𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭︱octavia blake, book 2

( twenty-two )

Facing fears was a task Harley had gotten used to over the few months on Earth. She had been scared ever since she witnessed a spear being thrown into Jasper's chest, yet, this was just another journey. Each step Harley takes since stepping out of the Polis window is scary, especially as she realized how high up she was. She had never been afraid of heights, but to be fair, it was a very tall tower and one wrong move would send her plummeting to her death. Harley can almost hear her blood pumping from how fast her heart was racing, but she forced herself to remain focused, ignoring the dizziness in her head.

Only feeling how light headed she truly was hadn't happened until Harley's boots hit the flat ground. She doesn't realize how bad she's panting until she rests her hand on her chest, finding both the courage and relief that she managed to do this. It doesn't take long for her to settle, as the noise of people sobbing fills her ears. Even before Harley turns, she hears them loud and clear, wailing over loved ones. It breaks her heart to witness, seeing too many people doing so, crouched with anguish expressions plastered on their faces.

A sudden hand on Harley's shoulder has her nearly jumping out of her skin, but it's only Murphy, who takes a step back while retreating his hand. "Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's alright," Harley muttered, crossing her arms over her chest to hide her hands that were still stained with blood. She gazes back to the people, mostly grounders, some kneeling in a river of blood and others dragging bodies away to what Harley assumed was to be burned in a proper funeral.

One of them pulling bodies away was Jaha only a few feet away. Harley was shocked to see him, offering a woman help, who only spit in his face in return. Murphy scoffed, before calling out to the older man. "Good to see you're making friends," he commented.

"Hello, John, Harleen," Jaha greeted. "Glad to see you made it down. I could use some help with the dead," he requested, gesturing to the corpses around him.

It was the best thing to do, Harley thought, as she took a step forward in preparation to help. But Murphy quickly grabbed her arm, tugging her back. "Go float yourself," he snapped back, declining. "These dead are on you too, Chancellor."

A commotion was rising in the distance, but Harley ignored it, more interested in following her brother as he walked away. "John," she whispered in a scolding tone. "You know that wasn't nice."

"You know I'm not nice, right?" Murphy shot back, not stopping until he was close enough to see a familiar girl in the distance.

Harley stopped as well, following his stare until her eyes landed on a girl, looting off a dead body. She was the same girl that Murphy had embraced in the throne room; a pretty female was braids underneath a scarf, rounded brown eyes, one being circled with a thick tattoo that covered half her face. In Harley's observation, she also noticed a glove covering a hand that was larger than average, but she didn't want to be rude and question it. She only joined in rushing forward on Murphy's heels as he approached her, eager to meet her.