031: what happens at sea

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thirty one

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thirty one . . . what happens at sea
( february 23, 2150 — luna's rig )

          HER EYES OPENED heavily, little specks of sunlight beaming in from holes in the shipping container she and her friends lay in

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HER EYES OPENED heavily, little specks of sunlight beaming in from holes in the shipping container she and her friends lay in. She squinted, her arm shaking as she weakly pushed her body from the floor, hand coming up to sweep the dreads of hair from her eyes. Across from her, Clarke was waking up, too, glancing around their surroundings to see they had no way out — Bellamy was next, followed by Octavia, then Jasper, all of them surveying the situation they had gotten themselves into.

"Where the hell are we?" Bellamy's voice croaked.

Octavia moaned, before a small gasp left her lips, her back colliding with the metal wall as she reached for her sword. "My sword's gone." She revealed, panicked.

Cullen's hand wandered to her thigh, falling around her holster. "My gun, too." She said, pushing herself into a standing position, before walking across to Jasper, peering out one of the holes in the wall to see nothing but the clear blue sky above them. "All I can see is the sky."

The sound of doors being scraped open snapped her neck around, eyes narrowing to look past the sunlight and to whoever stood between the doors, looking back on them expectedly. It was only when they stepped inside that Cullen realized it was Luna, an exact replica of how Lincoln had drawn her in his book.

"Luna." Octavia breathed in amazement, moving forward, everybody following in tow.

"Where's Lincoln?" Luna's calm, amiable voice asked, sparing everybody a glance, before settling her gaze back on Octavia.

A pause was heard, before Octavia said, "Lincoln is dead."

At this, Luna frowned, looking disappointingly to the floor. The small ounce of vulnerability made Clarke take another step forward, the A.I. in her hand. "Lincoln said that you would help us." Said Clarke.

"Did he?" Luna contended, raising her eyebrows.

"Luna, you're the last of your kind, the last Nightblood." Clarke grinned, Cullen's eyes flickering across to Bellamy — the man subtly raised his hand, shaking fingers assuring her that there was nothing to worry about.

𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀,   the 100 ¹Where stories live. Discover now