( it hadn't been a long hug, but paired with such blatant emotional honesty had felt like an hour. venti withdraws and takes a step back in retreat, and clarke breathes in a different kind of relief, as if a little distance would allow her to relatch the lock on her deeply compartmentalized fear instinct; as if she'd be able to patch the cracks in her exterior front, instead of just helplessly digging them deeper. and then of course, that guilt she'd danced around. it feels better, more appropriate when venti's not touching her — kind and comforting and steeped in a sincere sort of care.
(she misses it the second it's gone, but — ) )
Not alone, maybe. ( not that she could do much against smoke, and maybe even the boon of belief wouldn't be enough of a buff to allow him to deal a killing blow. but none of them are truly alone in this fight, right? alliance could be made — are already cemented, or in the making — and the extent of clarke griffin's optimism is that maybe, somehow, if forces joined in the heat of the moment, they'd be able to overwhelm by sheer force of will... and if they fail, they don't fail alone. the sentiment is unchanged regardless of the outcome.
venti moves on however, gives a lists of reasons his people prayed to him, and most of it just evokes small, dismissive shakes of her head. praying for a harvest has no worth here, the weather is beyond their control, travel is at the whim of the captain. this isn't mondstadt, and his loose agreement to the cause of overthrowing their captor here had yet to be fulfilled. not believing in him isn't an option anymore, she'd been blanketed in his wings and made that choice in a heartbeat. but that other one, the idea of never being alone, no matter how distant...
that snags at another deep, unearthed want — no, need; selfish, inherently human, desperate need — that she fights against almost every single day. truth can't be forced when internal truth hasn't even been realized yet, can it? apparently not, because clarke just lets out a breath she's held for too long in a sharp exhale. a sigh. )
I'll think on it, then. ( but in the meantime — ) Can I still hear one of your hymnals?
no subject
(she misses it the second it's gone, but — ) )
Not alone, maybe. ( not that she could do much against smoke, and maybe even the boon of belief wouldn't be enough of a buff to allow him to deal a killing blow. but none of them are truly alone in this fight, right? alliance could be made — are already cemented, or in the making — and the extent of clarke griffin's optimism is that maybe, somehow, if forces joined in the heat of the moment, they'd be able to overwhelm by sheer force of will... and if they fail, they don't fail alone. the sentiment is unchanged regardless of the outcome.
venti moves on however, gives a lists of reasons his people prayed to him, and most of it just evokes small, dismissive shakes of her head. praying for a harvest has no worth here, the weather is beyond their control, travel is at the whim of the captain. this isn't mondstadt, and his loose agreement to the cause of overthrowing their captor here had yet to be fulfilled. not believing in him isn't an option anymore, she'd been blanketed in his wings and made that choice in a heartbeat. but that other one, the idea of never being alone, no matter how distant...
that snags at another deep, unearthed want — no, need; selfish, inherently human, desperate need — that she fights against almost every single day. truth can't be forced when internal truth hasn't even been realized yet, can it? apparently not, because clarke just lets out a breath she's held for too long in a sharp exhale. a sigh. )
I'll think on it, then. ( but in the meantime — ) Can I still hear one of your hymnals?