GRIM REAPER¹, bellamy blake

015 ━━ painted in grey

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LINCOLN TWIRLED a spear between his hands, sending a proud smile to Iona as he took down a doe. The dead animal rolled down the hill before landing on a flat patch of land at the bottom.

Jumping down after it, Iona and Bellamy landed at its' head whilst Lincoln landed near its hind legs. He dropped to his knees and pulled out a knife. Despite his momentary hesitation, he began to slice into the animal's abdomen.

Dipping his fingers into the blood, he wiped it all over his face and neck.

Iona kneeled beside him and took her pointer and middle finger into the blood, tracing warpaint across her cheeks, chin, and forehead.

Bellamy looked on with a mixture of awe and disgust before saying, "Okay... So, we make it to the intake door without any of the real reapers seeing us. What happens then?"

Lincoln rubs his hands together and takes Iona's hands in his, doing the same with hers. He nods between the two of them, "I kill everyone, and you two slip inside. Iona will kill anyone that gets in your way."

Lincoln looks over at her and cracks a subtle smirk, "Won't you, Heda?"

"It's a wonder you've survived this long," She snaps. "Mocking commanders is dangerous. Keep that in mind."

"Was not... mockery," He defends with a shrug. "I'm proud of you, believe it or not."

"I'll have to settle for the second option."

Lincoln rolls his eyes at the woman's stubbornness. That's one thing that is yet to change. She's always been bull-headed.

Looking at Bellamy, Lincoln asks, "Limestone?"

To which Bellamy nods and hands him a small bag.

He rubs the white powder across his face with three fingers, leaving an imprint over his left eye, and glances over at Iona. Lincoln holds up three fingers, showing her the substance, and she nods, allowing him to leave the markings across her eye.

Since reapers cannot feel or truly recognize right from wrong, it would be easy for her to slip in as one of their own. She has the stature, the weapon, the anger- and she has the aggression. Plus, Iona really likes warpaint.

"Let's go," Lincoln says, nodding to their right, "we've got a lot of ground to cover."

"Hope you aren't afraid of the dark," Iona smirks.

She pulls up the hood of her jacket and slides a black mask in place over her mouth. Taking two daggers into her hands, she slows her pace, following after the boys and sticking to the tree line.

Because Mt. Weather likes to send scouts outside of their perimeter, she'd agreed to tail the two men and kill anyone who might be following. It was an unlikely chance, but it was still possible- and Iona didn't want to take the risk.

For a moment, Iona feels like Lexa. Usually, risks are her specialty. They're the fun part of the dirty jobs. However, considering Lexa had barely agreed to the woman setting off for a hunting expedition, Iona thought that she should probably try to stay alive.

She knew Lexa wouldn't approve of the woman setting off. But Lincoln proposed a very good point, one that she couldn't deny for much longer.

Her people had been trapped within the mountain for far too long with no actions having been taken to get them out- and that time was over. Iona would not allow the innocents to remain there confined anymore.

It was their time to taste freedom.

From her place as Bellamy and Lincoln's moving shadow, she can see them whispering back and forth- she can make out few words, but not enough to form sentences- and continues to follow them.

The pair suddenly stopped, and Iona finally got in hearing range.

"Iona has fallen victim to this, too. Do not let her get to you. She's a good leader and an even better person; she's been raised to be a coldhearted killer, but not that's not who she is underneath. She'll warm up eventually."

Then, the pair was rushing off, force her to jog to catch up again.

When she thought about his words, Iona rolled her eyes, quietly scoffing, but even she had to admit he was speaking true. Trikru- and especially Azgeda- are taught to be murderers from their childhood.

They learn the language, then they learn survival skills and how to wield a weapon.

Life is painted in grey for the nations, and Iona's world is a steady shade of black.

Of course, it's not difficult to see how Iona's world is suddenly colorful when she's surrounded by her family. Her life used to be vibrant, and she used to be loving; when Eyvana died, so did she.

Now, she still sees the specks of that bright neon when Lexa's around- but lately, with their fighting and disagreements- those colors have faded.

Iona's world remains plain, like the blank page out of a coloring book.

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