#tragicas

               ❝ I met Dawn a handful of times. She was always a really cool person. ❞

*     it  isn’t  the  first  time  she’s  arrived  too  late ,     when  blood  has  already  been  spilled  and  stained  the  ground  beneath  it  far  past  any  hope  of  reversal .     shaky  hands  lower  her  weapon ,    sheathing    the  pistol  within  the  holster  on  her  belt .     the  earth  crunches  beneath  her  feet ,   dispelling  any  semblance  of    stealth    that  remained ,  and  her  hands  immediately  fly  up  in  surrender .    she  needs  to  assess  the  situation  before  she  can  act .      “    i  ain’t   gonna  hurt’cha  ‘r   nothin’ ,    i   ...     what  happened  ..   to -    ”     eyes  dart  momentarily  towards  the  lifeless  body .    “    them ?    ”

          she'd been as careful as she could be, given the circumstances. she's no earth born, and she's definitely not taken to it like octavia has, but clarke thinks that she's gotten better at blending into her surroundings. at keeping her foot steps quiet and leaving a bare minimum trail behind her. it's an adjustment, being on her own, but it's one that she slips into easily. it's a relief, almost, being on her own. having no one depending on her, looking to her for answers. a weight that had settled on her shoulders finally lifts, melts off, leaving only the guilt in the pit of her stomach  (  a compromise she figures is best, feeling as if she deserves to feel regret over the events of mount weather  ).

          it's been nearly a month when she notices that she's being followed. whoever it is has no regards for stealth, obviously doesn't care if they get caught, and that's.. worrisome. clarke had figured that whenever someone came for her they'd be quiet about it, that she'd have no chance of fighting off an attack. but this tracker, whoever it is, is too clumsy  (an old earth idiom comes to mind; like a bull in a china shop  )  and that gives her enough time to plan. enough time to quicken her pace, to disappear from sight for a few minutes, long enough to perch herself in one of the lower and easy to climb trees. it's where she waits, watching carefully, for whoever was following her. when they're beneath her, clarke jumps, knife held tightly in hand as she lands on the tracker.

          there aren’t as many stars here. it was the first thing she’d noticed when they’d arrived. all those constellations she and karl had spent years naming were missing or broken. how apropos. she’s sitting on the front steps of the house now , her house. shared with a mother she’d never known. blue eyes strain as she stares up at the night’s sky , desperate to trace familiar patterns again , like it’ll help to heal the gash in her heart. 

          “ come on... ”