||| SCYTHE ||| Bellamy Blake
She doesn't have a name. Not anymore. Not after what she did. Not after what had been done to her.
She is a weapon. She is a scythe.
And she didn't expect that to change.
Scythe hesitated, "Look, there are reasons that people turn into monsters and those reasons are always other people. I liked solitary because nobody could turn me into more of one than I already was."
Bellamy let go of her hand, "You are not a monster, Scythe."
A ghost of a smile graced her features, but it was heavy, sad, and gone in an instant, "You're wrong. Ask anyone at this camp."
"They don't know you."
"And you do?"