AN: Hello. Hi um sorry this is very awkward and I don't know what I'm doing so please be nice. I'm doing this instead of revision for my GCSEs so hopefully it'll be worth it(I mean who really needs to pass welsh). I just thought I'd mention to start that I will be using British spellings and before you continue I thought I'd do some TW. It's the hundred and season 2 so may be quite graphic at times and will mention violence death etc. There may also be mentions of sexual harassment and torture (bc mountain men eww) so if any of that is a problem for you, you have been warned. I have tried to still make this story as accessible as possible so i will include warnings lines for sexual assault etc. before and after so you can skip over it if necessary. I would like to say that I don't enjoy writing things like that much, but it is important for the character and explaining reactions and reasoning for decisions in some situations. I think that the main characters being relatable is crucial for the accessibility for a story and unfortunately these experiences are things that people have to go through more often than they should (which should be never). I thought I'd get that out of the way now before you get halfway through the story and have to abandon it because any of that makes you uncomfortable. Also swearing bc I have a filthy mouth and inner monologues y'know. Ok I'll get on.
Disclaimer: clearly I do not own the hundred only original characters. Damn.
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Beeeeep
Beeeeep
Beeeeep
What the fuck?
Damn alarm clock. Who the hell decided I need to wake up this early. Like its 7am for christ sake, which isnt really that early for most people but when you share qualities akin to a sloth 7 am is a struggle. I try to force my eyes open before I fall back to sleep because sleeping through work is not something I need this week.
As I stumble to my bathroom with as much grace as a newborn deer, I look in the mirror at my pasty yellowed skin and sunken sea green eyes, dark circles making me look not unlike a panda. Not being able to go outside really sucks. Looking back at old archived pictures of these gorgeous glowing people, I wish I was able to not look like the walking dead. To feel the sun on my face as gently strolled through a meadow, hands lightly skimming the tops of the long grass, the feel of the grass beneath my feet.
Cliché I know but I want it more than anything.
It's not normal for humans to be kept indoors all the time. It's a primal need to be outdoors. Whenever I would get bored in lessons I would day dream of life on the ground. I always imagined that I would come in after a long day of running around or foraging or whatever people do on earth, all windswept and rosy cheeked to sit by a nice warm fireplace in a picturesque wooden cabin. Maybe I would meet someone on the ground? (which is not me saying that a very tall dark and handsome man was to join me in said daydream).
Turning the shower on, I step under the water and take a second to enjoy the feel of the water running over me. Taking out my lavender scented shampoo, massaging it into my scalp. Washing it out and quickly conditioning and washing my body because I've zoned out again and am dangerously close to the water running cold.
Quickly throwing my hair into a towel and wrapping another around me, I step out of the bathroom and am immediately hit with the cold air of my bedroom. Quickly drying and getting dressed, I throw on some tights and one of the dresses in my wardrobe, a light faded yellow tierd dress with little white flowers on it. Getting out my hair dryer, I blast dry the thick blonde hair dripping water down my back. It takes a good twenty minutes to dry, and when it eventually does, I quickly put on some concealer and mascara (to be used sparingly as make-up isnt easily renewable down here) and run into my kitchen to boil the kettle, in desperate need for coffee.
