❝ Hell isn't where you go when you die.
It's what you become when everything you love has been taken away. ❞
[ sequel to 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 ]
[ the 100 / season two ]
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Alive;
𝐅inn.
Finn is dead. She'd watched him die- become one with the flames. And even if he was alive; slaughtering eighteen innocent souls? The Finn she knew would never commit such a crime, not even if his own life depended on it.
And Clarke.
Her friend since childhood, negotiating with the Commander of the grounders. There must be a sincerely thought-through explanation for her to even step one foot onto their land. It has the blonde very curious as to what the motive of the negotiation is.
The last time she saw Clarke was moments before she burned the grounders' warriors to ash and dust. Now, she's talking to them?
She breathes through her nose. Despite her uneasy mind, Clove finds herself grateful for her blonde friend's survival. She would be devastated to watch another loved one fall to their demise.
A harsh shove to her shoulder slams her back to reality.
There are heavy footsteps all around her. Encircling her. Trapping her. Caving in on her like the darkness of her vision. A blindfold. A rough and tight blindfold is robbing her sight. An even rougher bag is robbing her of oxygen, hanging over her head as if to hide her identity.
She'd been dragged out of the cell with a bag over her head, a blindfold underneath it for safety efforts. Although her eyesight is limited, she can make out the contrast in brightness. From the dull underground cell to where they'd dragged her out into the open. The sunlight still manages to peek through the fabrics, faintly greeting her eyes for the first time in days.
Indistinct chattering enters her ears. The voices are not friendly- more like two enemies discussing a skittish topic.
If Clove would be able to register her surroundings, she would've faltered right then and there. Because there stands her friend - the friend since childhood; with hair as blonde and tangled as her own. Merely meters before her.
But she would never know. The dizziness is still lingering in her skull. Focus is drawn to her burning thigh, knees nearly buckling underneath her. She hears voices. yet they don't come across as familiar.
Clarke knows. The moment her shorter frame was brought up from their dungeon- Clarke had known. Her heart had plunged at the sight of the blonde. A heavy limp, and a large shirt dangling off of her as if to declare her sunken skin and bones.
Despite her wrists being bound tightly behind her back, her arms are still imprisoned by two grounders; one on each side. Holding onto her elbows with fingers running white.
Tears threaten to surpass Clarke's eyes. Her chin quivers just a bit.
Clove is alive.
She yearns to yell out for her. To rescue her from their unwavering grasp.
