( clarke griffin has been in tauva for an unreasonable amount of hours. luckily she currently exists beyond the control of space and linear time, in addition to well beyond the confines of her usual social filters. )
You like me right? like me Ooooh I spelled it right the first time
[More often than he'd like to admit, Palamedes looks up from his work only to realize that Clarke is gone, and has probably been gone for hours. This time, it's the buzz of his phone that alerts him. Oh, right, hadn't she said I'm going to stretch my legs a few hours ago?
He blinks at the text. Pal isn't complaining at the outpouring of fondness, but it's decidedly uncharacteristic.]
I'm familiar with your blood. Too familiar, maybe. It doesn't sing.
[The trouble with having a weird nerd boyfriend is that he's too literal about your stoned texts.
Okay, maybe Clarke isn't drunk, but she's clearly intoxicated in some way. Pointedly ignoring the question (for the sake of Clarke's health and not because it makes him blush, obviously) he tries again.]
Clarke. What have you consumed in the last few hours that would cause Pratt to remind you to hydrate?
( why won't he just answer the dang question okay? inquiring (inebriated) minds need to know! )
:(
( and while that frown (it's a pout, in real life) stays upside down, she is a little too giddy not to immediately bounce back into the conversation with enthusiasm. )
two (2!) whole weed joints, and a grossperfect amount of garlic bread and cookies
[Oh dear. That's a sadface. Palamedes is perfectly sober and incredibly rational, but even he gets a little panicky when a girl who is definitely a friend sends him a text with a sadface in it.
Right. He'll circle back to that. First, he needs to make sure Clarke hasn't done herself irreparable damage]
( she's not amused, and contemplates typing up: are you seriously holding a very important answer that will henceforth potentially shape my life, love, liberty and pursuit of happiness on board this offense hellscape of a ship, and also maybe radically challenge my end goal of killing us all so long as we take down the being responsible for our imprisonment, and ALSO dictates where i'm sleeping tonight?
but that's long as hell, and honestly so beyond her comprehension at this moment. so what he gets instead is: )
[Look, Palamedes thought they had an understanding. They spend a lot of time kissing each other, and even more time cuddling, but they're never actually supposed to articulate what that means..
He takes a breath and types.]
I am not a tease.
I like you a lot. More than I like tea.
Where are you?
[If he's going to figure out what has her high as a kite, he's just going to have to talk to her in person.]
two pointsto be made dear boy. one, that doesn't sound as much like a compliment to most people as you think it does. and two, remember once upon a time when you'd thought clarke griffin to be the most horrendous compilation of traits belonging to harrowhark nonagesimus and gideon nav? are you ready to see the latter shine through? )
so you're a TEA-se
( and that's it, that's the whole message. in the middle of a party, clarke's suddenly cackling like ivar the boneless and at great risk of sliding out of her chair. )
what she is though, is a liar. and oh no there's another giggle fit coming. )
I like you more than I like coffee, Palamedes more than cookies too i like your face and the way you talk really fast when you get excited about something
[Palamedes blushes up to the very tips of his ears. His mouth goes dry. For a long moment, he just stares at the phone.]
Are you sure about that, Clarke? Cookies are awfully good. Especially if you go to the buffet around midnight. The chocolate ones are always fresh then.
[For a genius, Pal isn't very good at taking compliments.]
I like the way you tuck your hair behind your ears when you're reading. I like how much you like art. I like the way your face scrunches up when you refuse to back down from an argument.
I don't scrunch my face up ( she types, while absolutely scrunching up her face. )
and stooooop. tha'ts so mean, I'm so hungry right now but my legs feel like rocks, that's not fair ( she has to type single handedly, because she's actively eating a piece of garlic bread right now. that silly, stupid little punchdrunk smile dancing around her lips is completely smeared in butter grease. )
ANd I promise you I'm not. i think I'm being very gravyfying gratifying here
I also like listening to you talk in general.. i think you're really smart, and i like when i ask a dumb question and you don't act like it's dumb. you just look at up like you're proud of me for asking anything at all.
Palamedes isn’t even intoxicated, but he’s grinning stupidly at his phone while he types. Never mind that his ears are still pink, and his stomach is doing summersaults, and that he’s probably going to pray for the floor to swallow him up next time he sees Clarke in person (which will likely be very soon).]
All questions are good questions. Even if there were stupid questions, I can’t imagine you asking one.
I can bring you cookies if you tell me where you are?
( the fun thing about being toasted beyond comprehension is the distinct lack of examination of how her own insides are responding to this conversation. clarke's vaguely aware of her blood pitching it's symphonic performance of gregorian chants up high, well into operatic soprano tones when her heart rate picks up. but has absolutely no concept of shame or embarrassment, and won't until tomorrow when she re-reads this whole text thread.
then it's over for her.
now? well, it's also over for her, she can't resist cookies, and types out her most legible and problem-free response yet. )
I'm at Steve Harrington's cannibal party, we're all in Tauva.
( uh-huh, super legible, absolutely problem & typo free text. )
Edited (WAIT i forgot i wanted to use this joke) 2022-11-06 04:23 (UTC)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nov 7th-ish
You like me right?
like me
Ooooh I spelled it right the first time
Re: nov 7th-ish
He blinks at the text. Pal isn't complaining at the outpouring of fondness, but it's decidedly uncharacteristic.]
I do.
[After a pause he adds a smily face]
Is everything all right?
PS.
no subject
everything's great actually, I can hear every single blood cell in my body and They're All singing gregorian chants
and good but like. How muuuuch?
no subject
Blood cells don't sing, Clarke.
[A pause]
How much have you had to drink?
PS
no subject
( wait that's not what he's asking, he's obviously guessing the context of her last question. shame on her for not being clear enough there. )
nooo no No, how much do you like me?
no subject
[The trouble with having a weird nerd boyfriend is that he's too literal about your stoned texts.
Okay, maybe Clarke isn't drunk, but she's clearly intoxicated in some way. Pointedly ignoring the question (for the sake of Clarke's health and not because it makes him blush, obviously) he tries again.]
Clarke. What have you consumed in the last few hours that would cause Pratt to remind you to hydrate?
no subject
:(
( and while that frown (it's a pout, in real life) stays upside down, she is a little too giddy not to immediately bounce back into the conversation with enthusiasm. )
two (2!) whole weed joints, and a grossperfect amount of garlic bread and cookies
no subject
Right. He'll circle back to that. First, he needs to make sure Clarke hasn't done herself irreparable damage]
What sort of weed? Please be specific.
no subject
no subject
Please ask Pratt for the name of the substance you consumed and relay his answer to me.
[There's a pause, and then to sweeten the pot (ha ha!) he adds]
And then I shall answer your question.
1/2
but that's long as hell, and honestly so beyond her comprehension at this moment. so what he gets instead is: )
Tease.
2/2
it is also called MaryJane?
...marie-jean?
no subject
He takes a breath and types.]
I am not a tease.
I like you a lot. More than I like tea.
Where are you?
[If he's going to figure out what has her high as a kite, he's just going to have to talk to her in person.]
no subject
two pointsto be made dear boy. one, that doesn't sound as much like a compliment to most people as you think it does. and two, remember once upon a time when you'd thought clarke griffin to be the most horrendous compilation of traits belonging to harrowhark nonagesimus and gideon nav? are you ready to see the latter shine through? )
so
you're a TEA-se
( and that's it, that's the whole message. in the middle of a party, clarke's suddenly cackling like ivar the boneless and at great risk of sliding out of her chair. )
no subject
[Please imagine an absolutely spectacular eyeroll right here. Also imagine a stupid grin because honestly? That's adorable.]
Tell me where you are, please? Or are you a tease as well?
[Ha ha!]
no subject
( ............................................
what she is though, is a liar. and oh no there's another giggle fit coming. )
I like you more than I like coffee, Palamedes
more than cookies too
i like your face and the way you talk really fast when you get excited about something
no subject
Are you sure about that, Clarke? Cookies are awfully good. Especially if you go to the buffet around midnight. The chocolate ones are always fresh then.
[For a genius, Pal isn't very good at taking compliments.]
I like the way you tuck your hair behind your ears when you're reading. I like how much you like art. I like the way your face scrunches up when you refuse to back down from an argument.
But you're still a tease.
:)
no subject
and stooooop. tha'ts so mean, I'm so hungry right now but my legs feel like rocks, that's not fair ( she has to type single handedly, because she's actively eating a piece of garlic bread right now. that silly, stupid little punchdrunk smile dancing around her lips is completely smeared in butter grease. )
ANd I promise you I'm not. i think I'm being very gravyfying
gratifying here
I also like listening to you talk in general.. i think you're really smart, and i like when i ask a dumb question and you don't act like it's dumb. you just look at up like you're proud of me for asking anything at all.
no subject
[Hah!
Palamedes isn’t even intoxicated, but he’s grinning stupidly at his phone while he types. Never mind that his ears are still pink, and his stomach is doing summersaults, and that he’s probably going to pray for the floor to swallow him up next time he sees Clarke in person (which will likely be very soon).]
All questions are good questions. Even if there were stupid questions, I can’t imagine you asking one.
I can bring you cookies if you tell me where you are?
no subject
then it's over for her.
now? well, it's also over for her, she can't resist cookies, and types out her most legible and problem-free response yet. )
I'm at Steve Harrington's cannibal party, we're all in Tauva.
( uh-huh, super legible, absolutely problem & typo free text. )
no subject