In one moment, Clarke was heading into the forest, the thick brush and trees creating a cool, green canopy above her head. Her heart heavy, burdened by the devastating decision to take the lives of all those within the recesses of Mount Weather. In the next, she was standing on the sidewalk, tall, gaping buildings towering above her, shadowing her in. The forest, it's knowing hostiles, evaporated, gone in favor of things Clarke knew only to exist in the past. This was impossible. Cities, towns, infrastructures of all kinds were destroyed, wiped from the Earth with the nuclear explosion of 90 years before and yet, it blossomed around her. Where once there was nothing besides dense trees and vegetation, there was signs of human civilization, but how?
Part of Clarke believed she was dreaming and with all knowledge she held about past Earth, the realistic nature of this world was not surprising or shocking at all. Back on the Ark, Clarke would indulge as many spare moments as she could in what little past literature, television shows, and movies remained on the Ark. For her imagination to run wild, especially when sleep came over her, was not uncommon for Clarke, but in her dreams, she'd never had a communication device. She'd never been able to reach out and touch something without it fading beneath her finger tips, startled like a frightened animal upon the sound of her alarm ringing in her ears. The lamp post remained, stoic and real under her touch. Impossible. Her eyes shifted to the device clutched in her other hand and the words, other people's post, spreading across the screen. How?
Clarke reached out, sending out a CB transmission and was answered. Most shocking perhaps, was who answered her. Finn. In this world, Finn was alive. No, she had to be dreaming, but they why dream of the others answering too? It was real. Finn was alive despite Clarke knowing well she'd taken Raven's knife and stuck the blade firm in his chest, piercing his heart. She'd watched the light leave his eyes and yet, upon arrival at his apartment, she found him standing before her, clearly alive. Though she'd been here for quite some time now, over a month, she still found it hard to believe that he was alive. Most days, she awoke believing that she'd dreamed the entire thing up, but no, he was always there or traces of him could be found.
Like most days, Finn was out for a good portion of the day. Around early evening, Clarke heard the door open and then close, the quiet click of the lock falling into place. Clarke had spent most of the day trying to learn as much as she could about the place she'd arrived in. When she wasn't searching out answers that others warned would never be found, she was trying, without success to figure out how to tell Finn about what she'd done since his death. To admit to the young man of how many more lives she'd taken and the blood that proverbial blood that would always and forever stain her fingers. He told her he believed that she'd never do anything so horrible if she had another option, another choice, but the reassurance was lost on Clarke.
Pushing herself up from the couch, the blond crossed the room, catching sight of him just as he shifted out of his over shirt. The smell of food, delicious and fresh, perfumed the room and Clarke's stomach growled softly beneath her tank. She'd long abandoned her war paint and leather Grounder gear in favor of much more simplified clothing. Here, at least for the moment, she was not at war and besides, seeing it reminded her of everything she'd done and everything she was yet to reveal to Finn. She studied him in the soft lamp light. His brown hair, always rather on the long side, was getting shaggy again. She remembered when she saw him alive again. Tears shined in her green eyes and she touched his shoulder, something she believed she would never do again. She smelled him, held on to him in a brief embrace before stepping back.
"Do I want to know what you've been doing all day?" she greeted, propping a shoulder against the wall, voice teasing. "Causing trouble I'm sure."