:)
"I am desperate
if nothing else
in a holding pattern
to find myself.
I talk in circles
I talk in circles
I watch for signals
for a clue.
How to feel different.
How to feel new.
Like science fiction
Bending truth."
Mercury – Sleeping At Last
Clarke was shaking and it wasn't from the rain – because at some point between the storm which had raged during their 'conversation' and Clarke's departure, that rain had stopped. The ground was still wet of course, and the freshness of the rainfall (something which normally would have definitely amazed Clarke) still hung in the air and tingled on her skin, but that wasn't why she was shaking either. In fact, Clarke didn't quite know why she was shaking; she'd have understood anger, or even sadness, but neither of those really seemed applicable at that moment. So she put her shaking down to adrenaline and kept doing what she'd been doing a lot of recently – walking aimlessly through places she didn't know. Nothing like strange places to kill time, thought Clarke.
She was also lost, which again didn't surprise her. This time though, she had actually tried to pay attention to where she was going, if only so she knew how to stay away from Lexa's house if needs be. She walked and walked on unsteady knees down streets that she was beginning to recognise – she'd gone round in several large circles, Clarke realised. It was a wonder she wasn't dizzy. Yet on she walked under the late afternoon sky. She didn't really have anything else to do.
Thinking back on the conversation she'd just had with Lexa, nothing had really changed. Indeed, she had already known why Lexa had made that decision, and the confusion was only about how she felt towards Lexa regardless of said decision. Now, with the absence of the time bomb – with an explosion that had existed solely of a rather disappointing door slam – the confusion had more space to fill in her chest. If anything, it made Clarke feel dizzier than the walking around in pointless circles did.
It scared Clarke, because the confusion meant it hadn't all just been an extremely awful dream. Furthermore, the confusion reminded Clarke that not only had she already known why Lexa had left her to fend for herself at Mount Weather, but also that she could actually understand the logic behind it. Not that that meant the decision was entirely justified, but on some instinctual – Clarke thought back to the dying warrior's screams and how they had echoed helplessly around the cave – primal level, it did make sense. Lexa had just done what she'd needed to do, in the same way walking was what Clarke needed to do.
It was probably the almost eighteen years on the Ark where walking existed only in circuits of the deck that made Clarke love walking so much. There was also the seemingly endless months spent in the prison cell waiting to find out if she would be floated as well, but Clarke didn't linger on those memories for too long. Yes, Clarke thought, she was allowed to love walking.
What Clarke hadn't loved, however, was walking around on ice around Lexa, because that had been what she was doing ever since she'd found the girl wounded in that cave. It had been taxing, and tiring, and frankly quite infuriating to hold so much built up anger but to still respect the girl enough to wait for a more respectable time. And there's that confusion again, because after everything, Clarke did respect Lexa – however much she didn't want to. That had been risky, Clarke knew, because in ignoring her betrayal for so long they had built a bridge out of glass. And it had been so, so pretty, but once it fell they were left with nothing but the shattered remains. Clarke's head hurt, and she was still shaking.
"Are you lost, child?" came a voice from behind her. Clarke thought for a second. Physically? Yes. Metaphorically? Definitely, but whoever had spoken didn't need to know that. "Of course you're not lost," the voice continued, Clarke stopped walking. "To be lost you need to have somewhere to be in the first place." That, thought Clarke, was a fair point. She turned around to source the voice.
It was that woman again, the one with the tattoos and the grey hair. The one who Lexa had hugged, not that that was important, Clarke tried to tell herself. Her presence made Clarke realise how few people she had seen on her walk, even though she had easily been out for at least half an hour. The roads were deserted, except for Clarke and this one woman who had greeted Lexa like an old friend.
The woman noticed Clarke looking around her. "The people in this village are spiritual people." If Clarke had been alone then she would have rolled her eyes. "They're preparing for the funeral."
Clarke nodded, in all that had happened since she had arrived at the village, she had forgotten about the real reason she was there in the first place.
"You did an honourable thing, helping him die," said the woman, watching Clarke with knowing eyes.
Clarke raised her chin. "Nobody else was going to do it. I didn't enjoy it."
"Yes, our Lexa never really does well outside of the battle." The woman replied.
Clarke eyed the woman carefully. "I guess doing well," Clarke huffed. "Depends on what side of the battle you are on."
"That is one of the hardest lessons to learn, child." The woman waited for a second. "My name is Marie."
Clarke hesitated, trying, and failing to guess the woman's intentions. "Clarke," she responded.
"Oh yes," Marie grinned. She was missing some teeth. "The famous Sky Princess."
Clarke sighed and looked away from the woman.
"My grandparents went up to the sky," Marie stated.
"Any Grounders died years ago" said Clarke, shaking her head in confusion. "I'm sorry."
"No child, I wasn't asking after them," replied the woman, chuckling. "I was just saying. I'm curious though, Sky Princess, how was the sky?"
"Shit," said Clarke bluntly.
Marie's chuckle turned to laughter, and her eyes twinkled as Clarke looked at her. "I can see why our Lexa likes you, you're refreshing."
Clarke snorted. Water was refreshing. Oxygen was refreshing. Clarke was tired. "Well if you don't mind," she said, gesturing over her shoulder. "I'm going to carry on walking."
"Oh Clarke, I don't mind at all. You're welcome to go anywhere you want in this village."
So Clarke nodded at the woman and went to continue her journey.
"But if you want…"
Clarke stopped.
"I can take you to the places where our Lexa spent her childhood?"
And Clarke, who didn't really have anything else to do, turned around. The woman blinked slowly.
"Very well, Sky Princess," said Marie, and then walked past Clarke and down the road before them, leaving Clarke with no choice but to follow. "You've already been to her house," said the woman with a smirk that was too knowing for her old age. Especially when nothing had happened. "But this is where her father used to work." They had stopped at an open ended building. Clark could see some worktops, and a furnace. Lexa's father had been a blacksmith.
"What happened to him?" Clarke asked, her eyes never leaving the workshop. She could see the scars of the flames' heat on the furnace.
"That is something you'll have to ask Lexa. That's for her to tell you." said Marie quietly before perking up again. "This is where she learnt how to forge weapons herself." Marie looked up at Clarke, her words humming with pride.
The two set off again in a silence that was almost companionable. They made an odd couple: Marie with grey hair who was stooped with age, and Clarke who walked tall, blonde hair as vibrant as the Grounders had heard in their legends.
"This…" they had arrived at a small fenced clearing, lined with targets and discarded shields. "…is where she learnt to fight, when she was first chosen." Marie regarded Clarke with thoughtful eyes. "But I suppose you don't want to hear too much about Lexa the Commander."
Clarke held Marie's gaze. "Is there much else to her?"
The woman laughed lightly. "Sometimes I'm afraid not, but in times of battle she is one of the best Commanders my people have ever seen. She's young too."
"I thought all your warriors are young."
Marie raised her eyebrows. "And what am I, Sky Princess? You think we retire?" she joked. "No, our Lexa was forced to grow up before she became Commander." The woman reflected on something, studying Clarke's face. "Much like you, I imagine."
Clarke lifted her head.
"That's what I thought." The woman was solemn now. "War is no place for children."
"Only the dead have seen the end of the war," Clarke said absently, remembering the quote.
Marie's eyes lit up. "You found the cave!"
"I thought your people couldn't read," said Clarke. The woman smiled softly.
"My parents taught me, but it is a dying skill."
"Like English," Clarke mused.
"What was that, child?"
"English. Not everybody knows how to speak it on the ground."
"There has been little need for it, we have our own tongue," Marie explained. "The warriors learnt it to be able to spy on the Mountain Men." She watched Clarke carefully again. "They are gone now, but perhaps with your Sky People it will be brought back again amongst the Wood Clan."
"Or we will learn your language."
"There is that, yes." Said Marie, nodding her had at Clarke's words. "But for not there is one more place for us to see. Let's move, it will be dark soon," and again, Clarke was left with no choice but to follow.
Marie led Clarke to a small grass field, where a tree stood proudly in the centre. From a branch hung a tyre, like Clarke had read about in Earth's children stories. It was surprisingly normal.
"This is where the young go." Marie said, looking at Clarke instead of the swing. "I take it Lexa has told you about Costia."
Clarke tore her eyes away from the swing, her mind suddenly overwhelmed with images of a younger, happy Lexa playing cheerfully with her first love.
Marie took in Clarke's reaction. "Then there is nothing else to say about this place."
Despite the woman's words, they both stayed there for a few minutes more. Now the sky was darkening, evening fast approaching. In the distance came a hum of voices and the sound of drums.
"Is that for the funeral?" Clarke asked, referring to the sounds of the now lively village. They were in complete contrast to the ghost town she had walked around earlier.
"Yes. Would you like to see it?"
Clarke sighed softly, nodding. "Yes please."
Marie smiled and Clarke could see her forehead wrinkle. "You're a good person, Clarke, that's what Lexa said to me. I think she's right."
Clarke was taken aback despite herself, but she swallowed her words and lowered her head. She was embarrassed. Marie chuckled again, and skipped off back into the village. She moved with a lightness that denied her age, but once again that wasn't why Clarke was confused. With a sigh she followed the woman.
Soon they were back at the clearing where Clarke had first laid eyes on Marie. Some village party, thought Clarke, a funeral. Men, women and children alike were crowding the space, surrounding the pile of wood and shawled body that lay in the centre. Clarke could see the drums, and in the air was a cheerful chatter that left Clarke feeling oddly warm. The last Grounder funeral she had been to was Finn's, and that day had been dark and quiet and sad. Today, Clarke found comfort in the celebratory atmosphere; admittedly it wasn't a party, but it wasn't a tear fest either. People were beginning to sing with soft smiles, and Clarke wondered if this village was just oddly excitable, or if the other funeral was only so mournful because of the manner in which the villagers had died. They hadn't been warriors, they would have been just like the people here in Lexa's village.
Suddenly the crowd went quiet and parted as their Commander entered the clearing and stood at the funeral pyre. Besides her, Clarke heard Marie gasp – Lexa was pale, and to anybody who looked closely it was clear she'd been crying. Clarke was grateful for the cheerful atmosphere, nobody could focus on the Commander for too long. The skies were dark now, but the clearing was lit by the full moon and the watching stars. Clarke's eyes never left Lexa's body.
"She can barely stand," whispered Clarke, as Lexa took in the crowd before her.
"Maikel and Terrin," started Marie, before noticing that Clarke had no idea who she was talking about. "The guards who you walked here with," the woman explained. "… Told me the creature attacked Lexa first. It's no wonder she can barely stand – the way they described it, it is a blessing she's even alive."
As one, the crowd cheered, startling Clarke; Lexa had been addressing them, and Clarke, who had been talking to Marie, had not heard a word. Still, as Lexa moved to take the torch that was burning nearby, Clarke could see the poorly hidden pain that haunted the Commander's movements.
Clarke watched as the girl – whose lips were set in a tight grimace - moved the torch in a sweeping arch through the night air. As she touched the flame to the funeral pyre, Lexa looked up, not into the growing smoke, but to the blue of Clarke's watching eyes.
Yes, thought Clarke, a blessing indeed.