#31nightsofclextober

House of The Rising Sun

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Mustering up the courage to wander in, she casts one last look down to the main street. Less than 10 meters away she can see people drinking, dancing, and laughing uproariously, the street a riot of color and warm, drunken bodies. Their eyes skip over the entrance Clarke had meandered down as if it didn't even exist. She pushes down on the foreboding feeling, her curiosity getting the better of her as the faint scent of sandalwood drifts out of the doorway. 

She takes a deep breath and takes the first step in. 

or

Clarke stumbles into a magic shop in New Orleans.

The shop, and the owner are not what they seem.

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Biting and Blood (I mean, it's a vampire story...)

Status: WIP (1/2)

Summary: How far will Clarke go to save her dying brother? Will she dare make a deal with a creature of the night as beautiful as she’s ancient?

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Chapter 1: The Monsters Come At Night

“Get out of here,” the large man yelled, his rubicund face red with anger.

He didn’t dare to grab the girl, too afraid of catching the plague decimating her family one member at a time. His tone, however, would have made a weaker soul cower — someone who still had something to lose.

“Please,” the maiden begged, the resolve in her eyes contrasting with her voice weak from lack of food. “Winter is almost here. We need blankets, furs, anything that will protect us from the cold.”

The merchant stepped forward, using his superior size to force her back. “To hell with you! You’ll scare away the customers. Leave before my whip finds your skin.”

Defeated, the young woman fled the stall and its heartless owner. She hurried down the village’s dirt roads, her head low and a shawl covering her blond hair as best as possible. Stubbornly, she refused to let her tears fall, even when children recognized her and threw old tomatoes at her to chase her away. She endured their parents’ contempt and fear-rooted hatred without flinching; those ignorant little monsters were nothing to her.

Once she was out of Arkadia, the glares and threats mercifully ended. The villagers rarely went out once the sun began to disappear behind the trees, and none ever took the narrow path leading to her hut.

Clarke headed for the forest first, her stomach growling under her thin dress. She hadn’t eaten anything since a handful of roots for supper the night before. Another day like that, and she would collapse, too exhausted to continue.

For a moment, she considered lying on the cold ground, face turned toward the sky, and closing her eyes. Bending under the weight of her sorrows and finding the eternal respite she craved. The rest she deserved after taking care of her sick parents for months, after all the efforts she put in only to bury her father and then her mother. If God had any mercy left, He would reclaim her soul quickly and without pain, pulling it from under her gaunt face with a strong gust of wind.

“Not yet,” she growled, forcing herself to take another step between the trees. She couldn’t give up, not when one person remained, counting on her.

Fate wasn’t done with her, it seemed. A dead rabbit lay in the snare she had placed in the morning. A small gesture, but enough to feed the two Griffins and give her the strength to get up the following day. Foxes and wolves abounded in the forest, and she untied the carcass and pocketed it before they came to fight her for it. She repositioned the trap with care — hopefully, there would be another rabbit in the morning — and returned home.

They hadn’t always lived in the crude hut. Long ago, when her parents still drew breath, they owned a house near the center of Arkadia. With her father working as an architect and her mother as a healer and a midwife, they had enough to be comfortable. Everyone knew the Griffin family could be relied on, and their neighbors didn’t hesitate to visit them often. Until Jacob Griffin caught the plague while working in the city.

Her mother did everything in her power to stop or slow the disease, to no avail. Soon, Abigail became sick, too, leaving Clarke to care for both of them. And when Jacob died and the news of their affliction spread, they became pariahs. Shun by the village, the young woman and her brother had no choice but to move to that abandoned cabin at the edge of the forest.

They buried their mother two weeks later, away from the grotty habitation, hoping to rid themselves of the disease. Alas, their precaution wasn’t enough.

Lexa turns around one last time to blow a kiss to Clarke, her eyes shimmering softly, apologetically. 

“I’ll be back when I can, croí álainn.”  The words are almost lost in the wind that whips sharply around them, but Clarke, unerringly drawn to Lexa’s lip as she is, catches them and the slight, half smile that follows. 

Clarke smiles softly back at her love as Lexa carefully wraps the coat around her, blending into the dark, writhing sea as she carefully walks into the waves. Her face drops back into a heartbroken frown as Lexa turns away, joyfully diving under the cold water with barely a ripple. 

When she surfaces she isn’t human at all but the sleek, beautiful seal that Clarke had seen for months prior to their actual meeting. Large dark eyes watching her from the distant waves as Clarke went about her life on the coast, dutiful daughter of a fisherman. 

Miles away from shore, Clarke can barely make out the glint of other sleek heads as they bob in the sea, waiting for Lexa to join them. 

Sinking to the shoreline, Clarke watches Lexa go until she can barely make her out through the depths of the night. She stays on the rocky beach until she isn’t sure if the dampness on her cheeks is tears or the spray of seawater as it flings onto the shoreline, dancing up to lap at her toes before retreating back into the depths. 

Always returning, never staying.