𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑, bellamy blake ²

15; children of petals

"In the end, we'll all become stories." 

— Margaret Atwood

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CHARLOTTE'S HEAD CRADLED ON HER KNEE—HAIR IN THE SAME BRAIDS NAOMI'S HAD ALWAYS BEEN. Tightened in her arms was her frayed Teddy: a stuffed bear that was missing both an eye and an ear. Charlotte loved it all the same.

Naomi was laying back against the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. The four of them had painted a galaxy across the metal, a winding image of red and green and blue. Shining silver stars had been sprayed across the roof. It wasn't very good—mind you—but it reminded her of home. Her fingers played against Charlotte's hair.

Octavia was curled around her side, precious leather-bound book in hand. Her eyes scanned across the pages of faced writing.

"What're you reading?" Naomi asked, placing her face against the side of Octavia's head.

Octavia didn't glance up. "The Iliad. It's Bellamy's favourite." She turned towards the next page. The room was warm and comforting—the smell of old books and cherries (or what Naomi imagined cherries to smell like). Drawings, paintings and toys were scattered around the room after a long day of relaxing. Octavia had managed to spill pink paint through Naomi's hair, which was still stained slightly despite a good half hour spent to wash it out. Also achieved, was a 10-paged illustrated story that Charlotte drew.

"It's called Finding Jupiter," she said, as she had given it to Naomi. "For you." It was now tucked beneath one of Naomi's arms. Her other arm was used to hug Octavia against her side. Naomi might have been the same age as Octavia, but she acted much older. Her fingers played in the locks of dark hair.

Charlotte was practically asleep now, face nestled into the crook of Naomi's knee. Her eyes were closed.

Naomi lay her head on Octavia's shoulders, blinking sleepily. Their day had been full of fun and games, drawings and books. She read over Octavia's shoulder for a moment. Then she fell back against the bed.

"When is Bellamy getting back?" Naomi groaned, throwing her hands back behind her.

"He's got a new job now," Octavia said. "He's a guard. It's cool. Now he can save people from getting murdered."

Naomi squinted. "I don't think that many people on the Ark are getting murdered," she pointed out. Octavia closed the book then, lying back to nestle against Naomi's side. Her dark hair pressed against Noe's face.

The girls were so young and gentle: Charlotte, a ghost of innocence in such a dark world; and Octavia, a breath of beauty and gentleness.

Watching them grow up would be the best part of her life.

Her fingers curled through Octavia's hair. The window loomed behind them, showering the room with colourful light of stars and moonlight. The opal light of far-off galaxies danced across Octavia and Charlotte's faces. The moon blocked out sunlight in the distance, blanketing them in a soft shadow. Naomi just closed her eyes and lay her head down.

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Naomi's head jolted upwards as the door handle twisted. In a moment of panic—Naomi realised she must have slept through the announcement of a daily inspection. The door swung open, revealing Guard Commander Shumway. By the time his eyes met her's, Naomi was already pushed into a sitting position, two sisters against her lap and the look of pure fear across her face.