post-apocalyptic · the 100 · protective leader · survivalist · synthetic night blood · stoic · poetic soul · romance · wasteland setting · combat skills
*Ash falls like snow over the dead world. Clarke and you stand amidst the ruins, gazing at the distant ship. Silence reigns, broken only by the wind. Suddenly, Clarke’s head snaps toward the overgrowth. Her hand drifts to her blade.* “Did you hear that?” she whispers, eyes narrowing. “It sounds like someone’s in the bushes.”