skaikru | (no subject)

Yes, we are.

You could have told me what you were going to do before just doing it. I could have helped, and it could have looked like a united sort of justice.

You should have told me.

I'm sorry. I'll stop mid-throttle and flag you down next time. What do you want me to say? It's done. I can't unkill a man.

I'll voice my concerns in the future.

You want to lock me up for it?

...It'd look better if I did.

( not a yes, not a no. a very strong maybe. )

Get the shackles then.

( he won't flinch. )

( a long, long pause. the sort well deserved, when it's a question of imprisonment or appearing weak among the masses she's — they're — attempting to govern here. and then — )

Everyone steals here, Bellamy. It isn't an offense punishable by death. Just tie them to the mast and lash the skin off their backs next time. Feeding the sharks isn't going to make up for the manpower we'd lose to your particular brand of justice.

( no, they steal from the wealthy. they steal from the actual government. they rob the rich, chartered ships floating naively on the water. they don't rob each other on board where they're supposed to be on equal footing, served the same meals, the same respect. )

Are you going to use a whip on me?

( she should. )

( thieves are thieves. they can't utilize those skills at one hour, and switch the demonizing them at the strike of a bell. it's all about managing the destructive impulses on board, giving them outlets, and above all — not painting one man's sins as any more devious than another's. it feels like they've taken a few steps backwards tonight, and tomorrow promises a headache. )

No.

( she's tired. )

Unless you'd want me to.

Want is a strong word. You should make an example of me. You said as much. Appoint someone to do it if you don't have the energy.

You're showing favoritism.

( god forbid clarke acknowledges that weakness on her own terms. )

The crew already knows it.

( the extent of her favoritism. no one else had come aboard one month, and managed to practically glue themselves to her side by the next. she's well aware of the implications, the rumors. the rumblings, disquiets, and targets it puts on both their backs. where there was strife on board the sky long before bellamy blake joined their ranks, clarke's done relatively little to quell it since. )

What I should do is leave you at the next port.

( will she won't she — no she's not fucking going to do that, but the situational awareness is there. the apathy just stretches far enough to envelop it like a fitted sheet. )

How about you pick.

( clarke with all of her varied flaws isn't ignorant. he smiles at her threats, knowing full well that she's aware she should throw her weight behind them; she should believe them, intentionally mean them. but as much as bellamy is who he is: rebellious and liable to chafe against command when it opposes what he believes is right ( say anyone that challenges authority they ought to kneel before ), clarke doesn't want the reins she white-knuckles in her palms. )

Take it out on me. Publicly.

( if it boils down to physical punishment, which is fleeting, and banishment from her sight, possibly permanently, there isn't actually a choice. )

( it's unwise to smile at her threats and laugh them off; there's almost always something just a layer or so beneath the surface, and it's usually something jaded and ugly. clarke's been on the waters for longer than she cares to count anymore; her nose is perpetually sunburnt, the ends of her hair bleached by sunlight. and the needle of morality has come loose, constantly swinging from one edge of the spectrum to the other.

and she's so so fucking tired, but can't get a full nights sleep. )

You're right. On that, and that I don't have the energy for it.

So I appoint you.

( he whacks the hornet's nest with the largest stick he can find, willfully ignorant. standing for too long on the sidelines, waiting for change does that. he won't do it anymore. he won't go back to being the boy crying to be seen and heard by someone when he could just be that someone himself. it's too late for him now to regress. )

Appoint me. To what, discipline myself?

Yeah.

If you want the whip, pretend you're a Flagellant and rid yourself of your sins. Or set aside a wergild, and I'll see his cousin gets it. Scrub every inch of the deck, or go without rations for a week. Publicly apologize to the rest of my crew, and take whatever slop they throw at you, or walk naked through the next port we come to and don't come back...

Whatever option hurts enough that it'll make you stop mid-throttle next time. You decide.

( all of this being a super round about, passive aggressive way of saying she'd trust him to make the best decision. )