#fkcaiden

IRENE: Listen, when I say Imogen can't do any better than you it's not a compliment towards either of you. I literally mean you are the only person corrupt enough who deserves to be in a relationship with the spawn of satan. Don't let her hurt Bellamy. I worry.

@fkc-aiden “let’s go, travel donkey, move your feet.”    he walks steadily behind his peer, no longer responsible for his hefty hiking bag as he’s already passed it on for oliver to be in charge of.  it wasn’t exactly hard for justin to pick which one he’d convince to carry his belongings; it was likely the opposite of what the administration had in mind when they put the students together but justin had to assert some authority. it wasn’t that he couldn’t carry his own bag, that didn’t bother him too much, but he needed a message to come across. despite having both his own bag and justin’s to walk with, the youngest prinz lacked any sympathy for how tough following the trail must have been. and the sympathy definitely wasn’t around when chamber tripped, the luggage falling to the ground with. a tight grip on his collar, legs bent so he was close enough that none of his words could be heard by the supervisors not too far in front of them. “does this mean you want to crawl the rest of the way? because we can make that happen.” then, a disgruntled shove at the other’s shoulder as he stands back up.  “up, donkey, come on.” 

whoever said that violence isn’t the answer had never felt the wrath that was currently swallowing irene whole. the first few days she spent succumbed in her own sadness but her feelings began shifting.  it merely took one or two people to lead her in the right direction, standing up against a wall outside of his classroom all she had to do was wait for the bell ring.     and, when it finally did, it was music to her ears.   as a group of students herded out of the classroom she kept her eyes open for one in particular.   “hey!” it echoed more vicious than she had originally intended when she saw him, her hand balling into a fist as her free hand stretches to grab the guy’s arm. she practiced what she was going to say a million times but when they were face-to-face she couldn’t get the words out. instead, a balled fist slams itself into the guy’s right cheek.  “you’re a fucking asshole, aiden!” @fkc-aiden

@fkc-aiden this wasn’t necessarily what she had in mind when she enthusiastically claimed aiden as her archery partner. she had hoped for more william tell archery, having already picked the one-liners she’d spit out when the weapon was aimed at his face but this? she’s sure she heard a rule about pointing said object at anyone’s face.  one thick braid, lays with little hairs sprouting around it, on her shoulder.  “aiden, who do i remind you of?”  a call to get his attention, her bow and arrow facing him with mild aggression before being put down at her side so she could kiss two of her fingers and raise them to the sky. “guess. it won’t be easy.”