FROM HER ASHES³ ━━ Bellamy Blake

𝐗: The Downward Spiral

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THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL

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          "MY SISTER NEVER approved of human testing. I don't care how crazy it's become down here."

     Bellamy's words ring with an air of finality like a gavel, eyes forbidding, heatless black rock. There is no seeping gold in his tone. His flat eyes stare upwards as they flicker defiantly between Lyra and Clarke.

     Lyra's fingernails press into her roughened palms. It wouldn't be the craziest thing that's happened down here. Not by a long shot.

     Clarke's mouth rolls. "Desperation has a way of making the unimaginable a necessity."

     Lyra snorts. Isn't that the hideous truth.

     "Still." Bellamy cuts them both a wary glance, as if he doesn't even quite believe himself. "If she weaponizes those things and sends them into the valley, then Echo, Raven, Murphy, Kane, Abby — "

     "Not just them," cuts in Monty. "All of us. Unleashing an invasive species on the last arable land on earth is a monumentally bad idea."

     Bellamy considers this, balking. His eyes, dark and heartless, slant to Lyra.

     "Tell me you didn't know about this," he's half-begging and half-sneering, vindicating, brutal as barbed wire. "Tell me that you didn't know that they were doing human experiments."

     Lyra blanches. "I didn't. I swear I didn't."

     His eyes comb hers, piercing, scrutinizing, like white hot sunbeams that sear straight through her heart. Each second is another dagger in the heart. She stares right back at him, heart thumping so noisily that she swears she can feel her blood coursing through her veins. It feels as if he has been looking at her for an eternity.

     Finally, he drops his gaze and mutters, "Even if Octavia does know, she won't listen to me. But you. . . "

Lyra decides not to mention the fact that it's more like the other way around, that it's Octavia whose controlling Lyra. She also decides not to mention the fact that human experimentation is not the worst thing that's happened in this bunker, nor is it the first time she's borne witness to human sacrifice like this.

"Not just me," she agrees at last. "We need help."

Untangling himself from the bench in the cafeteria, he slides to his feet. "I've got that part covered. Follow me."

"Indra?" Lyra questions lowly, keeping her head bowed as they stride past people.

He gives a jerky nod, lowering his head as they walk so that only she can hear him. "We doing this diplomatically, like old times?"

"When have we ever done anything diplomatically?"

"Good point" he mutters. "So it'll be just like old times, then."