Amery is not supposed to be on the dropship.
She isn't one of the hundred delinquents being sent down to a radiation-soaked planet. She's just a Zero-G mechanic making some last-minute adjustments to a project nobody will tell her anything about.
I...
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✧】viii. goin' somewhere?【✧
[ twilight's last gleaming ] trigger warning: panic attack
"THAT IS DEFINITELY not a meteorite," Monty mutters frantically, shooting to his feet and pulling Amery up with him. What Amery initially thought might be a shooting star has erupted into a ball of flames, shooting toward the earth like a misfired means of destruction.
A few scattered voices around the camp call out to one another, drawing Amery's gaze to the center of camp from her place at the edge.
"Check it out!"
"The hell's that?"
"That can't be good," Monty murmurs, pulling Amery away from the camp boundaries and nearer to the tents and slowly growing fire.
"From the Ark?" Amery murmurs, and Monty looks at her with those deep, brown eyes and shrugs helplessly. She doesn't miss the tinge of hope in his expression.
"Bellamy, get out here!" Octavia calls. The light paving a nearly white path across the vastness of the sky is mesmerizing, Amery thinks, and she's immediately irritated that someone has beckoned Bellamy outside to ruin it.
"There," Octavia says, pointing to the shape in the sky. As a gust of wind pushes the younger Blake's cascades of brown hair over her bare shoulders, Monty pulls Amery closer to him by the elbow, and Amery shudders at the unexpected heat.
"Cold?" Monty asks, moving to shrug off his jacket, but Amery shakes her head. Warm.
"No, just..." she trails off, gazing at the projectile as it grows closer. The flames are dying down and the craft deploys a visible parachute as it drifts toward the forest. From the Ark. Amery's heart skips a beat– in fear or anticipation, she doesn't know.
"They're coming to help us!" Jones declares loudly. "Now we can kick some Grounder ass!"
"Yeah!" shouts the small group of teens who have gathered, two of whom are clad only in blankets and definitely just emerged from Bellamy's tent. Ew.
Amery exchanges a covert glance with Monty, who glances at the girls and then wiggles his eyebrows at Amery.
"Monty!" she hisses, slapping his arm. He chuckles.
"Please tell me they brought down some shampoo," one of Bellamy's newest adventures says, and Amery scoffs.
Oddly enough, Bellamy doesn't seem to share in the buzz of excitement of the crowd. He shrugs off the girls surrounding him and stalks toward his tent, one of his cronies and Octavia on his tail. A red flag goes up in Amery's mind.
She doesn't trust Bellamy Blake.
Amery finds herself bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes tracing the trajectory of the object and fighting the urge to dart into the woods unarmed. She has not yet been outside the camp on any sort of extended excursion, and she knows going alone would be a suicide mission, but... there's something in her gut saying she needs to get to this thing as soon as she can.
