Rook {B.B} (3)

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Hakeldama (5,2)

Tyra stepped outside the tree line towards the Skaikru camp, immediately hearing over a dozen guns being readied to shoot at her even from such a distance.

She didn't raise her hands, didn't even give them the time of day as she kept walking with her hands over her sword by her side.

A first warning shot hit the dirt by her feet, but she only stepped over the fallen bullet. Tyra was shocked to see a warning shot, she expected to be shot as soon as they saw her war paint covered face. But she had been mistaken.

Tyra stopped a decent way from the camp, close enough, so she could spot the guard hiding behind the walls with their guns pointed at her, but far enough for them to not be able to focus their guns properly, a slight chance that they'd miss their shots still present.

"I want to speak with Bellamy Blake," Another warning shot at her feet, but Tyra didn't jump nor flinch away, allowing the dirt to coat her boots almost entirely.

"I will not leave until you bring him." Another shot that whizzed past her ear, she hoped that the shooter was attempting at giving a warning shot and didn't simply have a terrible aim while wanting to hit her square in the head. That would complicate her plans significantly.

"Stop shooting! She goes untouched, Chancellor's orders. Open the gate." Even before the gate opened, Tyra recognized the voice perfectly.

He was wearing his jacket again, the same shirt she had last seen him in still present on his body, but even from a distance she could see the specks of red along the edges, blood if she had to guess.

Bellamy stopped a step away from Tyra, the lazy smile she used to love seeing on his face yet again present to remind her of just how much it hurt to even see him without also seeing her bleeding brother at her feet. Her heart was pulling her in three different directions, and her brain had to be the one to choose which path she'd follow.

"Ty." Tyra didn't know if Bellamy had something else to say aside from the nickname he had given her, or didn't care for that matter.

Instead, she immediately sent her fist flying toward his face, causing Bellamy to sprawl on the ground while she heard guns being readied behind her once more, but he waved them off.

"How dare you?" Her voice cracked as he stood with a bulging reddish spot across his cheekbone where she had hit him. Seeing him in a state as such that she herself had caused hurt Tyra more than she expected it to.

"My own brother, Bellamy. My big brother! How would you have reacted if I had come to you and said that I hurt Octavia?" Only silence came as a reaction before he grabbed on to her shoulders, rubbing at her cheek. She believed it to be to catch the tears that she could no longer keep at bay, but she only later noticed that he had, in fact, been trying to wipe her war paint off her face, a futile action at that. But how he wished to erase her identity still hurt her.

"Tyra, just come inside. Okay?" She pushed him off, her heart cracking as she saw the pained expression on his face. But her hurt and anger was too great for her to forgive him for only wearing an adorable face.

"Three hundred, Bellamy. They were my friends! I grew up with them." He only tried grabbing at her shoulders again, Tyra slapping at his arms to keep him away.

"Tyra, we can talk inside, just come inside."

"No! What is inside for me? A miserable job? Having everyone glare at me constantly, like they do to Lincoln? Pretend to be someone I am not while I have to hide behind metal walls every day and night? You?" She didn't fail to notice how hurt flashed across his features in the last possibility, but Tyra was too far in her anger to care.