cobra

clarabel "bel" santos 24 class b

[tireddscorpio]

She’s the type of girl that can be so hurt but can still look at you and smile

Marilyn Monroe (via keinekraftzumleben)

[cbsantos-blog]

It was mere hours after they’d been forced out of Odium- their efforts deemed a failure by the woman who had put them through that torture- and now they had stopped to rest. Everyone was drained from their own personal hell, each unique and revealing. Bel couldn’t help but feel a little more self conscious. Her nightmare seemed silly compared to theirs, like Don’s truth being revealed or having to see Rhys dead because of Stryker’s fear, and then there was Bel, standing on a stage, being ridiculed. She couldn’t imagine how unsupportive people might be for that. She had a good life. She couldn’t help it. But that little voice in her mind kept telling her to feel ashamed; to feel badly for her feelings. 

She had just finished splitting up the food into portions, a job that she loved to do to show her worth, when she saw Gage sitting alone by one of the trucks. Everyone had come over to eat, their stomachs growling and faces sunken in from the torture they just had to withstand, but Gage stayed put. His eyes focused on something in the distance, or maybe just the distance itself, but they didn’t move and inch when Bel had called out for food. He should be alone, given time to think. She thought as she picked up her own plate of food, but something changed her mind. In the multiple scenarios they faced, something happened. It wasn’t electric, it wasn’t heated, but it was an understanding. It was the unspoken idea that they were there for each other, that they could trust each other.

Without another thought, she picked up another portion and walked over to Gage, sitting down next to him and holding the plate out for him to take. His face was sad, but he hid it well. Behind his cold exterior, there was a human being, but it was hard to see that before. “You should eat something.” Her voice was kind but stern, a way that she had just learned how to speak. She needed to be strong for the rest of the Outlasters. Even though most of them acted tough, they were breaking on the inside- which was something Bel wasn’t familiar with. She nudged the boy a little, cracking a small, sweet, smile.

[cbsantos-blog]

moodboard → clarabel “cobra” santos

[cbsantos-blog]

cxinisms:

    That was even more hilarious, the little rodent trying to reason with the snake. The all-predator, the destroyer, the venomous touch. Clarabel mean’t nothing to him, her emotions, her intentions, they didn’t matter. Cain had let go of any emotional attachments when he was in the Core. Other than Camryn, he stopped caring about people. He allowed anger to become his power, to become his venom. Cain was Apep, the snake, the monster, chasing after Ra with every sunrise. “I find it amusing that you’re trying to prove some sort of point, if you were truly strong, your point would’ve already been made.” He retorted, the temperature seeming to drop with the ice of his words. Cain intended to cut deep, he intended to see bone, to see the weakest part of another person, that was what made him truly great.

It was almost funny how some people took the transition from their home lives to living at the Core so seriously. Some cried every night, some enjoyed the change, and others decided that they just didn’t want to feel emotion anymore. Cain was one of those people. Bel remembered when she first met him- he wasn’t all that different, but he had made a slight effort to train and learn with her like the rest of the Outlasters. They were all there for a reason, of course. So now, when he’s spitting in her face, making fun of the fact that she barely let the transition change her, she pitied him. She felt bad that he let his training effect his mind. She chuckled at his comment, mocking her strength. He didn’t know who Bel really was, did he? “You have no idea what I’m capable of. Just because I let myself feel emotions doesn’t mean I’m weak.”

[cbsantos-blog]

for some reason my internet really doesn’t want me to be on neatchat

[cbsantos-blog]

2; things you said through your teeth.

It hadn’t always been easy being friends with Rhys. Bel was constantly in a competition- who could eat the most pancakes, who could run the fastest, who could sleep the longest before they were forcefully pulled out of bed- and though it was all fun and games, there was that sense of confusion regarding who truly was the winner. That’s what kept Rhys and Bel from becoming close- always wanting to win and be the best.

One night they had snuck out of their respective dorms just to see what the Core was like at night, and maybe even to race to the kitchen and find whatever goodies they could lay their hands on. It was a common occurrence for them to be restless. It was sometimes hard to sleep with the excitement and pride running through their veins, but when they did sneak out, they made memories of it. Who really knew when they could have happy ones again? As they made their way down the halls, flying through the corridors, but not making a sound, Rhys had the brilliant idea to go to the pool. It had to be at least two in the morning, when all the other Outlasters were asleep in their beds, but the two were alive and awake and ready to be at each other’s throats.

They found the pool eventually (the Core seemed foreign at night and it took them forever) and Bel stood by it for a moment. The water was still, serene- the most peaceful thing she’d seen in years. It’s lack of movement made Bel miss her home and miss just being able to not know what was in her future, much like the water didn’t know when it was going to be disturbed. Before she could finish the thought, a push made her fall in, causing ripples in the water. When she resurfaced, Bel looked up at Rhys’ smug face and she rolled her eyes, clenching her jaw. “You’re dead, Harvey. You hear that? Dead.”

[cbsantos-blog]

( 16 ) ; things you said with no space between us .

Another training session. Another endless night with no breaks, a lot of strain and the kind of adrenaline Bel lived off of. It was a sparring night- they all took partners and found their way to the mats, facing opposite one another. It was Cam against Bel a lot of the time. The two liked to push each other, do their best, though Bel almost always came out on top. Cam was a good fighter, though- smart, like she could anticipate the results. This time wasn’t any different.

The windows lining the ceiling gave way to the night sky. A few stars peeked out from the darkness and the moon cast a bright light into the hollow room. In a way, Bel felt at peace. She was safe here, despite having to fight her peer, but they weren’t in danger. An alarm signified the start to the drill, and Bel started making her way around the circled mat, her eyes never leaving Cam’s body. It was Bel who attacked first, coming from the right side and dodging Cam’s punch from the left. A swift movement of her foot made Cam’s legs go out from under her, but she got right back up. One after the other, the two exchanged blows: to the head, neck, legs, etc. The timer was counting down, but neither seemed to be at a loss- until Cam twisted Bel’s arm, holding it firmly between her gloves and letting the pain seep in. Bel screamed in agony, using some leverage to flip the other girl onto the ground, but again, Cam was right back up, ready to go. The two went at it: Bel using what she had left to make clean, precise hits to pressure points as Cam used dodging techniques in order to stay out of the way. Right when Bel had a clear shot to Cam’s solar plexis (one that would’ve left her defenseless), Cam pushed her to the ground, pinning her arms down with her knees and hands. There wasn’t any space between them. Only sweat, blood and pain. “Let’s see if you can do that in the real world, Foxtail.”

[eversncenewyork]

send me a ship and one of these and i'll write a mini fic

[cbsantos-blog]

things you said at 1 am

things you said through your teeth

things you said too quietly

things you said over the phone

things you didn’t say at all

things you said under the stars and in the grass

things you said while we were driving

things you said when you were crying

things you said when i was crying

things you said that made me feel like shit

things you said when you were drunk

things you said when you thought i was asleep

things you said at the kitchen table

things you said after you kissed me

things you said with too many miles between us

things you said with no space between us

things you said that i wish you hadnt

things you said when you were scared

things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

things you said when we were on top of the world

things you said after it was over

things you said [make your own]

[cxinisms-blog]

    Cain couldn’t help the breathy chuckle that escaped his throat, Clarabel was nothing more than a spot on his map. A bleep on the radar, she meant nothing to him other than what she could offer him. “Lose the ‘I’m so mysterious’ attitude, and maybe we can talk.” He scoffed, never one to play games, if you weren’t being on blatant, then Cain didn’t give a fuck. He turned his back to Clarabel once more, and continued to whittle away at the wooden project. It wasn’t a show of naivety, but a projection of arrogance, he knew that Clarabel couldn’t hurt him if she tried. He was named after the Destroyer of Mountains for a reason, Cain was powerful, prideful, and brutal. He feared nothing other than his own strength. In ways it made him stronger, having such a confidence in himself, but in other ways he was oblivious. Such as his lack of coordinated fighting, or his ability to judge another’s strength based on other’s appearances. But he didn’t care what others thought of him and his ego. He could rip someone in half if they crossed him, and that was more important in a place like this. There was no need for comrades in a world that didn’t believe in friendship. He had Camryn, and Camryn was all he needed. 

   This girl meant nothing to him, and here she was, trying to make herself seem powerful. It made Cain laugh, that’s a shame that everyone here was trying to play alpha dog. “You clearly came to find me because you needed something, wanna share?” He questioned, looking back at her with a dead stare.

[cbsantos-blog]

His laugh was what told Bel everything. It woke her up, it told her everything she needed to know- he didn’t care. No one cared. If it came down to it, he’d kill her on the spot, taking no mercy. And that’s what made Bel change her attitude. At the Core, she’d been bubbly and friendly- much like she’d been as a child. But now, when it came down to survival and finding out who were your allies and your enemies, it was clear that putting on a positive attitude wasn’t easy. So she dropped it. If no one was gonna play nice, neither was Clarabel. At this point, she only cared about herself. “I don’t want to talk to you. And I don’t need anything from you.” She emphasized the last you, hoping that behind that shell of a body, there was a soul in there that could understand her hatred and fear. She wasn’t going to stick around to be mocked or used- that wasn’t going to be her purpose.

[cxinisms-blog]

    The sound of wood against stone filled the room, a faint scratching noise that was easily ignored. A calloused hand gripped a long piece of oak, perfect to make into an arrow. Cain was doing just that, his eyebrows furrowed in attention to his art. A crude arrowhead that he had picked up when they ran into the tribal members was resting in Cain’s other hand. Pulling pieces of bark off the wood with each pull, revealing smooth, light wood underneath. Oak wasn’t the ideal wood for arrows, but it would work for now, after all it was the only resource they had. 

    This was how Cain relaxed, by forging weaponry, an art he had picked up from his father to deal with his anger. Before he had entered into the Core, his temper was isolating. Many people didn’t speak to Cain due to the flashes of anger he would often release on others. Each stroke of the stone arrowhead held ribbons of red rage, sure it released the currently pent up energy. But it wasn’t challenging to build that up again, shown obviously by Cain’s actions last night.

     He didn’t regret killing “Dimitri”, it felt like sweet release. Allowing the beast inside of him to quell into slumber once more. Did that make him a monster? That was relative, and honestly, he didn’t care what the rest of the group thought of him. They needed Cain, when their precious weaponry broke into pieces, how would they forge a new one? No one here had the talent for that like he did.

     Footsteps fluttered behind him, light and careful, not wanting to scare Cain from his work. Setting down the wood and crude arrowhead, Cain turned to face the sound of the noise. “Admiring the view?” He questioned with indifference, neither happy to see the other, nor angry about it.

[cbsantos-blog]

The entire situation had been a complete blur. After it all happened and they had set up camp for the night, Bel felt like she could sleep for days. Her body was heavy, her mind racing and her lack of respect for other Outlasters was going to become known. No one valued her here. And if they needed her, she just hoped for their sake that she would be in a good mood that day, because Bel Santos is no saint. She just cares about the glory and the triumph and when she can use her abilities to help them survive.

Bel had woken up before everyone else that morning, separating what was left of their food and water into portions for everyone to have when they woke up. This was her value- being the asshole who wouldn’t let them eat more than they were given. She noticed that someone was missing as she counted out the numbers again. Cain. He wasn’t in sight. She heard the faint sound of wood against stone a couple buildings down from where they’d set up camp and headed over.

She could feel his presence before she saw him. It was a newly given talent of hers, ever since they’d arrived beyond the wall, she was on alert, aware of her surroundings. She walked into the room, leaning against the door frame, and just looked at him. For some odd reason, she couldn’t pinpoint how she felt at that moment- Angry at his outburst to kill “Dimitri”? No, she wasn’t angry. She would’ve done the same thing. Happy? No, she definitely didn’t feel any kind of joy at the moment. Jealousy? That was more her speed. Outside of the Core, she was nothing but another soldier who didn’t have the guts to kill the guy herself.

“What if I was?” She asked, also not adding any sort of emotion to her statement. It was no longer fun and games, yet she still seemed to be playing them, just with less heart and soul. 

[cbsantos-blog]

ANGER FLASHES IN HER EYES, THE WORLD AROUND HER DIPPED IN SHADES OF RED. She tries to keep herself calm, stoic, always in control of the chaos that storms inside of her, but ever since her flesh was marred by Ollie’s claws she’s found it harder and harder to keep herself under wraps. The monster within her has been scratching at the surface for years now, b e g g i n g for a way out, and now it’s finally been given one — the two jagged scars etched across her face acting as open doors for him to rear his ugly head and devour the remnants of humanity she still possesses, twisting her flesh like molten steel until it conforms to his will.

           ❛ What, Cobra? What don’t I get? Please, inform me, I’m d y i n g to know. ❜ Her words are laced with malice, dipping in venom and spat at the girl across from her like poison darts aimed to kill.

Her gaze remains trained on the girl, as if she’s aiming a gun at her, holding it steady so as not to miss should she decide to fire. Her back remains rigid, vertebrae stacked one on top of the other, allowing for no room for fluidity, for movement. She’s stubborn as ever, determined to stick to her beliefs, to her misconceptions of beauty, however horrific they may be. Because they’re h e r s. At the end of the day she can cling to them, cling to her faith in a corrupt regime, to her belief that beauty only runs skin deep, to her mother’s tainted words that being beautiful is the only thing a girl can offer ; she can cling to these beliefs as her last shred of humanity, the last string that ties her to the world she was indoctrinated to fight for, to give her life for. And she isn’t about to let Clarabel rip them away from her, even if it is with the intention to broaden her definition of beautiful.

Since Bel and Cam had been what she considered ‘friends’ at the Core, Cam’s words and attitude became all the more cold and distant. Maybe if they didn’t know each other as well, or hadn’t established any sort of relationship, Bel wouldn’t be as hurt or surprised at Cam’s harshness- but they did have that connection, that view of each other before being forced out into the wilderness beyond the wall. So now, when Bel looks at this same girl who she had trained with merely days ago, she can’t help but lose faith. Her heart dropped, her attitude changed and she no longer cared about changing the girl’s stance on it all. Why had she even tried anyway? Out of the kindness in her heart- the only heart, it seemed, that still beat with thoughts of love and happiness. Everyone else had turned cold. Heartless. But here Bel was trying to change their ways. Maybe it’d be better if she didn’t try at all.

“Nevermind. You don’t deserve my pity.” She said as she got up to leave. If Cam didn’t want to change her mind or attitude, then she didn’t have to. Bel wasn’t going to stick around to try. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to give up her time to make Cam feel better. That wasn’t in the job description. Besides, if Cam wasn’t going to be a team player, why the hell did Bel need to be one? It was a give and take with the Outlasters- if  someone was rude to her, she’d be rude to them. Bel just hoped she didn’t have to be heartless in a time of great need. The girl wasn’t selfless, but sometimes her selfishness was overshadowed by her pride. That is, if the person she was saving hadn’t been so stone cold to her days before, then maybe she wouldn’t feel as compelled. In Bel’s view, the Outlasters weren’t there to be a team, so she had no problem cutting ties now that they were out in the real world.

[cbsantos-blog]

A MASTER OF DECEPTION, a talent given away by her codename, she’s adept at spotting it in others, at telling when they’re l y i n g to her. That’s how she knows Clarabel is telling the truth ; the girl means her words. She actually likes the scars that mar her once pristine porcelain, admires the horrific ( and frankly STUPID ) act that allowed her to acquire such marks. It’s d i s g u s t i n g. It makes Camryn want to sink her claws into the other’s still flawless visage, to mark her with the same battle wounds, to turn her into a spectacle for all to watch, a circus freak forever cursed to be the center of attention in every room she enters. 

But she refrains from acting on her impulses. Instead she merely drops her gaze, disappointment in the other’s idolization of her marks clear on her features. ❛ Then go out and get some of your own, ❜ she retorts, examining her nails instead of gazing at the girl across from, her focus on picking the dirt out from under them so at least one part of her remains p u r e. The material that she picks out is bloodied, dirt colored with the blood of her enemies, proving that she really is the m o n s t e r her scars paint her to be. 

                     ❛ You’re still staring, ❜ she spits, voice a knife cutting through the air, words daggers aimed for the brunette, each meant to hit a major artery, to b l e e d her out. She shifts her gaze from the dirt in her hands to the girl across from her, eyes still set in a cold glare, no mercy to be found in their dark depths.

Bel knew Camryn wouldn’t totally appreciate the statement- the girl valued her physical appearance too much. She was too aware of what people thought of her. Bel was too, but in a different regard, of course. One that allowed for imperfections and scars, one that she wished Camryn could understand. Sometimes it was harder being the kind of person to see the positives in things. Bel had come from a loving family, a great childhood and the idea that life had it’s own path. She was thrown into a group of highly intelligent, athletic and, frankly, sociopathic people- most of which saw the world in a pessimistic view. Despite the hours of training and the forced mindset that Watchers are evil and they should have no mercy, Bel still kept up an positive attitude: which is exactly why it hurt to see someone criticize themselves for something they couldn’t control, for something they had risked their life to do.

“You don’t get it.” She said, tilting her head a little to the side, and, yes, still staring. She didn’t want to look away. Imagine if Ollie had gone just a few inches down, right to the jugular. Imagine if she’d lost more blood and wasn’t able to muster up the strength to eventually kill the bastard. Imagine if he didn’t even scratch her at all, but decided to break her neck with such a force that she lost the ability to breath. All the scenarios replayed in her mind as her eyes traced the gouges on Cam’s cheek. To her, they were beautiful. A reminder of strength and power and the fight for survival. If Cam didn’t want to look at them that way, then she’d be living her life in sorrow and self-pity. But if she just took a second to change her perspective, maybe she’d like it. Maybe she’d admit to being blind. 

[kuffr]

I was dying to hear someone say That I didn’t need to try so hard to be perfect, That I was enough and it was okay

Kuffr (via kuffr)

[cbsantos-blog]

AT THE RATE THEY WERE GOING their medical supplies would be gone in a few days — only after their first day had Florence found herself overwhelmed with her duties. Mixing in some natural remedies with medical aid had helped extend her resources. No, it wouldn’t be enough, not if anyone were to get hurt as badly as some had in the altercation with Ollie. Poisoning, scarred faces, stab wounds and dislocated shoulders all in the first day. All of the responsibilities falling to Florence as Anders became one of her patients.

Footsteps alerted her to another presence, another responsibility or something to fix most likely. ❛ Sweetie, unless you have a gaping hole in your chest, you’re going to have to fix it yourself. ❜ Whoever, or whatever it is, she doesn’t have the energy to deal with it. If she’s caught a moments rest in the last forty-eight hours, it’s been without her notice. There’s no comfort of the Core anymore, no bed to sleep on or locked doors and though Florence may be  t i r e d  she doesn’t know when she’ll be able to sleep again.

Bel was almost mad she didn’t get a scratch. Anders, Cyrus, Camryn- they all had physical evidence that they’d been a part of the fight- but here Bel was, just strolling by where Florence had kept most of the First Aid gear, without a scratch on her. She wasn’t taunting or trying to show her superiority (though she did like that she’d put up a good fight), but rather she was mad that their first campaign had ended with a battle that she barely took a part in. Next time, she thought, she’d be the one who would come out the hero.

“I’m not here for you.” She said with an annoyance in her voice. Ever since she’d arrived at the Core, Florence, or Pandora as she’d usually be called, had always been ahead when it came to the academic front. She knew every plant, what it was used for, how to administer it, and what not to do with it. She knew the ins and outs of the world beyond the wall. It wasn’t intelligence that would guarantee survival, though, and it was obvious now. If they didn’t work as a team, they’d all find some way to die out here. Bel walked over to where they stashed the supplies, rummaging around to take inventory.

[cbsantos-blog]

SHE’S NEVER HAD MUCH USE FOR THE CONCEPT OF HELL, never given it, or its opposite much thought. Reality has always been enough for her to conquer, the world has always been in the palm of her hand, control clutched tight between her fingers. But now that’s all changed. Her world has been s h a t t e r e d. She no longer possesses the beauty she once did, her face mutilated, marred by the claws of a monster, revealing the darkness she holds within her. And according to her mother and everything she’s been taught, all of her value has disappeared. Overnight she’s transformed from a marquise diamond to a piece of fool’s gold — w o r t h l e s s.

She’s never had much use for the concept of hell, but if it exists this surely must be it. The same images invade her mind, and she feels eyes on her everywhere she goes, taking in the sight of the broken girl, the destruction of beauty painted across her skin for all to see. It’s a living n i g h t m a r e. And she’s ready to retaliate, to attack ; no longer content with hiding her disfigurement, she perches on a rock, tanned legs bare and stretched out in the sand, gaze challenging her fellow outlasters to dare to approach her.

                        ❛ Don’t you know it’s rude to stare? ❜ She spits at the unfortunate soul who’s eyes are trained on her form, her own dark hues lifting to meet theirs, set in a cold glare.

From the beginning of her stay at the Core, Bel had always wanted to be one of the special ones. One of the Outlasters that stood above the rest, or went down in history as a great fighter, and all of her hard work was for that title and privilege. She wasn’t intelligent- she knew that- but she put in effort where it counted: combat, physical training and everything inbetween. If she was going to make Cobra a badass fighter who everyone wanted on their side, then she’d try her best to make it that way. And she did. Day in and day out, Bel had done what she needed to be the top of her class for physical ability. And when they got dropped off on their first campaign, she felt as though she’d have it in the bag. She’d be the hero.

Bel sat there, staring at Cam’s face, wishing that it had been her. She wasn’t smart enough to be like her, to know the next step in foiling Ollie’s plan. All Bel did was keep him occupied for a few minutes and then just stand and watch as Cam’s plan took effect. Cam was the hero that day. And it made all those races, training days and combat practices that she’d won seem miniscule in comparison. “I like it.” She replied, not really smiling or being as upbeat as she usually is. She was jealous, mad and angry at herself for not performing her best.

[cbsantos-blog]

i have an idea for a plot with a male character where bel and him were scheduled to marry like how they do forced marriages in that society but then both of them were recruited for the Genesis Project and now they either hate each other or have a one-sided romance or hook up sometimes idk i just wanted this goodbye

[hhealxr]

Not for one second did she decide to lower her weapon, instead she took a moment to intensely gaze into the brunette’s doe eyes, one’s that she always had a bad habit of getting lost in ever since the two were as young as children. That smile was almost contagious, yet Althea held back her need to prove that theory correct. For a fraction of a second her gaze wandered south, dropping her hand to the side, weapon still gripped tight in hand. ‘’Your curiosity and loud feet might need refreshing of those lessons, Bel.’’ Tipping her head, a teasing smile tugged at the corner of her lips. ‘’Glad to see you all in one perfect piece. Not that I ever had my doubts.’’ There was a possibility that Althea still, deep down, cared for Bel. Hell, she might of been the only one in this rotten world that she seemed somewhat protective over. She could still remember the heart ripping feeling when she caught sight of Bel that day, also taken a few years after her own departure. Something she would never wish upon a person, especially to the one who always played a special part in her life, if something were to happen to Bel, the person who has seen sides of Althea no one has ever witnessed before, she would simply lose whatever was left of her mind.

[cbsantos-blog]

When Althea didn’t even surrender herself to dropping her weapon, or even putting it away, it struck a cord. She was still on alert, still ready to defend herself. Bel was reminded of the day before Althea had been taken- it was another sleepover, like the ones they had practically every night because of Althea’s father. They had trusted each other with everything. Bel was one of the only people Althea had trusted and treated like a human being, and in return Bel gave her as many hugs and as much love as possible. They were good for each other. So that day, when Althea vanished without a note or letter, Bel’s heart had shattered, especially because she hadn’t expected to be chosen herself. 

Now with Althea right in front of her, in what could be their last days on this planet, she felt sadness yet again. Her heart ached to be as close to the girl as she had been so many years ago. It felt like a whole other lifetime, yet seeing that same glint of determination and power in her eyes brought her back to their races through the corn fields and their little competitions they would pit against each other. “I knew you’d make it. You’re smart enough to run and I’m dumb enough to stay.”