#warfractured

[ SMS ] → are you busy??[ SMS ] → bellamy.[ SMS ] → BELLAMY BLAKE.[ SMS ] → consider octavia my favorite blake.[ SMS ] → … 

            okay like i don’t even know how to feel about your theme. like its beautiful, but bell looks so incredibly sad it makes me so incredibly sad. no, but honestly, its amazing. everything about the blog and formatting and everything else is so flawless i love everything about everything i promise. like one of my favorite things ever is your icon. i love the crown and the colors. i just, i’m a mess rn

Night had fallen over Arkadia and Clarke could not find the right motivation to go inside. Her people had brought her back to camp a few hours prior and so far, she had done her best to avoid everyone. There had not been much small talk among them on their ride in the jeep, but mostly silence, which felt uncomfortable, yet welcome, because she was at a loss of words. So much had happened on that day alone, how was she supposed to talk about three months? The others seemed to feel the same, because by the time they arrived, no one had really spoken. Clarke had been brought to Abby immediately, to reunite mother and daughter, and to patch up her wounds. The claw marks left by the panther were still open and infected, so Abby had done her best to treat them. After that, her daughter had fled outside to feel less trapped. The metal walls seemed to be closing in on her and it was only outside, that she could breathe. It started to rain shortly before midnight and by the time Clarke’s clothes were soaked, she decided to go back inside. Her mother had forced her to trade her Grounders wear for something more fitting inside Arkadia, which was obviously less functional than her leather gear. Dripping, she wandered around the halls of the dropship, that seemed unpleasantly familiar, because it reminded her so much of the Ark and her life there. It felt like it was a lifetime away, yet barely a year had passed by, since they landed on earth and found a new home. How easily they had all adapted, and still were strangers here. In the last months, Clarke had become more trikru than skaikru and no longer knew where she belonged. A feeling, which she shared with Octavia. Walking past an open door, she heard noises coming from within and stopped for a second, looking inside. It appeared to be a training room and covered in his own sweat, Bellamy was furiously beating a punching sack. For a moment, Clarke lingered in the doorway, watching, taking in his sight, realizing how much she had missed him. Then she slowly stepped inside, approaching him quietly. As the sack swung to the side, she caught it with her good hand to steady it, giving Bell a ghost of a smile. There were a thousand words on her tongue, yet she did not speak.