heda | clexa

six

The night sky out here is properly dark, unlike in Polis, which is always too bright to feel like the sun has really gone down.

Here, the stars shine white and the air is clear. Polis seems to have a constant cloud of mist and smoke around it that feels heavy and depressing, especially since you can't take a single breath of fresh air.

Clarke finds a little comfort in the fact that the constellations here are similar as to what she would see at home now and that the summer air smells just the same, sweet and soft. It anchors her.

Clarke knows which house her crew is in by the noise. Whereas the other houses are quiet by now, Raven's house is bursting with voices and laughter. Clarke doesn't even want to know what she did to her poor teacher, who certainly didn't allow this voluntarily.

The noise grows considerably quieter as soon as the door opens and Clarke steps in. There's a last laugh before even those who have their back turned to Clarke realize the temperature in the room has changed.

"We didn't mean to hurt her," Raven supplies after a moment of charged silence and Clarke snorts.

"That's why you beat her?"

Octavia stands up. "We couldn't have known that you were fine. You haven't slept a day when we were on that ship. How were we to know you could sleep and would in front of the enemy?"

Clarke takes a deep breath that she tries to make as inconspicuous as possible because she hates to say Octavia has a point. She doesn't know why she let herself doze off.

Sure, she hasn't slept in a long time, but her fatigue has never meant she couldn't hold out a couple more hours before. And she probably could have.

What had been different?

"You could have tried to wake me up and I would have," Clarke sighs. "I understand you're on edge. I understand you hate your teachers and the guards and this whole thing. But right now, I need you to hold back on your hostility until we have a plan to get back on our ship."

Echo scoffs. "I'm ready to get the fuck out of here."

She gets a few scattered nods and murmurs in agreement. Murphy says something about the beds being uncomfortable. Bellamy complains that the army is too big to take down by themselves. If they would want to raid the city properly, they would have to return with support, a hit to the ego none of them is all too happy to take.

Luna scoffs. "The uncomfortable beds? Really? I mean yes, of course, that seems important compared to the fact that the people here feel entitled to other people's bodies."

"The men," Echo corrects.

"Feeling entitled to the women's bodies," Raven completes.

"And then seeming upset if you cut their hand off," Octavia adds.

Clarke feels her heart sink. She's not the only one who has been ogled in strange ways, then. Maybe she's not the only one whom the guards checked for weapons a little too excitedly.

All because she hasn't been able to break them out of this hell yet. "By the end of seven days, we'll be gone," she promises and something about the words feel empty, something tugs at her heart the way only one thing does.

Dishonor.

Not again, she prays with closed eyes.

Always taking the easy way out, Griffin, isn't that what you do best? a voice in the back of her head asks.

Shut up, Clarke answers, but it has no effect because of course she never really said that.

She swore to her crew that she would protect them by all means. Keeping that oath could not possibly mean dishonor, after all, what is a leader if they cannot keep their people safe?