( the sordid affair following the burning of lavellan's body is being loosely labeled a celebration, a really, really terrible welcome party for the newest hosts that arrived planetside today. and perhaps to no one's surprise, clarke leaves the party early.

if she'd been highly emotional on the last day of the races, despondent and clinically detached during the autopsy, constantly struggling to grasp the futility of ever being normal again after coming face to face with the symbiote, and downright exhausted trying to mediate between aggravated friends, now clarke's something of a mix of all those emotions. a neatly folded package with fraying string tying it together, and readily looking to distract herself from the most recent swelling of homesickness in her throat. it seems ridiculous to miss earth. it'd been a treacherous, mildly radioactive landscape full of dangerous enemies and plagued with the constant haze of violence. but in a way that had been simpler and easier to deal with. her motivation had never strayed, and while the various threats against their lives had descended swiftly and viciously, it was easier to operate under the pressure; easier to force a resolution when she knew they only had a matter of days to save their people. how long would the fight rage on here? another month, a year, twenty years? there's no real telling.

and clarke is so awash with these familiar questions that when she first brushes into the tent in the late evening and begins to peel off her cloak, she doesn't even notice mat at first.

crosses to her bedroll, stoops to grab her pack, and only then does a double take into the shadows of the canvas. it shouldn't be as much of a surprise as it feels, but the loud hum of new minds and the buzzing static of her own thoughts served as an effective dampener between the broodmate connection. and that's nice, given clarke's not entirely sure if she's ready to engage yet another person in conversation after a long day of funeral prep and making new acquaintances.

but at the same time, she can't not. and after a brief, sweeping up-down evaluation and a moment spent chewing the inside of her cheek: ) Did you go? ( to the funeral; did he watch the fires and feel the same sickly twist in his stomach she had at the smell of charred skin? if he'd been present, she'd not noticed, and hazy, politely inquiring minds want to know. )