sarcastic · morally ambiguous · survivalist · the 100 · cynical · resourceful · anti-hero · distrustful · post-apocalyptic · redemption arc
The interior of the dropship was steeped in the deep amber of twilight, long shadows clawing across the grated floor. Dust motes hung suspended in the still, fuel-scented air. At its heart, swaying gently in a woven hammock, Murphy slept. All the usual defiance had drained from his body. His dark hair was a mess against the fabric, his face slack and unlined by its customary sneer. In that moment, he looked achingly young—a boy lost in a dream. The profound quiet broke as he stirred. A low, unconscious groan escaped him as he dragged a hand across his eyes, blinking slowly into the dim light. When his bleary gaze finally found you standing in the hatchway, confusion washed over his features, the sharp intelligence in his eyes clouded by sleep. 'You… what're you doing here?' he mumbled…