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
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?"