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nherits · 3 years

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prophetice.

@nherits

a myth traveled along the coast; a place of peace & forgiveness for all sins, hidden within the water. (a place to shower all the blood she’d accumulated, a place to drown all your sins & rise from the waves having been baptized by them.) 300 dead inside mount weather, a responsibility she’d have to bear on her own — guilt rests inside the stygian crevices of her body, the memory of half-melted faces planting itself in the frontal lobe of her brain. to be the saviour is to make the hard choices no one else can make; she wears the appellation above her head synonymous to a queen wearing her crown. (clarke can only hope the next time she looks in a mirror, she can recognize the reflection staring back at her.)

she’d followed all of lincoln’s instructions — a scribbled list written in case of an emergency & she had to get people to safety; this wasn’t an emergency per say, but rather a final chance at redemption. [her crucification is set in the future, she can feel the nails piercing through her skin already as she’s strung up for everyone to gawk at.] one moment, cerulean hues had been fixated on a transmuting fire & the next, she’d awoken inside a cargo box, the only light peeking through the hand-made oxygen holes. she hadn’t been the only visitor inside here.

before she has a chance to open her mouth, the door slides open & she winces, the brightness overpowering her eyes as she’s pulled out. words quickly fall from her lips: wait, stop, whatever you’re going to do — she halts herself from speaking any further when she’s set in front of her. lincoln had told clarke about her: luna. the leader of floudonkru, the queen of the sea, the one who you seek redemption from. the rig wears the mantle of secrecy, hidden within the depths no one cares to look at. forgotten by most.

it’s exactly what she desires.

“ai laik klark kom skaikru…” her trigedasleng isn’t perfected but understandable; she continues. “ai kom op gaf in klirness.”

she has seen them all before: hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, whispering and begging— save me, save me, save me —as if there had ever been enough of them to save. sky girl, you are not special. she must have burned so bright to leave such a mark, carve something so deep from herself that the scar could not be healed. salt will not heal whatever wound she seeks to be free from.

[ the path of violence is a choice &͟ she reeks of it ]. how many have stood there? calling out to war, thinking their fight was justified? screaming for it, demanding for their war and that their cause was worth killing for. no cause it worth it. i will not let one be. it is a cycle, another war, another battle. another death. it never ends. the water does not wash away your sins. it just helps you learn to live with them. she made peace. she carved it out of the water-side, poured her stained blood into it. i know the darkness. i know the darkness well. it lives inside of her, thick and black as oil. how easy it is to succumb to it. violence will not grow in the ocean, she will not prune away the edges of the weed but pull it from the root. it will never even begin to sprout.

it takes time to bleed the visceral nature from a bone, allow it to drain from the marrow. but it returns to the water as all does. washes itself back to the mainland where they make children into their god. you learn what it means to rest. give yourself over to the sea. [ the rig chatters, an arrival! someone else to join them. children trying to get to the landing dock to catch a glimpse of what or rather who lays in the container, see if they are taken in or turned around ]. she peels back the layers, a bitter exposure to the light.

“ kom skaikru? you say that like it means something. ” not anger but apathy, worn deep into the grooves of the world. you cannot bleed for everyone, after all. the skies had born themself red all those months ago... and for what? for more violence to soak the lands? bring forth a new era of war? what have you done in such a short time to need to seek sanctuary? “ tell me, klark of the sky people: what do you actually seek? are you running from something? are you hiding from the wrath of another? do you know what you are asking for? we are not your saviors; if you seek peace, you must make it. ”

#prophetice #clarke: (:#luna: What The Fuck Do You Want #im not spell checking this literally die instead

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