[ The application of pressure makes Bellamy's breath catch, stuttering in his chest. It's a welcome sensation, comforting and anchoring at once, reminding him of where they are before he slips too far into the Darkling's memories. His eyes find the Darkling's, studying him for a long moment as he absorbs the concept of how ancient he is. It feels incongruous, when faced when that youthful face. ]
How do you stand it?
[ Bellamy's voice has gone raw. ]
How do you stand knowing she hates you?
[ The bright spill of Clarke's hair has given way to Octavia's cold fury and the slam of her fists, opening wounds on Bellamy's face. She hated him. Maybe they all hated him. They had every right to.
What I did and would do for their future is a familiar refrain. It's a sentiment Bellamy knows well and has lived by, still does live by. But knowing that what he'd done had been the wrong choice and had sparked such hatred in the people he loved, it ate at him. If the Darkling had lived so long, maybe he'd figured out how to make room for that weight so it didn't crush him alive. ]
no subject
How do you stand it?
[ Bellamy's voice has gone raw. ]
How do you stand knowing she hates you?
[ The bright spill of Clarke's hair has given way to Octavia's cold fury and the slam of her fists, opening wounds on Bellamy's face. She hated him. Maybe they all hated him. They had every right to.
What I did and would do for their future is a familiar refrain. It's a sentiment Bellamy knows well and has lived by, still does live by. But knowing that what he'd done had been the wrong choice and had sparked such hatred in the people he loved, it ate at him. If the Darkling had lived so long, maybe he'd figured out how to make room for that weight so it didn't crush him alive. ]