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Post by ash on Mar 16, 2016 22:23:30 GMT
This bitch. Roan had anticipated it, luckily. He had anticipated Lexa going back on her word again. He bolted the moment she declared him to be locked away. He had used her weakness for Wanheda for his advantage by kicking the girl away from him. The commotion allowed for him to slip out and make an almost smooth exit, sadly now without a weapon to speak of. He had a knife that he took from one of the guards and that was about it. Every single thing he had acquired was gone now. Wonderful. He was pissed. This was to be his chance to go home, instead it just reinforced his need to see her bloody head on a pike!!! She was toying with people like they were some impotent fools. Well those impotent fools were warriors. Soon she would be taken down.
Roan wandered through the woods, at first intending to get as far away from the city as possible, then to get close to the border of Azgeda again. He needed to be able to get into his original territory due to some gomplei happy Trikru idiots, especially right now. As Roan walked, he was aware or some steps not far away. He was hoping for an easy target, to gear up on better weapons, but said easy target was too easy. He was injured already. Injured and still trying to follow him. What an idiot.
“What do we have here? If it’s not Wanhedas puppy. You’re no use to her bleeding to death, ever thought that far?”
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Arker
"We save those who
we can save today."
Personal Text
Single
Relationship Status
Rebel Leader | Dark Knight
Lethal Weapon
Occupation
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euphoria
Offline
AST
Tag me @bellamy
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Post by Bellamy Blake on May 15, 2016 0:59:18 GMT
whatever THE HELL WE WANT Bellamy wasn't about to give up. He couldn't. Clarke was still out there; still with that damn Grounder. Whoever the hell he was. She was in danger and Bellamy wouldn't stop until he brought her safely home. He'd been so close; too close. For her to only slip right through his fingers. If anything happened to her after his failure to protect her . . . he would never forgive himself. It was more blood on his hands but it was Clarke's this time. And this was a failure he could not live with. So he moved forward, successfully eluding Marcus, Pike, Monty and Hannah. The adrenaline had been pumping through his veins ever since he woke up only to find the area abandoned and the throbbing pain of his injury.
But he kept moving. Ignoring the increasingly weakening state of his body. His hair was drenched his sweat, his features paled. He had to keep pausing every few steps, but hardly for long at all. He had to keep moving forward. Any other direction was a step going the wrong way. Night passed, one that consisted of Bellamy's attempt to tend to his wound. He managed to wrap something around it, as he lost a layer of the Azgeda clothing he had dressed himself in. Being weaponless didn't help either . . . especially the next day when he heard someone approaching him. All he could do was lean against a tree, attempting to catch his breath. The limping over exerted his body, his wound . . . and yet the only thing that numbed it even remotely, was the fear that something had happened to Clarke.
The fear that he was too late. That he had failed. Once the figure drew closer, enough into view, Bellamy leaned the back of his head against the tree in utter frustration. And anger. "You son of a bitch," he breathed. Not for stabbing him or knocking him unconscious. But because he had taken Clarke. And now . . . he no longer had her, which just intensified Bellamy's panic. Coming out in the form of rage. He lunged forward, shoving the man back with what little energy he had, but it was as far as he could go without staggering to another tree, his hand reaching out against it to keep himself braced to a stand. "Where is she?" He demanded, unsure if the Grounder would even answer. But words were all Bellamy had, for he lacked the strength to even attempt to physically coerce them out of the Grounder.
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