( well, that... isn't what she'd expected to hear. some revision of we'll figure it out, or nothing whilst his face contorted and preemptive grief swept through him. but instead — nope. bellamy says she saved the world, a pure sense of joy emanates from his chest to envelop her like a hug, and clarke's confused. again.
her lips purse around a silent what?; she doesn't understand the concept that she somehow managed to save everyone between running from an inhuman creature and waking up here. but the thing about bellamy blake is that she's never had to search his mind to discern if he's lying to her, not when his face is an open map of emotions. and rationally, seeing things in murphy's head made sense. with the wealth of personal oversharing that had occurred between herself and her new broodmates in the short time between waking up and landing here, clarke had been subjected to thoughts, feelings, and flashes of memory that hadn't made sense but had been undoubtedly true.
the pull of his thumb against her cheek jerks a few tears loose; relief turned liquid to wash away the long hours of hating herself for running, for seemingly putting her own life before everyone else's. the timeline doesn't fit and clarke still has no recollection of finding anything resembling a killswitch, but maybe that faceless monster had seen fit to destroy alie the same way it had sought to destroy her. there's a sharp, ragged inhale — a breath clarke had been waiting to take for a whole day, and then, inch by inch, some of the smothering defeat melts from her shoulders. she's a gloved hand on his wrist, thumb pressed to his pulse; his heartbeat reverberates in her chest, urges a wet, bright smile to work its way back up her features. )
So we saved the world? We saved everyone?
( something warm sparks alongside their heartbeats. oh right, that's what hope feels like. )
no subject
her lips purse around a silent what?; she doesn't understand the concept that she somehow managed to save everyone between running from an inhuman creature and waking up here. but the thing about bellamy blake is that she's never had to search his mind to discern if he's lying to her, not when his face is an open map of emotions. and rationally, seeing things in murphy's head made sense. with the wealth of personal oversharing that had occurred between herself and her new broodmates in the short time between waking up and landing here, clarke had been subjected to thoughts, feelings, and flashes of memory that hadn't made sense but had been undoubtedly true.
the pull of his thumb against her cheek jerks a few tears loose; relief turned liquid to wash away the long hours of hating herself for running, for seemingly putting her own life before everyone else's. the timeline doesn't fit and clarke still has no recollection of finding anything resembling a killswitch, but maybe that faceless monster had seen fit to destroy alie the same way it had sought to destroy her. there's a sharp, ragged inhale — a breath clarke had been waiting to take for a whole day, and then, inch by inch, some of the smothering defeat melts from her shoulders. she's a gloved hand on his wrist, thumb pressed to his pulse; his heartbeat reverberates in her chest, urges a wet, bright smile to work its way back up her features. )
So we saved the world? We saved everyone?
( something warm sparks alongside their heartbeats. oh right, that's what hope feels like. )