Clarke longs to create images of Lexa, to depict her in sketches, paintings, and carvings - the way she'd created images of the earth she had imagined whilst on the Ark. So she does. Again and again, and Lexa marvels at her talent, not understanding the way Clarke looks at every finished product with a slight frown and downturned lips.
Lexa holds Clarke's latest creation in gentle hands and she blushes at seeing herself the way Clarke sees her. Only her face fills the canvas, larger than life and full of rich colours and details. Lexa had no doubt of the source of Clarke's inspiration; Lexa, on her knees before the Sky Princess, war paint smudged and heavy-lidded eyes sparkling in the candlelight, filled with promises and adoration.
Lexa remembered the way Clarke had reached out and touched her face with reverence despite the heat of the moment. Soft fingers had traced her cheekbones her jaw, her lips - blue eyes fixed on her green as she bit down gently on the pad of Clarke's thumb. Lexa knew now that Clarke had been memorising every detail of her expression to recreate the moment with the small collection of art supplies she'd found in a bunker recently.
Lexa doesn't mean to sound so breathless when she speaks. "Clarke, this is - I -". She swallows and tries again, focusing on the skill rather than the subject matter. "If this is what you're able to do with a few colours and brushes..."
Clarke smiles at Lexa's awe and blushes lightly as she walks over and kisses the commander on the cheek in acknowledgement. But her frown returns as she looks down at the painting in Lexa's hands. "It's okay, I guess".
"Okay? Clarke, it's amazing. Do you want more colours? We can find more. We have some craftsmen among our people in Polis, they may be able to make some for you".
Clarke laughs lightly and shakes her head. "It's not that, Lexa. Although I wouldn't mind having more colours".
"So what is it then, Clarke? You never look happy with your work".
Clarke takes the painting from Lexa's hands and puts it aside. She steps up close to Lexa, putting her hands against strong shoulders as the slightly taller woman's hands come to rest at her waist.
"I could have all the colours in the world," she begins in a raspy whisper. She leans in closer and closer as she speaks until her lips are gently touching Lexa's cheek, her chin, her nose, punctuating each word. "Watercolours, oil paints, pastels, pencils, pens. I could have all the canvases, all the sketchbooks, every kind of paper and every kind of paintbrush. But I still wouldn't be satisfied".
Lexa's face is tingling from the brush of soft lips and she takes in Clarke's easy smile and hazy eyes. She tilts her head in question.
Clarke chuckles. She leans in and her lips tickle the shell of Lexa's ear. "My art of you will never be as breathtaking as the real thing".