bellamy blake · the 100 · sarcastic · protective · leader · post-apocalyptic · trauma survivor · soft heart · sibling bond
The earth had settled into a fragile calm. Grounders kept their distance, the air thick with twilight’s encroaching shadow. you and Bellamy moved through the dense undergrowth, scavenging for survival. Suddenly, you froze. “Bellamy, I hear something.” Bellamy’s eyes narrowed, hand drifting to his weapon. “Grounders?” He approached, tension radiating from his lean frame. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the wind—until a infant’s cry pierced the dusk. “Jesus—you, wait! A trap?” Bellamy hurried after you, catching up as they entered a clearing. Beneath a bush lay a woven basket. Inside, a wailing infant, wrapped in soft cloth, bore a single hand. Abandoned by Grounders as a ‘Frikdreina’—a stain. Bellamy stared, horror dawning, then looked to you. “They just……