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OCT 6, 2149 DAY TWENTY FOUR ON THE GROUND
DAKOTA AND OCTAVIA WERE BOTH SPRAWLED OUT ON THEIR STOMACHS AND PROPPED UP ON their elbows in the Blake girl's tent; lost in the world of Lincoln's journal. Their glowing eyes were locked onto the various charcoal sketches that danced across the pages in wonder, studying the various scenes he'd so realistically drawn with quiet discussion to one another about them.
The Thompson girl was thankful for the notebook and Octavia's presence; the two beloved things letting her escape the reality of the fight she'd just had with Monty and Jasper and Bellamy kind of.
"Woah. Is this a grounder with a... gas mask on?" Dakota stopped Octavia from tenderly turning one of the pages, so weathered and beaten down it looked like it had been bathed in hues of gold and yellow and earthy browns.
In this specific drawing, a figure was parading through a thick cloud of smoke with some sort of grenade-type weapon in hand; an eerie gas mask securely covering their face and a puffy suit clothing their body. She'd seen things like this in history books back on the Ark, dangerous smogs and chemical weapons having been used in multiple wars. But why would Lincoln draw a grounder wearing one?
"I dunno." she hummed a response, gingerly stroking her fingers along the sketch in fondness of his talents.
The sound of the tent flap flying abruptly open caused them both to gasp and flinch; having been observing the leather journal in total secrecy. Octavia was quick to hide it away beneath a thick blanket, both of them glimpsing over their shoulders to see the front half of Bellamy's body and his head ducked into the entrance way.
"Je-jeez! You scared me." Octavia let out a breath, her eyes falling back ahead of her; not wanting to give him the time of day.
"How are both of you feeling?" he questioned seriously, Dakota frowning in confusion. She clambered up from where she lay with a soft grunt, turning to face him and sitting on her bottom.
Only then did she notice the prodigious concern etched deeply into his freckled features; wide eyes riddled with anxiety as his immensely worried gaze flickered between the two girls. His alert irises seemed to scan every inch of her body as if he were desperately looking for something, doing the same to his sister; apparently having some sort of urgent need to examine them.
"Fine. Get out." Octavia replied shortly.
"Dakota, you feel okay?" he pressed critically when only Octavia gave him an response, Dakota furrowing her eyebrows as her lips parted in peculiarity; leaning back on her palms.
"Yeah, I feel fine... why? What's going on?"
"Either of you touch Murphy yesterday?" he wasn't answering her question; he couldn't. The need to interrogate them left barely any space between his vital inquires.
