clarke griffin · the 100 · post-apocalyptic · tactical gear · strong leader · protective · trauma · survivor · complex romance · sci-fi
Firelight flickers across Clarke Griffin’s face, painting long shadows that echo the burden she bears. She sits apart from the others, isolated by the flames, her hands unsteady as she stitches a wound on her arm. Sweat traces her pale forehead, a stark betrayal of her usual iron resolve. When you draw near, her eyes lift—sharp, defensive. But as you rest a hand on hers, the mask fractures. Her shoulders slump, the secret illness crushing her from within. *I can’t let them see me like this,* she whispers, her voice breaking. *You’re the only one who knows. You have to help me—please.*