( yeah, i'd rather be a lover than a fighter )

[baring]

who: bellamy blake (baring), clarke griffin (skaikru), her adopted people, and YOU! | ( 3 open prompts, 1 semi-closed )
when: mid may, post-party
where: various locations
summary: there's no getting around the fact that clarke's been here for months. there's also no getting around bellamy's refusal to leave her side. time to face the damn music and figure out a new normal.
warnings: blanket warning for the 100's everything. nothing graphic or violent planned but the meta of both bellamy and clarke will probably go to some dark and unfortunate places. feel free to opt-out here on his permissions post.

I'M IN NEED OF A SAVIOR, BUT I'M NOT ASKING FOR FAVORS. | clarke griffin + bellamy blake ( VARIOUS LOCATIONS, SEMI-OPEN TO EVERYONE BUT EBALON AND LA PLUMA 🙃 )

( friends, enemies, casual acquaintances, neighbors, and begrudging allies — you've all met clarke griffin, right? 5'5", blonde, best described as fucking reckless and angry, but like, with a purpose. she's been here since the beginning, jumped off the serena eterna and very publicly died against the side of pirate jenny's galleon. got her arm chopped off in the televised battle royale, and recently took a pair of lobster crackers to the captain's head while sitting in his lap in the middle of a party. basically always looks like she's about to cry, punch someone in the face, or grind her teeth so hard they crack under the pressure of all her anxieties. bleeds black blood, still looks a little crispy from maybe-dying in a nuclear apocalypse. exudes an air of forlorn loneliness, and begrudgingly started making friends. only really gets excited about antibiotics and chocolate cake. doesn't wash her clothes enough, has been the doomsday caller on the corner insisting they were all going to die from day one...

well guess what, you're about to start see her smiling. a lot.

small, still-sad smiles; like tragic inside jokes are being passed back and forth between her and the young man who arrived just recently, and seemingly immediately glued himself to her side. and her to his.

catch them walking through the hallways together, oddly mirrored images of emaciated, battle weary youths. or spot them sitting in a corner table of the dining halls, her picking at a sparse plate of meat whilst he hunches over a bowl of soup. or maybe you see the two of them out on deck, clarke gesturing all about like a tour guide — look, that's where pirate jenny swelled from the sea and almost drowned us all; that's the direction the skiff from the island returned from; there's no fish in the sea; that's the bridge up there; here are the most strategic points i've found in the event of an on-board war, etc — while bellamy takes it all in with a perpetual air of disbelieving acceptance. they're probably also found in all and sundries, clarke shoving bottled water, prepackaged snacks, and soap into his arms before giving him the rundown on how to "check out", despite no actual money being necessary. or maybe at the mouth of the newly erected tommy bahama's, neither complaining about the gaudy patterns all that much — still not quite over the novelty of new and clean.

anywhere along the ship, those few who have become friends and confidants may be flagged down by clarke with an almost unnatural air of enthusiasm. anyone else who approaches will be politely greeted, and introduced to — )

This is Bellamy.

( unless it's ebalon or la pluma, in which case clarke's immediately clamming up, and putting hands on bellamy to usher him away. )

MY WHOLE LIFE I'VE FELT LIKE A BURDEN. I THINK TOO MUCH AND I HATE IT. | LIBRARY, OPEN.

( if there were any informational texts to be found, clarke would already have them stashed and earmarked. that isn't good enough. what purpose does a library have, if not to help people educate themselves?

bellamy has to see the library with his own eyes and make his own judgment call on whether it's useless. he trusts clarke; this isn't about that. it's about books. actual physical copies of books were limited on the ark, rarities in the form of personal collections that either passed hand-to-hand or were kept aside, criminally untouched in private collections. most texts were accessible via tablet, presuming you had the credentials. classes were generally lectured from flawed memory, arbitrarily passed to the next generation by word-of-mouth. he runs his freshly scrubbed fingers over the spines, skimming titles and authors in quiet wonderment. is this what people on earth had, before? stories that weren't crumbling to pieces, water or fire-damaged, missing pages?

he pulls several in his rummaging, opening them to thumb through the pages, puzzling over the binding on hardcover copies.

up and down a ladder, he inspects the uppermost shelves as well, probably with a goofy smile on his face.

just wait until he tells octavia ab—

expression darkening, he closes that particular book in a snap and stows it away where he found it. eventually, less sulkily, he winds up cross-legged on the floor with a semi-circle of books around him. the running theme seems to be shakespeare and any roman-themed ( greek will suffice ) fiction he can find.

when he isn't surveilling the ship, collecting supplies like a retriever and/or following clarke like a menacing shadow, he can be found descending down the literary hole with tunnel vision. he's either startled out of his reverie with a, ) Did you say something?

( or more inquisitively, disturbing another reader to ask, )

Fifty shades of what now? ( SQUINT ) But there aren't that many.

( please humor the man. he is clearly handicapped by a lack of taste, what with that shirt, those socks and really impractical khaki pants that are too tight and without nearly enough pockets. )

I'M SO USED TO BEING IN THE WRONG, I'M TIRED OF CARING. | TUAVA ( BUT CAN BE TWEAKED TO WHATEVER BAR ), OPEN.

( you ever have one of those nights where you can't stand anyone or anything? you can't sleep because you're too exhausted but too alert to give yourself permission to rest? can't eat it away, can't shower it away? in a hopeless attempt to cross everything off the list, he even tries jogging in start-and-stop laps around the sports deck. the runner's high gives him a head rush stronger than any deprivation while an alarm was blaring in space. all it does is make him miss raven and echo, and being knocked flat on his back repeatedly. so naturally, he runs that much harder to steal the wind from his own lungs. bellamy exercises until his hands are on his knees and he's a heaving mess, concerned he's about to lean over the railing and hurl up his soup from dinner earlier.

the edginess lingers after his second shower of the day, doesn't go swirling down the drain with his shampoo like he wishes it would.

he wanders the many shops and entertainment without any real direction in mind, giving clarke her first real solitude since his arrival and allowing himself to shake out the feelings he's been bottling up on purpose.

his feet lead him to a whiskey bar of all places. he stands in the entry for a whopping thirty seconds—don't do this, you don't do this—and then he shrugs off the little voice in his head that reminds him incessantly of his responsibilities ( how clarke needs him to be strong, how their people are probably waiting for them to come home ). but for the next hour, bellamy wants to sit slouched in a loveseat with a leg drawn up, bent at the knee but preoccupying the entire piece of furniture with how he's spread out. a half-full glass rests on his thigh with his hand over it. if anyone happens to look up or moves to sit across from him, he'll raise his glass in answer. but, he doesn't have much to say.

he's spent the last six months playing clue in his head, wondering who would kill who with what and where, if he didn't unplug the oxygenator first because they could all be so aggravating in close quarters. only, for tonight, he misses them. because for the first time without octavia in his life, he still had a family. there were these people around him constantly, filling a wound in him.

lamely and without more than a tired smile, he tilts his head to the side and gestures with his free hand. )

Can I buy you a drink? ( sorry, friend, he's running on empty. )

LOVING NEVER GAVE ME A HOME, SO I'LL SIT HERE IN THE SILENCE. | ADULT POOL, OPEN.

( reasons why we do not drink in our ripe old age: The Hangover. The Hangover, different than a hangover ( lowercase ), finds you, cracks you over the head with the nearest blunt object ( a flamingo-shaped bookend ) and plays some god awful bubblegum pop song on a loop until you die. maybe that latter part is more the serena eterna than bellamy, but he can't be sure this song wasn't on maya's ipod that jasper inherited. was it? is this hell?

when he accomplishes crawling ( yes ) out of bed and finding a pair of shorts, he blearily stumbles to the pool deck for some much needed sunshine with some weird sandals and chunky pink, plastic sunglasses. his curls may or may not be defying gravity in whatever manner they please. the towel around his shoulders like a cape is the closet bellamy gets to locating a shirt in his zombie shuffle to one of the beach chairs.

forty-five minutes later and this man is staring at the water like an uninterested cat, nodding off in his chair. this is what the kids are calling suntanning, right? unintentionally falling asleep and gaining more freckles? okay, cool.

except every time he almost falls asleep the umph tiss umph tiss starts up and he jumps, heart-racing, panic! at the pool, party of one. )

This is not what dreams are made of. I've got to get out of here.

( ABORT PLAN!!!! ABORT!!! it's too late, he's standing at an unfortunate time, rising as someone approaches to sit next to him and now here they are, nose-to-nose(ish) - height differences, you know. someone flails, there's grabbing, a teeter-totter effect and then maybe this ends in a meet-cute and not murder. that happens, doesn't it? surely, two people can plummet into a beach chair and not go to battle. )

Comments

Tauva

[businessorlibation]

Slightly performative of you, but I'll allow it. Care for a cigarette?

[Because that's the real reason Johnny favors Tauva over many of the other bars. He pulls a silver cigarette case with a horseshoe on the front out of an inner pocket of his suit, pulling out a thin black cigarette with no filter; he's from before those were put on cigarettes for safety, and counts himself lucky that the Sundries shop sells his brand instead of making him smoke the modern Marlboro menthols or anything else.]

[baring]

I wouldn’t know what to do with one. ( the guilty charges get slapped on and bellamy doesn’t shrug them off, knowing full well it’s a cheesy thing to say when there isn’t an economy to speak of. works for him. the only system he’s known has been bartering and this is easier than that, although, somehow feels like stealing.

he leaves his drink behind on the table between them to grab one for his company, going through the motions of ordering, waiting, lingering until the spirit is appeased and then returns. he’ll gets as far as he’ll have- and then something’s pouring, desired or not. yeah, that’s going to take a minute to not get the side eye from him. he hands the drink over before retiring back in his seat. so help him if this man tells him you smoke them like it isn’t the karma he deserves for bland conversation starters. )

Do you get used to barely there attendants?

[businessorlibation]

Eventually, yeah. It's the non-attendant ghosts you've gotta watch out for. Possessed karaoke machine, flying plates at the buffet or shuffleboard discs on the sports deck. I mean, I'd rather have people than ghost waiters; I think that being a good conversationalist is part of good service. But it's just part of life here.

[He takes Bellamy's comment about not knowing what to do with a cigarette as a soft rejection, lighting it for himself, then, with a silver lighter that matches the cigarette case.]

so far from a savior but he's here (cw for his yucky obsessiveness)

[mooninthewater]

[ This is curiosity, he tells himself, as he cloaks himself in camouflage to follow around this new person with who he considers his commander. He's curious about who this is. Where he's from. Why he hasn't seen him around. Why Clarke is so friendly with him. Why Clarke is so happy, suddenly. Why she's guiding him around. This isn't jealousy. This is curiosity. Just because Clarke is with someone he's never seen before and being so kind and friendly with him and smiling doesn't mean he's jealous. He's curious. That's it.

If there are shadows in places there shouldn't be, it's nothing to worry about. Everything is okay! Mizuki is telling himself this.

After some consideration and quiet investigation, he can put together that this is probably someone from Clarke's home. It doesn't make that festering obsessiveness he feels die down any, but he can at least pretend it does. He's a little upset he's never heard about this person before. He's a little upset that someone is making Clarke this happy when he's hardly gotten his own smiles out of her. But just a little. That's okay, though. Thus once they are distracted by something or other, Mizuki decides he's fine to leave here. If he's a friend, then Clarke is okay. So he uncloaks and turns on a heel to go back to more fun, distracting things that don't involve following around the person he's most grossly attached to.

Until he's suddenly being called after. Cool, cool, cool. No, this is fine, he can be nonchalant about this. For a moment, he fiddles with the umbrella in his hand, and then finally makes his way (back) over to Clarke and Bellamy. He puts on the usual smile — warm, friendly, and filled with positivity. ]

Hallo, hallo~. I'm Mizuki! [ He's too busy twisting his umbrella around in his hands for a handshake, but he does give a slight bow of his head. ] It's nice to meet you!

[baring]

( on the contrary, there is nothing but things to worry about, regardless of what mizuki is telling himself.

the entire duration of the time that clarke is doing what he boils down to her daily routine, painting all the pictures of her experiences, giving him a front row seat to her memories, he can’t shake the feeling that they’re being watched. it’s a pinprick paranoia, one that makes him edgy. bellamy can’t place it. there’s no rhyme or reason, beyond being on a cruise ship that thrives on spilled blood and misery, apparently. if he has to evaluate the feeling for what it is, then it has to be because of how they survived on earth. that’s what bellamy concludes, not that he’s strictly in the habit of gaslighting himself into doubting his instincts. the same instincts that have kept him alive by the skin of his teeth.

he can’t attribute the suspicion to anything or anyone. )

Hi. ( a spare glance between clarke and this umbrella-twirling individual—Mizuki. remind him to tell clarke she sucks at introducing people. he doesn’t lie by agreeing with the sentiment; how would he know that? it’s too soon to tell. ) How did the two of you meet?

1/3

[skaikru]

( simultaneously: )

In containment —

2/3

[mooninthewater]

At a party!

[neverleave]

[Clarke has befriended some weird creatures during the last three months. Maybe Bellamy was already introduced to the obsessive sea jelly, or maybe Mizuki is still hidden in the corner in a totally not ominous way. Either way, today's weird creature is a depressed fifteen-year-old vampire.

Natsuno's noticed the pair, of course. It's easy to figure out this man is a loved one, one of Clarke's people that she worries so much about. Maybe even one of those she sent into space before dying? Either way, it's best to leave them alone to catch up, so Natsuno doesn't approach until Clarke flags him down in the buffet. He picks up his bowl and head to their table. When introduced, he inclines his head, wearing his usual stoic expression.]

Yuuki.

[Clarke insists on using his first name and he still haven't managed to tell her to knock it off, because every time she does it she's either sad or dying. New people, however, don't get this privilege. Nothing personal, his first name just sucks.]

I want to say it's nice to meet you, but -

[He gestures at the ship at large. Natsuno's happy for Clarke, he really is. He hopes this man had good news to tell her, that her loved ones are okay and that she didn't die for nothing. Still, their entire situation...]

Maybe "my condolences" is more accurate.

[skaikru]

( there's a moment here where clarke's faltering between the two of them — an old friend and a new one. it's on the tip of her tongue to divulge everything she's learned about natsuno to bellamy, and everything she's kept bottled up about bellamy to natsuno in turn. but —

that he's a vampire?

what i am is my business.

that he'd won the battle royale?

that bloody game was a wound still raw in their psyches, it didn't need the salt of recognition or admiration rubbed into it.

that he'd held her while she bled out during said battle royale? and tried his hardest to talk her out of other stupid, death capitulating and death defying acts? that they'd gone on heists, and played video games, and absolutely destroyed adults egos together already?

well, all that can be summed up with the very efficient, succinct summation of — )

I trust him with my life.

( sorry natsuno, were you trying to make deadpan jokes? they've just been undermined with steel plated sentiment. this is the most real stamp of approval clarke can give, and one she trusts bellamy to understand the importance behind. )

TUAVA

[diana_abel]

[Back in the 1960s, Diana flirted with the idea of becoming a nudist. She ultimately abandoned the plan, mostly because she thought clothing was cute and because it was easier to pretend to be human when you had armor of some kind. But that doesn't mean she's ever become afraid to show a little skin.

And as long as she's going to be stuck on a haunted cruise ship, she might as well enjoy some of the benefits of cruise ship living.

Like walking around in a bikini whenever she damn feels like it. She owns a mirror, she knows what she looks like. And while Diana has many vices, modesty is definitely not one of them.

She has something of a routine she's established at this point. Wake up. Drink as little of the nasty blood they offer at the buffet table as possible, head to the theater and play her guitar, and then...

And then...wandering.

Which is what ultimately brings her to the Tuava Bar, her guitar thumping softly against the small of her back. And Diana is very, very used to strangers offering to buy her drinks. But this has got to be a record. She smiles politely at the stranger. Very cute, in a does-your-mother-know-that-you're out sort of way.]

Not much of a drinker.

[baring]

( if bellamy was someone with any inclination for fashion, he would probably become a nudist here where tommy bahama is all the rage. as it stands, he’s grateful to have clothes that are clean and haven’t been scavenged off the dead. the fact that they are burning eye sores is irrelevant. the people out there that value other people based on appearance ( and appearance alone ) are not for him. that being said, it’s not lost on him that the woman he’s striking up a conversation with is very attractive. )

Neither am I. ( when in rome? he saves her from suffering another predictable line like that by holding it back with his teeth. ) But since this is technically a drinking establishment…

( he rocks his glass at her in a vague gesture. look, he’s got nothing better to do. )

I’m too wound up to sleep and too tired to do anything else. Do you smoke then?

( because this is a bar, right? she's fully in her rights to tell him point blank that she isn't much of a drinker and then turn away from him to order a drink, far away from him. he can take a neon sign hint. )

pool time

[vibing]

[ The pool is Yuri's go-to place. Not that it's exactly a place to be alone, there are usually a few people here, but it's a place to be among people without having to do anything. He can wade in the water, sit on the pool chairs, have a drink-- or he did, before. He's off it for a while, but the pool's still here for him. The pool is constant.

Which is why when Bellamy stands up, Yuri's hand goes for his sword, but he doesn't manage to grab it (it's with him, but he didn't really expect to need it just now. Maybe he should have. He has to always be on his guard around here) before they're dropping to the chair in a tangle of limbs and towels and Tommy Bahama branded clothing. With an "oof," Yuri hits the chair, then rolls off of it as best he can, falling to the ground in a heap. He isn't quite angry enough to start a fight, but he is glaring as he pushes his now-messy hair back from his face ]

The hell is your problem?!

tell me why i laughed so much

[baring]

( goodbye comfort hangout, hello fall down mess. not to be the guy that tramples all over a good thing but like, okay. his foot’s stuck in between the flaps of a beach chair? he’s shin-deep in regrets, the least of which is the combo of minty toothpaste and remnants of whiskey on his tongue that he swears he can still taste. this is strike one, ship. in his efforts not to squish this unsuspecting person, he scrambled, and this is what he gets for trying to do damage control. actually, that tracks.

bellamy needs both of his hands to wrench his foot free of the damned chair but he needs neither of them to argue. he’s incredibly intimidating with sunglasses hanging off of one ear. )

My problem? There’s twenty other empty chairs!

so far from a savior

[thinkfirst]

[ It's so very odd to see Clarke looking actively happy that Flynn, sweaty from one of his early-morning training sessions, stops dead in his tracks as soon as Clarke raises her hand. He looks kind of a sight with his hair a sweaty shoved-back mess and his ostentatious leather sword belt strapped around a t-shirt with the Serena Eterna's logo on it, and as soon as Clarke says this is Bellamy he becomes suddenly and painfully aware of that fact, snaps practically upright to attention like a good soldier. ]

I hadn't realized—

[ Well, no, of course you haven't. Flynn shoves the thought away, smiles, and presses his hand to his heart (and the damn logo) to incline his head in a bow. ]

Bellamy, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Flynn. It's wrong to say "welcome aboard" but I haven't yet figured out an appropriate alternative.

[baring]

( in the encyclopedia next to the word filthy, there isn’t a picture of this guy. he’s not even ranked top five. he does appear to be tightly wound but maybe that’s the proprietary that goes right over his head. people deferring to clarke isn’t unusual because she walks like a leader and makes moves like a survivor. though he can’t be sure if this has anything to do with her presence on board or just whatever it is that flynn has going for him.

bellamy nods in response, not one-hundred on the etiquette, and not prepared to bow in turn. he’s trying this time. )

I don’t think there is one. Whatever you come up with, it’s going to sound like empty pleasantries. But I appreciate the effort. ( he doesn’t force a smile, but he does look at clarke as if to say, see? i can behave. ) And I guess you don't want to paralyze the newcomers by asking about their interpretation of hell.

Library - because why not, since everyone else seems to be in Tuava

[saltandpepperbeard]

[Ed cannot read. This is not at all uncommon for his time period and social class, but it means there is absolutely no point to him being in a library surrounded by books--but here he is anyway. It sort of reminds him of Stede's cabin back on the Revenge, and maybe it's a bit of a misguided attempt to learn to read. He had been thinking he could find another book for whenever Stede gets done with the lizard island one, but now Ed's just overwhelmed. So many books, so many words, not enough pictures to go off of. How do you pick something to have read to you if you don't have a cool cover and etchings inside?]

You've obviously never sun-bleached a black shirt.

say less, say it isn't just ed that can't read

[baring]

Can’t say I’ve had the privilege. ( circulating through recycled clothes meant his gray shirt could have been black once. ) I’ve never had enough outfits to leave them drying in the sun for days at a time.

( you wanna talk about broke as a joke? it’s nice to wear something without holes in it or tinged with blood. the prints are gaudy and blindingly colorful, though if you can get past that, they don’t fit like something you have to grow into. as far as social classes go, bellamy doesn't believe in withholding education and information, and he'd be happy to help if he knew there was an issue. )

What's that one about?

My whole life i've felt like a burden

[saltwaterlungs]

[ Darcy's in the library. She's been in the library more times aboard this ship than she ever has in her life, even if one of those occasions was tearing all the books from the shelves. She's got a small stack of fairy-tale books that she's scanning over, trying not to look suspicious while also not wanting anyone she knows to know she's reading them. It's research for Skulduggery, honest, but she's not sure anyone will believe her. Still, when the guy near her openly asks about one of the titles, she snorts and says- ]

I don't know why it's here but trust me, you don't want to read that. It's terrible and gross, according to basically everyone.

[baring]

( nobody will believe her if she tells them ( nobody here being clarke ) but he listens to her, deciding not to be contrary for the sake of it. he makes a quizzical face, lips downturned. let’s just slide that garbage back onto the shelf, between some other editions he presumes are in the same series. )

How terrible and gross? ( he muses aloud, though he has moved from that particular section to overlook her own deep dive. ) Who’s Grimm?

( sorry, bud. he’s trying to be a student of the world and since she’s not presently poured over this book, he cracks it open, raising an eyebrow at something titled the peasant and the devil. )

In need of a savior

[hellonspectacles]

[Palamedes hadn't learned much about Bellamy during their brief meeting a few days before. Though they hadn't even exchanged names, he had discovered that the young man had lived on a space station, that he knew nothing about the Houses, and that he had a fondness for constellations. Plus, he'd had a world-weariness about him that meant he had undoubtably seen far more in his short life than anyone should.

Based on that information alone, Pal should have guessed that he and Clarke knew each other.

But he would have had no way of predicting that Bellamy was someone who could make Clarke quite this happy. Hell, he didn't think anyone in the world could. Now, beaming as she walks up to him with Bellamy in tow, she's like a whole different person.]

We've met. His favorite constellation is Pleiades [Pal smiles warmly and offers his hand.] Though we never did get around to names. Palamedes.

[skaikru]

( months of anxiety, tightly corked personal trauma and selfish mourning, obsessive plotting and a frothing at the mouth in search of some sort of solution to their communal problem; weeks of new lows and new horrors in the vein of dying horrifically, being forced into murder games, very publicly trying to assassinate a creature with an eating implement, and utterly failing at any semblance of a rescue mission; the suffocating press of inadequacy while confronting magic and gods and the unknown, that feeling of barely keeping one's head up by treading water as her legs screamed for a break — maybe just give in, it doesn't even matter...

...basically all of that has been successfully undermined by the arrival of bellamy blake, and everything his presence offers her. the confirmation that, if she'd died on earth before waking up here? it hadn't been in vain. they'd made it to the go-sci ring and turned the oxygen on, then managed to survive for at least six months — could potentially go on to survive for many more, and at least in that context, clarke has confirmation the human species was persisting past the end of the world again. then also the comfort of a familiar face. an ally she didn't need to stare up and down and consciously decide it was worth the risk to trust, because their interpersonal history had run the gauntlet of trust and betrayal already, and still ended up with the two of them as separate sides of the same coin. separate organs in the same body, functioning in chorus.

and that dangerous feeling of invincibility. the firm footing on a pedestal, raised on even the most uneven playing field. that sensation of home, where one could almost consider themselves safe when pressed against a gun and knowing how it'd fire when the trigger was deployed.

...all of this to serve as an explanation for why, at least in the days immediately following bellamy's arrival on board, clarke seems like she's had an ounce of personality breathed back into her body. she can smile a little, gestures around them with an odd sort of nervous energy, and for once speaks his name with an tone of endearing instead of mourning. and when they run into pal, she's even got a smile for him too. )

Oh, you have? ( ...well, a smile after an initial brush of surprise, that's quickly overcome by aforementioned grin. there's a slight flash of teeth digging into her bottom lip as she looks between the two young men, biting back the desire to express how good it feels that they've already met.

if they're going to shake, clarke's content to wait in the wings while that happens, but can't contain chiming in again.

to pal: ) He's from my home world. ( obviously, sure, but deserving of all the recognition.

then to bellamy, with an ounce of hesitation. i'd consider, i think he's... hm, no, speak with conviction. ) And he's my friend. Who can also do magic.

library

[baubled]

I said, do you like that one? [ she gestures to his current book, Titus Andronicus. ] I thought it was... [ what's the right word for a play that has cannibalism as a main theme? ] unsettling.

[ even in the Capitol, cannibalism is frowned upon but that particular play had briefly become very popular after the Games where a boy named Titus became the reason for a no cannibalism rule.

she hopes the book doesn't give anyone ideas.

Effie's dressed fairly normal by usual standards, in a long Tommy Bahama dress and an absurd amount of jewelry, with her hair tucked under a bright pink scarf. it's giving eccentric art teacher, at least, it would if they'd come from worlds with such a thing. ]

Maybe you'd like one with a happier ending? And less, well. You know.

[baring]

Like is a strong word. ( does that require elaborating? ) I think it’s an accurate depiction of the brutality of human nature. The ugly and horrifying lengths we’ll go to to avenge the people we love, all while losing ourselves in the process. ( he’s more than three-quarters through it, he thinks he can make the disturbing assessment. he sticks a scrap of paper in it to bookmark his page, fished from his shirt pocket. his grimace says he has a distaste for the book itself, however acclaimed shakespeare may be. ) It’s a lot.

( tired eyes meet hers for the first time. for once, he’s an insomniac by choice, running after stories instead of away from or towards his enemies. he can safely say he’s never seen anyone quite like her - she’s so colorful, she’s loud with it, and it’s somehow suiting unlike with him. )

Do you have a recommendation of something that seems more like fiction? ( don't people read to escape this kind of content? )

savior.... (extremely questionable)

[fonomena]

[Jade has stopped by All And Sundries himself today--is present within the small storefront even before Clarke and Bellamy arrive, actually, preoccupied with the stationery section towards the back until voices both familiar and not snag his attention and sideline it a bit. --Not enough to immediately move him from his spot in front of the shelves of nautically-patterned souvenir notebooks, necessarily, but plenty enough for him to cast an idle glance over. To note with interest as Clarke piles all manner of supplies in the arms of the young man beside her, chattering away on uses and priorities for each item with...an enthusiasm that is a rather unusual fit on her, honestly.

Jade's surely far more accustomed to seeing her more tense than not, anyway...yet here she is now with an entirely new spring of energy in her step, as she ushers the stranger to the cash register and starts walking him through the payment process. Hm.

Still, even if he doesn't exactly go out of his way to draw attention to himself, it's not exactly like Jade tries very hard to conceal his presence either. By the time they're done with the cash register he's picked out a couple of packets of ballpoint pens, and started thumbing through one of the more expensive notebooks to test the quality of the pages between his fingertips (always too thin, most of these, ever a far cry from the proper parchment he'd really rather taken for granted in the stationery supply shops back home); Clarke seems to catch proper sight of him around this point, and as their steps grow closer instead of fading through the entrance Jade looks up at both of the two of them properly, flipping the notebook shut between his hands.]

Is that so? This is a new face, around here...the two of you are fast friends, then? --Or perhaps reunited friends?

[Certainly, there have been plenty of instances of passengers finding associates from their own worlds here...and just judging by Clarke's demeanor alone, Jade can already take a fair guess at the answer he'd probably bet on about now. Jade's attention affixes promptly enough on Bellamy's features as he offers a pleasant smile and polite nod of his head at the introduction, doing little to hide the idle curiosity in the assessing cast of his glance. (Unnaturally red, behind the glasses--or is that just the lighting, in here? Great question...probably nothing to worry about.....)]

[baring]

( by the time they’re through playing pretend at the cash register, bellamy has a bag full of miscellaneous items. some that clarke pushed into his hands, others that he swiped because he thought they might have a use beyond their intended purpose. he’s no engineer so he is once again longing for two of his closest friends ( and legitimate heroes ) to tinker with these items for him, alongside him up until the moment they unanimously tell him he’s getting in the way and slowing them down. it’ll take him a lot longer to figure out another utilization but he will, considering they have a bit more time on board between excursions and appearances of their dreadful captain - according to clarke.

pulled by this reverie with a slow exhale and clarke presenting him to someone new, he interjects with an unfunny partial joke, partial reflex to keep what’s important to him close to his chest. )

We met in the lounge. ( would not be surprised if clarke speaks over him to tell the truth. she has that advantage: time and established trust, presumably. bellamy is perplexed by the red tint of this man’s eyes and has no sense of self-preservation when it comes to manners of all things; he stares. not just at his eyes, but they’re distinctive. unless that’s? a ship thing? the what are you is on the tip of his tongue. )