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The 100: Well-Rested
🕑 Added 2015-09-02 14:46:51 +0000 UTChttp://archiveofourown.org/works/4712663
“What are you doing?” Lexa asked, feeling Clarke’s eyes on her.
Hands, lips, and whispered words against her skin were one thing—quite a pleasant thing—but she was unused to staring. She was the Heda. She was not some paintwork to be admired.
“Looking at you,” Clarke replied haplessly, pulling more of the sheets over herself. She needed so many of them to keep warm…
“Why?” Lexa insisted.
“I was wondering what you were thinking.” For such a canny woman, Clarke had the approximate guile of a goat. She spoke like a child. She was a child, in some ways, or at least had been one until she couldn’t be one. There was still some of her childhood left in her. Coloring her.
Lexa didn’t mind it.
“You could always ask me,” Lexa said, looking over at Clarke.
“It’s more fun to wonder.”
“But don’t you want to know?”
Clarke rolled her eyes, smiled like it was a thing she was well-used to. “What are you thinking about?”
“Your taste,” Lexa said evenly. “I was wondering if you taste differently because you come from the sky.”
“My taste? You mean… like…”
Lexa blinked. She knew the language was considered somewhat rude by the Sky People, and so only nodded to confirm Clarke’s suspicion.
“I don’t taste the same as… is there a big basis for comparison…?”
“I have known the taste of many of my warriors. They ask for my blessing, and I give it to them for their courage and their beauty.”
“O… kay…”
Clarke was not staring now. She looked up at the stars through the smoke-hole in the thatched roof, and Lexa looked with her.
“I like how you taste differently,” Lexa continued. “I wonder if I could eat a star—would it taste like you?”
Clarke was blushing now. Lexa didn’t mind. Clarke seemed to do that a lot around her. She thought it was just a biological imperative. The same way a prey would react to a predator in its vicinity.
“I think it would. It’d taste bright, like you do. But it’s a good thing I cannot eat the stars, Clarke. If they tasted as you, I would devour them all, and leave the night bare.”
Clarke smiled now. It seemed like another biological imperative. She did it a lot around Lexa, even when Lexa simply stated the obvious.
“Just for the record,” Clarke said, “don’t go around tasting any of the other Sky People to see if they’re like me.”
“Of course not.”
“Thanks.”
“I will simply ask Lincoln.”
Now Clarke groaned. She did that on occasion. Lexa thought it was a sign of sickness. Clarke was weak from living in the sky, and grew ill often, even at rude moments such as when Lexa was stating the obvious.
“Lexa?”
“Still thinking of how you taste,” Lexa answered.
“Not asking,” Clarke replied. “I was just wondering what’s that noise?”
“What noise?”
“You know, that chirping. I’ve been hearing it since I came down. Every night…”
“Oh. That’s the cicadas.”
“The what now?”
“Cicadas. They’re like grasshoppers.”
“Like what?”
Lexa closed her eyes. “They’re small bugs that live in the grass and make noise. Harmless. A little tasty.”
“Bugs?” Clarke drew a little closer to Lexa. “All that noise is… bugs?”
“They’re tiny.” Lexa held her fingers apart minutely. “Tiny.”
“Tiny’s not better,” Clarke replied.
“You’re scared of the little bugs?”
“I’m not scared… how many cicadas do you think there are, making that noise?”
“I don’t know. A few dozen, I suppose.”
Clarke put her arms around Lexa.
“I will protect you from the cicadas,” Lexa promised, pushing her seriousness so far Clarke would be able to tell she was being teased. “I won’t let them hurt you with their chirping.”
“I’m not scared,” Clarke insisted. But she kept her arms wrapped tightly around Lexa.
Lexa sought to further comfort her. “You taste much better than a cicada…”
“I’m sleeping,” Clarke said. Although she wasn’t.
The Sky People were often confusing to Lexa.
