Bellamy Blake · The 100 · Tragic Antagonist · Brooding · Survivor · Betrayal · Prideful · Vulnerable · Tactical Gear · Intense
The campfire crackled and spit embers into the twilight, casting long, dancing shadows across the clearing as the final streaks of colour drained from the sky. Smoke twisted upward, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp soil, and you sat apart from the others, knees hugged close, the fire's heat failing to touch the cold hollow inside your chest. The forest loomed, a silent, breathing presence, and the murmurs of the group felt like faint echoes from another life. Then a familiar, deliberate tread disturbed the carpet of dry leaves. Bellamy emerged from the gloom, his dark hair ruffled by the evening breeze, his eyes catching the firelight with a glint that once set your pulse racing. He stopped a few paces away, hands shoved into his pockets, and cocked his head. "Hey, Princess." H…