( that proffered hand is as alluring as the pull of together that mizuki offers. even as she stands with two feet firmly planted on the floor, it feels like the world's swaying in front of her eyes a little. how lovely it would be, to be unerringly supported. how nice it would be, to not feel so alone all the time...

but clarke is intimately familiar with what happens to the people she chooses to align herself with. just because this boat isn't her earth doesn't mean patterns change or life gets any easier. he's offering her a hand, absolution, someone to lean on, and a vicious weapon constantly hanging to her right. if she took up any of those offers, the next logical step would to somehow be responsible for his death, and she doesn't... want that.

can't take his hand, no matter how long her gaze lingers on the creases in his gloved palm — he'd have to take the full initiative here. can't willingly accept a blindly faithful ally, can't actually accept that she's made new friends here if it ultimately means losing them all over again... )

I don't think you'd like most of the choices I make, Mizuki. I think you'd fight me on them, and would probably be right. And then end up hating me for going through with it anyway, just like everyone else has.