skaikru: (pic#11782150)
clarke "no chill" griffin ([personal profile] skaikru) wrote in [community profile] station72 2017-11-20 03:27 am (UTC)

( that depends on how people are making it out. not everyone had seemed ready to break down and cry, people had a whole wealth of different measures in how they mourned. she thinks of rust, crumpled and quiet, then swinging at the first person who tried to stop him from dooming them all. she thinks of asuka, withdrawn until the pain doubled over on itself and presented as anger, clinging to clarke's robes then elbowing her in the stomach. she thinks of everyone in that tent, disgusted and depressed; some looking for answers, some just trying to make sense of lavellan's death. to make sure it meant something. how are people handling this now? how have the welcomes changed since she touched down twenty days ago, and since when did twenty days passing make her feel so old and weathered?

it was bad. clarke shrugs a little, a lump swelling in her throat. )


I don't know how to describe it.

( thinks of her friends, angry and hurt. of rust again — might be easier if you just scream. )

But I could show you.

( and man, look how useful the mental link could be indeed. the memory of death bubbles up, lingering on the edge of their conversation like a commanding presence behind a shroud, veiled and just beyond reach. it's an offer, the bulk of pain, shock, fear, and grief momentarily contained. contingent on a yes or no before the damn broke and the weighted blanket of her conscious threatened to suffocate. )

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