( i am doing the best that i can, clarke remembers all but screaming in an empty access tunnel. only to be met by octavia blake's sallow, put-upon face; a picturesque expression of disdain.
well that's not good enough.
and she winces. once in remembrance of an old friend, twice in a sort of belated recognition of old roles being filled by newer faces, and a third time at how deeply that note strikes home. because rita is right. on all counts. and clarke not only has no reason to rebuke, but no desire to. )
quietly, almost as if to herself: ) I know. I know. It isn't convenient...
( then face turned up again, more properly addressing rita. similar to feeling like she doesn't deserve to offer comfort to the likes of ava or darcy in the wake of the lord vile murders, it feels awkward to ask: ) How is he?
no subject
well that's not good enough.
and she winces. once in remembrance of an old friend, twice in a sort of belated recognition of old roles being filled by newer faces, and a third time at how deeply that note strikes home. because rita is right. on all counts. and clarke not only has no reason to rebuke, but no desire to. )
quietly, almost as if to herself: ) I know. I know. It isn't convenient...
( then face turned up again, more properly addressing rita. similar to feeling like she doesn't deserve to offer comfort to the likes of ava or darcy in the wake of the lord vile murders, it feels awkward to ask: ) How is he?