#mcintyrie

                   she wakes with a jolt, followed by a scream that echoes in the room.     her heart thunders in her chest and, faintly, she can hear the frantic beeping of machines.     multiple hands are touching her shoulders, pushing her back down on the cot and disconnecting the wires that are connected to her chest.     someone tells clarke to breathe and she does just that.     in through the nose, out through the mouth.     once, twice, three times.     jackson’s voice drifts into her ears, telling her she’s okay and safe.     clarke blinks a few times to get used to the brightness of the room... wait, why does it look like she’s back in the ark?     blue eyes widen, darting around to take in her surroundings.     it definitely looks like the ark med bay before the crash.     chapped lips part but before she can ask where she is, a movement out of the corner of her eye catches her attention.     her head snaps to the left and suddenly it’s like she’s kicked in the chest and the air leaves her lungs.     because staring back at her is someone she hasn’t seen in years—a century, technically.          “     h-harper?     ”

        “  good  .  ”  the blonde with a single bob of her head  ,  sure as anything  .  “  there’s no need to be  ,  we’re safe here  .  ”  the   sound of battle   surrounds the tower  ,  azgeda trying again to overthrough heda  .   she’s down there in the fray  ,  where clarke can’t see her  .  runners are sent up to her every few minutes  ,  asking for her input  .  she knows she’s of more use here  .  a wave of nausea hits her and she’s forced over to grip her knees  ,  breath escaping her lungs  .    she looks to harper first   and then to the boy bursting through her door  .  “  tell them to move from the south wall  —  quickly  !  ”

        leather covers her form  ,  all her own kills  .  two bear teeth hang from either wrist  .  hair loose and straight to her waist    save for a few braids  .  the war paint is on  .  wanheda doesn’t just look the part today  ,  she is the part  .  there is no sign of clarke griffin  . “  i don’t kill for skaikru anymore  ,  harper  .  ” every muscle in her body is locked  ,  two of the handmaidens standing by the door exchange    a concerned look  .  her eyes are glass  ,  not a single emotion found there  .  “  you will have to figure a way out of this hole you’ve dug for yourselves on your own  .  ”