Extravagant. That is the word I would use to describe Earth. No longer was I standing on cold, metal floors of the the Ark, but rather the soft, fertile soil. No longer was I breathing in the air that was shared with others in a crowed spaceship, but rather the sweet oxygen that filled my lungs. Every breath I take seems to take weight off of my shoulders; and it feels wonderful.
I walk pass all of the whooping and hollering teenagers to a cliff that gives away a perfect view of the mountains. The sunrise paints beautiful colors into the background. The mountains are luscious with vegetation, but the peaks are white with snow. I've seen things like this in paintings, but seeing it right now, in person is so much different.
"It's beautiful isn't it?" A voice says from behind me. Wells. I think to myself with disgust. However I don't turn around. Instead I let his eyes linger on my body which has obviously been caring the depression from the death of my father. It's all his fault. "Clarke, we need to talk." I can't stand it anymore. My blood boils. It seems as if Wells can even ruin the pleasant feelings of being on an actual planet for the first time.
"There's nothing left to talk about. Just leave me alone." I spit. My eyes find his brown ones that are almost as dark as his soul.
"Yes there is..." He starts, but instead, I begin to walk back towards the drop ship. Each step is painful. Why is he even here?
I need to get my mind off of this so I decide to help a group of kids unload a compartment on the side of the ship.
"Mini Jaha causing you trouble?" A young girl asks. She's gorgeous, with her tan skin and long brown hair. Her smile lightens me up and I even crack a grin too. "Well that's the reputation he has isn't it?" She hands me a box with supplies for tents in it.
"Yah well he wasn't always like this." She raises her eyebrows as if she's intrigued to hearing more.
"Another story for another time." I say, remembering the face my father made when the door was opened and he was sucked into an endless void. The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said or explained. She must notice the saddened look on my face because she looks down at her feet. "By the way," I begin, "my name's Clarke."
"I'm Octavia. It was nice to meet you!" She returns to her happy state of mind and continues handing out boxes.
I start to walk over to an area in a clearing of trees where all of the tents are beginning to be put up. Many kids are just now starting to understand what is going on and so they are pretty much halfway through the with their tents. However I struggle. By the time I finish, I realize that I rejoice too soon. The tent I've created doesn't even look like a tent; more like a jumbled mess.
"Need some help?" I here a raspy voice say behind me. I turn to find a tall, built frame towering over mine. The young mans face is craftily carved and his eyes are hypnotizing. "I haven't got all day princess..." I look back at my tent, embarrassed.
"Uh yah...some help would be nice." I step aside, biting my lower lip, and the 'mystery man' takes over, taking the mess apart until it looks like it did in the beginning. Then, he gets to work. At first, the silence is awkward and failed conversations were attempted, but then the silence was nice. I watched the muscles on his back move from the other side of his shirt and his jawline clench every time he stopped to make sure he was doing it right. Why is this so amusing? I ask myself. The o let thing I know about this guy is that he knows how to set up a tent without a manual...and he's absolutely stunning.
By sunset, he stepped back to admire his new creation. I handed him a canister of water that was being passed around and he great fully chugged it down.
"Thank you." I say, comparing it to the way I set it up the first time. He grins a little as he hands the canister back. When I wrap my hand around it, our fingers brush against each other.
"You're welcome." His eyes find mine, and I can automatically feel my cheeks turn hot. "My names Bellamy." He says, the grin erasing away, but I so badly wanted to see it again.
"Clarke. Clarke Griffin." He nods and looks down at the ground. I can tell he wants to say something else, but he refrains from it.
"Well if you ever need more help setting up another tent, I'll be here." He walks away just as stealthily as he came, like a thief in the night.
I turn back to the tent that Bellamy had perfected. Bellamy. Just the sound of his name, the way it rolls off of my tongue is so sweet. Bellamy. Why he seems to spark my interest so soon, I don't know.
"You okay there?" I snap out of my daydreaming. "You seemed a little dazed." Octavia places her hand on my shoulder.
"Yah, Earth is very eventful." I say jokingly. She smiles. It's not a smile that is meaningless or forced, but a comforting smile. Almost as if someone for once cares about me. "But enough about me. Have you set your tent up yet?" I ask.
"Yes, my brother helped me set it up." Her voice seems to drop a bit. I look at her with a worried expression. "Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that he has been trying to help, but he's been trying too hard...putting his life at risk even." She sighs. "That's the reason why he's down here. He snuck on to the ship to watch after me."
"Sounds like a protective brother." I say with a little sarcasm in my tone. She purses her lips together.
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When the sun goes down and the stars come up, it's obvious that the teenagers are nowhere close to being tired. I, however, am exhausted. Between new people that I've met, trying to make a tent homey with little supplies, and trying to dodge Wells the entire day, I have worn most of my energy out.
I walk over to the bomb fire that's practically dancing in the darkness. I look up at the sparks that float into the air as if they want to become stars. The air has gotten chillier, and I can sense that winter is coming soon. With poor quality tents and only thin blankets, we wouldn't be able to last long.
I spot Bellamy talking to another boy in the shadows. I believe his name is Murphy, or at least that's what I heard Octavia call him. I decide that it's best to get someone else's opinion that is actually respected so I strut over, trying to look as official as possible.
"If we can take them off, the Ark...oh, hello, Princess." Bellamy spurts, startled and cautious; but he's not the only one startled. What does he want to take off? Is this gonna help or hurt? I wonder. Maybe this hart-stopping man is more mysterious than dashing.
"Did you need something?" Murphy slowly turns around, failing to intimidate me. He crosses his arms and glares as me. "Hey," Bellamy begins, "it's okay, she's cool." I can tell that Murphy relaxes a little, but he still looks as if he'd be ready to pounce at any given moment.
"Actually I did have something to talk about." Bellamy takes a step closer in interest. "Winter is coming. We need to get prepared. My guess is that we landed up north so it-"
"Now hold on a minute..." Murphy laughs gesturing towards me. "Do you really believe her? We came here to be free, not to be parented by some some high class chick!" I glare at Murphy, hands on my hips, just like a sassy toddler. "Come on Bellamy..." He pleads. Bellamy darts his eyes at me and then at Murphy, and then back at me.
"There's a bunker just a little ways up the mountain. I was looking for food and came across it. Promise me we are not wasting energy and people, and I'll take you there." After a smirk of satisfaction spreads across my face, Murphy storms away in disgust.
"I promise, Bell-I mean...I mean Bellamy!" I cup my hand over my mouth in embarrassment. You idiot!!! I tell myself. "I'm so sorry." I whisper, hand still over my mouth. He grins at the ground.
"Fare enough...Ill call you princess, and you call me Bell." He puts his hands in his pockets, and walks away with that smile that I love so dearly. "See you in the morning, Princess."
"Goodnight, Bell." I say under my breath. At this point I could care less about wether or not he could hear me. All I care about now, is wiping away this stupid smile on my face before someone starts asking questions.
