GRIM REAPER¹, bellamy blake

097 ━━ limit testing

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IONA'S SMILE was dark as she stared down at Bellamy. He looked up at her, hesitant and afraid, with her wrist in his hand as he tried to hold the dagger away from his throat, where it was dangerously close to piercing the skin.

"She hated you so much for what you did," Iona spoke, feigning a pout once Bellamy's face filled with pure guilt. "She wanted to hurt you. She wanted to rip you apart piece by piece until you felt how she felt."

Bellamy winced, eyes closing as the horrid mental image filled his brain.

Iona shrugged, heaving in a fake sigh. She glanced up at the roof thoughtfully, smirking when she met Clarke's terrified stare on the way up, "Maybe I should do what poor little Iona couldn't do. What she was too afraid to do."

Bellamy stared up at her, tears manifesting in his eyes. He began massaging the spot on her wrist- the spot that seemed to soothe her the most- and causing Iona to raise a brow in question.

"Ona," he murmured quietly, almost as if he was speaking to someone else- someone within the woman on top of him. She looked amused, scoffing, but allowing him to speak. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't do this."

Iona tutted, "She can't hear you."

Bellamy swallowed thickly.

Iona looked up, her eyes going hazy as Alie stepped into her line of vision. The woman inspected Bellamy closely, huffing, before narrowing her eyes. "Kill him already," Iona grinned at the order, "We can't risk him bringing her back."

As soon as Iona nodded, applying force to her hand, trying to push the dagger close to his skin despite his grip, was when their fight truly began.

Bellamy twisted her wrist, grabbing the dagger as it fell limply from her hand. She rolled her eyes, groaning at the pain, before he tossed it to the side. He rolled them over, switching their positions.

Iona was, at this point, fed up. She was relentless, tugging at his shirt and bringing his head down closer to her. Then, she forcefully smacked her forehead against his, making the man groan, his vision filling with spots.

Then, she pushed him off of her, bringing herself to her feet. Her hand searched her katana sheath, a look of confusion coming over her when she noticed the lack of her beloved weapon.

Iona spun around, almost sensing his presence behind her, just in time to duck and dodge a slash of her own katana- wielded by none other than John Murphy. He held it weakly, as if the katana was heavy in his hands, and she chuckled.

"Careful," she sneered, "you might hurt yourself, Murphy."

He panted, barely shrugging his soldiers as he glared down at her weapon. She held a hand out, narrowing her eyes, "Give it to me and maybe I won't kill you."

Murphy laughed dryly, "Heard that before. Funnily enough, I'm not scared of death anymore. You can try, though."

Iona rolled her eyes before suddenly, she was lifting a leg up to kick the man in the stomach. He staggered back, trying to catch the breath she'd stole from him. She approached, about to grab her katana, before the weapon was tossed across the room.

Why was everyone throwing her weapons today?

Iona scowled as soon as the man tackled her to the floor, assaulting her with a flurry of punches. He got her nose, causing blood to run down the expanse of her face until it trailed down her lip- and she looked downright pissed.

"That's it," Iona growled. She seemed to lose any sense of mercy she'd had prior, grabbing Murphy by the back of his head- his hair, in specific- and holding him back.

Then, she shot one wicked punch to his face, making the man's eyes close, his body falling limply in her arms, tumbling to the ground beside her. She looked over at him, huffing, before rising to her feet yet again and searching for Bellamy.

She hadn't expected the man to kick her from behind, forcing her to go staggering forward, clutching at her hip once she steadied herself.

Iona turned to face the man, staring at him angrily- and Bellamy could swear he saw a flash of terror of her eyes; his Iona was in there somewhere, he was sure of it.

So, perhaps recklessly, the man let her beat him. Bellamy let her lunge at him, attacking him to the ground and hitting him until blood was seeping out of his nose, his mouth, and his eyes were rolling to the back of his head painfully.

Because, despite his fear, he had hope.

He had hope that Iona- his Iona- would know who she was hitting. He had hope that she'd care, that she'd want to defend him- that she still loved him- and would snap herself out of it and spare his life.

So, with a strangled cry, Bellamy gasped out, "Iona!"

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