( the truly cursed bit of this curse is the inevitable breakdown of a conversation when two people are responding to completely different talking points. essentially what's wrong? met with oh, you're so scary ♥, and the confusion across clarke's face deepens.
what are you talking about?, but it comes out as an answer to his question — )
It'd be slaughtering every person living inside the mountain, and then seeing the entire rockface leveled a little while later.
( a slight dramatization of events, but the overall picture still the same. "the mountain" just being an allegorical term for the blood and bone marrow thirsty populace inside it. the ones who'd hunted, tortured, and bleed grounders for near 100 years; turned their own people into the very embodiment of flesh hungry demons, all while they sat within their bunker in fresh pressed clothing, eating chocolate cake and admiring hoarded art. vestiges of old world society, unfit for the apocalypse no matter how hard they'd tried to survive. ultimately brought to ruin by a seventeen year old girl with a sweaty handgrip on a lever, and a stronger hand overlaying her own.
the conversational disconnect persists, confusion at the forefront until venti purrs over wanheda and clarke balks.
the exact opposite of any thrum of excitement in her veins, devoid of any flutter of religious connection. the exact opposite of whispering barbatos, venti recites her title and clarke feels like she's been stabbed in the gut. the knife twisted, then kicked in the chest and slapped across the face in the same motion. she takes a full step back away from him and just. gawks. for a moment looking every bit her actual age, features open and far, far too young for the weighted lines the apocalypse had carved into her skin and soul. in the next moment, looking ready to cry again. pathetic and small with rain- and sweat-wet hair clinging to her face, and shivers threatening to overrun her whole body despite the muggy rainy climate.
it's going to take an additional few moments before she can fold all of that emotional leakage back into it's neat little compartment in the bottom of her soul. but at least during the interim, her brain and mouth seem to catch up to one another. this time when she speaks, it's exactly what she means to put in the air between them. )
...what did I just say?
( and what was that about throwing mountains into the sea? who's morax? )
no subject
what are you talking about?, but it comes out as an answer to his question — )
It'd be slaughtering every person living inside the mountain, and then seeing the entire rockface leveled a little while later.
( a slight dramatization of events, but the overall picture still the same. "the mountain" just being an allegorical term for the blood and bone marrow thirsty populace inside it. the ones who'd hunted, tortured, and bleed grounders for near 100 years; turned their own people into the very embodiment of flesh hungry demons, all while they sat within their bunker in fresh pressed clothing, eating chocolate cake and admiring hoarded art. vestiges of old world society, unfit for the apocalypse no matter how hard they'd tried to survive. ultimately brought to ruin by a seventeen year old girl with a sweaty handgrip on a lever, and a stronger hand overlaying her own.
the conversational disconnect persists, confusion at the forefront until venti purrs over wanheda and clarke balks.
the exact opposite of any thrum of excitement in her veins, devoid of any flutter of religious connection. the exact opposite of whispering barbatos, venti recites her title and clarke feels like she's been stabbed in the gut. the knife twisted, then kicked in the chest and slapped across the face in the same motion. she takes a full step back away from him and just. gawks. for a moment looking every bit her actual age, features open and far, far too young for the weighted lines the apocalypse had carved into her skin and soul. in the next moment, looking ready to cry again. pathetic and small with rain- and sweat-wet hair clinging to her face, and shivers threatening to overrun her whole body despite the muggy rainy climate.
it's going to take an additional few moments before she can fold all of that emotional leakage back into it's neat little compartment in the bottom of her soul. but at least during the interim, her brain and mouth seem to catch up to one another. this time when she speaks, it's exactly what she means to put in the air between them. )
...what did I just say?
( and what was that about throwing mountains into the sea? who's morax? )