"cause for a moment, a band of thieves
in ripped up jeans got to rule the world"
in which...
ARIA SPENCER spends more time fighting for her life, than living it, but Bellamy Blake made it all worth it.
I ONLY OWN ARIA AND MY OC's
- slow burn
...
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september 23 2149
THEY STOOD CROWDED in one of the tents by the dropship, Wells' dismembered fingers on the table. Aria couldn't shake the chill that crept down her spine as she glanced at the dismembered fingers laid out on the table. She couldn't help think about his last moments. He didn't deserve this. He should be there with them.
This was going to be bad.
Clarke picked up the knife, her fingers trembling slightly as she examined it. "This knife was made of metal from the dropship."
"Oh, god." Aria's breath hitched in her throat as she grabbed the knife from Clarke's grasp. It was crude, with a handle that had been turned back on itself and wrapped in tape from the dropship. Aria recognized it immediately. It was Murphy's knife. Anger surged through her veins, hot and fierce
"What do you mean?" Jasper's voice was laced with confusion
Bellamy had a stern expression, and his arms tightly crossed. "Who else knows about this?"
"No one," Octavia replied with a shake of her head. "We brought it straight here."
"Clarke?" Jasper looked at Clarke not understanding.
Clarke met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and growing anger, her jaw clentched and she snatched the knief back. "It means the Grounders didn't kill Wells. It was one of us."
"So, there's a murderer in the camp?" Jasper's voice trembled with fear, his eyes darting around the tent as if searching for the culprit.
"There's plenty of murderers in this camp," Aria scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. They were all criminals, after all. Not everyone had been locked up like Clarke or Jasper for non-violent crimes. They were surrounded by murderers. She supposed after Atom, she was a murderer too.
"This isn't news." Bellamy shook his head, his eyes were dark, clouded with thought, "We need to keep it quiet."
Clarke made to storm out of the tent, but Bellamy blocked her path. "Get out of my way, Bellamy," she spat, her voice dripping with contempt.
"Clarke, be smart about this. Look at what we've achieved... the wall, the patrols. Like it or not, thinking the Grounders killed Wells is good for us." Aria couldn't help but agree, not with his twisted logic about the wall, but about keeping this hushed.
"Oh, good for you, you mean," Clarke retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm. "What... keep people afraid and they'll work for you?" She pushed past Bellamy, her anger palpable.
"Yeah. That's it," Bellamy replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "But it's good for all of us. Fear of the Grounders is building that wall. And besides, what are you gonna do... just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward? You don't even know whose knife that is."
