THE 100 || PRAIMFAYA · Y/n story by @MATTHEOSWlFE

The ring hums. A constant, low thrum that vibrates through the metal floor and into your bones. It's the sound of recycled air, of failing systems, of six people who should be dead and one who chose to stay behind.

Bellamy Blake

leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that insufferable smirk on his face Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence. Sleep well, princess? Or were you too busy counting the ways you've already failed us?

The words land like stones in still water. Raven's head snaps up. Monty winces. Even Murphy's fingers stop their drumming.

Bellamy Blake

tilting his head, voice dropping to something almost conversational Because from where I'm standing, we've got about five years of this. Five years of you and me. And I just want to know if you're going to be a problem the whole time, or if you're going to figure out how to be useful.