Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
thirty six . . . contending arguers ( february 24, 2150 — polis )
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THERE WERE BODIES everywhere. Slaughtered, their blood etching the cracks in the streets of Polis. Everywhere around them, Grounders piled up their dead, or led away their wounded, or consoled their grievers. Everywhere around them was nothing but chaos and death, cries of a woman who had lost somebody echoing through the air, pulling Cullen's attention away from the pools of blood, her eyes scouring the sea of confused people in search of whoever she was.
From beside her, Bellamy looked around for Octavia, who had fled in search of Indra the second after she murdered Pike — Cullen couldn't say she'd miss him, or that there'd be many, if any, people mourning his death. She had simply been relieved Octavia waited until after they defeated A.L.I.E. to kill him.
"She'll be ok." Clarke's words assured Bellamy. "Octavia can take care of herself."
"That's not what I'm worried about." He answered, attracting Cullen's attention.
Cullen's eyes glazed over his face, eyebrows furrowing together as she said, "She won't be charged. Everyone will see that Pike had it coming. Trust me, no one is gonna miss him being Chancellor."
Bellamy looked down to her, his once stern gaze mellowing at the sight of her convincing irises. "Maybe we all do."
"No. Not us."
"How do we tell these people that the world is ending after everything they've been through?" Clarke asked them, bringing their eyes back to the grieving Grounders.
"We don't. Not until we know A.L.I.E. was telling you the truth."
"It was the truth." Clarke looked between Cullen and Bellamy, both of which weren't doubting her words on them having not saved the world.
"Still. Keep it to ourselves until we know what we're dealing with and how to stop it." Said Cullen, followed by Bellamy muttering a 'damn', and sighing heavily through his nostrils.
