𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 II Bellamy Blake

𝟏.𝟐𝟎. 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓/𝟏.𝟐𝟎.
☆ CALM BEFORE THE STORM ☆
"𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓶𝓲𝓽 𝓘'𝓶 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓷?"

☆꧁*꧂☆

      IT'S BEEN TWO days since the lethal virus assailed the hundred, mercilessly reaping its harvest and disseminating the burden of death. Blithe atmosphere reigned all over the camp as the rest of delinquents recovered from the infection and became healthy again. No more war moves from their enemies allayed everyone's shattered nerves. The silence ascended the spark of rebellion ardent in their hearts. Morales blossomed in calm before the storm, yet in awareness that they only won a battle. The conqueror of the war was still unknown. 

   Also, it's been two days since Allaia and Bellamy shared the intimate kiss in the butterfly meadow. Ever since they diverged in their paths after the return at camp, Allaia felt like a shadow of herself. She felt this emptiness devouring her emotions, morphing her feelings into somber nothingness. It was as if her spirit had abandoned her body, leaving a vacant shell behind, the solitary trace of her existence. The hollow in her soul seemed to extend under the influence of her conscience bereaved in guilt, caused by unintentionally hurting Bellamy. Allaia's traumatized mind supinely exploited the hell of her past on a ruthless replay, tormenting her in the cage of endless pain. Alle's wounds of emotional scathe left the invisible scars behind, telling the story of her personal fight with her demons. 

   All her activities were automatic; Allaia was drowning in numbness, in uneven rivalry with her nightmares. She vaguely isolated herself from everyone, submerged in her own thoughts, in a desperate attempt to defeat her horrors to brighten her future. 

   Bellamy discreetly watched Allaia from afar. His heart ached terribly at their distance, however, it was him who proposed it in the first place, so he didn't have any right to complain. This wasn't his intention, not in the slightest. Bellamy felt awful, seeing how broken Allaia looked — a faded outline of a person, struggling with the demons of her past, alone. She was extremely pale, with dark shadows underneath her eyes which lost their essential luster. It required a lot of self-control for Bellamy not to rush in her direction and console her in his loving embrace. He missed the innocence of her melodic voice and that sincere smile which always made his heart flutter in an odd rhythm. 

   Even Bellamy couldn't shield Allaia from her emotional wounds, no matter how badly he wanted to quell her anguish, but he knew she had to process everything on her own. 

   Allaia decided to join Octavia on the smokehouse duty, realizing that distracting herself from the chaos in her mind could have a benign impact on her mental health. In silence, the girls were hanging up pieces of meat, so they would dry before the sunset.

"Are you okay, Alle?" Octavia asked gently, unsurely staring at her. "You've been acting weird lately. I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine." Allaia lied, avoiding her eyes.

"Did Bellamy do something?" Octavia inquired uncertainly. "Because if he did, I'll talk to him and—" She rambled.

"Why does everyone assume that he's the one who would fuck it up?" Allaia snapped, her eyes widened afterwards. "I'm sorry, Tavy. I— I didn't mean to yell at you." She admitted shakily, smiling at her apologetically.

"It's okay." Octavia assured in a delicate tone, watching her intently with concern.

Del came in, carrying a pile of wood. "Let's get this party smoking." He grinned, dropping the logs into the fire, flames rapidly arising.