Conflate | Bellamy Blake ¹ ✓

✯ | chapter five

❝i don't want to be a man. i want to be an angst-ridden teenager who can't confront his own inner demons and takes it out verbally on other people instead.❞

-jace herondale, the mortal instruments

♛

THE PENCIL LIGHTLY SCRATCHES against the paper while I walk, purposely exaggerating my steps so I'm less likely to trip. My hands have begun to ache from how long I've been holding my notebook, but I can't care less. It's ingrained in my mind that I have to finish this drawing.

I've never been much of an artist - that was always Clarke's forté and not mine - but when inspiration comes to me, I'm not terrible at drawing. However, realistic pictures never work in my favor and that's why I've taken to cartoons. The shape of the girl's jaw is round, light eyes wide and a smile on her face. Her fair hair is kept out of her face by a pin holding sections on either side of her face back.

I pull my lips into a line, concentrating more on the picture than where I'm walking. This is not the first time I've drawn Clarke, but it is the first that I've drawn her when I have no idea where she is. My heart feels like a weight has been placed in it as I draw.

I feel a hand on my arm and glance up to see Bellamy staring at the picture in my notebook. Sympathy shines in his eyes when he looks back up at me, noticing the obvious pain on my face.

"Might want to keep your eyes peeled, Amazon," he suggests lightly. "We're in Grounder territory." He turns his head to shout to the others behind us, "That goes for everyone else, too!"

I sigh and immediately slip the notebook and pencil into my pocket once again. Behind me, Murphy is panting heavily with sweat shining on his face. The air seems to have grown hotter even in the protection of the trees completely surrounding us. My mouth is dry, though I don't dare drink from our canteen until completely necessary. 

"Everything is Grounder territory, alright?" Murphy complains through his pained breaths. "I can't keep moving like this. We don't even know if the guy Finn killed is telling the truth."

With slight reluctance, I nod in agreement. That factor has been on my mind ever since Finn shot him, but I've held out hope anyway because it's the only lead we've had so far. It's better than nothing. But Grounders have never proven themselves to be very truthful. Maybe he'd just said the first thing that came to his mind with a gun to his head. 

Finn comes forward and grabs Murphy's shoulder, pulling him forward impatiently. "Keep moving."

"Give them a minute," Bellamy orders as he holds out a hand to stop Finn. His gaze is filled with annoyance- he's been apprehensive ever since Finn pulled the trigger without blinking. Without hesitation. Without remorse. 

"No, we can't!" Finn exclaims, voice hoarse as well.  "You heard what the Grounder said: 'They'll outlive their usefulness.'"

"I heard what he said when you had a gun to his head," Bellamy argues.

I roll my eyes, knowing that this will take a while, and turn to the other three companions. "Anyone up for a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

Murphy shakes his head with his eyes to the ground. "I don't understand you."

With the argument still ongoing, I shift my weight onto one foot and cross my arms over my chest, tapping my fingers against the gun strapped over my shoulder. Sweat has accumulated onto my face and neck from our constant movements and the heat of the sun. My skin feels sticky; I want nothing more than to take a shower at this point.