Carved by the Gods

The Argument

Clarke seemed to sleep a lot more lately, probably to keep her mind from traveling to the dark places we've been. The dark things we've both had to experience. Sometimes I snuck glances of her while she rested, she seemed almost innocent if it weren't for the snakes on her head, her skin was dirtied from travel, we should have stopped to wash up before dressing in our new clothes from Raven. We dressed in a rush after the incident in Rockburn, trying to get the sticky saltiness of the sea, and the days and weeks of travel and death off of us as quickly as possible.
Dirt smudged her skin, it was porcelain at the beginning of this journey, but now it was pink and brown from sun kissing her face. If she had real hair, I'm sure it would've been lightened by now. Studying the numerous snakes, they were lots of yellow ones, and some various browns ones with stripes, one in particular was black and shone with green and purple. It looked venomous and more dangerous than the rest. Like that one snake held the entirety of her curse. Maybe if she cut it off instead of what the Grey Ones told her...maybe she'd be free. Our horse kept trotting along the beaten path before us at a steady pace, his lovely brown coat had a bright glare from the sun that still beat down on us. We were just entering the forest when Clarke finally stirred again, yawning loudly as the cart hit a rock in the road, breaking the front and back right wheels. Everything in it, including Clarke, were tossed into the air and fell back with a loud thud. Our horse whinnied and kicked, obviously startled. Clarke rubbed her head, the snakes hissing angrily at her for putting them in harm's way.

"You ok?" I asked her softly. She gave me a grunt in return. Turning my back to her I inspected our wheels, determining that there was no way we could even remotely salvage them. They snapped in half, and splintered throughout the remains. I kicked it and cursed loudly, our only mode of transportation was trashed, no way could the horse carry all of the supplies we needed and the two of us, he was scared just at the sight of Clarke, even when she was covered head to toe. As if she were completely venomous.

"What's going on?" She mumbled sleepily. I ran my hands through my hair and stomped towards the front of the cart again.

"Wheel's are broken, we have to walk the rest of the way." I snapped.

"Oh...well then let's pack our things up. Will we bring Helios?" She asked. Helios?
"The horse. I figured we couldn't keep calling him horse." She said simply.

"Of course we can bring him. I wasn't about to leave him behind." I said. I heard some shuffling, grabbing the long forgotten shield Lexa gave me, I used it to look at her without her coverings, still the same monster. But she wasn't. Something was different now, she wasn't just some monster of legend, or some creature to be feared. Clarke was different...she was a person but so much more. When she talked about medicine, I could hear both her excitement and resentment, when she talked about art, painting, and drawing, her passion radiated, or her mother and father, the loneliness haunted the both of us. It was like we were connected through our trials and pains. But there was something off about her right now. I could tell by the way her back was stiffened, her mood was soured as if she had eaten rotting berries.

"Stop spying on me." She snapped, I looked into her golden eyes which now glared at me.

"I wasn't spying. I was making sure you were packing up your things." I argued. She rolled her eyes and threw two bags over her shoulders, and dropped her veil to cover her eyes. I dropped my shield loudly and stomped to the back of the cart where there were still so many items to be packed. So much was going to waste and that made me angrier than it should have. Growing up I didn't have enough to eat all of the time until father worked for a week straight, and mother sewed five garments every day for two months. Being poor made us realize our wealth once we finally were comfortable enough to enjoy our products for ourselves. Panhandling on the streets, begging to work even at eight years old, by nine before Octavia was born, we had managed to save enough, when the king asked us to work for him finally, it was as if our prayers were answered. The struggles would have gone away had we just...gone. Like I wanted to. But father insisted. He said we had enough, and I believed him for a short time. Then Luna betrayed me. Betrayed us. My family. They died and I survived because of who I was, what I am. The son of some perverted God who cheated on his wife, lay with thousands of women including my mother. My mother who loved me but always hid the truth from me out of fear of what could happen. The Grey made it clear that being a half-blood....a demigod...was nothing to be proud of. No matter how many did good in this world, they'd be feared for their power. Hunted and killed for it. Or praised to the point that people worshipped them, mindlessly and hopelessly as if they could have all of their problems resolved by this one person. They become violent and abuse their power. And that's what I am. A creation of God and mortal...someone who didn't belong anywhere. Clarke didn't either. I began to throw things into whatever bag I could find, more food than necessary, another pair of sandals, and a spare set of clothes and cloth. I glanced at the weapons and decided to wear whatever I could, holstering a few knives to my belt, leg, I sheathed the sword Lexa had given me and draped it over my back. Throwing three bags over my shoulder, I lifted the shield and moved towards Helios, calming him down as I unhooked him from the damaged cart. Clarke shifted on her feet as if she were in pain which annoyed me because she hardly walked since Rockburn. Claimed she needed to rest her ankle which should be healed by now with how much wrapping she put on it.