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( 24 一 CHAOS. )
After lunch, with nothing better to do, Vida and Clara made their way down to the gym to train for a few hours. Clara had been an anxious mess all day and her nerves were only getting worse as time wore on. Eventually, after getting pinned to the ground five plus times, they went back to the bunks, Clara too distracted for training.
Clara mulled over every possible outcome of the night. Jude could die, Ruby could die, Vida and Clara could die if the League thought they'd gone rogue. Which, technically, they had. She was so consumed by her thoughts she didn't even realise they'd made it to the bunks.
Vida pulled Clara by the hand, directing her over to Vida's bunk. Vida climbed up first before waiting for Clara to follow. As it was a top bunk you had to duck to not hit your head on the ceiling. Clara had a bottom bunk and thus was completely unaware of this little detail.
Clara straightened her back to stretch it out and ended up smacking her head against the ceiling, hard. A pained groan passed her lips as Vida snickered behind her.
"That hurt," Clara grumbled at her. Vida made a valiant effort to put on a straight face but ended up dissolving into laughter again. "Awe, I know it did, you big baby," she teased.
Clara scowled while laying down the space left between Vida and the wall. She stared up at the ceiling in thought, letting her mind wonder as she traced shapes in the uneven plaster with her eyes.
Vida noticed the change in mood and wrapped her arms around Clara's waist, pulling her closer. Clara redirected her eyes to focus on Vida's. Her pools of honey eyes. Clara didn't think she could ever get tired of staring into them, not when they had that look in them, almost like adoration.
She'd never expected Vida to be so, touchy. She'd always been so closed off before, but Clara supposed everyone was now, except maybe Jude. Everyone still needed comfort though, to feel loved, wanted. Vida had probably had a harder go of it than most. Clara knew Cate had been Vida's special worker before the League, giving her the impression that something wasn't quite right at home.
So Clara sat silently and revelled in the feeling of Vida's fingers drawing circles on her exposed hip where her shirt had ridden up. They sat in the quiet, finding comfort in the other.
Eventually Vida's hand made its way back to Clara's forehead, tracing over the scars as she so often did. It was like she had some kind of fascination with them.
"How'd you get it?" Vida asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace. Clara tensed slightly, not expecting the question.
"You don't have to answer," Vida rushed. She looked guilty, a look Clara hadn't seen before. Clara didn't like it, she didn't want Vida to feel guilty.
