in all her life, she can’t remember ever waking up so cold. CHILLS roll down her spine and it takes her a second to take in the unfamiliar feeling of the surface she’s lying on. clarke’s eyes blink open, still droopy and heavy from a dead sleep. ( the first warning that something was very wrong. when was the last time she slept without one eye open? ) all at once she sits up, the blank WHITE color of the room disorienting her but most of all sends her into a spiraling confusion as her heart rate picks up.           WHERE WAS SHE? 

                                                 the last thing she remembers is in vivid detail, playing itself back in her mind when she closed the doors of the drop ship, knowing perfectly well that she was doing so while they still had people out there. fighting the grounders to claim a home they made for themselves -- bellamy’s spirit and heart getting them to a place where they could be inspired, and then clarke burned 300 grounders where they stood.

      she left bellamy out there too.

                               she rushes to the door of the PRISON, the new name that presents itself in her mind as she realizes the door is locked. there’s nothing but a window, a small circular sneak peek into the hallway where everything is more of the same. including a room across from hers, exactly identical to the one she was standing in. she pounds her fist against door to no avail, a stirring anger and frustration rising along with being trapped and placed in an unknown alienation to the rest of the world. she remembers bits and pieces now. SMOKE.

LIGHTS IN HER EYES.

                                                    there is nothing in between then and now. blackness, a space in her memory that makes her try to keep a level head. how far from home was she? her people? ( were they okay, or were more DEAD? ) clarke starts to look for anything in the room that would help her defend herself, or better yet, escape. until movement catches the corner of her eye and her head snaps back towards the window, muscles tensing defensively. but instead she’s met with the first familiar thing she’s seen since she woke up in this place -- a face.

bellamy’s face.

                               somehow she can still be happy to see that he’s alright, but it barely takes her any time at all for her to snap back to the reality of where they were. ( wherever that was, but if she was being honest she felt like a lab rat. ) and how it meant that he was stuck here too. ❝ – bellamy. ❞ her face twists from relief, to a huge question mark to downright desperation and determination to GET OUT. she knows that he can’t hear her, but at least he can see her. she makes sure to enunciate as she speaks, pounding on the glass to emphasize her point. 

               steady remains the demon, weight resting upon the bar top just as the other speaks. he’s done being nice now, warnings now FAR from exceeded at this point. lacking of patience is prominent, even before the darkness got darker; dean winchester was not one for   t o l e r a n c e. turning his attention toward the emptied glass once more to fill & down a  FORTH  a cup. rumbles of sinister laughter vibrate a broad chest, glass coming to rest against a wooden countertop before he pivots.  ❛ y’think y’a tough guy, right ? i sure as hell can just tell. ❜ heavy footfalls groan against floorboards as stride ( slow & steady ) start up toward the other. ivory hues remain locked, lackadaisical expression washes away the true annoyance building to a boil beneath skin surface. ❛ y’know what i’d do t’a kid like you, make y’a damn tooth pick. better yet, y’see those cartoons where someone easily becomes a dart in a board ? ❜ pearled whites bare through plush lips, stopping when he’s inches from the brunet male.

                ❛ wanna test out if someone can actually do that t’a man because y’seem like a DARTS guy ❜

        there is some sort of reservation the young guardian HOLDS over the leader. as she walks the forest line, she watches each of his movements along with the one’s of his sister. though she isn’t much for the young brunette ( only because she is not sunni’s human ), sunni still bares a watchful eye over her. she can see the  w a y  their leader looks at her, the way he protects her as a SIBLING. quiet within the trees, the guardian makes sure no one is able to see her until the night falls. that’s only when she comes to visit him, call it a CHECK UP which he might not need but that doesn’t matter. for the young being’s sanity, she needs to make sure the one human she was  a s s i g n e d to is as okay as he will be. sunni doesn’t offer him much for answers, she doesn’t offer him much of anything  o t h e r  than help & company if needed. sunni  APPROACHES  the place she knows he withdraws to in the evening, staying still outside to listen. fingertips  w r a p  against a carved bowl of water, heated with her palms as she awaits. leaning slowly down, fingertips gently grip against a rock before tossing it under the tarp as a signal. it’s out of habit, something she does to announce her presence before   e n t e r i n g   the space. crystal hues lift as she stands there, fingertips still wrapped against the bowl & she speaks. 

             ❛ it’s been some time since i last saw you. i’ve brought you warm water, for tending to wounds purposes. do you have any to bare ? ❜

                  “alright, no more moonshine for you. maybe, ya’ should get some REST while you’re at it.”