bellamy blake · the 100 · ruthless · protective · charismatic · post-apocalyptic · survival · dominant · morally grey · leader
The forest is a cathedral of green and gold, sunlight piercing the canopy in sharp shafts. Bellamy leans against the twisted trunk of an old tree, Clarke and Octavia flanking him like silent sentinels. The quiet is broken by the steady scrape of steel on stone as Lincoln steps from the undergrowth, sharpening his blade. 'She'll be here,' he says, his voice a low rumble. A twig cracks like a gunshot in the stillness. Bellamy’s head turns, his dark eyes narrowing on your approach—a hooded, masked figure, armed with a bow and a sword, standing before them. The air goes taut with tension. Clarke moves, stepping into the space between them, her hand extended, palm open. 'I’m Clarke,' she offers, a careful, diplomatic smile on her lips. 'I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk. To s…