say the word and i'll change, i'm throwing a party tonight

[coleader]

Who: Clarke Griffin and **this could be you!!**
Where: The bar.
When: Backdated to the emotions event (any day)!
Rating: PG-13 at most??? I'll update this if someone decides to start murdering or something.
Summary: Clarke "I can be fun!!!" Griffin is actually a lot more fun without emotions.
The Story:

It's not that surprising to see Clarke at the bar; she comes here more often than she ever did before she went home, got traumatized, then came back. What is surprising, though, is that she's not sitting in a dark corner nursing a beer like an embittered old man who can't forget 'Nam. She's doing shots. And she's probably making poor decisions.

Clarke is small and not much of an actual drinker, so she's a bit wobbly on her feet. She's not even that drunk, but still drunker than she's ever been, and coupled with the high of not caring about anything, it's an interesting combination. Usually, her constant concerns and worries and good-girl persona keep her from doing things like this, but she doesn't feel the slightest bit bad about it. She doesn't feel bad about anything.

She bumps into someone shoulder-first for what isn't the first time that night. Instinctively, she reaches out to steady both them and herself. She's a liiiittle handsy there, hope you don't mind. When Clarke opens her mouth to speak, you can bet that her breath smells like alcohol and bad decisions.

"Sorry," she says, not sounding particularly sorry.

On another day, that would've been it; she's friendly, sure, but she isn't particularly outgoing. Today, though, she keeps her hands on her unlucky victim, leaving them with nowhere to run. "Hey, you should join me. I'm fun today."

(One thing hasn't changed. She rolls her eyes as she says it, dry as ever. You can take her emotions, but you'll never take her snark.)

( prose or action totally okay!!! i'll match you c: )

Comments

[araneidal]

'Luckily for you, fun is my specialty.'

There's a brief sharp study of Clarke before the joke, Natasha's not going for direct prying, and isn't a stranger to being a little manhandled by someone curious. She meets a lot of interesting people at this bar, let's say, or people at interesting points in their lives.

'What are we drinking?'

[coleader]

"Anything. I don't care." She looks proud to say the words. I don't care. When's the last time she said that?

There's a look of recognition on her face; she can't quite place her for a moment, not without the backdrop of the woods behind her, but then it dawns on her.

"We've met before," she says, pointing a finger her way. "Haven't we?"

[araneidal]

Natasha curls her fingers around Clarke's wrist, lowering her hand, and guiding her to the bar. 'Yes, we have. When you arrived.'

Anything. That isn't very specific, but Natasha starts out with something light. Champagne doesn't fit the mood, vodka she has little taste for, a light wine might do.

[coleader]

"Right," she says, nodding as she allows herself to be guided along. Under different circumstances, she might have mentioned that it was nice to see her again, how much Natasha had helped calm her that day, but not under these ones.

Aren't you fancy, Clarke thinks as Natasha gets the wine; all they'd had on the ground was Monty's homemade moonshine. It's a bit difficult to find a palate for wine after getting used to drinking that.

"I would've pegged you for a wine woman," she muses. It's the kind of thing she wouldn't usually say out loud. Clarke's always observant, but rarely speaks her thoughts for one reason or another. "It's classy. Elegant."

[araneidal]

There are a few ways this goes. Natasha has a joke about not being pegged at all ready to be fired at the right time. It's the alcohol bringing something out, that has teeth. Clarke is no survivalist, but it shapes the mind and body. There's nothing in her that yawns with hunger, however, or cuts its teeth and prowls. Natasha knows monsters.

'Is it,' she remarks, absently, pouring out two glasses. The same amount. 'What are you used to?'

[coleader]

The absent-minded way Natasha speaks to her would have made her nervous, Clarke notes. It shifts the power. Despite her apparent disinterest in controlling the situation, that's exactly why Natasha is controlling the situation. Clarke cares too much to be able to feign nonchalance.

She did care too much, anyway.

As of now, she doesn't feel the discomfort she would have before, but that doesn't stop the thought that she should. It's habit. Not feeling anything remotely close to unease, her body language still reads as uncomfortable. Her arms are crossed and she's biting her lip, looking closed off. It just seems like the thing to do.

"Moonshine," she says, rolling her eyes. "We didn't have finely aged wine on the ground." A thoughtful pause. "We didn't have much of anything, really."

[araneidal]

She is one of those people who doesn't make for an entertaining drunk. Natasha thought as much — Clarke's better sense and her desire to get utterly sloshed are going to have a fight to the death sooner or later. She passes a glass over to Clarke and holds up hers.

'Cheers, then,' she says. 'It's an acquired taste. Who knew how to make moonshine?'

[coleader]

"Monty," she says fondly. She doesn't feel fond, though; the mix of love and guilt she felt when thinking of the Hundred has faded entirely, both good and bad. Clarke frowns for a moment before continuing.

"One of the kids in my camp. He got arrested for stealing herbs from the gardens." The way she says it makes it clear said 'herbs' weren't necessarily medicinal. "Even then, he's the smartest person I've ever met. And one of the best."

[araneidal]

'In my opinion,' Natasha says, calmly, 'if you can't keep it safe, you shouldn't be surprised if someone takes it.' There's no end of those people in the world, and cities are built on graveyards; people forget what goes beneath. Not Natasha, and she thinks, Clarke is learning that or knows, already.

[coleader]

Clarke raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Maybe," she concedes. "But surprised or not, it's the law. Things like that weren't just frowned upon, they were treated the same as any other crime. They saw theft the same way they saw murder."

Her tone is somewhat bitter; while the feeling is barely there, the memory of feeling it is fresh in her mind. Maybe she'd agreed with the laws before, when they'd served her, but not anymore.

[araneidal]

'That's ripe for revolution,' she replies. Theft on the same level as murder? No system would last long with that. People steal for far more innocent reasons than they kill.

'Where did they put all these people?'

[coleader]

She laughs. Where did they put them, indeed.

"Space. They floated them," she answers, not realizing that the slang would be foreign to Natasha at first. Correcting herself, she adds, "Executed them."

[araneidal]

At this she raises her eyebrows, as high as they can go. It's no wonder they don't live in space anymore, and that without it, they're freer to be who they wish to be.

'So you grew up with this?' she says, quietly. 'The idea that all crime was equal in punishment?'

[coleader]

"Yep," Clarke answers, popping the 'P.' It's something she'd blindly accepted before it affected her; once your father's the one being executed and you'll be next, it's hard to support. "Keeps the population down."

Even then, they didn't have enough resources to support the population; ultimately, it was worthless. Just like the Culling. People dying for nothing. If she weren't so numb, she might feel angry. She certainly had before.

"Didn't want to waste rations on anyone they didn't have to."

[luckynumberthree]

Simon wanders in for a shift after she's already started drinking, but arches an eyebrow at the change in habit today as he comes to lean against the bar and eye the shot glasses assembled in front of her, most of them empty.

"What's the occasion? It some kinda holiday where you come from?"

[coleader]

"Holiday?" she asks, shooting him a capital-L Look. "No." The only holiday that might warrant this sort of celebration is Unity Day, and celebrating that feels a bit off now considering the Ark they celebrate the unity of doesn't exist anymore. Besides, there's no way of telling if Wonderland days are the same as days from before. It is another universe.

Clarke raises the glass to her lips, but stops before taking a drink. "I just feel—" Well, nothing. "It's a good day, for once."

[luckynumberthree]

Well. That's a switch form most people he's seen wander into his bar today.

Still he grins and reaches out to steal one of her shots to hold it up and down it with her.

"Well then. Here's to good days, rare as they might be.

[coleader]

"What about you?" she asks, more curious than empathetic. Of course, she's accustomed to asking about others — she genuinely cares, most of the time — but it's more than that, too. For the first time, she's able to see people without her emotions clouding any of it. She can analyze them objectively. It's somewhat exciting, although it'll certainly be unsettling looking back on it.

"How's your day?"

[luckynumberthree]

He pauses to think that over for a moment before shooting her a rueful grin.

"Complicated. People are feeling pretty moody today. It's been keeping me busy."

And then there's Jo, who has turned hers off completely - not that he can blame her - but it doesn't mean he won't worry anyway.

[coleader]

"Yeah?" she asks, looking a little amused. "Can't say I feel the same. I think it's about time we all just— stop with that. Getting upset, hurting, letting things get to us. It's not worth it."

[luckynumberthree]

"Ahh, so that's your secret," he muses, eyeing her curiously now. "You're one of the ones who figured out how to turn it off, then? I suppose that would be easier, for a little while."

[coleader]

"For a little while?" She raises an eyebrow. "I think it's working pretty well; I've seen others worse-off."

She would've cared about said 'others' if she, you know, had the capability to.