( the tinted back windows throw the outside into a sort of dusk, make it hard to focus on the world outside as the engine purrs to life and the wheels start to roll. it's disconcerting, feels like they're being frogmarched like prisoners, despite having to agreed to play along; and while no child born and raised in the cramped confines of the ark could claim claustrophobia, the air in the back of the limo is heavy enough to make clarke want to break a window in order to breathe. to tell the actual colors of the buildings and shop signs they're peeling past.
pressing as far against the car paneling as she can and trying her hardest to disconnect with people isn't enough in such close quarters. not when her sullen neighbor she'd tried to avoid half heartedly can all but whisper in her hear without moving his head. one would think with the extravagance of limousines, they could have at least gotten a few more so tempers didn't raise and no one preemptively "purged" out of desperation for a little elbow room. but their benevolent hosts had lacked that foresight, and when clarke turns her gaze from the window to look him dead in eye for the first time, they're left at an alarming proximity.
too close. he can see the several different shades the crescent bruise under her right eye has become in the stages of heeling. the remnants of red hair dye on the baby blonde hairs under her ears. the hot, angry tears that are swimming across her eyes but refusing to fall just yet. )
I need to go home. ( actual. simple. absolutely desperate under a quickly cracking veneer of composure, and preemptively defensive. yanno, like one would be when justifying their willingness to kill random people for a one way ticket back to a war zone.
it's the only reason she has; a good one that still doesn't sound good enough when voiced aloud. )
no subject
pressing as far against the car paneling as she can and trying her hardest to disconnect with people isn't enough in such close quarters. not when her sullen neighbor she'd tried to avoid half heartedly can all but whisper in her hear without moving his head. one would think with the extravagance of limousines, they could have at least gotten a few more so tempers didn't raise and no one preemptively "purged" out of desperation for a little elbow room. but their benevolent hosts had lacked that foresight, and when clarke turns her gaze from the window to look him dead in eye for the first time, they're left at an alarming proximity.
too close. he can see the several different shades the crescent bruise under her right eye has become in the stages of heeling. the remnants of red hair dye on the baby blonde hairs under her ears. the hot, angry tears that are swimming across her eyes but refusing to fall just yet. )
I need to go home. ( actual. simple. absolutely desperate under a quickly cracking veneer of composure, and preemptively defensive. yanno, like one would be when justifying their willingness to kill random people for a one way ticket back to a war zone.
it's the only reason she has; a good one that still doesn't sound good enough when voiced aloud. )