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vertanimeni · 4 years ago

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the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (9/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake/Grounder OC

Word Count: 5,040

TW: Canon typical violence, virus outbreak/illness, Wells fingers and phantom pain, "Medical Procedure" if you could call it that + Some nasty stuff*, PTSD + Traumatic Memories*

*Note, Nasty part starts with "The morning came and went" and ends with "The ramp of the dropship". Includes vomit and blood. **Note, Traumatic memories is the italicized part starting with "A mountain road" to "bows and arrows in hand" if you want to skip that.

I’ll be leaving a summary at the bottom just in case anyone wants to skip.

A/N: Hello friends!! This chapter... is a lot. Sorry it took so long, finals week was pretty rough and I didn’t have time to edit it until recently. I’m yeeting Kova back at y’all. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. As of right now, I will be updating every Friday at 4pm EST. Enjoy, and please read the trigger warnings! It’s a heavy chapter.

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ix. impotent (or not).

When the curtained entrance of the dropship fluttered, a wave of much needed fresh air entered and spread throughout the three levels. Unfortunately, this also meant the delinquents camping near the dropship would get hit with a wave of pained groans and the murky scent of old blood. Under Clarke’s orders, those delinquents had to move their tents away, and no one was allowed to enter the dropship, with very few exceptions.

Wells was one of these few exceptions, and he wished he wasn’t, as much as he hated the thought.

He could barely hear himself think, let alone have some (desperately needed) alone time. With every delinquent he attended to, two more would try to kick the bucket, and some of them had even refused his help. It was needless to say why, given his status within the group, but that didn’t stop the shock and irritation gathering at the pit of his stomach.

And it was barely dawn — much too early for this bullshit. At some point, he snapped when a group of delinquents at Death’s door rejected his help, complaining of the pain and mocking him in the same breath. “Listen,” Wells had grit out, hands clenching into fists, “either you let me take care of you all, or I’ll let Kova and Murphy deal with it.”

The way the group looked like they had bit into a particularly sour lemon gave Wells a satisfaction he hadn’t known was possible.

Oh yes, Kova (and surprisingly Murphy) had offered their services to help Clarke with the sick. Last time Wells saw Kova, they had changed into old, worn out clothes and their long dreads had been pulled back in a low bun, all done as if they had had experience with handling the sick. Most delinquents had only allowed Kova’s help when they were told the only other option would be Murphy.

Needless to say, the group fell quiet after that.

Wells was already stressed out to the max, even with three people working by his side. Wells and Murphy took care of those who had started improving while Kova and Clarke would take care of the sick at at death’s door.

Every once in a while someone would switch over when somebody needed a break, but Clarke wouldn’t allow Murphy and Kova to work together, not after their fifth argument before the sun could even peak over the horizon. He had no idea how Clarke had originally planned on helping the infected all by herself, and frankly, he didn’t think he would be able to handle her answer.

“Wells!”

Speaking of. “Yeah?”

“Could you leave a bowl of water by Eva? Don’t worry about finding a cloth, Kova’s on that.”

“Yup!”

He grabbed an unused bowl and reached into the water bucket, only to find it empty. He picked it up and made his way to the front of the dropship. Wells couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Something told him it wasn’t Kova - they had a habit of bringing in a new bucket once the old bucket was only 1/4th full. ‘I already reminded Murphy to replace it before.’

At the front of the dropship, the water crew were kind enough to leave them a row of filled buckets, replaced every half hour. Thoughts preoccupied, he picked up a heavy bucket with his injured hand, curling non-existent digits around the handle. Pain shot up his nerves and the bucket tumbled out of his grip. He recoiled, waiting for the clatter of metal against metal—

“Careful.”

He didn’t realized he had clenched his eyes tight until he heard the familiar voice. He forced his eyes open, only to see the top of a boot holding up the handle of the bucket. Kova stood before him, balancing on one foot, a bundle of clean(ish) rags in their hands. Slowly, they brought up one of their legs and took the bucket with their free hand.

“You strained your fingers.” They pointed out with a jut of their head.

Still in a state of shock from the sudden pain, he looked down at the bandages, now blotted with blood at the stump, and a meek “Oh” left his lips.

Before he could say anything else, Kova put aside the bucket and the bundle of cloths and took his head in theirs. The pain had dulled down to a throbbing ache, but still, he flinched, urging his body to not move away as much as he desperately wanted to, but he was surprised to find that their fingers were gentle despite calloused, nimble, and most importantly, confident. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.” He commented.

“Not my first time handling amputations.” A far-off look glazed over their eyes, one that Wells had seen a few times already when Kova thought of home (or, at least, that’s what he thought). “It feels like your fingers are still there, right? You try to curl them, but it only hurts?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen patients who lost appendages at the joint during my internship years.” The corners of Kova’s lips upturned, not enough for a smile, not a grimace either. “When they try to curl with a prosthetic, the nerves flare up in the only way they can — through pain.”

Now, that was a lot to unpack. Wells could only manage to say, “Sorry, you—? Patients?”

“Mn.” They dropped his hands. “I used to work in prosthetic handling before all this. Find Clarke and ask her to check if the stitching popped.”

“Sure, after I do this real quick.” Wells reached for the bucket—

The placed their arm across the bucket. “I got it. You deal with that first.”

For the first time in a while, anger sparked in his stomach. “I’m not fragile—”

“I never said you were. Unless you have a death wish, you shouldn’t be helping a bunch of sick people with an open wound.”

Ah. That… That’s fair. Wells glanced between Kova and the bucket. They weren’t planning on relenting any time soon. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll find Clarke real quick, but…” He hesitated, “do you mind if I… I just have a few questions—”

“Find me afterwards.” They nodded. “I can try my best to answer.”

He had never looked for Clarke faster.

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It was only when the sick would cough up less blood, the dropship would grow quieter and quieter, and the crease between Clarke’s eyebrows would start to relax, did Wells get a chance to ask Kova quesions. Although truthfully, when he plopped down next to them around the corner of the Ark during their break, drinking boiled water, all he could think about was how Clarke handled his wounds with such care, the gentleness of her fingers as she unwrapped his bandages, that one stubborn baby hair curling just above her eyebrow, the worry lining around her eyes—

“—Wells.”

He startled out of his thoughts. Blood rushed to his cheeks when he realized Kova had been trying to catch his attention for the better part of the past few minutes. “Ah— Yeah, sorry. I, uh,” He motioned to his hand, hopefully directing attention from his burning cheeks. Kova’s look told him otherwise, but thankfully they obliged and looked away. “I’ve come to terms with it. But. Well. How much do you know about our home in space, the Ark?”

“Octavia explained somewhat at the bridge.”

“To put it simply, the rules there were very strict."

"Death for any crime, even for having a second child.”

Ah. Truthfully, after the initial reveal of the girl under the floor, Wells hadn’t put in a lot of thought about the second child. He was quite young when it happened, and by the time he grew up, he had other things to worry about, like the state of the Ark, his father’s expectations, Clarke, and her family, especially after her father died and she was sent to the Sky Box. To him, the Blakes were just another family torn apart for breaking the rules, just like the Griffins.

But down here, he had to face the consequences of such thinking. Down here, he became eye to eye with the remnants of said broken families. At first, it was difficult to unlearn what his father had taught him, to unlearn that exceptions were not allowed. There was a difference between a 16 year old boy who murdered for fun and an 8 year old girl who stole extra food after her parents had been floated. And now, to explain and try to justify the rules of the Ark, he wondered how he couldn’t see that before.

Regardless, there he was, nursing his boiled water, explaining how his father, the Chancellor, enforced the rules, and how most people wanted revenge by taking vengeance out on him. Not once did Kova give him a pitying or judgmental look (’or, maybe they hid it well,’ his mind unhelpfully supplied.)

“Then, there was this little girl named Charlotte, who watched her parents get floated. She uh…” His hand went up to where the scar on his neck was, laid out for all to see, and his voice wavered. “She tried to kill me. She only nicked me. I tried to stop her, but she swung the knife around and cut my fingers off. I passed out, and she left me there because she thought she killed me.

“I was knocked out for a day and a half from blood loss, shock, and an infection, but they couldn't tell my father I was still alive because they had already lost contact with the Ark. The problem is before all of this happened, Murphy threatened me for the same reason — my father — and Charlotte had used Murphy’s knife. When the camp found the knife, they accused him and tried to punish him in the same way.”

“By trying to kill him?”

He nodded again. “They tried to hang Murphy, but I guess the guilt got to her — she confessed during the hanging. He practically hunted her down and by the end of the day, she killed herself by jumping off a cliff. The group banished Murphy afterwards.”

“And now he’s back.”

“And now he’s back.” He repeated with a heavy sigh. “With a flu.”

The two stared off into the distance, falling quiet. “The son shall not bear the sins of the father,” Kova quoted, turning to him, “but the son should acknowledge his father’s mistakes. This,” they gestured behind them, to the dropship, “is not your fault. You and your father just so happened to be connected to it.”

“Is it not the same?”

“No, They’re different.” But, if he had asked them three years ago, they would have said the opposite. This was no longer a few years ago.

The sound of the camp rising and getting to work filled the silence that fell between them, until Kova said, “The pain you feel in your fingers — it’s called phantom pain.”

The fact that there was a name for his condition shouldn’t have made the pain lessen, shouldn’t have made Wells relax a little easily, but it did. A name. It wasn’t just him. “Oh.” He managed to murmur, cradling his hand with the other, gently pressing it against his chest. “Oh.”

Back into silence. He was grateful Kova let him settle with the new information for a moment, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you a doctor?”

They couldn’t help but snort. “Not a doctor. Just a prosthetist. I help shape and attach prosthetics to the amputated part. If you want, I can try and find some spare finger prosthetics and fit them for you myself—”

“Why?”

Kova paused. “Why what?”

“I… I don’t mean to sound rude, but why? Why would you do that?”

“…hmm.” How could they possibly explain that their once hateful view of the invaders— no, sky people — changed? That he and the others remind him of the children and teens at their village? Instead, they answered with, “Octavia told me that, besides her, you were the first one who stood up for my brother when Bellamy and Clarke tortured him. I will forever be grateful for that. And…”

“…and?”

“…You remind me of someone.” They left it at that, patting his shoulder and standing up. “C’mon, let’s go back and help your friends.”

Wells stared at them, and for a moment Kova worried he would press for more answered, but in the end all he did was nod, a smile on his face.

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The morning came and went. By the time Wells could take a break, four delinquents had died and Murphy and Kova only got into two arguments. Technically, it wasn’t even a break. He sat outside the dropship on the ramp, eating his rations while updating the other delinquents how the sick were doing. So far, everything had calmed down—

“Make way! We got an infected kid here!”

Wells stood too quickly and his knees cracked. He recognized that voice.

Shocked gasps came from the group of delinquents. They parted, allowing Raven and Fox to pass through, carrying a feverish looking child between them. “Wells! Emmie’s sick, we need help!” Raven called out.

Wells wouldn’t have hesitate to carry Emmie himself if it weren’t for his newly bandages hand. With the warnings from both Clarke and Kova in the back of his mind, he didn’t want to risk hurting Emmie or opening his wounds again, so as soon as he heard Raven, he stuck his head through the curtain and called for Kova.

Fox already had skin as pale as river rocks from the nearby stream and was just as anxious as the disturbed tadpoles by its shore, but she blanched further and her hands trembled at the call of the grounder’s name. Said grounder emerged from the curtains, eyebrows creased in worry, but Fox gripped Emmie’s legs ever so slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raven whirl her head sharply to give her the most angriest look Fox had ever seen on her, as if Raven knew exactly what Fox had been thinking. She couldn’t help but flinch as Raven opened her mouth—

“You can trust them.” A voice interrupted from the side. Fox turned to the crowd around them. She saw Finn jut his head towards the grounder. “Kova has been helping Clarke and the others all night and morning. They know what they’re doing.”

Seemingly composed, Kova wordlessly dipped their head in gratitude, but Fox noticed the uncertain tremble in their hands. Finn acknowledged it with his own nod.

Wells placed a comforting hand on her arm (when did he get so close?) and Fox looked down at the young girl she had been taking care of since they landed. Her breaths came short and rapid, her forehead beading with sweat and creased with a pained frown.

Without realizing, Fox nodded. Her arms, shaking with Emmie’s weight, relaxed as she and Raven passed the girl to Kova’s arms. With one arm across her back and the other holding up her legs, Kova hoisted Emmie on their hip and sped back to the dropship, calling out “Wells, let’s go!” over their shoulder.

But with the sudden change in position, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit Emmie quite suddenly. Her body tensed and saliva built up in her mouth and throat—

Years of training couldn’t stop the falter in their step, the disgusted shiver running up their spine, nor the goosebumps scattering across their arms as Emmie promptly vomited streaks of bile and blood over Kova’s shoulder, some of it catching on their clothes.

Well, not really their clothes, thankfully. But still.

Wells ran into the dropship first. The group of delinquents gasped and gagged, even as the two made their way inside.

At first, Kova thought the wet spot on their shoulder was vomit and had pointedly ignored it. Until Emmie started trembling, her forehead against their shoulder, and the wet spot grew bigger with every audible sniff.

“It’s alright, I got you.” They soothingly rubbed her back. “I’m here.”

“Kova, I’m sorry.”

“Here!” Wells suddenly called out.

“Coming! What are you apologizing for?”

“Vomiting on you.” Her voice cracked with another sob.

“No need. That’s not something you need to apologize for, but if it helps, I forgive you.”

Emmie nodded against their shoulder and Kova gently placed her on the makeshift bed. “I’m scared.” Another sniff, another whimper, and her arms wrapped around herself across her middle. “My stomach hurts.”

Their hands clenched into fists, but Kova kept them out of sight. There was nothing worse than seeing someone else in pain and not being able to do anything about it. Before they could speak, Wells stood and said, “It’s alright, we’ll take care of you. I’ll get water.”

Kova watched him leave until they felt a small hand on their knee.

“How come you’re not wearing the mask today?” Emmie’s question came with a shortening of breath and a weak smile that faltered with every wave of pain.

Ah. That’s why they felt lighter together. “I left it at my tent. Why, is it strange to see my face? Am I scary? Should I go get it?” They couldn’t help but tease, wiggling their eyebrows ever so slightly.

With every question, Emmie’s grin grew wider and wider and she shook her head vigorously. But one wrong move and her body tensed, her smile became a grimace, and her hands fisted her shirt across her middle, sweaty and clammy.

Wells came back and sent Kova a look, but they didn’t let even a hint of panic show on their face, and instead calmly asked, “Emmie, could you take a deep breath for me?”

She tried, but her chest hitched after a certain point. She winced and shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

“I see. You’re probably just sore from vomiting. Would you like for me to put your hair up?” They pushed back a curl making its way towards her eye. “So it’s out of your face?”

“Could you put it in a bun?”

“Mn. Wells, could you get a hair tie from Clarke?” Wells nodded, but before he could stand up, Kova caught his sleeve and whispered, “She has a hemothorax. Get Clarke. Bring a needle.”

Not wanting to alert Emmie, he nodded and left as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Kova kept her occupied and dipped a rag into the bowl Wells brought. “I see you’ve learnt my name. I will admit, I will miss being called ‘pretty stranger.’”

Emmie gave them a weak smile. “Fox told me after I bumped into you.”

“Ah. The girl outside? The one holding you?”

“The one with straight hair is Fox, but the one with the ponytail is Raven.”

Raven… Kova felt they had seen her before when it hit them — the meeting at the bridge. She was one of the gunners. “I see.” They dabbed at her forehead with the damp rag. “Are you close with both of them?”

“Yeah! Fox hangs out with the kids around here, mostly to keep us out of trouble, but before we landed I never really talked to her, but I knew she existed.”

If Kova hadn’t known much about the Ark, they would have been confused, but it made sense — of course Emmie would at the very least know of Fox’s existence, since the Ark was a closed and tight population, but that didn’t mean they really knew each other. “Right, right.”

“Same thing with Raven, but I think she’s, uh, an… en… engineer?”

“Raven’s a mechanic.” Came a voice from behind. “Don’t let her hear you call her an engineer, or she’ll get really upset.” Clarke dragged the word out playfully before she dropped to her knees besides Kova. Wells came up behind the two and passed Kova a hair tie before going to check on the other patients. “I heard you’re not feeling good, is that right?”

Emmie nodded, her head lolling loosely. “My chest was hurting, but now my back hurts too.”

“I see. Do you think you can roll on your side for us?”

She nodded once more, and with the help of Clarke and Kova, she rolled onto her left side. She coughed once, twice, then after the third time each cough came out deep and rattled. Kova sent Clarke a questioning look.

“It’s pretty common, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Clarke assured them—

—Blood splattered across the blanket, the floor, and specks landed on Kova’s knees. A scared whimper, more blood, and Emmie’s breathing came in quick and shallow—

“Lay her down on her back!” Clarke ordered.

Kova did so, and when Clarke took out the needle from behind her back, they blocked Emmie’s view of it.

“Kova—”

“I’m here.”

“It hurts!”

“I know, I know,” They gathered her hair into a bun, using the sweat beading at her forehead to keep strays away from her face. “It will get better, I’m here. Give it time.”

Kova only realized that no, it wouldn’t get better with time, when Clarke said, “It’s not working.”

They leaned back and tapped Well’s leg, silently grateful he was still close by, and motioned for him to keep Emmie occupied. As soon as her hazy attention switched from them to Wells, Kova moved next to Clarke. “What’s not working?”

She stuck the needle at a different angle and pulled the plunger back. “Her blood pressure is too low, I don’t think she’s eaten or drank anything today, and the blood isn’t coming out—!”

With a pop!, the plunger came off of the syringe.

What… What kind of luck?

Alerted by the sound, Wells looked back, only to turn back to Emmie with the most neutral face he could possibly manage. Clarke and Kova stared at the plunger, hanging uselessly from the former’s fingertips.

As quietly as possible, Kova gritted out, “Get another one.”

“That was the last one. Bellamy sent out a team to get more from the bunker, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“Those are over 200 years old—” Kova cut themselves off with a deep breath, closing their eyes. When they opened up again, both Clarke and Wells were sweating with anxiety. “Alright. Fine.” They pulled out the syringe and twisted the barrel off, leaving just the needle and its hilt. They turned to Clarke. “Get me two buckets — one empty, one with water — and a cup.”

“What are you—”

They stuck the needle in, just slightly lower than where it had been last time. Emmie flinched, and Kova patted her arm with an apologetic smile. Then they leaned forward—

With a sharp intake of breath, Clarke stumbled onto their feet and ran off. Alerted by the clatter, Wells glanced back only to turn and give his full attention to Emmie with a conversation on food, discreetly scooting closer to block her from the view.

Kova’s ears perked up at the sound of one heavy and one light clank in front of them, and one softer clank closer to their face. They reached for the empty bucket and spat out blood before returning to the hilt of the needle.

They repeated this until halfway through the fourth suck, Kova suddenly flinched. But before Clarke could react, they pulled the bucket underneath and spat out the last of the blood in their mouth while blood flowed freely from the needle. Emmie’s breathing, albeit shaky, deepened, and her eyes fluttered closed. Clarke checked her vitals with two fingers on her wrist and nodded. “She’s alright.”

A cup filled with water entered their vision. Kova took it with a thanks and swished it in their mouth before spitting it into the bucket of blood. Wells wordlessly took the cup, filled it with water, and passed it back. The two repeated this for a while until the tang of stale metal lessened. After Kova spat out their last swish, they said, “The blood.”

“What?”

“It tastes old.” Kova paused and looked between the two. “We will have to check on the others for early signs of hemothoraces, too.”

“Ah. Right,” Clarke nodded weakly, “of course. Here.” She offered a napkin, but Kova shook their head and gently pushed her hand back.

“Save it for her and the others.” They wiped their mouth with the end of their sleeve, smearing blood across their cheek. “I will…” They looked down at their dirtied clothes. “Go to my tent. And wash up.” They paused. “Will you two—”

“Please go. Take your time.”

“We’ll watch her.”

“…mn. Thanks.”

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The ramp of the dropship creaked as Kova made their way down, but instead of heading to their tent, they turned and walked around the corner of the dropship. As soon as they were out of sight from the rest of the camp, they braced themselves against the wall with a forearm and dry heaved. They gasped for breath—

A mountain road. Hundreds of dead bodies at its feet. The ends of a long jacket fluttered against their calves, cut apart with a rough knife, leaving threads to hang loosely. Fabric covered the lower half of their face. The pungent tang of blood coating their tongue. Throat so sore they just want to stick their fingers down inside and scratch—

They stumbled up the steep road alongside their fellow warriors (ones they had sent on a death mission—) Dehydrated, exhausted, bleeding out. It was a wonder how they got so far up before they finally collapsed. They can't move. Any fight they might have had disperses when their body finally— finally —slumped against the cold ground. They close their eyes. They rest. And they wait.

“Duck!”

Their eyes snap open at the sounds of bodies dropping around them. Kova found themselves face to face with one of their warriors, a young one at that, staring at them with wide eyes, body seizing as if trying to reject, trying to fight the two arrows stuck in their neck, and far too suddenly to be natural, the warrior stilled, but not before coughing out a last burst of blood, specking across Kova’s face. They flinched.

A thunder of footsteps tremble the mountain against their ear. Kova looked down, still at dirt level, only to see Azgeda’s army sprinting up the road, bows and arrows in hand—

“—Kova? You okay? Did something happen?”

Someone’s hand lightly grasped their shoulder, and even though being touched was the last thing they wanted, the warmth seeping through their shoulder grounded them, pulled them back from where they were spiraling towards. Instead of leaning against the wall, they found themselves sitting against it. They let out a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Yeah. I’m alright.” They turned to the voice—

Ah. The girl from before. Raven. Kova couldn’t control their shocked look, and Raven’s eyebrows creased in concern. “I saw you run back here. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” The last thing they wanted to talk about was on their mind—

“You don’t look it.”

They looked down at their trembling, clammy hands. She had a point. They let out a resigned sigh. “Children.”

“What?”

“You have children here.”

“…yeah. We have more on the Ark.”

“The people down here are prisoners. They committed crimes. How do children commit crimes?” Raven fell silent. Kova continued. “Not just that, but Trikru knows.”

“Your clan? What do they know?”

“That you have children here.” They looked around the dense forest around. Now that they thought about it, they hadn’t seen any scout activities, nor did they hear about any grounders running around from the sky people. Did they leave already? “Trikru knew. But they still sent Murphy here with this disease. That breaks the Coalition Conventions.”

Raven was still silent, as if she were waiting for Kova to get all their thoughts out.

“Disgusting.” They spat to the side, far away on the poor grass. “I never would have expected them to go this far. They claim they want vengeance for the lives lost by the invaders, but how can they take vengeance knowing there are innocent children? Non-combatants? None of you all know what you’re doing, you had no idea there were people living here.” They took a deep breath. “Your people aren’t right, but neither are mine.” They couldn’t help but let out a loud, bitter laugh. Raven eyed them, as if watching someone break their sanity. “And somehow, you all had the luck to land here during a time of political unrest and the instability of the Coalition.

They hadn’t meant to spiral into a rant, but they were tired. They just didn’t realize how much until they planned the bridge scenario with Lincoln that one fateful day, and now? Now, here they are.

They snapped their head up, Raven watching them with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, you’re good. I just—” Raven let out a light laugh, shoulders slumping with relief, as if Kova’s rant took off a heavy burden. “I wasn’t expecting that. Nice to know there’s someone on our side.” She lightly bumped her shoulder against theirs.

“Like I said, you all aren’t in the right, either. But,” They sent her a small reassuring smile, dipping their head slightly, and said, “neither is Trikru. And I’m not the only one thinking that.”

“Mmh, I sure hope so. Is…” Raven paused, glancing to the dropship. “Is Emmie okay?”

“Yeah. She had an issue with her lungs. But she was getting better, last time I saw her.”

“Good, good. Well, you definitely have my full support now.” She sent them a grin.

“Mn.” The corners of their mouth upticked. “You thought I was trying to sneak back to Trikru, didn’t you.”

Her eyes widened and she sputtered, her cheeks darkening slightly. “No! I mean. Well— Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I think that was the first time I’ve ever seen proper security around here. Don’t apologize. Trust your gut.” They would have done the same if the situation were reversed, after all. “I’m glad you did. Want to come check on Emmie with me?”

“God, yes please. Fox has been going crazy in her tent.”

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A summary of TW notes for those who didn't want to read:

1) Illness - Same illness as before, the virus Murphy spread. More people are sick.

2) Wells' fingers - He tried to pick up a bucket with the wrong hand and ended up with phantom pain, something he didn't know was a real thing until Kova talked to him about it.

3) Medical Procedure + Nasty Stuff - Emmie gets sick with the virus and vomits. She also has a hemothorax, so Kova uses an unconventional way to drain the blood build up in her chest. I'm not a medical expert and wouldn't recommend doing it that way, but I've seen this done in my home village in Ecuador where there aren't many good/non-corrupted doctors. And it’s gross lol.

4) PTSD + Traumatic Memories - After #3, Kova recalls a traumatic memory from Mount Caocin that implies that they a) had to deal with this virus multiple times before, b) had done the unconventional way to drain the blood before, and c) had vaguely suicidal thoughts during their Mount Caocin era.

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