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26. (the 100) our house is crumbling under me;
title: our house is crumbling under me.
fandom: the 100.
characters/pairings: bellamy, raven; bellamy/raven.
rating: pg.
words: 2821.
prompt: inspired by if they want you, they're gonna have to fight me.
summary: bellamy thinks it's about time she let someone else fight for her for a change. or the one where bellamy and raven look out for one another.
notes: this is an au on 2.09 and i may probably turn it into something because i think this entire scenario involving raven deserved some more closure -- and no one can really deny the fact that bellamy looking out for raven deserves to be highlighted, too. we'll see how i go. i apologise to raos because me being ooc and writing fic killed him. you'll be missed, dear friend, etc etc. but ... i haven't written fic in like three years, so the fact I've written something is beyond cool!
title's from lights' don't go home without me. all mistakes are mine etc. ( also on AO3 )
If Bellamy could count on his fingers how many times a Grounder's tried to get one of their own killed, he'd need a few extra hands. It's a good thing he has Raven's in his.
He stays far away from the rest of the camp — the Sky People — as he focuses on her. His feet move toward her quickly without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her, trying to support her the best he can while not aggravating her cut skin. Raven slumps against him, but he can feel her try and pull herself together, as if she needs to posture being as brave and brazen, like this hasn't broken her.
He leads her far away from where Lexa commands in her language for the Grounders to free Gustus once he's gone slack against the tree. He doesn't think she needs to see it, what could've been her if they hadn't been so lucky. Her good leg tries to keep up with his strides, doing the job of two, but Bellamy almost lifts her up with the help of Octavia on her other side, pulling her arm over her shoulders to keep her steady and her weight off her bad leg. Raven fights them, her fingers curling into his shoulder sharply, but Bellamy thinks it's about time she let someone else fight for her for a change.
"Over here," he says, cocking his head and directing them to the left. It's on the outskirts of Tondc, further away from the commotion of the Grounders and Sky People making amends, apologising and ensuring all's forgiven for the sake of a goddamn alliance Bellamy doubts is as strong as Clarke wants to believe it to be.
Carefully, they lower Raven to the ground, coming to sit with her. She's quiet. The earth's damp, but Bellamy doubts she can even feel it.
Octavia drops to her knees, her hands on Raven's arm. She's careful to not touch her where the blood blossoms and stains her shirt. Leaning toward her, O's voice is breathless, determined and as strong as his little sister has always been, "You're going to be okay. Trust me."
There's a snapping of twigs and a crunch of leaves on the ground. Octavia looks up quickly, ready to strike, as if they're not on some neutral territory. Her features soften, unguarded within a second, and when Bellamy turns to look at the person responsible for the noise, it's Lincoln.
Octavia looks toward Raven before her eyes flicker to him. Sensing her gaze, he turns to her, nodding. "Go. We're going to be okay."
Raven scoffs, shaking her head. Her expression is one that's torn between being on the verge of tears or gritting her teeth and shattering them in anger.
Octavia's hand glides up her arm to her shoulder, squeezing it, before she stands to walk toward Lincoln. He lingers, his gaze on her, before Octavia's arm reaches out to turn him around and lead them toward where the rest of their people gather around the Grounders.
Rather than look at Raven, he keeps his eyes on the back of Octavia. Once she disappears, he keeps his head looking in that direction, giving Raven as much privacy as one can within the open. She sits on her ass, pulling her legs toward her chest with a wince. One arm wraps around her leg, fingers gripping her knee tightly; from the corner of his eye, he can see her knuckles are white.
"What do you think they're saying?" she says, voice pained. He doesn't glance at her when she inhales sharply, shifting beside him until she stills, as comfortable as she can be on dirt. "Should've shoved that sword right through my heart instead of wasting time."
"Or maybe they're saying you should've been the one to deliver the final blow."
Raven laughs, but it isn't as bright as it used to be. He doesn't feel the sun warm the side of his face where he can feel her staring at him.
Still, he doesn't look at her. Once he grows bored of watching the backs of Grounders he doesn't recognise, committing to memory the way they stand — legs wide apart, shoulders pulled back, their hands never fiddling with their shit or their fingers — he looks to the ground instead, as if he can study it and figure out where her footprints cease and become his own.
He sees another pair of legs in his vision, long and dirtied by mud and grime. Bellamy doesn't say a word, almost welcoming her to approach them.
It's as if she can feel Clarke's footsteps reverberate beneath her. She's quick to look at her, gaze so sharp and deadly he thinks Clarke would turn to stone. But she doesn't. Raven doesn't have snakes for hair, even if it looks a little matted, twisting and winding, like a serpent's body. She barely moves her teeth when she bites, "I don't want her touching me."
As if she can hear her, Clarke stops and the world beneath them ceases shaking. He'd thought maybe it had been in fear — Clarke's, maybe, of what Raven will do to her, possibly something harsher than a punch — but he's starting to realise it hadn't been coming from Clarke.
It's a familiar quiver in the earth. He's felt it before, the trembling shaking beneath his own feet as he had stomped his boots and commanded chaos to overtake the camp once the drop ship had smashed into the earth far away from their chosen destination. It's anger — the kind that moves mountains and razes the world like a nuclear apocalypse.
At first he doesn't realise it, but he feels her fingers grip the fabric of his jacket so tightly she almost tears it and reaches skin to shred. Raven leans into him as if he's a shield for her, or maybe a sword, even though Bellamy doubts she'd need another to be the blade she wields against a foe when she's all metal and sharpness and red, hot seething anger of the fires that forge such weapons. He lifts his hand to cover hers, thinking she'll read it as a request she stop making him uncomfortable with her grip when he feels like the protector he had been on the Ark before everything had gone to Hades.
Clarke may stop, but her mouth opens. He thinks maybe she's lost for words, but her voice cracks, "Raven. I'm —"
Bellamy looks to Clarke, but lets his gaze drop to her arms instead. He isn't comfortable being the mouthpiece for a girl mouthier than anyone he's ever met, but with the way Raven grips his sleeve and even tries to weave her fingers between the gaps of his own, he thinks maybe she needs a voice instead. Clarke can't read body language as well as she can science and broken bones. His voice sounds too kind and uncertain to his own ears, "You should probably leave."
He lifts his gaze to see Clarke's face fall, her feet take one tiny step back no one else would notice but him. He's been studying Clarke ever since they dropped on this radiation-soaked earth, identifying her as an enemy before she'd shifted into a friend. She may think him to be sweet, the guy who'll always have her back, but Bellamy knows how to cut Clarke down from the horse she sits upon now, and a part of him thinks to raise his blade to do so, reverting back to his old self to have her see the damage she's destined to inflict upon her people if she isn't to tread carefully anymore.
She stands there, stock-still, shocked, he thinks, before she presses her lips together, inhales deeply through her nose, and nods. Before she leaves, she says, "I'm sorry." And nods again, as if that'll sell it to Raven, her compassion, her sincerity, her remorse for something he thinks her to have been too prepared to do for the sake of building a glass bridge a stone could shatter if Jasper Jordan was to toss it over his shoulder. But Jasper isn't here to shatter anything.
Clarke walks away, but Raven continues to grip his shoulder hard. She sounds closer to him when she laughs, short and sharp, and shakes her head. As he watches Clarke walk away, throwing a glance over her shoulder as if it's taking all her willpower to not return and try and fix what she's broken with some careful suturing, he can feel Raven's nails gliding against his fingers. "I'm starting to wonder if she understands it. What that word means. What it's meant to mean."
"I'm sure she does," Bellamy says, tone more absent than he'd like. The problem is, he isn't so sure if he even believes his own words. With the way she'd been too content to let Raven take the fall for a crime he knew she hadn't committed had his hackles raised. But Bellamy doesn't want to bitch Clarke out, taking the focus away from Raven once more. It doesn't help, not focusing on her — she lost Finn, a boy he doesn't really understand the significance of when it comes to her, but he knows loss just like the rest of them do. His lost limb is still regrowing since Aurora had been floated.
He looks at Raven then. "You should've let her take a look."
Her tone remains biting, as if she's speaking to someone who won't listen, "I don't want her touching me." She stares at him hard enough to lift his gaze from the ground. "If you want to help me, keep me far away from her." She turns to look at where they'd come from, the crowd remaining thick, if broken into clumps of people off to the side speaking since Gustus had been freed from the tree alive instead of dead. It doesn't appear like a funeral, as if these Grounders even know how to grieve. "And them. If that Commander Bitch comes anywhere near me, I'll show her how strong I am."
Bellamy nods, unable to think of anything to say that'll comfort her, incapable of thinking of anything to say to contradict her. He thinks to correct her, though, informing her that she'd shown Lexa just how tenacious she is. But he doesn't, instead opting to say, "I should get Abby."
Raven shakes her head. "No," she says, drawing in a breath. "I'm fine."
He sighs. He can feel her bristle beside him, as if she's taking his sigh as some sign of his aggravation at her. He's aggravated, but it isn't at her he finds himself tense and ready to snap.
Rather than snapping at her as he feels like it, getting rid of that excess energy and anger that's been stirring inside of him, waiting for him to elbow a Grounder and raze Tondc, he sighs. He doubts he needs to remind her, but he does, brows raised and voice quieter, "You were cut by a knife in several places, Raven. You're not fine."
If she wishes to deny it, she can try, but Bellamy doesn't doubt the Grounders try and slice as deep as they can in order to make the punishment of a thousand cuts sting even in the afterlife. He's not so sure if he believes in that, if there's something after all this living, as he doubts the afterlife can be any greater than the hell this earth has proven itself to be.
She presses her lips together, aggravated, or struggling with a taste that she isn't so sure is sweet or sour. "Don't leave me." It's as if she has to force it out between her teeth that she quietly says, "Please."
He opens his mouth, as if to say I'm not, but he closes it. He figures he is, with how he seems eager to push her into the hands of another. It's not true — Raven's not his responsibility, but she isn't a burden he wants to rid his shoulders the weight of, either.
He looks away from her, then over toward where he can see the back of Grounders shielding Kane and Abby from his sight. "Just let her take a look, okay." Bellamy turns his gaze back to her. His brows rise to challenge her, as if he knows her silence is her own refusal to listen to him.
He figures he's right with how she rolls her eyes. "Fine," she grits out. Abby's not the enemy, but he supposes Raven's pride is.
They remain silent for a few moments, for a length of time that feels like an age. A Grounder looks over toward them, a woman with the charcoal warpaint smeared over her eyes. He doesn't recognise her, unable to put a name to the face, but he guesses that's how it is with a good lot of them. Clarke might want to try and sleep on their side of the camp to show them she trusts them, but none of them have thought to return the favour. With blonde hair covering the expanse of her back with intricate braids, he can feel the sharpness of her icy gaze try and chill him — or cut him a thousand times. He bristles, but doesn't look away from her.
She does, eventually, when a man, thick shouldered and taller, face clean save for the Grounder makeup, taps her on the shoulder.
Raven peers at him, leaning forward in an attempt to capture his gaze. "What was that about?"
Bellamy doesn't look at her, keeping his gaze on the Grounders. "Don't know."
He can see her from the corner of his eye look from him to where he's staring, then back to him. Her brows knit, just like his do, as if she's trying to figure out how best to blow them up, what powder to use, what liquid she can get her hands on.
He's just trying his best not to pick up his rifle and shoot them.
Returning his gaze to her, he looks down at her abdomen to the red seeping through her light blue shirt. "You're going to be okay."
The corner of her lips quirks up as she lets out a breathy laugh, quick and short, but not as sharp as it had been before. "Keep telling yourself that, shooter."
He finds the corner of his own lips quirk upward to the sound of footsteps on the ground. Raven turns before he does, her body tensing to only relax at the sight of Abby.
He feels Raven release his arm, having forgotten she was even latching onto him as if he was some sort of lifeline for her. Abby's footsteps slow before she kneels before them, one knee on the ground, as she looks to Raven, only sparing him a quick glance. She smiles kindly, her voice warm and motherly, "We need to take a good look at you, Raven."
Raven closes her eyes briefly before she nods. Throwing an arm around Bellamy's shoulders, he helps lift her up, supporting her left side as Abby moves to her right. "I'm okay," Raven says, smiling as if she's slightly exasperated by how everyone seems to flank to her sides, literally sticking themselves beneath her arms.
"Let us take care of you for once, Raven," Abby says. Her arm's around her waist, Bellamy's on her hip. "Come on," she cocks her head to the side, her eyes shifting over toward where the Grounders linger. Clarke loiters there, standing near Kane, engaged in conversation he doubts will really go anywhere. He feels uneasy, thinking they'll walk through the crowd, right by the tree that had left Raven at the mercy of Lexa and Indra.
Rather than remain limp within their arms, Raven lifts her hand and grabs onto his fingers, as if she's the one hanging off the edge of a cliff. He supposes she is, hanging onto the odd branch for dear life as the Grounders have pushed her over in the hope she'd be broken bone on the ground below. He doesn't get why she grips his fingers as though she wants to rip them from the sockets. He ducks his head slightly, brows knitted together, to which she briefly looks at him before letting her gaze drop onto the ground before she peers up once more, gritting her teeth as she accidentally twists her body and aggravates the cuts on her abdomen.
As if sensing where his own mind as gone, what's summoned Raven's parted lips and unease as she tries to fight it from overtaking her body, Abby looks to them and softens her voice, "We'll go around them."
fandom: the 100.
characters/pairings: bellamy, raven; bellamy/raven.
rating: pg.
words: 2821.
prompt: inspired by if they want you, they're gonna have to fight me.
summary: bellamy thinks it's about time she let someone else fight for her for a change. or the one where bellamy and raven look out for one another.
notes: this is an au on 2.09 and i may probably turn it into something because i think this entire scenario involving raven deserved some more closure -- and no one can really deny the fact that bellamy looking out for raven deserves to be highlighted, too. we'll see how i go. i apologise to raos because me being ooc and writing fic killed him. you'll be missed, dear friend, etc etc. but ... i haven't written fic in like three years, so the fact I've written something is beyond cool!
title's from lights' don't go home without me. all mistakes are mine etc. ( also on AO3 )
If Bellamy could count on his fingers how many times a Grounder's tried to get one of their own killed, he'd need a few extra hands. It's a good thing he has Raven's in his.
He stays far away from the rest of the camp — the Sky People — as he focuses on her. His feet move toward her quickly without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her, trying to support her the best he can while not aggravating her cut skin. Raven slumps against him, but he can feel her try and pull herself together, as if she needs to posture being as brave and brazen, like this hasn't broken her.
He leads her far away from where Lexa commands in her language for the Grounders to free Gustus once he's gone slack against the tree. He doesn't think she needs to see it, what could've been her if they hadn't been so lucky. Her good leg tries to keep up with his strides, doing the job of two, but Bellamy almost lifts her up with the help of Octavia on her other side, pulling her arm over her shoulders to keep her steady and her weight off her bad leg. Raven fights them, her fingers curling into his shoulder sharply, but Bellamy thinks it's about time she let someone else fight for her for a change.
"Over here," he says, cocking his head and directing them to the left. It's on the outskirts of Tondc, further away from the commotion of the Grounders and Sky People making amends, apologising and ensuring all's forgiven for the sake of a goddamn alliance Bellamy doubts is as strong as Clarke wants to believe it to be.
Carefully, they lower Raven to the ground, coming to sit with her. She's quiet. The earth's damp, but Bellamy doubts she can even feel it.
Octavia drops to her knees, her hands on Raven's arm. She's careful to not touch her where the blood blossoms and stains her shirt. Leaning toward her, O's voice is breathless, determined and as strong as his little sister has always been, "You're going to be okay. Trust me."
There's a snapping of twigs and a crunch of leaves on the ground. Octavia looks up quickly, ready to strike, as if they're not on some neutral territory. Her features soften, unguarded within a second, and when Bellamy turns to look at the person responsible for the noise, it's Lincoln.
Octavia looks toward Raven before her eyes flicker to him. Sensing her gaze, he turns to her, nodding. "Go. We're going to be okay."
Raven scoffs, shaking her head. Her expression is one that's torn between being on the verge of tears or gritting her teeth and shattering them in anger.
Octavia's hand glides up her arm to her shoulder, squeezing it, before she stands to walk toward Lincoln. He lingers, his gaze on her, before Octavia's arm reaches out to turn him around and lead them toward where the rest of their people gather around the Grounders.
Rather than look at Raven, he keeps his eyes on the back of Octavia. Once she disappears, he keeps his head looking in that direction, giving Raven as much privacy as one can within the open. She sits on her ass, pulling her legs toward her chest with a wince. One arm wraps around her leg, fingers gripping her knee tightly; from the corner of his eye, he can see her knuckles are white.
"What do you think they're saying?" she says, voice pained. He doesn't glance at her when she inhales sharply, shifting beside him until she stills, as comfortable as she can be on dirt. "Should've shoved that sword right through my heart instead of wasting time."
"Or maybe they're saying you should've been the one to deliver the final blow."
Raven laughs, but it isn't as bright as it used to be. He doesn't feel the sun warm the side of his face where he can feel her staring at him.
Still, he doesn't look at her. Once he grows bored of watching the backs of Grounders he doesn't recognise, committing to memory the way they stand — legs wide apart, shoulders pulled back, their hands never fiddling with their shit or their fingers — he looks to the ground instead, as if he can study it and figure out where her footprints cease and become his own.
He sees another pair of legs in his vision, long and dirtied by mud and grime. Bellamy doesn't say a word, almost welcoming her to approach them.
It's as if she can feel Clarke's footsteps reverberate beneath her. She's quick to look at her, gaze so sharp and deadly he thinks Clarke would turn to stone. But she doesn't. Raven doesn't have snakes for hair, even if it looks a little matted, twisting and winding, like a serpent's body. She barely moves her teeth when she bites, "I don't want her touching me."
As if she can hear her, Clarke stops and the world beneath them ceases shaking. He'd thought maybe it had been in fear — Clarke's, maybe, of what Raven will do to her, possibly something harsher than a punch — but he's starting to realise it hadn't been coming from Clarke.
It's a familiar quiver in the earth. He's felt it before, the trembling shaking beneath his own feet as he had stomped his boots and commanded chaos to overtake the camp once the drop ship had smashed into the earth far away from their chosen destination. It's anger — the kind that moves mountains and razes the world like a nuclear apocalypse.
At first he doesn't realise it, but he feels her fingers grip the fabric of his jacket so tightly she almost tears it and reaches skin to shred. Raven leans into him as if he's a shield for her, or maybe a sword, even though Bellamy doubts she'd need another to be the blade she wields against a foe when she's all metal and sharpness and red, hot seething anger of the fires that forge such weapons. He lifts his hand to cover hers, thinking she'll read it as a request she stop making him uncomfortable with her grip when he feels like the protector he had been on the Ark before everything had gone to Hades.
Clarke may stop, but her mouth opens. He thinks maybe she's lost for words, but her voice cracks, "Raven. I'm —"
Bellamy looks to Clarke, but lets his gaze drop to her arms instead. He isn't comfortable being the mouthpiece for a girl mouthier than anyone he's ever met, but with the way Raven grips his sleeve and even tries to weave her fingers between the gaps of his own, he thinks maybe she needs a voice instead. Clarke can't read body language as well as she can science and broken bones. His voice sounds too kind and uncertain to his own ears, "You should probably leave."
He lifts his gaze to see Clarke's face fall, her feet take one tiny step back no one else would notice but him. He's been studying Clarke ever since they dropped on this radiation-soaked earth, identifying her as an enemy before she'd shifted into a friend. She may think him to be sweet, the guy who'll always have her back, but Bellamy knows how to cut Clarke down from the horse she sits upon now, and a part of him thinks to raise his blade to do so, reverting back to his old self to have her see the damage she's destined to inflict upon her people if she isn't to tread carefully anymore.
She stands there, stock-still, shocked, he thinks, before she presses her lips together, inhales deeply through her nose, and nods. Before she leaves, she says, "I'm sorry." And nods again, as if that'll sell it to Raven, her compassion, her sincerity, her remorse for something he thinks her to have been too prepared to do for the sake of building a glass bridge a stone could shatter if Jasper Jordan was to toss it over his shoulder. But Jasper isn't here to shatter anything.
Clarke walks away, but Raven continues to grip his shoulder hard. She sounds closer to him when she laughs, short and sharp, and shakes her head. As he watches Clarke walk away, throwing a glance over her shoulder as if it's taking all her willpower to not return and try and fix what she's broken with some careful suturing, he can feel Raven's nails gliding against his fingers. "I'm starting to wonder if she understands it. What that word means. What it's meant to mean."
"I'm sure she does," Bellamy says, tone more absent than he'd like. The problem is, he isn't so sure if he even believes his own words. With the way she'd been too content to let Raven take the fall for a crime he knew she hadn't committed had his hackles raised. But Bellamy doesn't want to bitch Clarke out, taking the focus away from Raven once more. It doesn't help, not focusing on her — she lost Finn, a boy he doesn't really understand the significance of when it comes to her, but he knows loss just like the rest of them do. His lost limb is still regrowing since Aurora had been floated.
He looks at Raven then. "You should've let her take a look."
Her tone remains biting, as if she's speaking to someone who won't listen, "I don't want her touching me." She stares at him hard enough to lift his gaze from the ground. "If you want to help me, keep me far away from her." She turns to look at where they'd come from, the crowd remaining thick, if broken into clumps of people off to the side speaking since Gustus had been freed from the tree alive instead of dead. It doesn't appear like a funeral, as if these Grounders even know how to grieve. "And them. If that Commander Bitch comes anywhere near me, I'll show her how strong I am."
Bellamy nods, unable to think of anything to say that'll comfort her, incapable of thinking of anything to say to contradict her. He thinks to correct her, though, informing her that she'd shown Lexa just how tenacious she is. But he doesn't, instead opting to say, "I should get Abby."
Raven shakes her head. "No," she says, drawing in a breath. "I'm fine."
He sighs. He can feel her bristle beside him, as if she's taking his sigh as some sign of his aggravation at her. He's aggravated, but it isn't at her he finds himself tense and ready to snap.
Rather than snapping at her as he feels like it, getting rid of that excess energy and anger that's been stirring inside of him, waiting for him to elbow a Grounder and raze Tondc, he sighs. He doubts he needs to remind her, but he does, brows raised and voice quieter, "You were cut by a knife in several places, Raven. You're not fine."
If she wishes to deny it, she can try, but Bellamy doesn't doubt the Grounders try and slice as deep as they can in order to make the punishment of a thousand cuts sting even in the afterlife. He's not so sure if he believes in that, if there's something after all this living, as he doubts the afterlife can be any greater than the hell this earth has proven itself to be.
She presses her lips together, aggravated, or struggling with a taste that she isn't so sure is sweet or sour. "Don't leave me." It's as if she has to force it out between her teeth that she quietly says, "Please."
He opens his mouth, as if to say I'm not, but he closes it. He figures he is, with how he seems eager to push her into the hands of another. It's not true — Raven's not his responsibility, but she isn't a burden he wants to rid his shoulders the weight of, either.
He looks away from her, then over toward where he can see the back of Grounders shielding Kane and Abby from his sight. "Just let her take a look, okay." Bellamy turns his gaze back to her. His brows rise to challenge her, as if he knows her silence is her own refusal to listen to him.
He figures he's right with how she rolls her eyes. "Fine," she grits out. Abby's not the enemy, but he supposes Raven's pride is.
They remain silent for a few moments, for a length of time that feels like an age. A Grounder looks over toward them, a woman with the charcoal warpaint smeared over her eyes. He doesn't recognise her, unable to put a name to the face, but he guesses that's how it is with a good lot of them. Clarke might want to try and sleep on their side of the camp to show them she trusts them, but none of them have thought to return the favour. With blonde hair covering the expanse of her back with intricate braids, he can feel the sharpness of her icy gaze try and chill him — or cut him a thousand times. He bristles, but doesn't look away from her.
She does, eventually, when a man, thick shouldered and taller, face clean save for the Grounder makeup, taps her on the shoulder.
Raven peers at him, leaning forward in an attempt to capture his gaze. "What was that about?"
Bellamy doesn't look at her, keeping his gaze on the Grounders. "Don't know."
He can see her from the corner of his eye look from him to where he's staring, then back to him. Her brows knit, just like his do, as if she's trying to figure out how best to blow them up, what powder to use, what liquid she can get her hands on.
He's just trying his best not to pick up his rifle and shoot them.
Returning his gaze to her, he looks down at her abdomen to the red seeping through her light blue shirt. "You're going to be okay."
The corner of her lips quirks up as she lets out a breathy laugh, quick and short, but not as sharp as it had been before. "Keep telling yourself that, shooter."
He finds the corner of his own lips quirk upward to the sound of footsteps on the ground. Raven turns before he does, her body tensing to only relax at the sight of Abby.
He feels Raven release his arm, having forgotten she was even latching onto him as if he was some sort of lifeline for her. Abby's footsteps slow before she kneels before them, one knee on the ground, as she looks to Raven, only sparing him a quick glance. She smiles kindly, her voice warm and motherly, "We need to take a good look at you, Raven."
Raven closes her eyes briefly before she nods. Throwing an arm around Bellamy's shoulders, he helps lift her up, supporting her left side as Abby moves to her right. "I'm okay," Raven says, smiling as if she's slightly exasperated by how everyone seems to flank to her sides, literally sticking themselves beneath her arms.
"Let us take care of you for once, Raven," Abby says. Her arm's around her waist, Bellamy's on her hip. "Come on," she cocks her head to the side, her eyes shifting over toward where the Grounders linger. Clarke loiters there, standing near Kane, engaged in conversation he doubts will really go anywhere. He feels uneasy, thinking they'll walk through the crowd, right by the tree that had left Raven at the mercy of Lexa and Indra.
Rather than remain limp within their arms, Raven lifts her hand and grabs onto his fingers, as if she's the one hanging off the edge of a cliff. He supposes she is, hanging onto the odd branch for dear life as the Grounders have pushed her over in the hope she'd be broken bone on the ground below. He doesn't get why she grips his fingers as though she wants to rip them from the sockets. He ducks his head slightly, brows knitted together, to which she briefly looks at him before letting her gaze drop onto the ground before she peers up once more, gritting her teeth as she accidentally twists her body and aggravates the cuts on her abdomen.
As if sensing where his own mind as gone, what's summoned Raven's parted lips and unease as she tries to fight it from overtaking her body, Abby looks to them and softens her voice, "We'll go around them."