archenemy | clexa

eleven

The crowd of Grounders is tight on the place they created for the celebration. Like many of them, Clarke wears a mask, hiding the face someone might have seen before effectively as she pushes through the mass of people.

Breaths laced with alcohol hit Clarke's nostrils, scraps of words and sentences in English and foreign languages Clarke doesn't know fill her ear, together with music and singing. It's warm, loud and tight.

When Clarke sees the buffet up close, she nearly faints from all the good food that's piled upon it. For a moment, she hesitates, but then she figures she's supposed to fit in anyway and so it can't be bad to have some dinner.

She stuffs the food into her mouth rudely, making it painfully obvious that she hasn't eaten in days as she thanks her past-self to choose a mask that doesn't cover her mouth. She chose it more so that she could speak and breathe clearly, maybe get the Grounder's leader to drink something with alcohol with her, but she isn't complaining about the added possibilities.

The food is better than any she's ever had. The meat is tender, the sauce makes Clarke's mouth water, she tries all different soups and steamed vegetables, things she has never truly had the opportunity of tasting, and also sweet, Grounder-culture deserts.

After she is entirely full of all the food that is even dreamier than she expected, the music silences and the Commander steps up on a podium to hold a speech.

Clarke watches her intently and is glad to hear that, in fact, no one found out about the Arker's non-divinity yet. Instead, something else interesting reveals itself.

'Azgeda', a clan apparently, has left camp earlier already and declared war on the rest of the Grounders, including the leader's partner, the bright-haired girl. That means less people and two wars to fight for the Grounders, which again means an opportunity for the Arkers to fight the Grounders. They're pretending to be stronger than they actually are as well, and no matter how motiviational their leader's speech now is, their chances against the Arkers aren't so good anymore.

The Commander finishes her speech by praising their God for this year's harvest and with encouragement to celebrate that harvest thoroughly. The Grounders cheer and bawl, then go on with drinking, eating and dancing even more intensely.

Clarke watches the Commander closely after her speech, watches the people approaching her and tries to overhear them too.

Her body pulses with excitement as she lets the crowd push her closer to their leader because that's exactly what she's made for. Sneaking in and out of places, eavesdropping, spying, stealing, being out in the open where the danger awaited her- far better than being locked up all day in a piece of metal, hurrying from one stressing responsibility to another.

Most of the people congratulate their Heda, and it seems like a normal enough thing to do that Clarke sees her chance in it. After the last Grounders have left the Commander, Clarke approaches, feeling the adrenaline rush through her veins as she does.

"Commander," she says like some of the other Grounders, too unsure of saying Heda yet. The Commander's eyes meet hers shortly, and she seems entirely unsurprised that Clarke is masked. Good that that's a thing among the Grounders. "Your speech was incredible, these times are rough," she says, similar, meaningless things like the rest has done.

"Thank you," the woman answers, nearly devoid of emotion.

"Would you let me invite you for a drink?"

The Commander's chin ticks upwards and Clarke is afraid to have asked something to expose her for a moment, something wrong, something off-culture.

"I don't drink before everyone else has."