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The year is 2150, the month is February. The winter is getting colder, and the Arkers are nowhere near prepared for the harsh winter, especially not now that their supply runs to Mount Weather have become completely nonexistent. Despite the lack of Arker presence in the mountain, the tensions have not died down, and with the return of one of Mount Weather's missing residents, revenge on the Sky People will be top priority. In Arkadia, following the damage Clarke and the others caused in Azgeda, Chancellor Griffin and the Guard must begin taking action to prepare for a war with the Ice Nation that is well on its way. Little do they know, the war has already begun with the arrival of a certain Azgedan spy, and what lies ahead is far worse than anything they have faced yet.
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 blood runs cold, Site Plot // SQUAD A
Clarke Griffin
 Posted: Mar 23 2017, 04:02 PM
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The walk from where they had deserted the Azgeda warriors to the gates of Azgeda was not an entirely long one, but the way the cold bit at her skin and tried to slip under her leathers sent a shiver through Clarke’s body, making it feel much longer than it was. After hiding the bodies and saying their temporary farewells, going over the plan once more for clarity’s sake, the groups had split their separate ways. Clarke remained flanked by both Bellamy and Lincoln for the walk as they played their parts of the fierce Azgeda warriors. The three walked in mostly silence, especially once they got close to the gates of Azgeda, lest any scouts linger on its borders, they had to keep their roles up.

As they approached the gates, Clarke glanced up at Bellamy out of the corner of her eye. She could feel her chest tighten with nerves, although made no move to show it on her face. Their first challenge would be getting through the gates…But that was by far not their greatest test; the hardest part would come once they were presented to Queen Nia. Clarke felt her heart still for a beat as they reached the guarded entryway, stopping only once Bellamy and Lincoln pulled her to a stop. Despite her singing nerves, the blonde kept her face set tightly in a combination of anger and annoyance as she allowed Lincoln to address the guards.

It was hard not to let her gaze carry upwards to the capitol of Azgeda that lay beyond the gates... It was almost a perfect reflection of its people; muted colors with a cold, icy chill to the palette. Yet there was a chilling beauty to it as well as snow clung to various surfaces, softening its features as if trying to bring the crumbling metropolis back to nature. The Ice Nation’s flag was a reoccurring theme; sprinkling itself throughout the streets and buildings in the distance. Clarke returned her gaze back to the guards, glancing only momentarily to judge if they were buying this little charade, but making sure not to let her eyes linger.

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Bellamy Blake
 Posted: Mar 23 2017, 09:12 PM
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The broad fluffy boots on his feet made traversing the snow easier, surprisingly light despite their size, functioning like snowshoes. Even though she was lighter, he could see Clarke's feet sink deep into the fresh powder with every step. He was pretty sure her anger at the Ice Queen for using her people as leverage was the only thing still keeping the exhausted girl on her feet. She could try to put on he brave princess face all she wanted; he wasn't going to to fall for it.

As they drew closer to Azgeda, the walls of the capital growing closer with ever step, fear started to descend on his heart, freezing it in his chest in a way that the cold never cold.

Bellamy stepped just a little closer to Clarke, wrapping the extra length of her rope around his hand, wanting her close as they drew near the gate. They'd been walking in silence for what seemed like hours. It had given him plenty of time lost in his own head, trying to anticipate problems, to worry about Clarke, and to wonder if they weren't all suicidal for doing this. For the first time in hours, thought about Gina, and how pissed she would be if he didn't come home.

His eyes glanced over at Lincoln, hoping that the man would look as stone-faced and fearless as the both needed to be. Bellamy and Lincoln had done something similar at Mount Weather, only that time, he'd played the prisoner. It hadn't gone particularly well for either of them, but they'd both survived. Hopefully whatever stubbornness, or luck, or favor of the gods, had saved them then would hold out for them this time too.

Bellamy took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pushing the fear away, focusing on what was important. When he opened his them, he saw the power, not of Wanheda, but of Clarke herself. He'd found her at last, and together, they could do anything. Even this.

As they reached the gates, Bellamy kept a close eye on Clarke like he was afraid she might try something. In actuality he was avoiding eye contact with the other guards so they wouldn't be inclined to speak to him.


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Lincoln
 Posted: Mar 25 2017, 11:58 PM
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Lincoln carved himself of stone, face frozen, impassive beneath the mask. Beneath his heavy furs he walked straight-backed and certain-- as certain as he absolutely wasn't, marching up to the front gates, to death. He did not know exactly what waited for them beyond those towering walls. He did not need to. All he needed was the chance to fake the strength he hadn't had in a long, long time.

Even as they approached the guarded gates, Lincoln spared no glance for either of them. Bellamy's face was covered, so there was a chance that his constant worrying over Clarke wouldn't give them away. Just a chance. Which meant that Lincoln had to be perfect, had to remember that this girl was not his friend. She was Wanheda, a well of power for his Queen. A girl already dead.

That, at least, Lincoln could believe.

Fighting the urge to place his hand on the sword strapped to his hip, Lincoln took a half-step ahead of his little patrol. He felt the eyes of the door guards snap to him, and nearly faltered. Felt his breath shudder in his chest, and straightened his back to compensate. Meeting the eyes of the nearest guard as an equal, he raised his voice so that everyone could hear.

"Ai lid Wanheda in."

His voice echoed in the snow. Too long, too loud, bouncing back upon him with every shred of confidence he projected. It was a good act. He was too good ad mimicking strength. He only hoped-- prayed, pleaded-- that the Azgeda did not stand on ceremonies unfamiliar to him. That there was not one among the guards he should have recognized as superior. They all dressed the same way. Heavy furs and spears, their faces covered, there was no way he could tell them apart in the snow-glare. It would only take one wrong detail to put them all in chains. NOTE: "I bring the Wanheda."

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Echo
 Posted: Mar 26 2017, 01:10 AM
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The gates were being opened, and that could only mean one thing: Wanheda. Echo had been waiting at the gates for this moment, which had taken longer than it should have. Perhaps Wanheda had given them more trouble than they had expected. A crowd was already forming, whispers of "Wanheda," on their lips as they peered at the prisoner being led in through the front gates. Echo's eyes were locked on Wanheda as they passed the gates, the guardsmen on duty closing them behind the procession. It was more than a little obvious that word had gotten out about Wanheda's capture. Even the children were struggling to get a glimpse of the Commander of Death.

Chin held high, Echo strode over to the two guards who had captured Wanheda. There should have been more of them. Unless Wanheda had killed the other two, Echo was unaware of a party of less than four. Snow crunched under Echo's boots as she made her way to the three of them. "Weron ostof kom yo kamp raun?" Her eyes were locked on Bellamy's face as she questioned them. Something about his eyes seemed familiar, but not in the way the eyes of any Azgeda warrior were familiar. Not to mention, he seemed a little short for a warrior.

Echo leaned in closer, peering at the eyes of the two warriors. Something felt suspicious about the whole thing, but without proof, she couldn't act quite yet. Until she was certain, though, she would stall them here. There was no way they would get to the queen without her allowing it. They would have to kill her first, and if they did that, well, then everyone watching would know they were not loyal to Azgeda.

Taking a step back, Echo moved close to Wanheda, looking her over, a sneer on her lips. Her gag was missing. No prisoner had ever been walked through the gates of Azgeda without a gag. So she had her proof then. Whoever these warriors were, they were not Azgeda. They hadn't even addressed her when they'd come through the gate. Keeping her attention on the prisoner, she reached a hand up and locked her fingers into the girl's rat's nest of hair, forcing her chin up so Echo could look into her eyes. Blue, like the queen's, yet so much softer. Strange for someone who'd earned the title of Wanheda.

"Welcome to Azgeda, Wanheda." There was a mocking tone to her words as she smiled sinisterly down at the girl. The smile curdling and turning back into a sneer, Echo continued, "I'm sure you're dying to meet Queen Nia." There was a ripple of laughter from the crowd around them, all eyes on Wanheda and Echo for the time being.

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Clarke Griffin
 Posted: Mar 26 2017, 10:17 PM
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The metallic creaking of the gates only managed to quicken her heartbeat, yet Clarke remained stoic, if not a little fuming, on the outside as Azgeda was presented to them. Once more she allowed herself to be pulled forward, stumbling slightly in feigned resistance before letting her feet guide her forward. The blonde tried to keep her determined gaze forward, yet it was difficult to ignore the whispers circling around her. Most of the words were too silent to be audible, not to mention in a language she knew little of, yet the term Wanheda prevailed over all. Clarke found her gaze slipping to the side, glancing at the onlookers who stared at her in a combination of awe and fear; as if she was some animal being put on display. Clarke wanted to sink behind the two men beside her, hide herself off from all of the eyes burning into her, to stop them from looking at her as if she were this Commander of Death; the very title that she had earned by the actions that haunted her every night.

But she couldn’t afford that weakness. Even if she was posing as a helpless prisoner, even if she hated the title bestowed upon her, Clarke knew that was what she had to become. If the Queen did not believe she was the Wanheda, then she would surely strike her down right on the spot. The belief that Clarke had some sort of power within her was what would keep her alive long enough for their plan to work, she hoped. So she pulled her eyes forward, ignoring the crowds around her, her resolute gaze landing upon a painted woman before them who seemed fixated on Clarke. The Grounder woman addressed them, eyes focused on Bellamy as she spoke in the language neither of them understood. A flicker of fear threw her heart off a beat and Clarke scrunched her brow in annoyance to cover the action; “I’m here to see Queen Nia,” she spoke up in a demanding tone, hoping to take the attention off of Bellamy before the Grounder realized he had no clue what she was saying. The warrior’s gaze lingered too long on Bellamy and Lincoln for her liking, and Clarke tried not to give into the fear that they had already been discovered. Instead, she continued to drag the Azgeda woman’s attention back over to her. “I promised them I’d cooperate if they brought me to their queen, now take me to her.”

In the next moment, the woman was in front of her. Admittedly, she had an incredibly intimidating gaze…. The distaste in her glare and sneer of her lip felt almost personal, although Clarke did not remember ever meeting this woman… It was cold; her dark gaze sharp like icicles and the blonde couldn’t help but wonder if all of the people of Azgeda bore a similar trait. The girl’s hand moved up toward Clarke’s face and she couldn’t help but flinch back ever so slightly, expecting the worst. But she bit back any sort of noise with clenched teeth as the warrior yanked her hair back, forcing her gaze directly into her eyes. Clarke did not falter; she met the woman’s eyes and made sure that the anger that was quickly boiling inside her could be seen through her own.

She remained silent for the mocking welcome, knowing full well she was anything but that here. Clarke kept her jaw tight, not fighting against the hold the girl had on her yet meting her glare. The surrounding laughter only tightened her clenched jaw, resentment rising within her at their mockery yet too stubborn to give into it. “Then bring me to her,” she commanded, a slight animosity lacing her own tone.

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Bellamy Blake
 Posted: Mar 28 2017, 06:56 PM
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Bellamy's heart froze the moment he saw Echo, his cage neighbor from Mount Weather. If they'd met under normal circumstances in neutral territory he expected it would have been under friendly terms. Of all the warriors in Azgeda's army, Bellamy found himself under the scrutiny of the only one he had ever met. He was grateful for a disguise that almost completely concealed his face; otherwise this whole endeavor would have been over before it had even begun.

He kept his eyes low, trying to find a delicate balance between not looking at Echo and outright avoiding her gaze. Right now he was terrified that she would be their undoing, that she would somehow manage to recognize him by his eyes alone, even though he knew it was unlikely. So Bellamy smirked under his mask as she jeered at Wanheda, hoping the smile reached his eyes, he tugged at Clarke's rope hard, forcing her to take another step forward, trying not to think about what he was doing to her already burned wrists. She would understand and forgive him if he could sell this.

Bellamy was relieved when Clarke spoke up, though any outward sign was thankfully hidden by his furs. As always, she was thinking quickly on her feet, steering the situation her way. Not only had she taken the attention off of him, but she also explained why she had come quietly, why should wouldn't resist, perhaps even an explanation as to why there were only two of them to guard her, and why she wore no gag. The ropes, of course, were in case she tried to change her mind at the last second.

The longer the stood at the gates the more his nerves threatened to take hold again. Why weren't they moving? Had they neglected to perform some kind of secret handshake or typical greeting? Azgeda didn't seem like the type to stand on unnecessary ceremony, but he could have been wrong, their culture was still something of a mystery, and the more he learned, the more he wished he could keep it that way, clearly a lost cause under the circumstances. Bellamy didn't want to spend an extra minute in Azgeda if the didn't have to. A minute didn't seem like much time, until you realized just how much could go wrong.


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Lincoln
 Posted: Apr 6 2017, 11:37 PM
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It was already over.

Though LIncoln did not drop his stoic gaze, he knew this already, beyond any doubt. He could not pinpoint what gave it away. His tattoos, perhaps, just barely visible beneath a heavy covering of warm furs and a slathering of white paint. His and Bellamy's demeanor, or some quiet phrase they were meant to speak, or the fact that Lincoln did not recognize the highest rank immediately, it didn't really matter. She knew. It was there in the way that she held herself, yet he pressed on, praying that it was his own paranoia which read her bearing. Not the intuition he'd come to trust.

"Wanheda don frag emo op," he told her without hesitation. It made sense, of course. Clarke was meant to be a great warrior, a killer of many men. Otherwise Nia would take little interest in her, and so cutting a four-man patrol down to two would not even be unlikely. So long as Azgeda knew no more of Clarke than the stories which followed her.

Lincoln breathed no sigh of relief, as Clarke drew the woman's attention away. He used Echo's taunting as an excuse to glance at Bellamy and laugh. No humor touched his eyes. They remained wide-- a silent warning, the only one which he could give, and one which would do no good. They were too deep into the wolf's den already to have any chance of flight.



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Echo
 Posted: Apr 7 2017, 01:10 AM
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Echo's face scrunched up in a sneer as she glared at the warrior who was actually Bellamy. He was taking far too long to answer her, and just as she reached out to grab him and remind him who she was, the other warrior spoke up. Her outstretched hand, less than an inch away from Bellamy's chest, clenched into a fist as she turned her face to Lincoln. The look on her face was a seething swirl of rage and agitation. Luckily for the three of them, Echo stepped away from Bellamy, coming to stop in front of Lincoln as she looked him over. Her eyes moved from his face to the boots he wore, and back up. "Ai nou don ste chich yu op." Her words were harsh as she spit them at Lincoln, suspicion in her eyes.

Turning her gaze back to Bellamy, she looked at him as if she were still expecting a response. Once again, her eyes were drawn away from his face, this time being pulled back to Wanheda. This girl was, after all, the reason for all of this. The commander or death. She seemed somewhat smaller than Echo would have guessed, and far less frightening. Echo had been hoping for something a bit more intense, perhaps. This girl wasn't it. And yet, she was still Wanheda - she had eradicated nearly all of the Mountain Men in one fell swoop. Such a feat it was, Echo found herself curious to know how it had been done.

Instead, she tugged at the girls hair without caution or care. Her hands were bound, so what was she going to do really? Echo couldn't help but to roll her eyes at the words coming from Wanheda's mouth. This was exactly why the gag was so important - prisoners were not supposed to be making demands. A prisoner was still a prisoner, even if she had chosen to come to Azgeda without putting up a real fight. Pulling her hand away from Wanheda's head roughly, her fingers pulling sharply in the nest of unwashed hair and tugging her head to the side, Echo moved off to the side. She lay a hand upon the shoulder of another warrior and leaned in close, whispering orders of some kind into his ear. When she was done, he ran off, further into the capital, a determined look on his face.

Turning back to the three waiting just inside the gate, she smiled weakly at the two warriors standing on either side of Wanheda. The smile twisted on her lips, turning into a smug smirk as she returned to the space directly in front of Wanheda once more. Lifting a hand, Echo grabbed the girl's chin without any sign of kindness, her fingers biting into the girl's skin roughly. "Don't worry, Wanheda. I'll bring you to the queen soon enough."

Again she turned her gaze upon Bellamy. She looked down her nose at him, her eyes narrowed. "Ron tayon op gon ai." Holding out her hand to him, palm up, she waited impatiently for him to obey her orders. Her body shifted, turning to face him rather than Wanheda. One eyebrow shifted upwards as she stared at him, clearly unimpressed by his lack of brainpower.

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Clarke Griffin
 Posted: Apr 7 2017, 11:26 AM
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A quick burst of relief beat within her as Lincoln spoke up, no doubt answering the question the Azgeda woman had asked Bellamy. She recognized Lincoln’s words easily as she had heard the phrases often, which led Clarke to believe that the woman had asked where the other two guards were…. It was a concern Clarke had had earlier, but if they used two of the others to fill the missing guard spots, that would leave only one left to rescue the prisoners; a mission too dangerous for just one person. She could only hope the Grounder believed Lincoln’s words. While she didn’t entirely comprehend what the woman spat back at him, she didn’t seem entirely too happy to hear half her guards were killed… Clarke kept her face tight with contained annoyance, acting as if she didn’t understand the conversation occurring around her. The less Trigedasleng they believed she knew, the better.

Her words of distraction would no doubt earn her some sort of reprimand, Clarke had known this, but it had done exactly what she had desired and pulled the focus off of Bellamy, for now at least. She bit through the pain of her hair being roughly pulled back, only letting out a tight, clipped cry as the woman sharply pulled her head to the side before letting go. Straightening herself once the Grounder stepped away, Clarke shook her knotted hair from her face, clearing her view just in time to see the woman whispering to one of the other guards.

Fear once again rose up within her, grabbing tightly at her chest, restricting her breathing. Clarke sealed her lips tightly, washing away any trace of trepidation from her features to avoid suspicion. What had she told him? Why weren’t they going with him? Doubt pushed its way into her mind and Clarke attempted to fight it back, not allowing herself to fear the worst just yet. What if they didn’t even make it to the Queen? They had weapons on them…. If need be, they could fight their way out, although she wasn’t a fan of their odds if it came to that…

The annoyed yet angered expression that seemed to pull tightly on the female Grounder’s features did nothing to ease Clarke’s budding fears. Nothing had happened yet exactly, but she couldn’t fight the feeling that something had gone wrong… But suddenly the woman’s fingers were digging into her chin, a sharp stabbing pain attempting to break through the numbness from the cold. It was enough to light a fire in her blue eyes as she glared up at the woman who held her face captive. She was quickly beginning to loath this woman… but Clarke knew she had to bite back any aggravation to play the part she came to play.

Once more she was back over to Bellamy and Clarke could feel her anger immediately dropping out to apprehension. Was she focusing on him because he hadn’t spoken yet? With the woman’s attention now on Bellamy, Clarke let her gaze shift slightly to the side, glancing over at Lincoln with the faintest expression of worry pulling at her features. Although he did not show it on his face, the stiffness in her friend’s posture was enough to reveal that he held similar fears as her own. As the woman spoke to Bellamy in her native tongue, a sentence which Clarke only understood fragments of, the blonde remained on edge, rapidly searching her mind for anything else she could say to divert the woman’s attention, but before the words could spill out, she caught sight of the Grounder’s outstretched palm.

The rope? Was that what she wanted? Clarke could think of nothing else that Bellamy had that she would want, although the alternatives were endless. The blonde waited with stilled breath for his response…If his eyes diverted away from the woman, it would only look more suspicious, so it wasn’t as if Clarke or Lincoln could convey any kind of sign. She almost wished Lincoln could, in case they had misread what the Grounder had said, but there was no way to do so in the split second Bellamy had to decide.

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Bellamy Blake
 Posted: Apr 7 2017, 09:39 PM
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The girl from Mount Weather was still looking at him, making him more and more uncomfortable with each passing second. Both Clarke and Lincoln had provided answers, yet she still seemed to be fixated on him. Did she really want to hear him repeat what Lincoln had said? Perhaps she had she seen something familiar in his eyes that she was desperately trying to identify, hoping perhaps that a voice would spark her memory of some instance where they'd served together.

"Emo gonplei ste odon," he muttered the familiar words, sounding annoyed, one of few things he felt comfortable saying without sounding like an outsider. How many times had he heard derivatives of that phrase? Too many. He mimicked Echo, throwing the same angry stare back at her. He'd forgotten how intense her eyes were, blue as the sky, harsh as the ice around them. His heart hammered in his chest at the simple exertion it took to stand still under her piercing gaze when every instinct told him to run.

As Echo approached Clarke, Bellamy did his best to appear bored and disinterested, fiddling with a seam on one of his gloves where the leather was starting to separate, not trusting himself to remained impassive if he watched. When Echo was otherwise distracted, he looked up just long enough to catch the warning look in Lincoln's gaze. Like Lincoln, Bellamy was concerned by the words Echo whispered to one of the other guards. He wasn't particularly thrilled at the idea of meeting the Queen either. As much as Bellamy wanted to get this show on the road, meeting the Queen could very well mean making a detour on their way to the prison, a detour that would no doubt bring them even deeper into the heart of Azgeda.

Echo reached her palm out toward him, saying something in trigedasleng that flew straight over his head. It was an odd language; some of the words were so clearly derived from standard English that no translation was required, yet other times it sounded completely foreign. Lincoln and Octavia had been teaching him, but he was lucky if he had the vocabulary of a two year-old.

But Echo wasn't just speaking trigedasleng, she was speaking a nonverbal language too, one that hadn't changed significantly in the last 100 years. He didn't take time to second guess his instincts. Without a moment's hesitation, Bellamy brought the gloved hand holding Clarke's rope down on Echo's outstretched palm, handing control of Clarke over to her. He was really starting to hate this plan.


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 Posted: Apr 7 2017, 10:42 PM
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Lincoln met Echo's gaze and held it, for just a moment. Jaw clenched, eyes hard, mirroring her own just long enough for it to matter, before he let his gaze fall from hers. He could not afford to challenge her, nor could he afford to demonstrate any sort of weakness in this place. It was a fine line that LIncoln was not certain he walked successfully. Strength seemed a distant memory. Every now and then LIncoln shook, and it had nothing to do with the cold, even less to do with fear. Lincoln stood tall because he had no other choice, but even that could not hold forever.

He watched Bellamy pass the rope to Echo with what sickeningly resembled relief. Azgeda had Clarke on a leash now. They'd been discovered-- or at the very least, would soon be discovered, and executed alongside the prisoners Clarke sought to free. Once they walked deeper into the great city, there would be no escape route, no cavalry to call in. For all his training, Lincoln could not see any hope. They walked towards their deaths. Better than standing here under her glacial scrutiny and just knowing it'd all gone wrong.

Lincoln let go a quiet breath, and a weight he hadn't recognized came off of his shoulders. Not for the first time, he thanked fate that Octavia hadn't come here with them. A fire still burned beneath her breast. The betrayal of his-- their-- people had not stifled her yet, and the last hope Lincoln had was that she never find something which would.


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 Posted: Apr 8 2017, 12:05 AM
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When Bellamy finally responded to her original question, she let her eyes move over him, a look of disdain on her features, hardly veiled. It was clear to her that he wasn't the brains of the operation. It was a miracle this one was even still alive - he must have been a really good fighter to survive where two of his companions had died, supposedly at the hand of Wanheda. Rolling her eyes, she scoffed lightly at his words as she pulled her gaze away from him for the time being.

But he was the one with the rope, which drew her attention back to him before too long. Lucky for him, he handed it to her without too much wasted time. Clenching her fist around the rope, she turned her hand over and over, reeling the rope in, pulling in the slack. The rope was shortened, looped several times around her hand, before she tugged on it sharply to bring Wanheda forward. Echo wanted to be in control; she wanted to watch Wanheda stumble, trip, because of her actions. With a condescending look on her face, she peered down at Wanheda, a spark of indignation flickering in her gaze. She should have been the one to capture the girl. At least she would be the one to lead her to the throne room.

It seemed almost as if the encounter with Wanheda had changed the warriors somehow. Echo knew almost all of them, and these two seemed timid beneath her gaze. It was not a trait many Azgeda warriors held, nor was it revered among their people. Of course, that meant something was wrong. These weren't really her warriors - they couldn't be. If they turned out to be Azgeda, well, then they would understand the precautions being taken. But Echo couldn't shake the feeling that whomever these people were, they were not Azgeda. Echo would have the truth before too long, though. One way or another.

Peeling her eyes away from Wanheda, she looked from Bellamy to Lincoln, her eyes lingering on Lincoln for an uncomfortably long moment before she spoke, "Yo tu, mafta ai op." Her words were sharp, her tone making it clear there was no room for disagreement. Either they did what she said, or she would slit their throats here and now. Echo wished they would give her reason to. Her blade was thirsty for blood, and her fingers itched to sate that thirst. Turning her gaze away from the three of them, she glanced over the crowd. The warrior she had sent away had returned, and when her eyes finally met his, he gave her a curt nod before slipping away into the mass of observers.

Lifting her chin, Echo exuded confidence. Pulling the rope with a rough tug, Echo moved forward, walking through the throng of people. They parted like the red sea, many of them terrified of Waheda, of dying. They whispered and stared, gasped and flinched away. Echo's steps were firm and deliberate as she led the prisoner further into the camp. After walking a fair distance into the capital, it became clear where Echo was leading Wanheda: the throne room.

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Clarke Griffin
 Posted: Apr 8 2017, 11:17 AM
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. . .
A mix of surprise and relief came with Bellamy’s uttered Trigedasleng, grateful he had spoken up with a silent hope that it would erase whatever suspicion of him this woman was having. She didn’t know he even knew any of the Grounder’s language, but just as that thought passed through her mind, a sharp stab of guilt followed it. Of course she wouldn’t know, two months had passed since Clarke had last seen him… A lot could happen in two months, a lot had happened to her in two months. Clarke brought her focus back to the Grounder woman, who had thankfully moved on from Bellamy.

Her gaze followed the rope as it was passed from Bellamy to the Grounder, not entirely loving the exchange but knowing it was necessary for this plan to work. Clarke did her best to swallow the fear that kept trying to claw its way into her mind and heart. What if she took her alone to the queen? What if the woman instructed Bellamy and Lincoln to wait here? It would throw a major hitch in their plan, one they wouldn’t have the luxury of conversing about to each other to come up with an alternative.

Clarke was quickly brought out of such thoughts with a sudden lurch forward, much harsher than the ones Bellamy had been doing for show, an involuntary whimper escaping her lips having not expected the movement as the rough rope dug into her sore wrists. Despite nearly losing her balance, Clarke caught herself, regaining her footing in time to match pace with the perpetually angry Grounder. The blonde glanced upwards to see the woman glaring down at her, the pain in her wrist and the maltreatment easily re-sparked the fire within her, matching the other woman’s glare without apprehension.

It took a good chunk of willpower to remain silent and submissive, biting on the inside of her cheek to still the words she wanted to spit out at this woman. She looked back over to Bellamy and Lincoln and spouted an order at them, one Clarke instantly recognized from having spent time with Lexa. Reprieve from her earlier uncertainties came with welcome as it became clear that Bellamy and Lincoln would be staying by her side, for now at least. It wouldn’t be any less dangerous sticking with her than being on their own, but they had a much better chance of survival should something go wrong if it was the three of them.

Once more the tug of the rope lurched her forward, although this time Clarke bit back her cry. After a brief stumble, she fell into place behind the Azgeda woman. It seemed there were more people gathered than she had initially realized, and glancing to either side of her, Clarke could feel their gazes burning into her. Despite the layers of leather adorning her, it almost felt like she was wearing nothing at all with the vulnerability of the situation. They whispered around her, eyes full of fear as if all Clarke had to do was look at them and they’d run off screaming. It was an advantage, technically, although she couldn’t help but think about how she had earned this reputation…. People were scared of a small blonde girl tied up in rope because they thought she would kill them, because she had killed so many before… Would the rest of her life continue to be people flinching away from her in fear? Knowing she was capable of something that even Clarke hadn’t thought herself capable of?

Despite how she felt, Clarke still held her head high, features hardened to stone to repel any of the judgments being cast at her. However this Grounder wanted to treat her, she wouldn’t allow herself to be some weak, helpless prisoner. Clarke had the Wanheda status to live up to, after all, she had to at least appear the person they all claimed she was. They walked for what seemed forever, but the blonde was fairly certain that was because she had been on her feet since she had arose with the sun this morning. She wished she could turn back to see Bellamy or Lincoln for reassurance, but even without the visual, she knew by their footsteps they were still behind her. They were finally in some sort of building and Clarke found herself more than grateful for the sudden reprieve from the biting winds of Azgeda.

TAG; Bellamy Blake | WORDS; 742 | NOTES; I'm sorry there's no dialogue... again...
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Bellamy Blake
 Posted: Apr 8 2017, 09:34 PM
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Bellamy hardly recognized the woman he'd known in Mount Weather. Where others looked at Wanheda with fear and reverence, Echo looked at her with entitlement. For a moment, Bellamy regretting giving her the rope, wondering if he shouldn't have stood against her. But he knew he'd had no choice; Bellamy didn't understand their hierarchy, or her role in it, and handing her the rope had still been the right call. For all he knew, she could be some kind of revered hero to Azgeda, her self-important swagger more than just an act, or egregious personality flaw. It made him wonder how much he really knew about the girl in the cage.

All he could do now was follow Clarke and hope that this wouldn't all blow up in their faces. Unknowingly, following Echo's orders, he fell in line directly behind Clarke. It wasn't if he'd had any other choice. There was no chance in hell that he was going to let her out of his sight, not when they'd already come so far and given up so much to find her. Bellamy wouldn't abandon her like that, even if she'd abandoned him.

His jaw tightened as Echo pulled on Clarke's rope so hard that she fell forward, nearly losing her feet. He knew he couldn't touch her, no matter how badly he wanted to catch her, to steady her, to rip the rope out of Echo's hands, and see if that would erase the smug look on her face. The only way he could help Clarke now was to stay close behind her and stay ready for anything. Opportunity always knocked if you were paying attention. Bellamy watched his peripheral vision closely, making mental notes on the layout of the capital as they walked, counting the ratio of warriors to civilians, no liking their odds. He knew Lincoln would be doing the same.

There was a line from the Aeneid that invaded his thoughts: "the only hope for the conquered is no hope for safety", translated roughly from the latin "una salus victis nullam sperare salutem". A person in danger of losing everything becomes dangerous beyond measure. It was why he'd shot Jaha to get a seat on the dropship, why they'd irradiated two hundred people in Mount Weather, why Clarke had given herself over to Azgeda, and it was why he would follow her into whatever hell awaited them.


Tag Lincoln
Sorry, is it cold in Azgeda? I didn't notice. I have NO chill
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Lincoln
 Posted: Apr 9 2017, 01:29 AM
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Lincoln fell into step behind Clarke in grim silence. He could not say what they would find beyond the gates. Only that it would be unpleasant. Almost as an afterthought he watched the scenery pass them by-- counted the streets on each side, memorized the locations of sticks and poles which could be fashioned into weapons in an emergency, of every armed guard who watched them pass. Two decades of training could not be easily put aside by despair.

He was painfully aware of the frightened looks of the citizens. They watched Wanheda, now, but she stood near enough that Lincoln caught many a wide eye, and it was like walking through his clan again. Dozens of familiar faces-- men and women with whom Lincoln had grown up, some of whom he'd even liked-- watched him as though he were a lion lead into their home. As though he could snap, turn mad at the slightest provocation. It was only in that moment that LIncoln realized word of what he'd become had reached his people. It was foolish to think that the recovery of a Reaper would have been kept secret.

Gritting his teeth, LIncoln forced his eyes forward again. Off the crowd. Off the past. None of it mattered, anyway, once Nia had the three of them tangled securely in her net. He fixed his eyes on the back of Clarke's head, and did his best not to blame her. Jasper was right, in a way-- none of them would be here if it weren't for her, not even the prisoners they'd come to free. It did not make her any less a friend. It did not mean Lincoln was any less willing to give his life to protect her. But the blame was hers.

With a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders. Thirteen streets deep into the city, Lincoln stopped counting escape routes.


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