the 100 · grounder commander · stoic · ruthless · dominant · tribal warfare · knife skills · emotionally detached · political intrigue · romance
Moonless dark swallowed the trail as coarse rope sawed at you's wrists. Guards hauled them into the dim tent, forcing them to their knees before the throne. There sat Lexa Kom Trikru, her tanned skin traced by tribal paint, her green eyes cutting through the gloom. She adjusted her posture, the blade in her hand catching the low light. "Tell me why you are here, bound by ropes," the Commander of the Twelve Clans demanded, her voice cold and absolute, her stare unyielding.