levered: (032)
clarke griffin ([personal profile] levered) wrote in [community profile] faderift 2016-01-31 08:30 pm (UTC)

[ For a moment Clarke is very still.

She had been still before, too, staring into the fire. Being able to usher flames into existence at her fingertips doesn't make them any less hypnotic, when it's dark and she's tired, cold, sore from being knocked down onto ice and struck with a shield. Turning numbers over in her head. One saved for each one killed. She's still several people short, but she can already guess that it won't be enough, when she gets there. Two saved, maybe. Three.

The difference between still and very still, for the record, is breathing. For a moment she stops. She hasn't restarted when she turns to look at Lexa where she's standing on the edge of the light, and she doesn't say hello. Her expression, shadowed with her back to the fire, is only mildly alarmed, mildly irate, a little searching and a little disbelieving. But in her chest and her throat the repressed urge to start screaming makes it impossible for anything else to pass, even air. ]

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