𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑, bellamy blake ²

16; dreinstoka

"Valar Morghulis." 

"Yes. 'All men must die.' But we are not men."

― George R.R. Martin

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"HEY, NAOMI!"

Naomi hobbled as fast away as she could from Clarke. Her make-shift crutches dug into the dirt beneath her as she flew around the corner, and away from the blonde's watchful eyes.

"Noe, stop now," Clarke said, accusingly. Naomi was forced to slow at the rising fence ahead of her, her escape plan falling flat on its face. She let out a huff, light hair falling over her eyes as she turned her gaze to the top of the fence. It would be impossible to climb. Naomi sighed and turned towards Clarke.

The crutches were bound to her wrists, a mechanism to stop her from walking normally as to prevent further tears in the muscle around her wound. The use of crutches were also said to strengthen the torso, and therefore Naomi wouldn't have muscle loss. They hurt her torso like a bitch, though.

She adjusted her entire body so she faced Clarke with a guilty grin, putting her weight against the leg opposing the side of her wound. She didn't need the crutches all the time, but it was fun to run from Clarke in them.

Clarke already had her hands inspecting the torso wound. The stitches rested uglily beneath her shirt. "Naomi, it's never going to heal if you keep trying to run." The older girl leant back against her crutches, straightening her back.

"Do I have to wear these?" she raised both crutches into the air. "Makes me look like a little bitch. I can walk fine." She ignored the pain burning against her torso at the action of lifting her arms.

Clarke instantly looked alarmed at her actions and forced her arms back to her side. "Keeping your weight off your legs is the best way to keep the muscle moving too much. Anyway, you're not meant to sprint on them. Small steps, Naomi—or you'll just do more damage." She pulled away from her friend's stomach and placed her hands on her hips.

Naomi only smiled. Clarke carefully lead her back to the Ark, to the science wing. Raven was seated at the desk, inspecting a whiteboard full of equations and diagrams. A radio lay beside her—a radio which had not been active since Naomi had been awake.

Clarke began to speak to Raven, but Naomi paid them no attention. She moved to the older girl's side, taking hold of the radio and holding down the button. She raised it to her lips. "Bellamy," she said, though she wasn't expecting a response. Raven was saying something about the dam when Naomi cut in. "It's been days—and there's still been no contact with Bellamy!" She pressed the radio back against the table.

Raven crossed her arms and spun on her stool towards Naomi. "He was cut off about the time of the missile. Someone must have found the radio." Her eyes darted to meet the younger girl's. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Well, you said he got the acid fog down before the missile?" Raven nodded, glancing towards the dormant radio. "Well then what are we waiting for? We have to get in there!" She slammed the base of her crutch against the ground, making Raven flinch.

Clarke turned towards her. "We're sending the army tomorrow—at first light. Octavia, Raven and I are going to get us in there. We—"

"I'm coming too," demanded Naomi, as if it was obvious.

"No," the younger girl insisted. "You can't go with that wound."

Naomi straightened her back, glaring at Clarke with a piercing gaze. Her lips were twisted into a frown. "I can do this, Clarke. My wound is healing. I won't fight, but I'm going to be there. If Bellamy's alive... I'm coming for him." She adjusted the crutch beneath her arm.