her body back and forth trying to find the perfect angle. Her face flushed with annoyance, and her hair fell down her face, sticking slightly.

She dropped the mirror and grabbed her shirt pulling it from her slightly sweaty skin. When had it gotten so warm in here? She balefully glared at the almost empty tumbler. Right. That was when it got so warm in here. She finally just decided to ignore the mirror for now and start shaving.

She uncrossed her legs and opened them wide and leaned forward slightly and carefully placed the blade cutting edge up, just above her lips. She gently pulled towards herself, and hissed when the blade caught on the hairs.

She held the blade up and glared at it. Well that hadn't worked. It looked sharp, maybe it was dull. She pressed her thumb on the edge and let out a startled yelp as it cut into her skin.

"Ack! What the hell?" she whined as she popped her wounded thumb into her mouth and sucked. She grimaced as the iron tang hit her tongue, and she wondered if it was really worth the effort. Lexa certainly didn't mind that she had hair there, and Lexa had never mentioned shaving. She looked back at the picture and narrowed her eyes slightly as she continued to suck on her thumb, hoping the pain would soon recede.

Now that she thought of it though, Lexa's hair was shorter than hers. Maybe she cut it somehow, just not all of it? Lexa's certainly seemed more tamed than hers.

"Damn it! I should have asked her," she groaned as she removed her thumb from her mouth and stared woefully at the fine slit in her thumb. It was still sluggishly bleeding but barely. Whatever, she had had worse wounds.

She grabbed the picture again and glared. She could do this. She threw it down on the floor and contemplated the blade, turning it around in her fingers. It was obviously sharp. So she was obviously doing it wrong.

She added a little more soap, running it through the hair and making it stand up straight in a small pinnacle. Hmmmmm…perhaps she could cut it like that first and then keep cutting it? She reluctantly held the end of the hair and slid the blade perpendicular through the hair. Well not so much, slid as sawed. She yelped again, but managed to get the job done. She grinned triumphantly and tossed the little bit of hair to the ground. She would have to throw that in the fire later.

She spent a few more minutes repeating the process, but the shorter the hair was, the harder it was to cut it, and she was afraid of slicing a finger. She gingerly placed the blade against her skin and dragged it slowly across just as she had cut at the hair. She yelped again in pain and then gasped as she saw the red bloom across her skin. She whimpered as the spot of blood grew.

She grabbed her underwear and pressed it close to the skin trying to stop the small drops of blood staining her skin. She felt the tears prick her eyes, and she simply wanted to give up. Lexa didn't care, wouldn't care. But she wanted to surprise Lexa, and somehow she thought her love would appreciate it. But this, this was becoming more painful than she had anticipated.

She removed the underwear and tossed them aside, happy to see that she was no longer bleeding.

"Well, Clarke. This isn't working. One more time. You can do it." She gave herself a much needed pep talk, and this time decided to try working from the top down. She placed the edge of the blade at the top of her hairline and gingerly dragged it down towards the floor. She prepared herself the sharp pain of pulled hair, and left in relief when she saw that she now had a clean strip of flesh, where hair once was.

"Yes!" She hooted loudly and then clapped her hand over her mouth, glancing again at the door. It wouldn't do for one of the guards to worry and knock on her door, and then barge in she didn't react quickly enough with an all is well.

Slowly she repeated the process, wincing a few times as she pressed too deeply against her skin and spots of blood welled to the surface. She quickly realized that she really couldn't see well enough to shave off the rest of the hair on the lower part of her lips. She tried using the mirror again, but wasn't able to get the proper angle. She growled in frustration and threw the mirror to the floor, wincing as she misjudged and an edge scraped across her shin.

"Damn it!" She shouted, tired and hot, and angry that she looked like a half-shorn sheep.

"Clarke kom Skaikru? Are you all right? Do you need help?"

She jerked around quickly as she heard her guard, Linus, knock on the door. But she had hesitated too long, and she watched in horror as the doorknob started to turn.

"No! No!" she shouted and she heaved herself to her feet desperately hoping to throw herself at the door and keep him out.

"Skai Heda!" he yelled as he threw open the door just as she reached it.