what's blasting... its ya boy, back at it again with my dumb oneshots
[i miss lexa a lot]
[bellarke is cute n' all but... my poor clexa heart]
"No." Clarke says for the last time, her knuckles rapping on the war table. "I'm telling you. You can send the entire damn population of the thirteen clans up there, but the acid gas will kill everyone."
Clarke doesn't understand how the delegates can be so thick-headed. She's told them hundreds of times that their plans of pure brute strength will not work—but whenever she proposes something, they run right back to the same thing. It's no wonder hat Lexa is the only one who understands and vouches for Clarke's battle plans.
Lexa's the leader—she understands when things must change. However, her warriors aren't nightbloods and they don't have the flame to improve their battle strategy. They might be strong, muscled men with hard chests, but their minds don't go further than 'march, stab, kill' when it comes to strategy.
"All she offers is no!" one of the taller men shouts, pointing a finger at the golden-haired girl.
"I offer no so much because your plans are all the same." Clarke raises a finger to her head. "Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is insanity. That's something lots of my people say."
The warrior gnashes his teeth together, and Clarke looks to Lexa with pleading blue eyes. The eyes ask, Please. Suggest something.
"Wise words," Lexa adds, instead, turning to the blonde leader with her hands clasped behind her back. "Is it possible to turn off the acid fog from outside the mountain? You said the damn gives them power—let's take away the dam."
Clarke thought for a second, furrowing her eyebrows. "I can ask Raven, but the dam survived nuclear bombs. It'd be hard to—"
"So we wait for you to ask one of your own people while we do nothing? While our families are captured, turned into monsters?" another delegate speaks up, murmurs of agreement following him.
"There is no shame in that," Lexa confronts before Clarke can. "The faster the acid fog is disabled, the faster these meetings can become more interesting."
The warriors reluctantly become silent under the glare of their commander, and soon the tent seems to widen as the delegates flood out. Like most times after these meetings, Clarke stays a few extra minutes. Whether it be just to stare at the commander for a few seconds or talk to her privately, they never truly speak as individuals—only leaders carrying their people on their backs.
"Thank you." Clarke says.
Lexa raises both of her eyebrows and deepens the red ink on the circle that surrounds Mt. Weather on her map. "For what, Clarke?"
"For understanding that we can't rush into this battle like all the others. We have to do this together."
Lexa froze, turning her head to stare deep into Clarke's eyes. Lexa thought it was a cruel joke. Costia used to say the same words all the time; "We need to do this together."
Clarke tilted her head, "What?"
The commander waves it off and slowly stills her shaking eyes and grounds her wobbling feet. There is no time to cry—they are at war. Still, she gives Clarke a brief, curt answer, "Somebody used to say that a lot. It is nothing."
The room is completely silent for a few fluttering moments, the sound of buzzing cicadas filling the room instead of words. The silence slips through the fabriced holes in Lexa's war tent, seeming to silence the entire camp. Truthfully, they were getting ready for sleep.
"Costia…?" the blonde asks hesitantly, and despite what Lexa tries to stop, she nods.
"Yes. She was a pacifist. She convinced me to unite the twelve clans," Lexa spoke, pressing her ankles into the ground as if it would hold her.
Warmth flooded into the hand that was resting on the war table. Lexa wanted to flinch away, wanted to smack the blonde for touching her. Instead, she coiled her wrist so that her palm pressed against Clarke's. Their fingers twined between each other, and Clarke squeezed lightly.
"Finn was a pacifist too." the blonde said quietly, voice cracking.
The commander looked to the sky leader in shock, surprised that she was willing to talk about him. After all, Lexa had ordered his death. She had commanded her warriors tie him to a tree. She had allowed Clarke to suffer with the burden on killing him. But, a pacifict? Hddn't he slaughtered one of her villages?
"I know what you're thinking." Clarke says before she can ask. "He did it because he couldn't find me. I'd disappeared, and we were still new to earth. We were… scared of you."
"The fear was mutual." Lexa states blankly. "You came down from the sky with weapons that kill a gona in a few seconds—bombs that kill an entire army. That is why many are opposed to the alliance."
Silence overlaps the tent again, and Clarke just thinks. Her hand intertwined with the literal leader of the Twelve Clans. grounder Queen, the one who ordered multiple attacks on her home, the one who ordered the death of the boy she loved, the one who tied Raven to a tree and slit her arms.
It didn't feel like that same person, now. The commander's walls and sharp, dull eyes were gone. In its absence, were open fields and full, warm eyes that splayed out every emotion like a book. Clarke could see that this wasn't the deadly commander she'd seen snarling during battle planning or who gave a deep gash to someone tied to a tree.
This was the girl who stared at Clarke with hurt barely hidden in her eyes when they were accused of poisoning Gustus. The girl who demanded that the sky people be spared despite the failed attempt on her life. This is the girl that gave Clarke slight looks of pity when Clarke could feel the wave of Finn's death pass over her again. This was the girl who crumbled visibly at Gustus' death, who hardly hid her shaking, frail hands as she slid the sword into his chest. The was the girl that quietly stood by Clarke after she burned Finn and told her about her past love, despite hardly knowing her.
Lexa. Clarke thought. This is Lexa, not the commander.
"Your people will be waiting." the hand slips from hers and the commander's attitude is back; steely, stoic.
The blonde smiles despite it, because Lexa can hide in her commander shell all she wants, but Clarke can see right through it. Clarke can see the slight flashes of emotions in her eyes and the nervous hand movements jittering at the girl's side.
Next time, Lexa will build her walls higher.
(And Clarke will bust through them again.)
"You can't kill Octavia." Clarke shouts, her eyes wide and her arms flying wildly.
Lexa's eyebrows raise questioningly. "You're forgetting who leads the army."
"You're so infuriating!"
The brunette smeared a black rag over her kohl-smudged eyes, wiping away the dripping warpaint. She snorted to the blonde, "Clarke, if you would like to discuss something of importance, then get on with it."
"Fuck you, Lexa!" the blonde found herself shouting, boiling with anger.
Lexa recoiled visibly, and her face became a red mess of heat. The girl's hands flew up to cover her eyes and nose, "Clarke!"
The blonde's anger bubbled away and ebbed into confusion as she stared back at the hiding commander. "What?"
"Lincoln said fuck was… to make love," Lexa explained, the heels of her palms muffling her mouth.
Clarke's eyes slowly but surely widened and her eyebrows started to float up to her forehead like a sunrise. Soon, her face was completely red as well.
"No! That's not what I meant! F-f-fuck can be used tor s-so many other things! Like, like, it means, like, screw you!"
Lexa reddened again, "Doesn't that mean the same thing as to make love?"
"Lexa, no, I—I mean, yes, but! It's l-like… um.. emphasis, Lexa! Like, I h-h-hate… you! Like that! It can mean that! And that's what I meant!"
Lexa's red face slowly but surely dissolved into her sun-kissed tan skin, and her hands slowly became glued to her sides. She tried to regain a stoic face, but failed miserably. Her emotions leaked right out her pores, and Clarke could see it vividly.
The blonde stepped forward, hoping the blush on her cheeks had faltered. Lexa quietly blinked, trying to stiffen herself. Trying to rebuild up those walls that seemed so weak whenever Clarke was around.
Finally, she spoke, "So, you hate me, Clarke? For trying to kill Octavia?"
The blonde pressed both palms against either of Lexa's cheeks.
Clarke closed the gap between them further and pressed her mouth against Lexa's as an answer. In an instant, Lexa's stiff arms became wobbly noodles as she held Clarke's neck passionately, the other hand woven in her blonde locks. The brunette pushed against the blonde to show her favor in the kiss, but Clarke wouldn't relinquish control.
Instead, Clarke parted from their liplock and stared deep into Lexa's dark seafoam eyes. She wanted to climb inside of the girl's pupils and bury herself in the sweet color. She wanted to wear that color every day. She wanted to wear it to battle planning and flaunt it like a new fur coat. She wanted to scream, no, stupid, I really like you!
"Fuck," was what came out instead, and Clarke spun on her heels and out of the tent in a rush.
Lexa stood there for a second, feeling her rose lips tingle and swirl, feeling the bits of remaining pressure where Clarke's hands once were… until reality came back and she hissed to herself. She had let Clarke through her tall walls again— actually, more like Clarke had blown them down.
Lexa would just have to use brick next time.
(Clarke would just have to exist next time.)
this was so stupid im sorry
also? im sorry if they're both OOC this is like the first time i've written for this section
if i made any mistakes... let me know & ill fix em
adios
