[That's the point when Clarke slides in against her better judgment. There is still a rage boiling in her veins, but she ignores it. She shoots the apemoose twice before latching on to it herself. Pain sears through her body, making her knees buckle and she falls to the ground, spiders crawling over her. She can barely pay it any mind. In reverse, she tries to send the pain back, but she struggles and suffers, bit by bit, as her eyes turn gold and the blue in her chest begins to take on a different hue, right along the edges.
Clarke begins to transform on the spot. Her mind is gone, boiling over, holding on for dear life, right as her skin changes, her fingers turning into long, talon-like claws. She doesn't realize it, but she's screaming throughout this—a wild, ferocious anger, one that she can barely manage.
She might need to be pulled away, because it's starting to look like Clarke is losing herself.
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Clarke begins to transform on the spot. Her mind is gone, boiling over, holding on for dear life, right as her skin changes, her fingers turning into long, talon-like claws. She doesn't realize it, but she's screaming throughout this—a wild, ferocious anger, one that she can barely manage.
She might need to be pulled away, because it's starting to look like Clarke is losing herself.
Right here.
Right now.]