Clarke Griffin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
willbetested) wrote2017-07-04 09:31 am
willbetested) wrote2017-07-04 09:31 am
fairy tale plot
Clarke had known that something was wrong even before she'd opened her eyes.
A lump had formed in her stomach, a chill had settled in her bones. Briefly she'd considered ignoring, pretending it was nothing and going back to sleep. That thought hadn't lasted — Clarke had never been great at running from a just fight.
Opening her eyes to the empty space where Bellamy typically slept confirmed her suspicions. Fear rushed through her, wondering if she was alone for good. If this was yet another casualty of the city's capriciousness. It could give her great love and take it easily away.
Not this time a persistent voice had answered. Shunting away her anxiety, she listened to that voice and slowly began to put the pieces together. Bellamy had mentioned finding something weird in the woods when out on one of his hiking trips. An odd cabin, but they'd not thought much of it. Hastily, Clarke had pulled on her jeans and a good pair of boots, grabbed her bag and rushed downstairs. The urge to go, to look, to find him was pushing her further. A hero complex spiraling out of control.
Just outside, she'd found a white horse waiting.
"Well, shit," tumbled out of her mouth and she'd known it was for her. A silver sword was strapped across the back of the saddle. Like something a fairy tale prince would need. With a bit of coaxing and the help of a bench, she'd slung herself up on the saddle and taken off down the city streets. They were headed towards the ocean, running across the pavement completely headless of the pedestrians until the road gave way to boardwalk, then to sand. Something bigger than herself was guiding her and for once, Clarke was letting her heart make the rules.
A lighthouse shines in the distance, the light flashing through the mist. That's where they need to go. Leaning forward in the saddle, they take off across the sand and it makes her feel weightless. It's a different form of flying, one pulling on instincts Clarke hadn't known she'd had. As they get nearer, she pulls on the reins slowing them down as she lifts her body up in the saddle.
"Bellamy!" she yells urging the horse to make a wide circle around the base. "Bellamy! Are you in there?"
A lump had formed in her stomach, a chill had settled in her bones. Briefly she'd considered ignoring, pretending it was nothing and going back to sleep. That thought hadn't lasted — Clarke had never been great at running from a just fight.
Opening her eyes to the empty space where Bellamy typically slept confirmed her suspicions. Fear rushed through her, wondering if she was alone for good. If this was yet another casualty of the city's capriciousness. It could give her great love and take it easily away.
Not this time a persistent voice had answered. Shunting away her anxiety, she listened to that voice and slowly began to put the pieces together. Bellamy had mentioned finding something weird in the woods when out on one of his hiking trips. An odd cabin, but they'd not thought much of it. Hastily, Clarke had pulled on her jeans and a good pair of boots, grabbed her bag and rushed downstairs. The urge to go, to look, to find him was pushing her further. A hero complex spiraling out of control.
Just outside, she'd found a white horse waiting.
"Well, shit," tumbled out of her mouth and she'd known it was for her. A silver sword was strapped across the back of the saddle. Like something a fairy tale prince would need. With a bit of coaxing and the help of a bench, she'd slung herself up on the saddle and taken off down the city streets. They were headed towards the ocean, running across the pavement completely headless of the pedestrians until the road gave way to boardwalk, then to sand. Something bigger than herself was guiding her and for once, Clarke was letting her heart make the rules.
A lighthouse shines in the distance, the light flashing through the mist. That's where they need to go. Leaning forward in the saddle, they take off across the sand and it makes her feel weightless. It's a different form of flying, one pulling on instincts Clarke hadn't known she'd had. As they get nearer, she pulls on the reins slowing them down as she lifts her body up in the saddle.
"Bellamy!" she yells urging the horse to make a wide circle around the base. "Bellamy! Are you in there?"
no subject
He'd never thought he could picture life without her -- he'd tried to kill Jaha and crashed down to Earth for her -- but here he is, living it day after day.
What kind of brother does that make him? What kind of love is that?
After another night of dreams, Bellamy wakes and he can tell it's not going to be a good day at all. He packs quietly, giving a sleeping Clarke a kiss before leaving the apartment, messenger bag heavy with library books as he wanders the city streets. He's not going anywhere in particular until the ocean is loud in his ears and he's heading right for a lighthouse. It's one of those open to the public, more of a museum than anything else, and Bellamy climbs the stairs, thinking of Octavia as he goes. She should be here, living life with him. She should be verging on twenty and thriving, she should be enjoying a chance at happiness with Lincoln.
Instead Bellamy's here, alone.
He settles in a small alcove in the lighthouse, the windows providing a clear look out to the ocean as he reads for a little while. It's peaceful.
Well, it's peaceful until Bellamy thinks he hears someone calling his name. The sound is faint, traveling up the stairs as if from far away, and he almost thinks he's going crazy until some motion catches his eye.
When he gets up and heads to the other side of the observation deck and looks down, he's not exactly surprised to see it's Clarke. The horse is definitely a question he wants answered, but Bellamy doesn't really make any move to head back down; he's not fit for company at the moment, and he doesn't want to bring Clarke's mood down with his for the day.
no subject
Her expectations had admittedly been a little muddled, what with the white horse and the sword and the lighthouse. She's not really certain how this is supposed to go. However she would've at least thought that he would be happy to see her. Hell, that he would talk to her from up in his lighthouse prison. Tell her what happened. Something.
It occurs to her that he might not be trapped there. She frowns for a moment as she considers it. He has to be, right? That seems to fit with the story, with whatever narrative is at hand. He has to be trapped otherwise it's really hard to rescue him.
"Bellamy!" she tries again, this time with vigor, pulling the sword from its scabard to point up at the top. She's a little pissed off and there might be danger. "Bellamy, are you okay? Do I have to ask you to let down your hair?"