Broken Keys

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Lilly Cartwig

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Guns! Bellamy hadn't remembered a time where he had last smiled so brightly. Relief, hope, joy . . . so many things had washed over him the second he found that pile of guns from the inside of the barrel he had kicked over. They finally had a damn chance to defend themselves, to fight off the Grounders. Those bastards had their own long range weapons, and now . . . they had theirs. It was early the next day and Bellamy had arranged for a small group of the delinquents to go with him to retrieve what all else was in the place they had found. There were more guns of course, but there could also be other helpful supplies. Bellamy didn't have his hopes set too high, for it wasthe weapons that were the biggest find and he doubted anything could beat that at this point.

When they arrived they collected the rest of the guns. Bellamy tasked Miller to lead the rest of the group back, while he and another one of the delinquents remained to finish scouring and thoroughly looking through every area to make sure nothing of use was left. It would also serve to be a good shelter that they could use when hunting if the threat of acid fog, a storm, wild creature attack, or even Grounders arose. Bellamy was now with Lilly Cartwig -- daughter of the councilwoman, yet unbeknownst to anyone else. He didn't intend to stay too long here, but it was better that at least two people remain behind to do a final check.

He made his way through the place, it being a lot deeper than he had initially thought. He then found something covered with a cloth -- the cloth being a find in itself. Curiosity got the better of him, as he pulled it off, causing a collection of dust to release into the air. What he found underneath caused a small smile to form on his lips -- softer than any other expression he had wore since coming down. His finger traced over one of the keys, pushing down on it but the instrument was in obvious poor condition and no longer functioned. Still. It was good to see one after so long, as it brought back the memories of when he used to find peace and solace in playing . . . despite the infrequency of it.

[Lilly Cartwig]

Lilly pulled her jacket tighter around her--thankful that she wa once again wearing clothes. She had ditched her shirt during the high of being on the ground, but she had since learned that it was too cold to walk around without it. Or without a coat. Once they were in the bunker it was warmer, the fact that it was under ground maybe helping it. She helped get what they could, but eventually Bellamy sent the others on and he stayed behind with her.

Walking into the room behind him, she saw him pressing the broken keys of a piano. "It's the end of the world, and they save room one of these?" She asked both surprised and annoyed it wasn't something they can use. As she got close she looked up at his face. "Guess they didn't want to be completely bored?" She could see it, despite her annoyance before. The wood was cracked, and the paint faded, but it was still whole and sturdy. Her hand touched it for a moment before turning to lean on it, so she faced him. For Lilly pianos had just been apart of life. The privilege part. You saw one often, and seeing one here wasn't a big deal.

Though she liked the look on his face looking at it. It made her smile too, for in the days since finding the guns he had seemed less demon hell bent--and more hopeful. "The end of the world is coming, and you can save one thing? Nothing you need, just something to make the rest of it bearable . . . . what would save?" She expected him to say guns, or something bad ass. Slowly it was becoming more apparent that there were deeper layers to him. It made him unpredictable.

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Lilly Cartwig

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy felt the slightest smile continue to remain as Lilly spoke of how they had saved a piano, of all things. "Trying to keep the music alive, I guess," he said nonchalantly. He hadn't played much on the Ark. Only enough to be able to create some melodies that resulted in a tune. And read sheet music. It was something he'd done when the opportunity presented itself. But that was the past. Seeing the instrument now just reminded him of it, and the way the music sounded . . . the way his keys felt as he struck each one, a different sound, a different tune.

He realized only after his thought process that she had asked him a quesiton. It took him a few moments to recollect himself enough to let her words register in his mind. "A book." The Iliad. Once his mother used to read to him. It was more the sentiment of it; the reminder. For when the world went to shit, he could read it with the fond -- albeit painful -- memories of when his mother read it to him, and when he read it to Octavia. Realizing he was getting a bit too intense here, he slightly shook his head, snapping out of whatever damn trance this piano had put him in. "What about you?" He asked her, needing to divert the conversation from himself onto her. Though he was also genuinely curious about her answer.

[Lilly Cartwig]

A book? Lilly felt her brows rise up in surprise. A book. That was shocking almost, rather then surprising. It was hard to see him as a reader--but he must be to have all this knowledge. He wasn't brainy, but he was smart. It was why they had all fell in line behind him. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

He asked her the same question and she shrugged. "I just wouldn't want to be alone." She told him, looking up into his face. "That would be hell." She missed her mother. She would want her mother with her. Lilly didn't think in possessions but in people. She would want to be with her mother. She had spent so long trying to get away from her mother--and now she'd give anything to be back there. She had wanted to be wild, but it had cost her a lot.

Lilly touched the piano before looking back up at Bellamy. "Maybe it meant something to them?" She suggested, thinking it almost a sad sight now, since everyone who had once loved it enough to save it was dead. "There are no bodies here. Maybe they had to leave it behind and go somewhere safe?" She hoped. Lilly was looking up at his face, not studying him but just watching him. Thinking of her mother and the piano made her miss Callie even more. A part of her wanted comfort. A wise word, a hug. She knew better then to ask. Weakness was death sentence down here.

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Lilly Cartwig

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

She responded by saying that she just wouldn't want to be alone. That it would be hell. He could certainly attest to that. The year after his mother had been flotaed and Octavia arrested to eventually suffer the same fate had been hell. He'd never felt more alone than that. "That's not a thing," he said teasingly, using the phrasing she had earlier -- though his tease was not without truth. If they had to pick people, then the one person he wanted was . . . well, it was a no brainer. His sister was all he had left. She was the world to him.

Bellamy looked at her back when she suggested that perhaps the instrument meant something to them; that maybe there were no bodies here because they had escaped the bunker and gone somewhere safe. That was certainly the idea; that they figured out a way to be saved. Since this didn't exactly seem like the kind of place Grounders would frequent. "Well whatever they left, is our gain." Because the Ark had barley sent them down with anything. Even if they had survived the radiation, they had hardly equipped them with the necessities for an adequate lifestyle. "Exept the piano. No point carrying a broken piano back to camp." Maybe they could take it apart for the parts . . . and yet, something stopped Bellamy from destroying it. Maybe she was right. Maybe it meant something to them.

[Lilly Cartwig]

He told her it wasn't a thing, and she smiled. "What good are things if you get lonely?" She asked him, thinking of how a book would surely get boring after a while. "Or cold." Someone could hug you and keep you warm. "I think people are better then things. There isn't anything out there that I wouldn't trade for my mother right now." She knew talking about her family was risky, because of who she was, but this was Bellamy and she trusted him.

"You have your sister. At least you have your family." She took a step closer, shifting so that she half sat on the broken piano keys and the off key sound echoed in the small room. "I'd give anything for my own." However she wasn't going to let him ask who they were, because she didn't want to risk saying it and turning out like Wells. Her mother was on the council. Some could hold that against her and she wasn't like Clarke--she couldn't do this on her own.

"Then again, we have you." Bellamy had taken care of them, and kept them alive this far. He had fought for them, bleed for them, and never failed in making sure they were ready for what was coming. He was their family now. "There isn't anything I'd trade for you either." She told him, half joking but meaning every word. It wasn't a romantic love. Everyone at the camp loved and respected Bellamy. He was like their old brother in a way, but one you thought was hot. They knew he would come for them, and protect them, and make sure they had food. He'd push pr pull them along. "You're my piano." Something to keep the music alive--only the 100 was the notes.

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Lilly Cartwig

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

She spoke of how people were better than things, and he of course agreed. Family was everything to him. And now, it wasn't just about Octavia. It was about every single other delinquent in this camp. All that protective instinct he felt toward his sister, was now channeled into each and every one of them. She spoke of her mother, and Bellamy knew all too well who she was referring to. He didn't know the woman well, just well enough to hold the knowledge that Lilly was among the priveleged, and that she did good not to reveal that right now.

While things were more steady now than they initially were upon arrival . . . it could still put a target on her. Though any attacks within their camp weren't encouraged and would not go unpunished. It was no longer 'whatever the hell we want'. He kept his eyes intently on her as she shifted closer, half sitting on the piano, speaking of her family. His heart went out to those who didn't have their loved ones . . . and who may have to mourn them. Especially those who died during the culling.

That was a weight Bellamy felt all too intensely within him. "Definitely shows that priveleged or not, we're all the same." They were all resorted to the same thing. Thrown in the same circumstances. "Even the daughter of a councilwoman." With the way he said the words, the way he looked at her and his tone . . . well, it was very clear that he wasn't talking about Clarke. But nor was there judgment in his voice. It came out practically expressionlessly. He had known from the moment he saw her. But he was not one to jeapordize her position here . . . or her left.

She then spoke of how they had him; how he was their piano. The words touched him to the very core of his heart, as he found himself slightly shifting closer to her as well. He had almost left them, all of them. Yet now that he was here . . . he didn't plan on going anywhere any time soon. To hear her express the value she held in him, well, it meant far more to Bellamy than he was capable of expressing. He wasn't any better than a broken piano, but he could sure as hell try to be.

He wanted to be better, for them. To be the man that his mother raised . . . and not the monster who had killed 320 people. "Likewise." Quite he wasn't one to often vocalize such sentiments, he wanted her to know that the value was mutual. That he cared about her, her life and her well being. "And fortunately, we don't have to worry about that." Trading anyway. "Just about staying alive," he added on with an ever so slight smirk. For the words were not entirely untrue. Yet there wasn't cynicism or defeatism in his voice. They were all fighters. They were suvivors. And they would survive this.

[Lilly Cartwig]

Bellamy's words, and his direct stare made her have to fight to hold his gaze. Eventually she broke it and looked down, feeling the heat touch her cheeks and she wasn't an easy person to make blush. She was slightly ashamed to know that he knew. While she took pride in who her mother was she had also lied to him and everyone here. He had been a guardsmen--or close to one. Lilly had thought he might know her at first but when he didn't she had no trouble lying about it. Knowing that he knew she was lying every time she had not told him made her wish she could fall into a hole and not climb out for a few days.

"I didn't want to be like Wells," She explained, knowing that Clarke had at lest kept her secret. Wells had too.She had avoided them to make it easy, but Wells had seen her coming out half naked with Bellamy and not given her away. Wells had been hated on since he landed, and when most people had not known who she was, she had not bothered to explain too much. Instead just worked on living in the moment.

When he shifted closer, she looked back up at him. He told her they didn't have to worry about trading people, only staying alive. She half smiled, still reeling from what he had told her. Her hand came out to hold the end of his jacket, but not pulling him or pushing him away. "Why'd you sleep with me if you knew I was lying to everyone?" She asked, looking up at him. She didn't know of her mother had anything to do with his mother's death or his sister getting locked away or even them getting sent here. He could have hated her, and instead--he'd sleep with her and kept her secret. While was odd since he was so vocally hostile about the privileged having to work down here, and not liking them. Why did he not out her as well? "I mean . . . I'm glad you did but . . . Why keep my secret?" She was thinking of their first meeting and how many cues she had taken from him about how to act. No shaking hands. Her speech. Had he helped her, or had he not placed her face yet?

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Lilly Cartwig

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

She told him that she didn't want to end up like Wells. That was fair. Understandable even. Wells had no chance down here. If Charlotte hadn't killed him, someone else would have. His father was a damn idiot for sending him down here among a bunch of kids who blamed the Chancellor for losing someone, or even for their own imprisonment. He shifted slightly closer to her when she held onto the end of his jacket. A slight smirk played on his features as she asked him why he slept with her, knowing she was lying. "Why does it make a difference?" He asked in return. Who her mom does, didn't affect his own judgment of her. Just like he didn't take out his mother's floating on Wells.

She then clarified that she was glad he did . . . but questioned why he kept her secret. He knew it was a fair question, but he didn't have a deep seated, emotional answer for it. "Why not?" He countered once again, but figured she'd want more of an answer than another question. "It wasn't my secret to tell," he shrugged off. Truth be told, his objective wasn't to endanger the lives of others. He hadn't wanted to start fights or cause those waves. He had just . . . let them happen. But he personally didn't provoke them. "It's not my business. We're all down here, stuck in the same circumstances." He had used privilege to appeal to the crowd, but at the end of the day . . . they were all the same down here. "I wasn't going to endanger you just cause of who your mom is." It was one of the more sincere things he had said. He meant it, without getting too sappy about it. His role here was to protective the delinquents; not endanger them. Even early on, he hadn't the intention to do so.

[Lilly Cartwig]

He shifted even closer, and Lilly bit her lip for a moment. Still, before this moment could turn into what she was hoping it would, there was one thing she had to know. "You called Clarke and Wells out. You used the crowd against them . . . I guess I am just surprised that you didn't include me there too." Though grateful. She hadn't wanted to have the ones who befriended her turn against her. She didn't want to have to be alone down here, and sometimes she thought that was why they had looked like. Clarke, Wells, and Finn. They were, or had been, alone. Just them.

Her hand reached up to twist one of his curls around her finger while he answered, and Lilly knew that she didn't want to feel alone now either. Dropping her hand from his curl, her finger tips trailed over his cheek, down his neck, and came to rest over his heart. There she pressed, as if she was able to feel his heart beating. He was a good guy, no matter how he tried to make the others think differently. They all saw it sometimes. Trailing her fingers back up, Lilly brushed over his lips, before leaning in to kiss them lightly. Not a thank you--but an offer. If you want me, take me.