OUT OF MIND² ━━ Bellamy Blake

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐗: Just a Little Bit

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JUST A LITTLE BIT
OF YOUR HEART

(is all i want)

┕━━━━ ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ━━━━┙

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          LYRA DOES NOT like the bunker.

     It is a stupid thing, not to like your only hope for survival. And yet Lyra cannot bring herself to like it all the same. It is not an easy place to like, too much like the Ark she was trapped in all her life, too much like Mount Weather, where she committed atrocities in the name of her people. All endless sectors of slate grey, the ceilings low, the lighting pale and sickly, as if they already have been sealed in their own tombs.

     The mark of the Second Dawn is everywhere. Symbols of steel emblazoned within the military-grade walls, banners that have somehow survived the test of time displayed proudly, signs and flags and logos and adages plastered wherever there is space. Though perhaps, Lyra decides, she should be grateful. There are no statues of Bill Cadogan carved from marble that leer over her, something she would not have put past the fanatic. And yet this was Cadogan's bunker, his doomed religion, his lethality. His, his, his. All that is left of the man who had promised the Earth salvation by crafting a prison of steel. The bunker walls seem to close in with every step she takes and she tries not to think of the insane man who had created it. And yet how is she supposed to find peace and salvation in a dead man's final salvation? How is she supposed to make a home out of a fanatic's last, failed, attempt at survival?

     The weak fluorescents flicker; everything is grey. Lyra has traded stars for twisted shadows. Her heart hurts.

She does not like the bunker.

Especially not now ━━ fear sweeps the bunker like a wildfire. It is raw, savage, chaotic. Seething.

     Arkadian's are torn from the beds that were promised to them just hours ago. Grounders animalistic with rage at the fact that Skaikru had betrayed them yet again storm through the six levels with an inescapable fury. Twelve once war-torn clans now stalk these corridors like a bloodthirsty wolf pack; they are united by their hatred for Skaikru.

     Lyra does not blame them.

     But now the already stale air of the bunker is suffocating. Between the rage of the Grounders and the absolute terror from the Arkadians, Lyra thinks she might choke if she has to stay here much longer.  Dozens of Skaikru persons are audibly sobbing as Grounders violently force them into the rotunda. A little boy is screaming for his father as a Grounder donning a charred skull as a mask practically throws him into the pit with a disgusted growl. An elderly man stumbles. Falls. The warrior that had just been threatening a sickly looking woman with a sword turns swiftly and slams his boot into the elderly man's chest so severely that he coughs up blood. A woman shrieks and tries to help him up only for the warrior to slam the hilt of his sword into her own back. She crumples as if she is made of paper.

     Lyra stands frozen on the lofted catwalk that descends into the pit of the chaos.

     Murphy is screaming as he explodes into the rotunda. He fights desperately until he finds who he is looking for ━━ Emori.