( Clarke finds some small piece of relief in having told Lauralae about the Cult. not for the sake of having admitted it -- that part she doesn't care for, she would rather keep that part wrapped up tight, kept between her and Bellamy and few others to try and make sure they don't place others in danger. but there's relief in knowing Lauralae doesn't back away, that she doesn't see Clarke as something to be wary of based on that alone.
forcing herself to keep still where she stands, to not take steps back as Lauralae moves forward. at the request, Clarke glances down at her hands, holding out the one without blood on it, palm up. )
[ For a long moment, all Lauralae does is stare at Clarke, her eyes dark, flicking over her face, taking in her features, dragging along her skin, as if measuring her, shaping her up - but she already knows Clarke. She is literally measuring her, taking in her size, her weight, her strength; Lauralae says nothing, simply draws up her sleeves, ties it near the edge of her elbow, before she pauses.
Then, she bites her own flesh, teeth sinking deep.
Her jaw crashes around scars along her arm, thin things, from nails, a decade ago, sawing through them with the power of her own anger and desire to protect someone who has, somehow, come to care about her. It's a ferocious thing, dangerous and awful, and her eyes snap back to Clarke.
Then, her power flushes around over Clarke. It's not the strongest thing - not as if Lauralae has carved it into her, done anything to push the power into Clarke, but it's enough, a little protection, a little power to keep her safe, and that's all she can do.
When she breathes out, drawing her teeth away, her face and jaw is covered in her own blood, her arm dripping. ]
( her first instinct is to step closer and press her hand to the wound to heal it, the immediate inclination to help, to heal, is one that never changes in her. it takes a real effort to not to it, to push that instinct down, to not pursue it.
there's a moment of complete silence from Clarke before her next exhale comes out in a rush. despite how powerful she knows Lauralae to be, it still manages to impress her every time its actually displayed in any manner. it takes her a moment, taking stock of herself, the beat of her own hearth, the push of air through her lungs, the way her shoulder stings.
she finally reaches up to heal her own wound before taking a tentative step closer to Lauralae; it isn't invasive, doesn't intrude on her space. it's meant as a warning before she actually does continue into that. )
Will you let me heal you?
( and that's it. there's no fear in her for what just happened, no terror or intimidation, no disgust. it's Clarke simply finding her footing again, and moving forward, feeling far less terrified than she had before. )
[ Lauralae's teeth are covered in blood, her lips are coloured with it, trailing down along her jaw, dripping to her dress, her cloak. She will have to bathe, she thinks, she will have to wash her things, but that is not unusual. Blood is second nature to her now, after all, a familiar friend that comes in the middle of the night.
As Clarke's eyes lift back towards her she pauses, her eyes dancing over the other woman before she breathes out. The pain of her arm is nothing compared to the certainty she feels when she looks at her ally, her companion, and the pulse of her heart is a deep and powerful thing, a push inside of her chest that leaves her breathless. It could be blood loss, true, but she doesn't care. Clarke is safe and that is, for now, all that matters.
The step makes her blink, breathing out hard, swallowing, before she bows down, tilting her eyes away from Clarke for a little while longer before she nods. ]
If that is your desire.
[ Clarke is not afraid. Clarke is not put off from her danger, from her nature. Clarke is... Clarke. And it buries inside of her, like a soft purr, making her feel safe and warm in ways she does not want to express. ]
( every movement is slow; not from fear, but the sheer desire to ensure that there's nothing to startle Lauralae. following this, the conversation, Lauralae's actions, and the immediate memory that Lae had killed someone for attacking her- it all breeds the desire to keep her actions measured and careful.
reaching forward, one hand steadies Lauralae's arm while the other hovers over the wound. it's a soft whisper of a spell before the skin seems to knit itself right back together, as though the wound had never existed in the first place, only the remnants of blood left behind to be washed away later. Clarke's sure she remembers a rune that could do it right now, but it isn't worth the risk of writing the incorrect one.
Clarke's shoulders sag after that, exhaustion gripping tightly to her as the adrenaline begins to ebb away, a release that happens far too quickly. reaching up, she rubs a hand across her eyes. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
forcing herself to keep still where she stands, to not take steps back as Lauralae moves forward. at the request, Clarke glances down at her hands, holding out the one without blood on it, palm up. )
no subject
Then, she bites her own flesh, teeth sinking deep.
Her jaw crashes around scars along her arm, thin things, from nails, a decade ago, sawing through them with the power of her own anger and desire to protect someone who has, somehow, come to care about her. It's a ferocious thing, dangerous and awful, and her eyes snap back to Clarke.
Then, her power flushes around over Clarke. It's not the strongest thing - not as if Lauralae has carved it into her, done anything to push the power into Clarke, but it's enough, a little protection, a little power to keep her safe, and that's all she can do.
When she breathes out, drawing her teeth away, her face and jaw is covered in her own blood, her arm dripping. ]
no subject
there's a moment of complete silence from Clarke before her next exhale comes out in a rush. despite how powerful she knows Lauralae to be, it still manages to impress her every time its actually displayed in any manner. it takes her a moment, taking stock of herself, the beat of her own hearth, the push of air through her lungs, the way her shoulder stings.
she finally reaches up to heal her own wound before taking a tentative step closer to Lauralae; it isn't invasive, doesn't intrude on her space. it's meant as a warning before she actually does continue into that. )
Will you let me heal you?
( and that's it. there's no fear in her for what just happened, no terror or intimidation, no disgust. it's Clarke simply finding her footing again, and moving forward, feeling far less terrified than she had before. )
no subject
As Clarke's eyes lift back towards her she pauses, her eyes dancing over the other woman before she breathes out. The pain of her arm is nothing compared to the certainty she feels when she looks at her ally, her companion, and the pulse of her heart is a deep and powerful thing, a push inside of her chest that leaves her breathless. It could be blood loss, true, but she doesn't care. Clarke is safe and that is, for now, all that matters.
The step makes her blink, breathing out hard, swallowing, before she bows down, tilting her eyes away from Clarke for a little while longer before she nods. ]
If that is your desire.
[ Clarke is not afraid. Clarke is not put off from her danger, from her nature. Clarke is... Clarke. And it buries inside of her, like a soft purr, making her feel safe and warm in ways she does not want to express. ]
no subject
reaching forward, one hand steadies Lauralae's arm while the other hovers over the wound. it's a soft whisper of a spell before the skin seems to knit itself right back together, as though the wound had never existed in the first place, only the remnants of blood left behind to be washed away later. Clarke's sure she remembers a rune that could do it right now, but it isn't worth the risk of writing the incorrect one.
Clarke's shoulders sag after that, exhaustion gripping tightly to her as the adrenaline begins to ebb away, a release that happens far too quickly. reaching up, she rubs a hand across her eyes. )
Thank you for protecting me.