"C'mon, doc, you gotta let me out of the Palace. I'm going to go insane if I keep sitting around like an invalid all day!" Clarke groused as the head fisa (the 'trigedasleng' word for doctor, based on 'physician' if she were going to guess…or a very accented pronunciation of 'fixer') poked and prodded at her injuries. Glancing to the side, she blushed a little and added hastily. "Not that I'm dissatisfied with your hospitality of course, Heda, Costia, I don't mean that at all!"
It had been three days since she had woken up, and she was anxious to get out of the Palace, for more than one reason. Not least of which was, as she had just told the man examining her, that she was going stir-crazy locked up inside the Palace. As beautiful as it was, as helpful and courteous as the servants were, and as genuinely enjoyable as it was to have every meal with Costia, Lexa, and Ontari was, she was starting to feel trapped. The fact that she was ever-so-inexorably running out of time to reach Mount Weather and find a way to signal The Ark was also a fairly prominent factor, not that she could go around admitting that anytime soon.
"I won't take it all that personally, I suppose, given the circumstances." Lexa drawled, a slightly playful gleam in her eyes, while Costia was grinning outright and chuckling softly. A reaction of amusement that turned into a scoff and a scowl as the green-eyed beauty continued. "After all, I'm used to people trying to avoid the fisas or leave me alone in the Palace. Costia has been doing it for years."
A chorus of laughs, given with a range of emotions, went around the room, and Clarke couldn't help the small smile that crossed her face at the display of comfortable, familiar comradery. It reminded her so much of her friend up on the Ark, of the easy banter and firm friendships that she had left behind, and at that reminder her smile dropped off of her face like a stone, her eyes dropping down towards her lap. Something that the rest of the room noticed, though she was too lost in her own thoughts to see Lexa and Costia exchange long, speaking looks with one another, nor the shared glance they directed towards the doctor.
"Well, Kostia's manifold sins aside," the doctor said slowly, ignoring her half-serious gasp of outrage in response with practiced ease, as he pulled back slightly to a respectful distance and folded his hands behind his back. Gazing down at Clarke seriously, he continued. "You are quite possibly the most impressive patient I have ever had when it comes to the rate at which you heal. You are days ahead of where you ought to be, though I do still have a few concerns. That being said, so long as you are extremely careful and avoid too much excitement, I'm tentatively willing to allow you out into the city."
That perked Clarke right up, and she was more than happy to agree to his every stipulation (none of which were particularly unreasonable. She certainly didn't have any interest in 'intense sparring or other physical activities' or 'copious amount of alcohol'!) if it meant getting outside of the proverbial house. With her agreement, his permission was provided, and though she was saddled with an escort consisting of Niylah and Ontari, she was soon gleefully making her way down the stairs and out into the city to explore.
"The fisa might have said it's safe for you to be out and about, but I'm not going to give you a tour of the entire city." Ontari said as they reached the bottom, passing the guards stationed there with an almost absent wave of acknowledgement as she frowned thoughtfully. "Not all in one go, anyway, it's too big for that to be any kind of option. We'll start with the…hmmm…"
"Training grounds?" Niylah offered, and Ontari hummed thoughtfully for a moment, looking interested, before both turned to regard Clarke, who blinked a little at the sudden attention. The question in their eyes were clear, and she frowned faintly before nodding slowly, then with growing enthusiasm. Seeing what Lexa's soldiers looked like and were capable of seemed like a good idea to her, even if she had no intention of ever letting them come into conflict with her people, and she might be able to pick up a few things while she was there.
"I think it would be a good start, certainly less busy and chaotic than the markets would be. Less chance someone runs into her and aggravates her injuries." Ontari agreed slowly, tentatively, but sounding somewhat enthusiastic about the idea, especially as she kept talking. "As a matter of fact, that's probably the best place to start. None of the training gonas will bother her when they see she is injured, especially not if they found out that she got the injuries fighting Maunon. She can get used to seeing more people and being out of the Palace without being in the chaos of the rest of the city."
Clarke's pride stirred, despite her own enthusiasm for the idea, but she silenced with a firm, if reluctant, self-admission that Ontari and Niylah were probably right to limit her exposure to strangers just yet. And to limit the probability of aggravating her injuries, something that she hadn't considered. The Ark's population wasn't large enough, nor was space tight enough, for such a risk to be present. Not that injuries like this tended to happen there in the first place, of course. Injuries bad enough to require surgery and a long stay in the hospital tended to result in euthanasia (willing or otherwise) rather than anything else, in an effort to preserve resources, though fortunately injuries of such severity were extraordinarily rare.
The decision apparently made, Ontari took the lead, heading directly away from the noisiest portion of the city (Clarke was willing to bet that was the markets. The largest amount of people would be there, and they'd be amongst the loudest as they haggled and argued and such things) towards one of the outermost areas. Which made sense, actually, having the soldiers able to sortie out of the city more easily and more quickly.
As they walked, Clarke was happy to listen to the other two girls as they pointed out various sights and points of interest, explaining bits and pieces of culture or social nuance as an example presented itself. It was gratifying, honestly, how kindly they were explaining everything without being asked and without any sort of arrogance, criticism, or mockery. Both of them, it seemed, had taken to heart her separate comments to them about being from a distant, different clan and were seeking to educate her as helpfully and gently as possible.
Nearly an hour later, just about the point where Clarke's stamina was starting to give out and her injuries were beginning to ache, they arrived at their destination. Or at least Clarke assumed it was a destination, since it seemed to be something of a city within a city, walled off and gated from the surrounding areas.
"This is the private training grounds for the soldiery. There are more public ones, where civilians can watch and observe and even participate, but there are always sections of any area where the military resides set away for their exclusive and private use. There are a few reasons for that, not least of which is safety for everyone involved. Another being a desire to make sure that warriors aren't bringing civilians into the barracks for sex." Ontari explained when she voiced her curiosity at the abrupt change to the open integration that the city had had thus far.
"Why wouldn't civilians be welcome in the barracks for sex? And can't the warriors just have sex with each other?" Clarke inquired, her curiosity pushing aside an embarrassment for the moment, and Ontari laughed as if she had told a particularly good joke, though at least it wasn't a cruel laughter.
"Civilians aren't welcome for sex in the barracks because the barracks are for warriors and the military exclusion zones are for military matters. If a warrior wants to find themselves some company, they're more than welcome to do so elsewhere." She explained, still giggling, and Clarke couldn't help but wonder what was so damn funny. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to her! "As for warriors fucking each other…they could, but they're less likely to do that than find a civilian to spend time with. Less chance of taking a soldier off the line with a pregnancy that way, and even when they do, it tends to be done outside the base. Professionalism, yes?"
Clarke, quite frankly, was starting to find Grounder culture to be full of bizarre pitfalls and self-contradictions, but it was only a century old (more or less) and formed from…fairly brutal environments, so perhaps that wasn't too surprising in the end that it didn't make too much sense. And it wasn't like The Ark didn't have its own quirks and foibles, to say nothing of the pre-war world! She could even see the logic now, especially for military areas in the middle of a city like this, of requiring soldiers to keep their military and civilian activities wholly separate. Professionalism, as Ontari had said.
Gaining entry wasn't all that difficult, despite the fact that both Niylah and (arguably) herself were civilians, for a couple of reasons. First, Niylah seemed well-known here, with many greeting her and asking after Costia (not to mention more than a few innuendo-laden comments in regards to needing plugs for her ears, after reuniting Costia and Lexa), which only reinforced the point that the humble shopkeep wasn't, perhaps, quite so humble. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly under the circumstances, was the fact that Ontari was accompanying them. At the mere sight of her, every warrior present dipped their head, clasping a fist over their heart, in what could only be considered a respectful salute.
The interior was fascinating as well, above and beyond the people that filled it (of whom there were many, all clearly trained fighters with arms and armor, moving to and fro with graceful ease), filled with working smiths, leatherworkers, and more servicing the warriors. If Clarke cared to draw a comparison, it reminded her a great deal of the footage from pre-war movies of ancient Roman military camps, though there was a distinct lack of tents. Obviously, given that they were in the middle of a fairly established city.
The sound of cheers, chants, shouts, grunts, and clashing steel heralded their arrival at the training grounds, and Clarke took a deep breath to steady herself from a sudden onslaught of nerves. She abruptly had the feeling that, respect for her injuries or not, her time here was going to be A Thing.
There was a large crowd gathered, several dozen men and women at least, watching a bout taking place in the large arena that dominated the center of the space, though Clarke could just see that there were other, smaller arenas further in, even if they weren't in use at the moment. It was easy to understand why, as well, because the show that was currently taking place inside the arena before them was (even to her fairly uneducated eyes) far more impressive due to one simple fact: one tall, muscled, brunette woman, who looked to be her mother's age, was single-handedly fighting no less than four other warriors, all probably Clarke's age…and winning.
Quite easily, at least as far as Clarke could tell, as the woman twisted her blade, locking her hilt with that of one of her opponents before elbowing them in the face and sweep their legs out from under them, sending them tumbling. Much to the delight of the crowd, who immediately set about shouting friendly jeers at the fallen warrior.
"Hail, Chosen! What brings you to our fine camp today?" a friendly voice greeted as they drew closer, and the trio of freshly arrived visitors quickly found themselves the center of attention, even the bout coming to a stop, as a man with a frankly impressive beard stepped out of the crowd and approached them.
"Nyko!" Niylah greeted him with a smile and a wave, Ontari's own greeting a rather more restrained nod, before the brighter-haired half of the pair gestured at Clarke. "Klark was injured helping Kostia fight some Maunon, and the fisas finally decided that she could leave the infirmary today, so Ontari and I thought the training grounds would make a good first visit."
"Hmm? Oh, the girl that arrived with you and Kostia a few days ago." the man hummed, eyeing Clarke speculatively for a moment as she shuffled slightly at the attention she was now receiving from the entire crowd. "Well, you have my thanks for that. While I'm not so close to the Commander's Shadow as Niylah, I still consider her a friend. What sort of injuries?"
"Shot, twice." Ontari answered, and there was an impressed murmur from the crowd, Nyko's eyebrows raising.
"Two fiyagon wounds, and already out of bed and walking the city in less than a week? You must be quite strong, Klark." He remarked, shaking his head, before glancing over at the arena and raising his voice. "If your bout is over, come here and get that nose of yours fixed."
His words seemed to get everyone moving again, the crowd returning their attention to their sparring fellows, though the show was a short one. Whether she had been on the verge of finishing them off already or not, Clarke didn't know, but the woman quickly and clinically put her opponents on their backs, to the disappointment of half the audience and the pleasure of the other half. As the crowd began to disperse, the injured making their way to a waiting Nyko (he must have been a fisa of some kind, to use the local terminology) while the victor made her way over to Clarke.
"I didn't know you were back. It's been a long time." Ontari greeted the woman, neither friendly nor unfriendly, and unless Clarke was mistaken there was no small amount of personal respect there as well. Though that at least made sense, this was a fairly militaristic society and if there was one thing that was obvious about this woman, it was that she was a highly competent fighter.
"Ah, well, you know me. I love the world too much to stay cooped up here in Polis all the time. Besides, if I stayed here I might get soft like you city-dwellers, eh?" the woman responded, tone slyly teasing at the end, and Ontari scoffed at her with a particularly rude gesture. Laughing, the woman shook her head before turning her attention to Clarke and offering a hand. "You must be Clarke. It's wonderful to finally meet you. My name is Kassandra."
As Clarke shook her hand, she felt an odd sort of relief at the way the woman pronounced her name, just the same as people back home would have. Quite different from the almost harsh clicks of the other grounders, a little taste of stability and familiarity in a strange and uncertain place. And even her accent was a different from the rest of them, quite different, and she idly wondered why that was.
"It's wonderful to meet you, Kassandra." She responded with a smile, never questioning how it was that someone who had apparently been out of the city for a long time, and often was, happened to be here now…or how such a person might know her name.
##################################################
Raven groaned, rubbing her forehead (smearing the grease that stained it even further) and writhed like a snake to work herself out from underneath the Exodus pod that had been selected to take her and Octavia to Earth. A hand, large, calloused, and as grease-stained as her own, appeared in her vision, and she gratefully clasped it, allowing Sinclair to pull her to her feet.
` "We're going to have a hell of a time disassembling the ventral panels to get into the retro controls and the parachutes." She informed her mentor, grunting faintly as she rolled her shoulders and cracked her back with a series of echoing pops, sighing in relief at the resultant blissful sensations. "It might actually be easier to cut our way into them from the interior, then reseal the holes once we're done. Make me feel safer about reentry as well, for that matter, we don't have to worry about getting it perfect if it's internal."
"As long as we make sure you and Octavia don't get fragged by debris or improperly secured sheeting." Sinclair reminded her, lips quirking slightly at the huff and rolled eyes his protégé directed at him in response. Then he sobered, and his expression grew distinctly thoughtful. "You might be right about that, and I certainly don't disagree that it's probably a better idea to come in from the outside, but we'll need to be careful. Last thing we want to do is cause damage to the mechanisms that we don't have the ability to fix."
Raven hummed in response, barely able to stop herself from running a hand through her hair, grimacing at the idea of getting oil and grease in her hair. He wasn't wrong, certainly, and there was a risk either way. Fortunately, The Ark archives had very extensive records on more things that Raven could really grasp existed… including the complete technical readouts on this model of orbital insertion pod, which had already been put to good use and would continue to do so.
"Will this set us back, do you think?" she finally asked, and felt a great swell of relief when he promptly and firmly shook his head.
"No, in fact it might speed things up. Without having to play things extra slow and safe to maintain the ablative armor's integrity, we might be able to shave a few days off of the work time, maybe even a week. Of course, that's assuming that we don't open the ship up and find out that there's been significant internal damage. There shouldn't have been, these things were made to last, but you and I both know that a guarantee like that isn't necessarily worth the paper it's written on."
"If by 'not necessarily' you mean 'under no circumstances', you would be right." Raven laughed, Sinclair's own rueful chuckle of agreement echoing beneath it, before they sighed together and looked back at their project…and it truly was their project. With only two other mechanics authorized to know about the repairs, added to Raven's burning need to get to Earth and help Clarke, the two of them had spent the last three days working nearly non-stop. "Think we can start with that today?"
"No, not at this point. Better to get some extra rest and start early tomorrow. Once you and I get it started, get the hardest and most delicate parts out of the way, we can let the second shift deal with the more mundane stuff like checking the seals and the charges. Easier to do the whole prep tomorrow than start it tonight and try and pick it back up partway through." He denied instantly, shaking his head firmly enough that Raven didn't try to press the issue, no matter how much she wanted to keep working. Or, perhaps more accurately, no matter how much she wanted to finish the entire project. Seeming to recognize her disappointment for it was, despite her best attempts at concealing it, he gave her a warm and sympathetic smile. "It's going to be fine, Little Bird. We can handle this without a problem, and you and Octavia will help Clarke get us back home."
He smiled, eyes going vacant for a moment as he looked into the metaphysical distance.
"God, what is that going to be like, huh? Being back on Earth? I bet every image in the Archives will fall short of what it really looks like. And can you imagine the kind of salvage we'll find? The sorts of projects we'll have to work on? Helping reclaim our homeworld from the wilds…it's going to be a hell of a way to spend the rest of our lives, Raven." He finished, and Raven was torn between staring, giggling, and agreeing. On the one hand, seeing him act like this was hilarious, especially with how romanticized he was making the act of digging through the rubble of a nuclear holocaust for bits and bobs to jerry-rig into action sound. On the other hand, he was right. It would be a monumental task, a challenging task, in a way that maintaining The Ark wasn't. Oh, keeping The Ark running wasn't easy, but most things that they were dealing with had been purpose-built to require as little maintenance as possible, and the lethally-strict rules for the population had kept damage or wear and tear to a minimum.
Not to mention the fact that none of the environmental situations that Earth would have been dealing with for the last century existed on The Ark.
"Alright, I'll head home then, bring O up to speed on things." She sighed in defeat, surrendering to the inevitable, before looking down at herself with a frown. "After I clean up a bit, anyway. I don't think that she'll want to have much to do with me until I have. Not that I can blame her."
Sinclair waved her off with a chuckle, and she made sure her work station was properly organized before scampering off, a small smile on her face. In spite of everything, she was glad to be done for the day, and she was looking forward to tomorrow as well. She hadn't ever imagined that her life would become anything like this, but then again she hadn't really spent much time thinking about her life before she had met Clarke. She hadn't wanted to think about her life, between a dead-beat mom that let her starve just to get drunk, a childhood friend-cum-boyfriend that had taken her for granted and shown a painful lack of loyalty, and the knowledge that she could be killed any moment for even the smallest mistake hadn't given her all that much to care about.
Now she was a part of something, something important and life-changing. Not just in regards to her immediate duties, like repairing the drop-pod, or even helping return humanity to their homeworld. Those were important, sure, but Clarke was determined to change the culture of The Ark. To make them more than a tightly controlled, strictly regimented society clinging on to life with the edge of its fingers. She, better than nearly everyone, knew that Clarke dreamed of more than simply giving their people back their home: she wanted to give them back their souls. She wanted them to live, not simply survive.
Raven could barely imagine it, and she had no idea what such a life would be like…but in the end, what it was and what it would be didn't really matter to her. No matter how hard it would be, whatever struggles and obstacles they were forced to overcome, she was sure it would be worth it. How could a path you made for yourself, no matter how ardous, not be better than one forced on you? No matter how hard your own choices made things for you, at least they were yours. That was what Clarke had always believed, and Raven had long since come to believe her.
She worked her way through the halls and corridors of the Ark, exchanging greetings and polite nothings with those she passed as a matter of well-trained instinct, even as her conscious mind focused on more important things, like bringing Octavia up to speed and considering what information should be passed to Zoe and Harper for dissemination to the rest of the Skybox kids. Octavia, she knew, wanted them to know everything possible, both to keep pressure on the Council and to make sure that the information couldn't be lost with a few convenient disappearances. Which wasn't a bad bit of logic, but Raven was a big believer in what Clarke called 'need to know', and she wasn't sure that making sure those who needed to know knew was worth risking a leak.
"Raven…hey, Raven!" a voice called out, and she resisted the urge to growl in annoyance as she recognized it's entirely unwelcome owner. A brief consideration of simply ignoring the source crossed her mind, but she was more aware than most just how damn persistent they were, which really made it a less-than-viable option. With a sigh of discontent, she bit the bullet.
"What do you want, Finn?" she asked, turning to face him and starting to fold her arms under her breasts, remembering at the last moment that it would do nothing but push her breasts up and make them more prominent. Something that she really didn't want to do in regards to Finn, especially since he might consider it an invitation or an indication of attraction.
"I've been missing you, wanted to catch up. It's been ages since we spent time together." He told her with a pout that would have once struck her as cute, and Raven had to wonder if he had forgotten why she hadn't spent any time (or even talked) with him…or if he was just assuming that she wasn't mad about it any longer. She wasn't sure which option she found more offensive, in all honesty.
"We haven't spent any time together because you cheated on me, tried to cheat on me with my friends, lied to me about it, then tried to guilt-trip me about the whole fucking thing as if it was my fault." She told him bluntly, already regretting talking to him. "Besides, I'm busy, Finn. I have a job, an important job, to deal with. I don't have time to mess around like you. Though I'm not sure how you have the time either, since you're supposed to be working in the algae farms."
"Eh, not much work to do at the farms, it's just a whole bunch of sitting around staring at a whole lotta nothing." He shrugged away the chastisement without an ounce of shame at the tacit admission he was skiving off watching and maintaining one of the primary oxygen suppliers on The Ark. Giving her what he probably considered a winning smile, he continued. "Anyway, you're more important! I might have screwed up a bit in the past, but I want us to patch things up! We can't just let our friendship fall apart because of a few mistakes, right?"
"A few mistakes…?" Raven arched an eyebrow and scoffed, before shaking her head and relenting, if only slightly. "Maybe we can patch things up and go back to being friends, Finn, but that's all it will ever be. And it's going to have to wait, because I've got way too much to deal with right now to worry about that particular minefield, okay?"
Her verdict delivered, she turned and started moving again, an action that meant she entirely missed the expression that swept across her childhood friend's face at her rejection, at the way she dismissed both he and the friendship he had offered, the friendship that they had once had. An expression that was not one of grief, but heated anger. Anger, and something darker, something festering, before it smoothed out again into the same casual, 'cool' half-smirk he had always worn as he turned and ambled away.
For her part, Raven picked up her pace. She wasn't interested in spending any more time roaming the hallways than she had to, especially not after that less-than-great encounter, and she definitely didn't want to spend any more time this filthy than she absolutely had to. Grease and oil was a pain in the ass to get off at the best of times, and the longer it had to sit on her skin the worse it would be to deal with, even if the Ark had better anti-oil and anti-grease chemicals than what their Earth-bound ancestors would have had access to.
Slipping through the door to the room she shared with Octavia, she took a moment to take in the sight. A 'gift' from the Council to ensure their privacy (and ensure that no one could overhear any conversations that they had about their new mission), it was one of the larger available aboard the station and well-stocked with what could only be considered luxury items. Base bribery on the Council's part, of course, but her awareness of their real motives didn't mean that she enjoyed the results any less.
Pretty much the opposite, actually.
Stripping out of her clothes, she made her way towards the ensuite restroom, humming happily to herself in anticipation of one of the best benefits that came with this room: a private shower. Most of The Ark didn't have access to them, instead having to make do with the large community shower rooms towards the Station's core, and despite being (by sheer necessity) used to seeing others naked and soaked, and having others see her the same, the sheer convenience of not having to walk all the way back to her rooms after showering was magnificent. And, even if she would never admit it out loud, she liked the feeling of prestige, of importance, that it gave her to be able to take a shower in her own room.
Besides, it was nice to be able to jill herself off a little without worrying about getting her bed dirty or being caught by someone. Someone besides Octavia, anyway, and both of them had seen and heard the other get off enough times by this point that it wasn't surprising anymore. In fact, it was actually kind of hot. Hot enough that she had gotten herself off to Octavia a few times. She wasn't blind, she knew the younger girl was gorgeous, and she knew that the likelihood of them ending up in bed together was hell of a lot higher than she would have thought even a few months ago. Neither one of them was going to give up their desire to be with Clarke, after all, and that meant they were probably going to have to learn how to share.
Turning the water on, she waited for it to warm up before stepping into the stall, exhaling softly as the hot water started to wash over her skin, a small smile unconsciously creasing her lips at the sensation. Few things, in her opinion, felt anywhere near as good as a hot shower after a long day of working. Feeling the warm water soothe the aches of labor, the gentle soreness of effort, added a level of satisfaction to her efforts.
She started washing her skin down, wincing at the feeling of the scrubber's stiff bristles as she attacked the stains on her skin, grumbling softly to herself. She was going to be feeling the results for hours, just like she always did, and the odd tingling pain was one of the strangest and most unpleasant sensations she'd ever felt. Fortunately, she knew a good way to perk herself back up once she was done, and that anticipatory knowledge provided all the speed she needed to finish quickly. Rinsing the brush out and setting it back onto it's small shelf, she leaned against the back wall of the stall.
Her right hand drifted down her body, work-roughened fingers gliding over smooth muscle (and the occasional small scar) to thread through the thatch of fine hair at the apex of her thighs, brushing it against her palm, and her head fell back against the wall with a moan of satisfaction as her questing digits reached their goal and ghosted across her labia. Her wet, slightly parted, eager for pleasure labia, and she gasped as her fingers ever-so-briefly dipped into the entrance of her pussy, an action that ground the heel of her palm across her clit. Purring softly in the back of her throat, her free hand cupping a breast, thumb strumming the nipple, she went to work.
Soft, wet schlicking sounds filled the small stall as she started to masturbate, enjoying the feeling as her tight hole was spread by her invading digits, her walls rippling and pulsing around their lengths, her palm continuing to brush and press against her clit with every thrust. A pinch and twist to her nipple had her whimpering in delight, and as the pleasureable haze washed over her mind, she absently noted that, for the very first time, she wasn't picturing Clarke alone…but Clarke and Octavia both, surrounding her. Touching her. Fucking her. Loving her.
A dream that she intended to see come true.