( for coming from an insular community, and adopting a strong, problematic sense of us vs them upon initially ending up on earth, clarke had ended up easily adopting aspects of other cultures she'd encountered. her trigedasleng was childish and rusty, when she looked at the flame that held the consciousness of every grounder commander since bekka pramheda she still saw more technology than mysticism. mass religion hadn't survived on the ark, and when the elders on board had prayed, it'd been to a small tree that'd managed to survive in space for almost 100 years. and, on principal, usually an adult putting their hand on her head felt condescending and demeaning.
but venti's soft brush of the palm against her hair feels... different. weighted, in a way clarke's never experienced. reverent affection given in return for pure reverence, like a parent beaming at their child. and she supposes she could see how this would bring comfort to those who'd devoted their entire lives to their deities; who believed fully in their abilities, and had since they'd been born. she can absolutely see the allure of belief in god. gods. something larger and stronger and wiser and more aware than simple humans, at their back in times of strife and offering guidance and protection.
whatever importance of a sacrament is still lost on her, the sentiment of a secret hits home. she plays his name over in her mind a few times, just to familiarize herself with it, then locks it away like a nuclear weapon behind launch codes. and nods lightly, not to upset the hand on her head until venti choses to drop it. )
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( for coming from an insular community, and adopting a strong, problematic sense of us vs them upon initially ending up on earth, clarke had ended up easily adopting aspects of other cultures she'd encountered. her trigedasleng was childish and rusty, when she looked at the flame that held the consciousness of every grounder commander since bekka pramheda she still saw more technology than mysticism. mass religion hadn't survived on the ark, and when the elders on board had prayed, it'd been to a small tree that'd managed to survive in space for almost 100 years. and, on principal, usually an adult putting their hand on her head felt condescending and demeaning.
but venti's soft brush of the palm against her hair feels... different. weighted, in a way clarke's never experienced. reverent affection given in return for pure reverence, like a parent beaming at their child. and she supposes she could see how this would bring comfort to those who'd devoted their entire lives to their deities; who believed fully in their abilities, and had since they'd been born. she can absolutely see the allure of belief in god. gods. something larger and stronger and wiser and more aware than simple humans, at their back in times of strife and offering guidance and protection.
whatever importance of a sacrament is still lost on her, the sentiment of a secret hits home. she plays his name over in her mind a few times, just to familiarize herself with it, then locks it away like a nuclear weapon behind launch codes. and nods lightly, not to upset the hand on her head until venti choses to drop it. )
...you know you can just call me Clarke, right?