Not about angels
18 years later
Clarke was in her room, chasing away some tears on her cheeks. One year. Her father had died exactly one day ago, and today was his first death anniversary.
Her room was in the dark, and this Birdie song that was his father's favorite musis was playing, as she stayed stilent, sitting on the edge of her bed, her wings down and defeated.
We know full well there's just time
So is it wrong to dance this line?
If your heart was full of love
Could you give it up?
She heard a knock on her door.
"Go away."
It was easy to hear the sorrow and the hours of crying in her voice.
"Clarke, baby. Please. You don't have to do this alone."
She could hear the sadness in this world, and pictured her mother crying. She couldn't stand it. Instead, she opened her window and jumped. She opened her wings and floated until she arrived on the ground. Of course she couln't fly, but when it wasn't too high, she could float in the air.
Her mother appeared at her window.
"Clarke!"
The blonde looked at her and then turned around, walking away.
'Cause what about, what about angels?
They will come, they will go, make us special oh oh oh
Don't give me up
Don't give,
Me up
She walked for a long time, she wasn't fully sure how long. She arrived in a square her and her father used to go to. She would climb up on the wooden little house where kids were playing all the time, open her wings, and float, her father grinning proudly. She loved that feeling. The wind in her feathers, her dad's smile, the feeling of being able to do everything. But he was gone. And that time was in the past.
She sat on a bench, and, as she was used to, ignored the weird glances people that had never seen us gave her. She had white wings, after all. She was a winged human. She fitted with no people. She was alone.
She stayed for a bit, staring at nothing, feeling empty of tears and of any feelings at all. After a few hours, she heard a sharp shout that made her turn her head to see what was happening. She could see a couple of people, ten maybe. They were divised in two groups. The first was composed of humans, they were running after some angels.
What do they not just fly?
She didn't know why she cared, but she stood up, he sadeness pushed aside for now, and headed towards them. That's when she noticed that one of the winged ones had a wing down, looking really hurt. Shit.
She hurried up then and- wait. Why do I care?
She shook her head but continued anyway. When she got closer, one of the humans saw her.
"Ha! Look at that guys!"
The human men looked at her then. There were seven of them. Several started laughing, as one came closer, until he invaded her personnal space, his group not chasing the angels anymore.
"Hey pretty girl. Do you know who I am?"
She was pertified. She didn't know why, but she was.
"N-No. I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, I'll just pass my way."
She started walking away, noticing that the angels were gone, but he put his handon her shoulder to stop her. He was smirking.
"I am the leader of Mount Weather, pretty girl. And you, are an abomination I can't let go."
All the blood drained out of her face. Cage Wallace was standing in front of her. She was dead.
How unfair, it's just our love
Found something real that's out of touch
But if you'd searched the whole wide world
Ho oh oh would you dare to let it go?
She felt hot tears threatening to roll on her cheeks. Mount Weather was an illegal organization that killed angels. They were known by everyone, and they did not hide their identities so well, but the police wasn't doing much about it. Who cared about angels, anyway? So, imagine about a half angel. To Cage's eyes, it wasn't allowed to live on the same planet as him.
Fear was paralizing her as he spited on her face and took out her dagger as two of his men imobilized her arms.
Why the fuck did I come to hlelp them? I don't fucking know them! And now I'm going to die.
She finally resolved herself, trying to look strong as she understood there was no escaping from this.
She looked straight in the eyes of her soon-to-be murderer, and then closed them. She waited.
And waited.
But the knife never touched her unscarred skin.
She heard a cry of pain and opened her eyes. Cage was on his knees, holding his belly. She turned aup one of the und and was greeted by the most beautiful sight ever. The three angels were back. Two of them, a dark blonde woman and a man (he was the one with a broken wings) were beating up the men that were waiting behind. And the most important thing was the angel that was kicking the ass of two men who were holding her. She was tall, some strands of her chestnut hair were pulled in tight braids as the rest of it was free in messy curls on her shoulders. She had mezmerising green eyes, a killer jawline, and geant, beautiful black wings. She was magnificient.
'Cause what about, what about angels?
They will come, they will go, make us special oh oh oh
Don't give me up
Don't give,
Me up
Clarke stared, unable to do anything else, as the three winged figures finished with their fights and then gathered. The green eyed woman looked at her then, and electricity filled the air. The blonde drew in a sharp breath.
"You..."
The brunette swallowed and nodded.
"Me."
She came closer, very slowly, eyeing Clarke's wings. The youngr woman stared at her feet then, ashamed of them, as she had been for over a year now. That was her guardian angel. And the poor woman was linked with a half blood. A half bood who had wings.
"I'm Lexa."
The blonde looked at her, tears still in her eyes. The girl had the sweetest and deepest voice she had ever heard.
"Uh...Clarke."
They stared into each other's eyes for a few minutes, not noticing Cage Wallace sneaking away or Lexa's friends still behind her.
"You're not an angel, are you?"
Clarke said 'no' with her head.
"Half angel, half human. I don't fit in either."
She shifted awkwardly on her feet. When she met Lexa's gaze, instead of disgust or pity, she found there admiration, sadness, and a hint of curiosity.
"I've never seen wings like those."
She raised her hand.
"Can I?"
Clarke nodded. She didn't know what she was agreeing to, but that woman who looked like a goddess was her soulmate, and she felt like she could trust her blindly. The angel passed her long fingers on the soft feathers. Her voice was a murmure.
"Beautiful..."
'Cause what about, what about angels?
They will come, they will go, make us special
It's not about not about angels
...angels