Rook {B.B} (3)

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Perverse Instantiation Part One (15,5)

Clarke and Tyra were thrown into the same room while A.L.I.E finished her nefarious plans. Though, they left absolutely no medical supplies for Clarke to treat Tyra with, forcing the Commander of Death to try to cure her with the few rags and water pitchers she had.

"This is going to hurt."

"Just do it." Clarke dug her fingers into Tyra's wound, the Trikru warrior biting down on a pillow to keep her pained grunts in check so none of A.L.I.E's people came inside.

"I found it." Clarke began to pull at the bullet inside Tyra's stomach, though the more she pulled, the deeper the bullet went inside. It was too slippery.

Clarke met sorrowful eyes with Tyra's tear filled ones, slowly taking her hand out of her stomach to clean it on a wet rag.

"What is it?" Clarke sighed, adverting her gaze to the black blood staining the wet rag in her hands. She was having flashbacks to the night Lexa died, both Natblidas, both from Trikru, both having been shot, and Clarke could save neither of them.

"The bullet's too slippery. I can't take it out." Tyra sighed, pushing the pillow to side, only to wince thanks to her also destroyed shoulder.

"Promise me something, Clarke. You will watch over Loukas, he will be destroyed after my death, he will blame himself like he always does. Do not let him do so," Clarke nodded, her voice far too cracked to be able to reply verbally.

To Clarke, it was Lexa's deathbed all over again.

"And find Bellamy someone nice, someone to listen to his endless talks about mythology and who will love his silly smile every time he believes he made a good move in chess only to lose. He deserves happiness with someone else."

"He deserves happiness with you. You both deserve it with each other. So don't give up just yet, okay?"

Just as Clarke finished speaking, the previously sealed door opened to reveal Jaha and a handful of A.L.I.E's followers immediately bursting inside. Two going for a struggling Clarke while the other two practically dragged Tyra along the entirety of the Polis' main building's concrete flooring.

"Let us go!"

"You'll both be free soon enough." Some other warriors pushed open the doors to the throne room, Ontari sat to the side with her legs dangling.

Even with her entire body covered in both hers and Tyra's blood and various open wounds which still seemed to be bleeding, Ontari looked happy and calm. Two expressions Tyra didn't think she'd ever see from anyone originate from Azgeda.

From the corner of her eye, Tyra spotted Clarke's Mom, Abby, walking in with calm steps that could only indicate she was chipped as well. A million different torture methods were running through Tyra's mind as to what they could use Abby for to break Clarke, but the question of why she was there remained. Probably to execute her, so Clarke had no other option but to place the flame in Ontari.

"Clarke... I've missed you." For a brief second, Clarke seemed to forget the threat at hand, hugging Abby as tight as she could. As if her arms would bring her comfort.

But then a switch flipped in her mind, realization settling as she pulled back from her mother's embrace with a hard stare that didn't reach her eyes fully.

"I won't take the chip ever. And neither will Tyra." Though Tyra could speak for herself, she highly appreciated Clarke coming to her rescue, seeing as if she began talking, she didn't doubt there would be more blood than words coming out of her mouth.