#cw: self harm; attempted suicide; near death experience; animal death

[7wolfmoon]

Helplessly, Lark watches his own twisted limbs move against his will. Despite the monster's killing intent, his friends deliberately avoid hurting him. He wants to scream at them to stop messing around, to take him out already, but the only words that come out of his mouth are Belos' taunts and insults. It feels hopeless – the only thing motivating him to keep fighting the invader is the thought of injuring anyone.

At least Flapjack is safe from Belos' wrath, he thinks miserably, only seconds before a familiar flash of red catches both of their eyes.

No. No, no, no –

Before he can even finish the thought, his clawed hand is wrapped around the Palisman's fragile body. He feels Belos' malice seep into every fiber of his being, and suddenly, every enigmatic comment and vague consolation snaps into place. Suddenly, he knows what's coming.

It takes all of his willpower to stop it. Lark sets his blood alight, turning Belos' own power against him, harnessing the fury as his own. His left hand spears the right wrist, thumb's talon plunging into the tendons and muscles below his accursed sigil. The pressure forces his hand open, and Flapjack escapes unharmed.

"Thank you," he thinks to no one even as he grapples to keep control of his body. Belos wrestles him relentlessly, and Lark knows he's fighting a losing battle. 

He just needs to keep control long enough to grab the vial, to toss it away, to get it out of Belos' reach…

Seeing it sink below the water, he recognizes his own salvation. Belos doesn't even realize that he plays right into Lark's desperate plan, as the boy relents and allows Belos to dive in after the blood.

The moment he submerges, Lark makes an effort to breathe deeply. He can’t be sure that he does, given that both his body and mind are already aching and exhausted, but by Titan, does he try. 

At least this way, he can take Belos out with him. He can feel the weakening Emperor’s hatred melt into nothingness as his rage does the same. If he had any control left over his muscles, he would smile, but everything goes numb at the same pace his vision darkens. The moonlight reflected on the surface seems miles away before it disappears entirely.

“Thank you,” again, is his last thought in the black emptiness. He doesn’t know who he’s thanking, but it feels right.

-

-

-

Lark.

-

-

Lark.

Suddenly, he’s conscious. Awake, but still numb, staring up at a hazy pink sky. Dawn? But that could only mean he failed.

He shoots up, eyes darting around. The cemetery is out of focus, and void of his companions. Void of all beings, he believes, until he picks out silhouettes on the very fringes of the island; at least a dozen, perhaps two. These figures, blurry as they are, he recognizes from dreams. 

His first thought is terror.

Then a bright, golden warmth, the first thing he’s felt since diving, approaches, and all his fear is gone. He knows instantly that no harm will come to him here, and his hands reach out to form a perch for the source of his comfort.

“Flapjack,” he breathes with equal confusion and relief, “you’re alright.”

There is a painful silence. Amongst the overwhelming joy and love, he can feel Flapjack’s sadness; he would even if it wasn’t etched on the little bird’s brow.

I’m sorry.

“What do you mean, you’re sorry?" Lark's voice breaks. "I was supposed to protect you. I never wanted him to hurt another Palisman, and – I could've killed you. ”

Flapjack nuzzles his head against Lark’s trembling fingers, quieting him.

None of this is your fault, witchlet. I chose to find you.

Lark wants to argue that, but can’t. If this is the last bit of time he gets to spend with his soulmate, he can’t waste it with frustration. 

“You shouldn't stay here. You need to go back,” he pleads just above a whisper. His vision blurs once more, tears welling up as Flap hangs his head and closes his eyes.

You should go. I can take you back, and keep you alive for a time.

Realization dawns on Lark after a moment, and he cries out in horror.

“Flap, no! I can’t do that! I can’t do what he did – hurt you, trap you, just so I get to live a life I – I never deserved in the first place!”

The image of his own limbs flickers and dims under Lark’s gaze; what little vitality remains in him is fading. 

Flapjack gazes up at him, steady and calm and sad, as he begins to emit a familiar bright green mist.

Lark cradles the bird to his chest in a panic.

“Please don’t go,” he begs. “Don’t leave me.”

The Palisman presses himself gently to his witch’s still heart.

We will go together, one way or the other. I will never leave you, or force you in the direction you do not wish to go. All I ask is that you trust me. Trust that I will be happy and safe, not caged, here. Trust that there is a better life waiting for you, full of wonder and knowledge and fulfillment, of such joy you’ve yet to know, of family and friends who will love and cherish you. Will you trust me?

For a few seconds, all Lark can do is sob. He feels sap weep through his fingers as Flapjack gives more of his spirit, and reaches with one hand to desperately wipe at his eyes.

“Of course I trust you, Flap. More than anyone. I trust you.”

Thank you. Relief washes over Flapjack, and through to Lark. This is now more than just a shared feeling, but also a glowing golden light. You’ll see me again. I love you, my little Lark. I will always love you.

Lark squeezes his eyes shut in silent tears, unable to watch as the light fades. By the time he opens them again, his hands are cupped around the colorless, lifeless carving of a bird. 

He stares off amongst the graves once more, not knowing how to feel. The numbness is returning, and the world is fading fast.

Remaining on the lawn is only one figure, one he knows more intimately than any of the others, that from which they were all derived. Lark has been terrified of that spirit since he first gazed upon his portrait. But before his vision fails once more, he could swear he sees the man smile at him.

-

-

-

When feeling returns to him, it is all at once. He feels a horrible ache from head to toe, but also the lack of Belos, a small wooden weight, and the presence of a staggering warmth in his chest.

There are half a dozen gazes on him, all concerned and horrified and sad. It’s almost comforting, how awkward it is, and how normal a feeling that awkwardness is for him. It brings a shaky smile to his face.

“Hey, guys... Is everyone else okay?”

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 53: Jᴜs Dʀᴇɪɴ Jᴜs Dᴀᴜɴ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Fifty-Three

I woke with a gasp as water slapped across my face and sat up shivering to find Arlo holding an empty bucket with a cold stare. The entire contents of my tent were soaked and the few items of clothing that I kept on to sleep in were stuck to my skin. My gaze fell on Arlo with a heavy accusation behind my eyes, but she was entirely unfazed by the aggression of my posture.

“You did not wake when I called. Get ready to leave.” She shrugged in a nonchalant manner and allowed the bucket to clatter to the ground as she exited the tent. I cursed under my breath at my rude awakening and busied myself with dressing for the day. When I stepped outside, I found Arlo waiting with the horses and as I approached her, she reached out to hand me something. A set of well worn diggers were placed in my hands and I glanced up at her in surprise. “These will suit your style. Use them well.” Despite having just provided me with a gift, her words still carried the air of an order and I nodded obediently. “Food is running low. You need to learn to live off the land if you are to be one of us. Let’s go.” She directed and I followed her lead to mount the horses.

We rode through the open spaces of the area for a while and I noticed that I was starting to grow familiar with the land. Octavia had explained that living in villages and constantly moving had given her a good sense of direction in the past, but this had made little sense to me until now. Arlo led us to the edge of a forest and instructed me to secure the horses. We started through the trees on foot and I tried to remain light footed as Lincoln had taught me. She spent some time setting traps in the area and I watched closely as she carried out the steps as if they were as mundane to her as breathing. It was fascinating to observe her tracking and although she only shared small nuggets of information as she worked rather than teaching me in detail, I lapped up every shred of knowledge that I could. 

Arlo made catching large predatory animals seem obnoxiously simple and she guided me through the process of stripping the animal for its meat and fur. I was impressed by the grounder way of using everything and silently followed her with the packaged parts of our catch to a trader in a small house in the middle of nowhere. She thrust a scarf into my hands to wrap around me as a hood, warning that I should be careful not to be recognised here and instructed me to wait outside whilst she did her business. I was feeling strained from the long day but still enjoyed the opportunity to expand my skill set as I considered how useful these lessons could be for the survival of Arkadia. Once she had finished, we made our way back to our horses and I noticed that something in her attitude seemed to have relaxed slightly since her cold reception this morning.

“Why do you carry anger?” Her sudden question caught me off guard and I met her eyes with an uncertain expression. She rolled her eyes at my reaction and continued to tread through the mud with a stern feel to her movements. “It is written all over your face; your rage, your loss, your fear. You are dominated by them. A warrior is guided by their feelings, not controlled by them. What do you hold onto?” She asked with a directness that I still hadn’t adjusted to and I cleared my throat awkwardly.

“I don’t mean to carry it. I’ve tried to let it go but I can’t.” I muttered in a poor attempt at an excuse and she fixed me with a scrutinising look over her shoulder that encouraged me to explain. “I was held captive in Mount Weather, with many other of my people. The things that they did to us haunt me. I see them every night in my dreams, over and over again.” I described as I kept my gaze trained on the ground and I felt her posture stiffen at the mention of the mountain. It seemed to be a taboo subject amongst grounders and I had to admit that I didn’t mind, as I was not keen to discuss it either.

“The mountain has fallen. Your people took their vengeance. Why do you still carry it?” She enquired in an analysing manner that reminded me of Lincoln and I sighed thoughtfully. It seemed to be such a straight-forward concept when she presented it in this way, but without the emotions to cloud her judgement, she was unable to understand the continued trauma that the past had on me. 

“It’s not that simple. We are still dealing with the impact of the experience. My loved ones are hurting and the death of the mountain men hasn’t stopped that. I’m angry because even in death they are still hurting us and I can’t do anything to make them stop.” I revealed as I found my voice rising again and she studied me with interest.

“You have won the war but you cannot forget the suffering. You must grow from it, but instead you are resentful of it.” She stated in a calculated summary and I stared back at her in amazement for how easily she was able to navigate to the core of the issue. Her explanation felt like a revelation for me and cleared some of the fog that filled my mind whenever something reminded me of our shared pain. “Focus on the battle before you, not those of your past.” She advised in a mixture of an order and calm reasoning, and as she set off moving again in a determined stomp, her movements expressed that this conversation was over.

Her words repeated in my head for days as we continued to travel towards an unknown location and she frequently paused to put me through my paces with sparring. I could already feel an improvement in my techniques and was pleased that the hard work was having a positive effect. We hadn’t returned to her camp in days and although I wondered where she was leading us, I knew better than to ask questions. I resolved that she would tell me when I needed to know and instead allowed myself the time to reflect on my emotions. I continued to feel the lingering pressure of my anger in the back of my mind, but Arlo’s reflections seemed to have eased it for the time being as I considered how I could grow from the experience as she had instructed.

We rode until early afternoon in silence and I tried to untangle the web of conflicting thoughts that bounced around in my mind. Without a word, Arlo slowed to a stop and pointed for me to tie the horses out of sight in the nearby trees. I ensured that they weren’t easily spotted from the dirt road that we’d halted near and returned to the open space by the road beside her with a confused expression. She pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from her pocket and held it up for me to inspect. I could see a small list of notes with an unfamiliar seal on the bottom that seemed to carry a heavy importance and glanced back at her expectantly.

“There is a pack of ravagers in the area that are attacking villages where the warriors have been called to fight. They’ve decimated three villages of children and elders. The Commander has sentenced them to death. We have our kill orders; this is where they must meet their fate.” She explained, before stowing the paper carefully back in her belt and I realised from the placement that this was the same note that Indra gave her before. Indra’s earlier statement replayed in my mind about assigning her orders from the Commander and comprehension struck me that I was indirectly serving her too now. Arlo studied the dirt road with an intense concentration and I cleared my throat.

“Alright. What’s the plan?” I asked with a patient tone and she thinned her eyes at me over her shoulder. Although we hadn’t been together long, I’d already started to recognise some of her expressions and could see a vast selection of ideas racing past in her eyes. She glanced between me and the road, and when she next faced me, there was a determined smirk set on her lips.

“Live bait.” She drawled in an overly satisfied manner and my stomach lurched in dread. As she briefly detailed the plan, I felt my newfound confidence in our partnership quickly fizzling away into terror. Since our first interaction, she’d shown little to no concern about potentially killing me through her tests and I feared that this could be another instance where the risk was greater than I was prepared for. 

Laid on our fronts in the grass, we waited for darkness to fall on the road that led to the village and Arlo informed me that she had calculated this location to be their next target. Once the light had faded, I positioned myself in clear sight on their route and draped my clothing in a way that made me look ravaged. For once, I was glad of my extensive bruising that covered my body as I attempted to look vulnerable and hoped that I would be able to catch their interest. In my mind, a voice was screaming out reasons that this was a terrible idea, as Arlo hid out of sight with my daggers and I prayed that her plan wouldn’t be the death of me. She warned that our targets seemed to go into hiding after each hunt, which had been the reason for their long standing rampage. As a result, Arlo was adamant that an ambush was the only option to find them, other than allowing the sacrifice of another village to draw them out, which was not up for deliberation.

The crunching of footsteps and deep voices drifted in the air from nearby and I tried to calm my nerves as my body chilled against the cool grass. From the arrogant boasting of their conversation, it was clear that they were indeed those responsible for the raiding and it took all of my self control to remain still as they closed in on me with interested commentary. The moment that their hands grazed my side, I sprung to my feet and in a move that had been well drilled into my mind, used my leg to sweep one of them to the ground. They were immediately riled by actions and dropped into a defensive crouch with my fists held out in front of me to protect myself. The group began to circle me hungrily and my heartbeat grew rapid as I assessed my chances in an unarmed scrap against their weapons. One of them lunged forward with a spear and I grabbed the handle to drag him off balance, before promptly kicking the back of his knee joint. A punch caught me off guard and I almost lost my footing as my face throbbed, but just managed to fall backwards in time to avoid the next hit.

“Now, sky girl!” Arlo’s voice was sharp as she fired a well aimed arrow from the trees and in her next movement, tossed my daggers to my feet. I snatched them up without a moment's hesitation and managed to deflect a heavy attack from one of the raiders. Behind them, I witnessed my tutor tearing through the group as if they weren’t hulking giants against two women and although I fought as hard as I could, my attacks were like child's play beside her experienced brutality. There was hardly a piece of clothing on me afterwards that was not covered in blood and despite wiping thoroughly, I couldn’t remove the splattering from my face. Arlo stared down at the bodies with disdain and I was afraid to interrupt as she seemed to seething at them. “Jus drein jus daun.” She growled as she glared at the pile and turned her attention to me with a determined expression. It struck me that this may be too similar to the circumstances of the death of her village and as I considered this comparison, the raw pain that glistened in her eyes confirmed my theory.

“What are your orders, seda?” I enquired calmly as I waited patiently for her to decide on our next actions and struggled not to spiral on the justification of my actions. The blood that stuck to my skin felt suffocating and instead I focused on the hurt in Arlo’s expression to remain rooted in the present.

“We burn them. Then we tell the villages that they are safe.” She declared firmly as she finally regained her usual controlled face and without question, I gathered supplies for the task.

***

My hands strung from scrubbing as I perched by the river and attempted to remove the blood from my clothing. It seemed that no matter how much I washed them, I could not clean away my sins and despite having thoroughly bathed, I could still sense the viscid substance on my skin. Doubt crept in on whether this journey was a mistake, as I considered that my intention of becoming stronger seemed to be the only goal that was being achieved. Instead of dealing with my emotions, I had murdered another short list of people with the only difference that these were under the orders of another and I couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than my choices in Mount Weather. A female voice cleared their throat so close that they were almost on my shoulder and I startled so hard that I came close to falling into the river myself.

“Guilty people are easily shaken.” Arlo stated in a cold tone as I remained with my back to her and attempted to not appear intimidated by her words. I knew that if I faced her, my eyes would likely reveal my state of mind so I continued to scour the fabrics as a distraction. “The blood of your kill is shameful to you?” She probed in a way that was closer to a statement than a question, but I understood her well enough now to know that she would be expecting an answer.

“I killed those people without even seeing their faces or knowing their names. I didn’t question it, I just did it. Is that something I should be proud of?” I responded calmly as I kept my eyes trained on my task and anticipated a lecture or stern lesson for my doubts. I was surprised when she took a seat by my side and studied me with an obvious curiosity.

“Those men killed innocent people, ended many lives. In the villages they murdered children in their beds, cut elders down as they ran for their lives. You delivered justice in the way that they knew would happen when they chose to commit these crimes. Jus drein jus daun. That is our way.” She detailed with a well practised control in the way that she spoke and I shifted awkwardly as the horror of their crimes crawled under my skin to make me feel nauseous. Her words were an immediate reduction on the weight of my regret and as I involuntarily imagined the scenes of the devastation in the villages, the punishment quickly began to feel inadequate for the atrocities they’d committed.

“Then, how are we any better than the mountain? Killing whoever opposes us for the survival of our own people and ways?” I thought aloud and she furrowed her brows at the mention of their enemies. My stomach lurched at the concept that I might have overstepped my boundaries by comparing them to their longstanding adversary and I returned my attention to the washing to avoid her gaze.

“Our people are given a choice. Follow the rules and live in peace, or break them and you will be punished.” She argued in a firmer tone than before that indicated an annoyance buried underneath her cool demeanour and I sighed as I processed this statement. “What would your people do with men such as these?” She enquired with a genuine interest and my gaze snapped back up to her in shock. Until now, it didn’t often occur to me how little Arlo and the rest of the grounders knew of our people, besides considering us to be soft. They weren’t aware that our ways weren’t all that different, as I reflected on some of the morally questionable decisions made by the council for our survival on the Ark. I considered this situation under the leadership of Arkadia for a while as I realised that I was unsure of the answer in our new society.

“Before we would probably have killed them too. We didn’t have the resources to waste on criminals.” I revealed with an uncomfortable feeling in my chest and she seemed both surprised and satisfied by this information. “But since we arrived here...I guess probably exile them?” I concluded as I recalled the decisions that had been made thus far to distance our people from our previous laws and she tutted under her breath in disapproval.

“So that they can harm others outside of your borders? This is selfish.” She growled bitterly and from her reaction, I got the impression that this was not the first time our selfish actions had affected her, or the grounders as a whole. “Or perhaps they will find allies and return for vengeance, or power? Also foolish and unwise.” She listed with an expression that was thoroughly unimpressed with this imaginary decision and I recalled Murphy’s exile. I reminded myself that this punishment eventually resulted in the death of multiple camp members, and almost Bellamy, in an attempt for him to overtake the camp. As I considered her argument, I found myself agreeing with her point of view, despite my initial reservations. “These men were given the mercy of a quick death. By our laws, they would have been executed in an agonising ceremony, but it would have taken a large force to capture them alive and the Commander does not have this to waste. They deserved their fate. You are simply the hand to deliver it. There should be no guilt in this.” She clarified with a stern expression as I raised my eyes to meet hers and I nodded in understanding, grateful for a new viewpoint to reflect on. 

We shared a meal in silence as I turned her words over in my mind and tried to convince myself to liberate myself of the guilt. My gut instinct still urged me to persist in learning from her and although I could no longer recognise whether my decisions were improving or not, I listened keenly to our next briefing of tasks on her list.

“Someone is causing unrest against the Commander. There are tensions in the city that Indra believes are being exploited. We must find the source.” She instructed as she stared down at the piece of paper with intensity and I was relieved to discover that this assignment didn’t immediately seem to involve killing someone. “We will go to the trade posts. If they intend to gather numbers, they will have to venture there eventually. That is where we will lure them out.” She stated as she stashed the list away and I found myself wondering how the Commander had gained such a level of commitment from Arlo. Perhaps it was simple as providing her with a purpose after the loss of her daughter and home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was deeper than that. She began to noisily clear things in camp and this shook me from my thoughts. I took this as my signal to get ready to leave and rushed to ensure that I had everything needed.

Arlo did a thorough check of my clothing and adjusted my hood before we even entered the trading outposts to ensure that I would not draw any unwanted attention. It was fascinating to survey her once inside the bustling locale of the market. The way that she flowed through the crowds with no effort given to her movements and seemed completely at home in the chaotic environment was mesmerising to me, as I struggled to navigate without bumping every person that I passed. It was obvious now that she had grown up as an active part of the grounder community, not always as an outcast and the closer that I observed her, the more I noticed about her. The way that she held herself provided a subtle indication that she had been in a position of authority; the scope of her observation that revealed her deep distrust of everyone and her attention to detail, and the confidence with which she presented herself as if she already expected the respect of whomever she was speaking to.

Although we remained close enough to monitor events and conversations, she ensured that we were never in the centre of everything to minimise risk. There was a remarkable amount of sights to see and I struggled to focus on any particular goal under the sensory overload of grounder culture that surrounded me. Time flew past in the excitement of the markets and despite having only heard some minor whispers at best, Arlo was determined that we were on the right trail. I began to wonder if she was withholding some kind of clues from me, as she followed some invisible lead like a bloodhound. By the third day of hanging around, we overheard a conversation that gripped us both. There was a swift response to some criticism of the alliance with the sky people, which offered a meeting to any party who might be interested in supporting a more worthy Commander.

I stood as stiff as a board as I listened as keenly as I could, whilst trying to be inconspicuous. The informant grew nervous and listed a location to meet later on, before leaving us alone to continue examining items in the marketplace as if we’d heard nothing. Once confident that we were not being watched, Arlo grabbed my arm to guide me from the stalls. We returned to our horses to fully arm up and as we headed toward the meeting point, I noticed a subtle fury in her eyes that only further fuelled my earlier suspicions about her commitment to the Commander.

“Remember, we take the leader alive.” Arlo emphasised as we crunched through the trees into the woodlands around the trade posts and I nodded in acknowledgement.

We split up to approach our target from opposite sides of the clearing and I was assigned the role of ambusher whilst Arlo distracted the informant by masquerading as an interested ally. I crept low to the ground and concentrated on making my steps as quiet as possible. There was a set of men awaiting Arlo, either side of a smaller framed person who wore a hood and kept their back to me. I analysed that this was the person that we’d heard earlier and knew that this would be our target to capture. I observed as Arlo strolled up to them with a poker face that could only be developed through years of sly tactics and ensured that I was well placed to strike at a moment's notice. As soon as I was sure that she was close enough, I leapt forward to capture the smallest target whilst Arlo efficiently cut down the two guards. The informant struggled against my grip and it was a challenge to contain her, until she was quickly injected with something that I hadn’t seen used before now. She went limp in my hands and dropped quickly to the ground.

“Azgeda, should have known.” Arlo commented as she pushed back the hood to reveal several purposeful burns on the face of our captive in tribal patterns. I felt my gut drop at the mention of this clan again and was conflicted on whether to mention the last attack from them that Octavia and I had survived. Before I could decide, she straightened to standing and fixed me with a stern expression. “I need to take her to Polis for questioning. The Commander will want to investigate this herself. I cannot take you with me whilst tensions with your people are mounting. You are to meet me where Indra signals in four days.” She ordered whilst I struggled to comprehend that I had just been given free time and blinked back at her with a blank expression. “Four days to decide if you can live with your choices and fight on, or do not come back. Do not disappoint me sky girl.” She added coldly as she thinned her eyes and her withering stare snapped me from my shock.

I assisted her in transporting the Azgedan to the horses and as she galloped off with her evidence gracelessly slung across the horse, I directed myself back to our camp. It felt strange to return to my original clothes and as I gradually released my hair from the tight braids, I felt as if I hardly recognised myself any longer. It was as if I had split myself into two people and the transition between the two was uncomfortable as I strained to remember where each belonged. I was relieved that the worst of my bruising seemed to have faded now and though it was significantly better than when Octavia left, I still appeared as if I had a gruelling time away from home. I packed my grounder clothes into a bag in case I needed them in a rush and mounted the horse to navigate back to Arkadia.

Crossing the field in front of our gates, the sensation rushed over me that I had been away for years and I felt butterflies in my stomach at the thought of returning. I prayed that I would not return to chaos, as I needed some time to simply recharge after the intensity of Arlo. Once near the gates, I waited patiently whilst the guard tower radioed for permission to allow me inside and had to laugh at the absurdity of this when I’d barely been gone for ten days. The realisation slowly sunk in that if Bellamy had not already been aware of my arrival before, then he’d probably hear on the radio now and I was unsure what to expect from his greeting. I trotted inside with my usual array of bruises and hoped that he would not make a scene about the state of me. It was a relief to plod through the courtyard with little more than a few polite nods from nearby residents as I passed and I wandered to the stables to settle my horse calmly. Turning to leave, I found Octavia standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“Ah, the wanderer returns at last.” She pouted in a tone that indicated that she was unimpressed with my absence and I rolled my eyes at her in disapproval.

“I said I was going to wait until I looked better to come back. I wasn’t away that long! And I checked in with Bellamy, he said camp was fine.” I replied defensively and she shook her head at me as she slowly broke into a smirk. It was obvious that she was too relieved that I was home to maintain her annoyance and I let out a slow breath as I relaxed.

“Well, you still look like hell. Just so you know.” She stated with a brow raised mockingly and I chuckled at her blunt attitude. I began to stroll lazily out of the stables and she remained close by my side. “Bellamy and the others are out on the rover for a while yet, so it sounds like you have some free time. I remember you making me a promise when I saw you last.” She probed with her eyes glistening with a clear agenda and I groaned in rebellion as I recalled our conversation.

“Tavi, I don’t need to see a doctor, I’m fine.” I argued, already regretting my previous comment about seeing Abby and she halted on the spot to fix me with a scathing glare. I gulped in dread as I anticipated her response and shuffled avoidantly on the spot.

“Oh really?” She enquired in a baiting tone and I nodded back in stubborn determination. She reached out to push my waist and a fierce howl escaped my lips as I stumbled away from her in shock. “Yeah, really looks like it. Come on, let’s get to medical.” She declared with a hint of a victorious confidence in her voice and I sighed in frustration, whilst remaining disobediently on the spot. “You can either walk there willingly, or we can fight and you can end up being carried there in a stretcher. Your choice.” She ordered with complete seriousness to her threat and I reluctantly accepted my fate. In all honesty, I wanted my time here to be as restful as possible and if sitting on a bed whilst Abby fussed around me would get Octavia out of my hair, I was willing to begrudgingly endure it.