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Post by Bellamy Blake on May 18, 2016 20:53:13 GMT
whatever THE HELL WE WANT "It's ok." Those were the last words he said to his sister, to the group before he was dragged off to god knows where. Something had changed. Something shifted in their minds. In one way, it had at least stopped them from beating Miller any more than they already had. On the second hand . . . it wasn't going to be good. Wherever they were taking him, whatever they had planned . . . wasn't going to be good. Not to mention the fact that he was no longer around the others, so had no idea what was happening to them. And that, terrified him.
He was brought to the familiar doors of the throne room that were pushed open. His eyes immediately went onto Clarke who was restrained, something around her arms and neck. It was the puncture wounds that he saw on her chest that made him instinctively struggle against the guards that held him. "Son of a bitch," he cursed as he attempted to pull free from their grasp. Seeing her physically tortured was enough to elicit the enraged response, but to no avail of release from the grasp they had on him.
"Clarke you ok?" He asked, needing to know just how much they had done to her. His eyes darted from her to Abby who was holding what looked like the object that could have been the cause of the wound. Was she the one who had tortured her? Jaha approached, Bellamy's eyes narrowing on the man, anger more than fear evident in the male Blake's gaze. Yet, he couldn't kill them. But nor could he allow them to hurt Clarke or anyone else. Not anymore.
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Post by Clarke Griffin on May 20, 2016 18:18:06 GMT
It all went wrong, horribly wrong. The initial plan was good, but somehow, somehow it all went to hell. But how? How could that happen? Unless, without them knowing someone around them was chipped. Could someone have hidden in Arkadia? Roan? No, Roan was dead. They killed him, they wouldn’t kill him if he was one of them and brought home the person and object that would give them everything they wanted. She could barely see it, her eyes full of tears from pain that had nothing to do with the puncture wounds. He struggled, but Clarke shook his head, unbelieving of what they did.
“Let him go.” She couldn’t watch this. She couldn’t watch him be hurt because of her. They would not stop at anything, she knew that now. They wanted to use him against her, that was why he was there, to be used against her. She couldn’t give them the passcode regardless. She couldn’t, it woul let Alie win and that could never happen. Clarke didn’t want this. Her mind raced, trying to find a way to safe Bellamy. He had to… “I’ll give you the passcode! If you let him go. Let him go, bring him home and you will get the passcode.” It was a bluff. She hoped they saw it as her wanting to protect him above all. It wasn’t wrong. But once out of their grasp he could take care of himself and she could continue to refuse the passcode. If she gave them the code first, there was no way they’d let him live. “Don’t hurt him, please.”
Bellamy Blake
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Post by Bellamy Blake on May 21, 2016 0:39:17 GMT
whatever THE HELL WE WANT He knew what she was doing. Trying to stall so that it would buy them some time before they did anything. But these people were stubborn as hell. Unwilling to bend the will of ALIE. They were servants to her commands. Yet there was still that fear in him . . . that she would give them what they wanted. And he needed to be sure that she didn't. He needed her to know that no matter what happened, his life was not worth everyone else's. He had faith in her, in Raven and Monty, in everyone that didn't have the chip, that they would find a way to save them all. Clarke's suggestion was met with refusal, Jaha demanding the passcode with such unnerving calmness as he pulled out a dagger and approached Bellamy.
The former Chancellor held it to Bellamy's chest as the younger male's eyes narrowed at him. Before he glanced at Clarke. "Don't give it to them." His voice was strong, eliciting an almost amused smile from Jaha as he looked between them. He repeated his demand for the passcode while the point of the blade was touching Bellamy's chest. "Close your eyes." Because she shouldn't watch this. She didn't need to see this. With that, Bellamy felt the blade scrape against his skin, the male Blake biting his tongue to keep from making any sound to indicate pain as he felt the dagger rip through his shirt, cutting his skin deep enough to draw blood. Bellamy's breathing increased, his chest heaving as he fought to keep from vocalizing the pain. He wouldn't do that to Clarke.
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Post by Clarke Griffin on May 25, 2016 21:41:29 GMT
No. No this could not happen. This was not meant to happen. This was not meant to happen like this especially. She was meant to protect those she loved. She was meant to make everything right. Now she had to watch Bellamy suffer for how wrong her assumptions were. She had been wrong about so much. She had been wrong about him. Here he was, telling her to not give them the passcode, when it could save him. It could make everything easier for him, but he took it, like that, told her to look away, to protect her from what was happening. Clarke wanted to reach out. Her eyes, hot and stinging with tears that streamed down her cheeks, feeling like acid burning her skin over how painful the situation was, were on him. She didn't even dare to look away from him. Clarke didn't know why. She hoped he would be comforted in this, hoped he would see that she meant to do as he said, to not give in. She'd endure it with him. It was the only thing she could do. And beg for them to let him go, to let him live.
"I will not give you the passcode. Not while you hurt him." She said to Jaha, as she had to watch him cut Bellamy, like the Grounders once would have done to Finn, only not as deep. They wanted to hurt, not kill. "Mom. You know me. I'm stubborn. I will not give you the passcode because you torture him. I will take it to my grave for this. Let him go... let him go and I might give it to you."
Someone, a grounders with no name, but undoubtedly with ALIE behind him, took up a piece of metal next, a familiar piece of metal. He dumped it into the fire. Clarke couldn't tear her eyes away. The sign of the coalition. They wouldn't dare. They couldn't do that.
"NO! Don't do this, please. Do it to me, not him. Please!"
Bellamy Blake |
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Jun 13, 2016 0:24:04 GMT
whatever THE HELL WE WANT Her attempts to strike a deal were futile, yet he knew Clarke. He knew she wouldn't just idly watch. She was strong and yet . . . he still didn't want her to see it. She kept her eyes on him though, his own gaze locked onto her. When they stopped cutting him, he was pushed on his knees, his jacket removed from his body revealing the t-shirt underneath. He watched as they dropped a hit metal stick with something on the end into the fire. Clarke's begs were like arrows piercing him, because it presented the possibility that they would do something to her. That they would harm her in some way . . . as they already had. He couldn't let that happen. No way in hell. "Clarke," he breathed, though somehow miraculously kept a steady voice as his eyes fixated on her face once more.
"It's ok," he assured her. Words he had said to Octavia when they took him away from the others. "It's ok," he repeated once again in attempt to ease her mind . . . though he wasn't sure if he could. He pulled his gaze away as the man approached with the metal rod, clearly a brand at the end of it. One that he instantly recognized and gave him the utmost disgust. Bellamy glared at the towering figure, his chest heaving as he attempted to brace himself for what was to come.
With a strong force, Bellamy felt the burning hot brand press hard into his shoulder, over the fabric so that the material of his t-shirt's sleeve would be burned in with his skin. The pain was enough for a sound to escape him, though he tried his best to stifle it. He'd been burned with worse at Mount Weather. When it was pulled away from him, Bellamy's head hung as the steam came off of the wound. But it wasn't over. The man then took his dagger and pressed the tip deep into the burn. That was when Bellamy could not hold back a yell of pain, his cry filling the room as he felt the double impact: the burn of his tender flesh, and the piercing of the dagger that caused the blistered skin to draw blood.
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Post by Clarke Griffin on Aug 27, 2016 14:28:27 GMT
Nothing was even remotely okay. Not for Clarke. This was so far from being okay. She wanted this to end. She could keep the secret, but she couldn't keep it like this. If by her talking she could save him, Clarke knew they weren't wrong. They had found the one thing that might make her cave: Her loyalty to him, to their friends. She left, yes, but it was because of herself. It was never meant as a show that she didn't care about the others. Of course she understood that it might appear that way to them. But it was not what had driven her away. She never wanted to abandon them, but for her it seemed right at the time. And now the smell of Bellamys shirt and skin burning as he was marked with the sign of the ill fated coalition that brough all of them nothing but pain so far. He had to carry that for the rest of his life now... Because Clarke refused the possibility that they might take his life. They couldn't Bellamy couldn't die, not here, not ever. "Please, stop. I'll... I'll tell you if you stop." It was a lie. But she had to try. She had to tell them she'd share the passcode. As Clarke struggled against the bonds holding her, she managed one thing that she didn't realize was possible.
They had missed something. They had missed a way out for Clarke. It was unconventional, but better her than Bellamy. And with her, as far as they knew, the knowledge of the passcode would cease to exist. Maybe she could regain a bit of power over Bellamy. "I'm sorry, Bellamy." She said. Lowering herself as much as she could in the bonds all the while pushing forward she brought the strap holding her neck to a position in which it soon took her ability to breathe. Soon, if they didn't noticed, she'd pass out and maybe they'd stop hurting Bellamy then. Maybe that would be surprise enough to allow Bellamy to get the upper hand and get out. She had to try. Even if every instinct in her called for her to relieve the pressure on her neck. She fought it.
Bellamy Blake
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