:: @princessturnedkiller ::
blame. he could do blame. he could do it with his eyes closed and not over thinking it. because guilt was a lighter burden than people’s lives. he wasn’t ever the one to sit around and play hero. heroes got people killed. he could ignore it for as long as he could manage. he could run this show like he wanted. but he felt the edges of his grip on the faltering end. he could let go. let himself fall. fall. like Charlotte had. but that was putting it light and easy. like he was laying himself a break he didn’t deserve. there was a place to build here. there were rules to make, a place to run. but all he felt was cold. like he was on the brink of losing hold of something.
he got to thinking of let downs. and he watched Octavia for a moment from the corner of his eye. the thought of ‘she’s safe’ embedded someplace in the back of his head. permanent fixture. small bit of comfort in the overcast. he watched her as she disappeared someplace out of his line of sight. he’d find her again soon. he watched the dirt. ground, wet beneath the pressing of his boot. he wouldn’t go with his sister right now, or go on towards the camp. where they all waited on either him or Clarke to say something. good or bad and they would take it. he wanted to be angry but Murphy was gone already. and he was left with nothing but the bruises and himself. he preferred being alone right. easier.
he heard a brush of something but he wouldn’t turn and look. he didn’t want to. he wanted whoever the hell that was to go. he was seeking out a refuge he wouldn’t find. he’d be better once the sun was out. once he had to be. “it’s my post for tonight. and I won’t need relief.”
