☆彡
❝ her lips had the courage of the stars, her veins contained the soul of the universe and instead of a heart was a sun. she was the galaxy itself. ❞
in which one of the hundred was not what she seemed, not an innocent girl cl...
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PANDORA HAD RISEN EARLY TO watch the sunrise. She sat on a bare stump as she memorized the elegant details of the first orange strokes kiss the horizon. The amber glow peaked through the trees, its brightness reflecting over her face. She shifted from her spot to get away from the intense rays and perched herself in one of the long slender shadows.
Sparrows chirped in a nonchalant melody over her head, and she smiled at the view of the first animals she'd seen. They were blurs of fluttering shadows like sketches in the sky, and the sound of their wings reminded her of the the delicate crinkle when she flipped to a next page of a book. Although most novels had still been locked in her memory, she yearned for the touch of ink blotted parchments. It was strange to think so, but the feeling gave her ease.
Her chestnut eyes scanned the drop site, slumbering delinquents, who had been so wild several hours before, were either tucked on top of the soft bedding of the earth, or inside the dropship. She hadn't dared take a step inside the ship since she briefly witnessed Bellamy and some girl make their way inside the night prior. There were some things she didn't want to see.
A thump alerted her towards a dark skinned boy, marking him as the one person other than herself who was awake. Her eyes settled on the early bird and she realized it had been Wells. He was dragging the corpses of the unlucky boys who didn't survive the rough landing. She nearly forgot that the bodies were rotting away in the dropship. No one else had bothered to put them to rest until Wells tasked himself with the duty. It surprised her; the son of the cruel Chancellor hadn't been the privileged asshole that she suspected him to be.
She walked towards him, pressing her toes gently into the ground to move without rustling the leaves beneath her. "Need a hand?" She offered. Her gaze then fell to his exposed wrist, and she felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry about last night, I should have done more to stop them."
"It's alright," he replied, pulling one of the corpses along. "Grab the other kid."
She bobbed her head, and scooped the dead boy from under his armpit, cradling him in her arms. His weight leaned onto hers and the stench of death clung to her shirt. Her legs moved backwards, yanking him along like a lifeless doll. She followed Wells to an outer part of camp and gently placed the body on the dirt.
"I'll dig a hole for my guy and you dig one for yours," she suggested, earning a nod from the newly aquatinted boy.
For an hour, they put their back into shoveling, reaching deeper into the Earth's surface. Sweat glistened on her forehead, trickling down the bridge of her nose. The sun had risen higher, blazing down on her neck, and the dead boys seemed to reek at an even faster pace.
