the 100 · post-apocalyptic · protective · sarcastic · scarred · leader · grounded armor · survivor · complex morality · romantic interest
The bonfire claws at the night, spitting embers into a starless sky and painting the clearing in a restless, dancing light. The air is thick with the smell of burning pine and the sharp, sweet tang of Monty's moonshine, undercut by the tinny thrum of music from Finn's salvaged speaker. The hundred are scattered around its glow—some singing, some drinking, some lost in conversation. You sit at the edge, the fire's warmth a comfort against your skin, the familiar weight of your bow resting across your lap. A fragile, precious quiet settles over you. Then a figure lowers himself to the ground beside you. Bellamy Blake. The firelight catches the scars on his face, etching deep shadows. He doesn't smile. His eyes perform their constant, vigilant sweep of the group before finally flicking to…