Fandom Island and Town

Bellamy hadn't slept well last night. There had been nightmares full of blood and violence, full of Octavia's screams and his own hoarse shouting. He'd woken up in a cold sweat hours before he had to be up and hadn't gone back to sleep since.

He was barely awake right now, sitting behind the counter, arms crossed with a look of sleepy anger on his face. Customer service would be superb today.

[Open, no OCD]

Work hadn't been much of a priority for Bellamy lately. With Clarke leaving, he'd stepped up his attempts to get home and had failed every single time. She'd left and she'd left him behind and wasn't that how it always went? He didn't have Octavia and now he didn't have his one connection to his home.

Work was something to distract him so he was here today, paging through a magazine and trying not to act as surly as he felt.

[Open! No OCD]

Bellamy was not pint sized and he was glad for that. He had, however, noticed the multitude of tiny people wandering around so he'd prepared accordingly.

By locking the front door of the store.

The sign still read open but he wasn't about to have some tiny kid wander in and get their hands on a firearm. He was reckless but he also had a little sister and he didn't want anything to happen to anyone that small.

[Open]

It was a lot easier to work when there was power. Bellamy had a rifle disassembled on the counter and he was cleaning the parts carefully. Once that was done, he snapped it back together quickly and put the gun away. Once that was done, he stocked up the ammunition and then opened a magazine and started reading.

[Open, no OCD]

Bellamy was back behind the counter, feet up and magazine open on his lap. This place, above all else, was boring sometimes. There was always something to do where he'd come from, always some fire to put out but here, it was just slow and lazy.

He sighed and turned a page.

[Open, no OCD]

It was another quiet day in the neighborhood.

Bellamy was sitting behind the counter once again, not cleaning any of the guns this time. He wasn't doing much of anything, actually. Maybe he was dozing. His eyes were closed but he was alert all the same.

Somewhat. He was tired, okay?

[Open, no OCD]

It was a quiet day at the gun shop. Bellamy hadn't had any nightmares and he wasn't pacing around. The shop was stocked and he was going about his business cleaning some of the guns and disassembling them only to reassemble them a few moments later.

It passed the time.

[Open, no OCD]

Bellamy had a lot (a lot) of excess energy that needed to be burned off today. Sitting behind the counter just wasn't going to cut it so he was up and around, cleaning guns, disassembling and reassembling them, stocking ammunition, and just generally pacing around.

He couldn't really say where this had come from but something was gonna have to give later. He'd either be going out for a long run or he'd be going out to the mainland to find something to do. He wasn't sure which.

[Open, no OCD]

Nightmares had woken Bellamy early this morning. Octavia, Grounders, acid fog, the works. She'd just been out of his reach, their fingers brushing before she'd been yanked away, her screams ringing in his ears.

Needless to say, Bellamy hadn't gotten back to sleep so now he was there, tired and surly. He'd restocked things in an attempt to distract his mind but now he was just sitting there, arms crossed, and a frown on his face.

[Open, no OCD]

Bellamy wasn't really aware of anything strange going on today. He'd slept late and just barely managed to pull himself into work before falling back to sleep again. It probably wasn't a great idea to be around guns when you were sleepy but Bellamy wasn't planning on shooting anything.

He propped himself up behind the counter and was there to help you like the kind, overachiever he was.

Heh.

[Open, no OCD]

It was another hot day.

They seemed to go on and on here. Where he'd come from, it'd been warm at times but never this kind of humidity and heat. They'd been able to wear jackets comfortably enough even on warm days. Here, it was just hot.

With most of his stuff (his one whole bag) situated in his apartment, he'd walked himself down to the beach today. It was still weird to be somewhere without his gun but he didn't want to get hassled by some of the overbearing people that lived around here. Between Wash and Clarke, he had enough people trying to make sure he didn't fuck up.

Once on the beach, Bellamy tugged off his boots and let his feet sink into the warm sand. His shirt came next and joined the pile of clothes. Pants got discarded and then he was just in his shorts which seemed good enough to go into the water with.

He stayed there for awhile before emerging, dripping wet but cooler finally.

[Open beach!]

Sometimes, the days were shit.

Bellamy had stopped counting how long he'd been stuck on this island. He didn't want to think about how many days Octavia had possibly been with the Grounders. The longer she was with them, the less likely she'd live. He didn't think Finn and his delicate sensibilities would do a damn thing to get his sister back. He'd slink back to the camp and cry over Clarke. Worthless.

There was a bottle in Bellamy's hand and he sipped from it slowly, letting the liquor burn his lungs and warm him up from the inside. Booze hadn't been available on their Earth. He was sure Monty or Jasper could probably get something to together but there hadn't been any time.

Here, he'd just walked into the store behind him, produced some money and now he had alcohol and a buzz going. He didn't want to go back to the woods and sleep. He didn't want to be here at all. But, he was stuck.

And it sucked.

[Open, sure.]

It was getting easier and easier for Bellamy to leave the comfort of the preserve without his gun. This place, while incredibly frustrating and completely inescapable, was kind of peaceful. It reminded him of those late, late night when his mother was out and it'd only been him and Octavia in their small apartment. When she'd been a baby, Bellamy would rest her against his chest while she slept, telling her stories of their future and how amazing they'd be.

When she'd gotten older, he'd tell her stories about the stars and constellations, how he could see the light of space in her eyes before it'd been taken away from him by his own idiocy and recklessness.

He'd passed through the park a few times on his way to and from the preserve but today, he stopped. Today, he settled down on a bench and lay down on it, long legs hanging off the edge and face turned up to the overcast sky. The clouds were dark and grey, bumping up against each other and spreading out to cover the blue sky.

Maybe it'd rain.

Bellamy closed his eyes and relaxed. He talked to Octavia in his head, wishing that she was okay, hoping that whoever had her was showing mercy. It was stupid to rely on someone like Finn but that's what he was doing.

Bellamy sighed.

[Open place, open post]

Last week should have been Bellamy's first week at this job but he'd been indisposed so this week had that distinct honor. He'd hated leaving his stuff behind so he'd made sure everything (including his weapon) was well hidden. He'd gotten himself clean in a shower at a local business and was actually working now.

The last time he'd been employed, he'd been sweeping up other people's trash, getting smug looks from assholes who thought they were better than him. Now, he was surrounded by guns, stranded in an insane place while his sister was in the hands of Grounder forces.

He felt like a failure. It made him want to scream but inside, he went about polishing some of the weaponry before laying them out carefully.

[Open, no OCD]

Bellamy came awake with a start.

He didn't remember falling asleep last night, couldn't remember if it'd been voluntary or if he'd just passed out from exhaustion. Disoriented, Bellamy blinked up at the trees. For a second, he thought he was back where he'd come from, back near Grounder territory.

Back to finding his sister.

"Roma?" Bellamy yelled, climbing to his feet and picking up the gun he'd tucked against his hips. "Diggs? Finn?"

No one answered. Bellamy took a few careful steps, gun pointed down but ready to be lifted if need be. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to find something familiar. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of movement.

Spinning, he jerked his gun up and took aim. His finger was a millisecond from depressing the trigger when he stopped himself. In the distance, his eyes settled on a brightly colored deer. The guy from yesterday (what was his name? Winston?) had told him there hadn't been any nuclear bombs here but that animal's coloring was telling him otherwise.

Bellamy lowered his gun. The deer scampered off and he was alone again.

[Open if you're out in the woods for any reason. Just getting him settled down.]