I want the K [ 4 ] ?
a random kiss ; not accepting
#19: Forceful Kiss Some betrayal is unforgivable, there are shades of grey between that and lesser forms, and Clarke isn’t sure when, what felt like an insurmountable broken trust, started to fade out into a bearable ache. Maybe it was in the miles of forest she walked alone, maybe that pain was abandoned to make room for new bruises and wounds she found along the way. She’s spent some time imagining what seeing Lexa again would bring, what she would say, the satisfaction that would come with d e n y i n g her forgiveness. Yet, as with all dreams, the edges didn’t quite fit with reality, and the blurred maps she’d drawn in her mind, did nothing to help her navigate looking into dark eyes for the first time in what seemed like a new lifetime.
May we meet again. Polis is indescribable, a cultural center that Clarke couldn’t have fathomed, and at it’s center sits their Commander. Tondc was a small village, eclipsed by the scope of the capitol. When she’d wandered the forest alone, the world had seemed to expand out in all directions, becoming infinity to her, large enough to escape in. Seeing the markets, people, and commerce of Polis made had things shrinking back to an interconnected web. An audience was more than granted to her, arms held tight by two scouts Clarke was unceremoniously dragged and dropped in front of the woman she thought she should hate. There’s no fire inside when their eyes meet, if anything it’s cold, it’s impersonal. Yet, the actions of her arrival spoke the volumes that their shared gaze seemed determined to stay silent on. It isn’t until the men with heavy hands are motioned to clear out, that Clarke rises to her feet. Tired. Hungry. She was both those things, but that paled in comparison to the intensity of her curiosity. If time had dulled the sharp edges of her of anger, how had time worn the other woman? Or was the ice inside her chest immune to the passing of time? Clarke’s not sure how their lips meet, or how her hands find themselves tangled into dark hair, but the press of her mouth is almost violent in it’s intent. She doesn’t remember them moving toward each other, the sound of boots against floor, the last thing she remembers before the kiss was the sound of Lexa taking a sharp breath, and then the warmth of her mouth.
