Clementine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shorthair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-04-05 01:02 pm
shorthair) wrote in entrancelogs2017-04-05 01:02 pm
Entry tags:
- dragon age: anders,
- fantastic beasts: newt scamander,
- from dusk till dawn: richie gecko,
- gravity falls: dipper pines,
- newsflesh: georgia mason,
- the flash: iris west,
- the vampire diaries: katherine pierce,
- the vampire diaries: klaus mikaelson,
- the walking dead game: clementine,
- the walking dead: michonne
[ota] It leaves us with regrets and picks apart the threads
Who: Clementine + you
Where: Mansion
When: April 5 - 12. Plus, all of April and May
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Clementine returns from her canon update. Feel free to reply to the network post here since I won't actually spam the network community too. Action spam or prose is totally cool with me.
The Story: First week and a half
It's warm.
She's felt like she was freezing since she fell into the lake of ice. Was that really just yesterday? It's warm here. Her hands press to grass, and she stares at the ground, shuddering because she thinks the frozen water might have seeped into her blood. She knows it's warm but she still feels cold.
She's back in Wonderland. A rush of memories, of emotion hits her. There are so many people she cares about here, and she hasn't seen them since she left, and it feels like she's been gone for years instead of- days. Weeks? Time is funny.
AJ isn't in her arms anymore. It's just him and her now. Seems right. She can't trust people anymore.
Now that the adrenaline has faded away, the bullet wound in her shoulder hurts like fucking hell. She killed someone else she cared about. Again. Does she even belong in this place with people who are good, who do what's right? If they knew, what the fuck would they think of her. She feels like she might be sick, but there's nothing in her stomach to puke anyway so it's just her insides twisting around like knots.
She pulls her network device out, texting a quick open network post, because she won't remember everyone she'll want to text to let them know:
It's Clementine. I'm back. In my room.
If anyone is up at night, they might run into her, a child with blood on the shoulder of her jacket with a very clear hole through it. No gun for once. She left it with the last dead body she's left behind her.
When she finally makes it into her room. She writes the names of more dead people on the wall (Sarita, Sarah, Luke, Rebecca, Kenny). She pulls out blankets from the closet and piles them on the bed and puts herself underneath them, but it doesn't help with the cold. She tries to get out of the damn jacket, but she hisses out pain and stops midway. She stays there for a week and a half without leaving.
Rest of April/May
Eventually, later in the month, she finally leaves her room again. She's got the small shot gun from Christmas with her, holstered to her back.
She's in the cafeteria in short sleeves, which means she's revealing a certain scar for the first time since she came to Wonderland. Sometimes she's reading books about taking care of babies as if osmosis will happenif when she's sent back. Somewhere in between reading how often they have to feed and sleep, she tosses the book away from her so hard that it almost hits somebody.
Then she picks up baking. She used to with her mother all the time, and if she can kill people and survive walkers and gun shots and ice lakes, she can make some cookies if the recipes right there, right? Maybe.
She ends up making a big mess in the kitchen as she tries to spoon big chunks of cookie dough out on to pans, smirking at her giant mess. It's kind of hilarious she can survive so much and fight so hard and then get defeated by cookie dough.
Where: Mansion
When: April 5 - 12. Plus, all of April and May
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Clementine returns from her canon update. Feel free to reply to the network post here since I won't actually spam the network community too. Action spam or prose is totally cool with me.
The Story: First week and a half
It's warm.
She's felt like she was freezing since she fell into the lake of ice. Was that really just yesterday? It's warm here. Her hands press to grass, and she stares at the ground, shuddering because she thinks the frozen water might have seeped into her blood. She knows it's warm but she still feels cold.
She's back in Wonderland. A rush of memories, of emotion hits her. There are so many people she cares about here, and she hasn't seen them since she left, and it feels like she's been gone for years instead of- days. Weeks? Time is funny.
AJ isn't in her arms anymore. It's just him and her now. Seems right. She can't trust people anymore.
Now that the adrenaline has faded away, the bullet wound in her shoulder hurts like fucking hell. She killed someone else she cared about. Again. Does she even belong in this place with people who are good, who do what's right? If they knew, what the fuck would they think of her. She feels like she might be sick, but there's nothing in her stomach to puke anyway so it's just her insides twisting around like knots.
She pulls her network device out, texting a quick open network post, because she won't remember everyone she'll want to text to let them know:
It's Clementine. I'm back. In my room.
If anyone is up at night, they might run into her, a child with blood on the shoulder of her jacket with a very clear hole through it. No gun for once. She left it with the last dead body she's left behind her.
When she finally makes it into her room. She writes the names of more dead people on the wall (Sarita, Sarah, Luke, Rebecca, Kenny). She pulls out blankets from the closet and piles them on the bed and puts herself underneath them, but it doesn't help with the cold. She tries to get out of the damn jacket, but she hisses out pain and stops midway. She stays there for a week and a half without leaving.
Rest of April/May
Eventually, later in the month, she finally leaves her room again. She's got the small shot gun from Christmas with her, holstered to her back.
She's in the cafeteria in short sleeves, which means she's revealing a certain scar for the first time since she came to Wonderland. Sometimes she's reading books about taking care of babies as if osmosis will happen
Then she picks up baking. She used to with her mother all the time, and if she can kill people and survive walkers and gun shots and ice lakes, she can make some cookies if the recipes right there, right? Maybe.
She ends up making a big mess in the kitchen as she tries to spoon big chunks of cookie dough out on to pans, smirking at her giant mess. It's kind of hilarious she can survive so much and fight so hard and then get defeated by cookie dough.
no subject
"Yeah. No problem."
To him, it really is nothing. It's not like he can't immediately replace it, and he's not heartless. What kind of fucking person would see a kid who's been shot and is freezing and not do that. Richie is a lot of things, but that would just be obscene.
"I'm getting that vibe, alright." People who eat other people didn't seem as shitty to him as people shooting at eleven-year-olds. Clem wasn't exactly a kid by normal standards, but that was pretty fucked up. "And then things got ugly, I take it?" Understatement, clearly. His brows furrow slightly as he tries to stand up a little taller.
"You want me to carry you?"
no subject
Clementine rubs at her face with her right hand, curling into the coat once it's around her shoulders. It's big on her, but that's what makes it nice and warm.
"I woke up, and I heard them. I pointed my gun at them to try to stop them and then tried handing the gun over after they explained. The prisoner shot me. He was probably just a few years older than me." It's probably why they felt the need to take him with them, to protect him. And- and because it's Richie, she allows herself to say the angry violent words in her head, which she doesn't always let out. Her hands are shaky fists, and she hisses the words out with a fury that shouldn't be able to be contained in an eleven year old body. "I should have fucking shot him first."
She just didn't want to shoot more people she cared about (which she ended up having to do anyway). She just understood how dangerous and uncontrollable Kenny had become. The two adults hadn't want her hurt at all, but they gave Arvo a gun and Arvo didn't care. Then they just left as she lie there on the ground.
no subject
He holds a hand out to at least help her up, providing the one that would have her reaching with her good shoulder instead of her bad one.
Richie shrugs at her angry words, not about to argue with her. "Probably. But it's not always the easy thing to do." Not at first, anyway. He'd shot at so many people by now that it had lost most of its horror. He was pretty desensitized to violence in general. "But sometimes you have to bite before someone else can bite first."
no subject
She swallows, buttons the coat with shaky fingers, and moves through the hallway towards the stairs. She locks her jaw but nods in agreement too even as her eyes burn.
"I won't hesitate next time."
She won't hand over her weapon. It'll only ever be kept in her own grip, aimed at someone's head except the last person she shot- She hesitated. It's probably easier to care about less people.
no subject
"I know you won't."
He'd only made that mistake once or twice. He'd stopped hesitating a long time ago and it was one of the reasons he was still alive.
"You should really get that looked at, by the way. Don't want it to get infected."
no subject
She's tired.
She looks up at him. "I will. Jane's the one who bandaged it, and I don't trust her anymore. I learned what to look for with infections, but- there are medical people here."
So she doesn't have to worry about that anymore, about trying to figure out if a wound was getting infected, about finding clean bandages.
no subject
"Yeah, just don't hole up in your room waiting for it to get infected before dealing with it. It fucking sucks when it gets that bad."
He was notorious himself for holing up and waiting for something to go away, for things to get better, physical bullshit or otherwise. He'd done it for five years after his brother went to jail, built himself a shack in the woods, hunted down his own food. All it had done was make him vulnerable, in the end.
no subject
Clementine almost smirks as she looks up at him, but she won't wait until it gets infected. She cleaned and sewed up her own arm so it wouldn't get infected once. If there's anything she knows how to do, it's survive regardless of what it might mean.
Her room's ahead. She points to it. It looks like home, and when she gets sent back to her world, she forgets what it feels like to have one so it almost makes her eyes burn now to see her room ahead.
"I won't do that. I promise."
no subject
He smirks back down at her because he's definitely taken a bullet here and there. Came with the job, and going into a hospital with an obvious bullet wound was a big no no.
"I got shot clean through the hand, once. It made this perfect little hole. I had to duct tape the whole thing shut. Hurt like a bitch."
He lifts said hand, flexing the fingers. "It healed right up when I was turned, though."
And then they reach her room, and he reaches with the same hand to open the door for her if it happens to be unlocked.
no subject
It's not as bad as when she sewed her own arm shut again, but it still fucking hurts.
And it'll hurt for awhile.
"And you use your hand a lot. Must have hurt like hell for a long time. It's a good thing it got healed." She doesn't see a hint of the mark on his hand anymore. He'd likely feel the pain of it for the rest of his life otherwise. She bites down on her lip as the door closes, and they're alone.
She turns toward him. Hesitates. Silence seems to stretch out, but she's already told him one thing she hasn't told anybody else. He gets it. She rubs a hand over her face and lets out a breath, shaky, heavy.
"I killed someone else I loved."
no subject
Except for instead of sitting down or something, she turns toward him and drops what's essentially a verbal bomb on him.
He does get it, at least somewhat. But Richie has never really had to kill anyone he loved. That's an emotion that he's barely familiar with, and he certainly didn't love his father when he set him aflame.
"It doesn't sound like you're usually given much choice."
It might not be the appropriate response, but he's not sure there really is one. Killing someone brings with it a certain amount of finality. You can't go back and you can't fix it, and sometimes you want to and sometimes you don't. Either way, it happened and it can leave a sucking hole in your chest the size of the one you left in someone else.
Until you do it enough that that doesn't happen anymore. For Richie, it didn't take long. But he wasn't a pre-teen the second time it happened.
no subject
Killing other people never really bothers her anymore. She's done that, but when she invests her heart and she can still pull the trigger- She does what she has to do.
She folds her arms across her chest.
"I think I had a choice this time."
It's what she says finally. The situation was manipulated. She wouldn't feel safe with Kenny even if he did live, but- She had a choice, and she made it.
She swallows and shakes her head. She knows, because he told her that he won't think she's screwed up because of what she's done. That's why she wanted to tell him.
"I'm mostly alone now so I won't have to worry about it again anyway."
no subject
Kill or be killed. Get rid of a potential threat so it doesn't bite you in the ass later. It was about judging the risks and taking action based on your instincts.
"Considering what I know about where you come from, every choice you make matters in whether or not your survive. You're just doing what anyone else would do in your situation if they wanted to get through it."
He didn't need to know the details to believe that. He could just tell.
"You're not a bad person, alright?"
no subject
Then she nods, understanding, believing, taking what he says as truth. She shoves away those dark recesses of her head, which came out when she shot Kenny, when she yelled at Jane, when she wanted to convince everyone including herself that she knew what she was doing. They've stuck around like sharp edges since waking up here.
People can be capable of doing really terrible things in order to survive. It has to be worth it, to take another breath, to take a step forward, to find- to find something. She lifts her head up to look at him again.
"Alright." She breathes out shakily, sitting down at the edge of her bed, feeling the heavy weight of the whole day and then some. "I did. I got through it." She'll keep walking, keep surviving. "Thanks, Richie. I'm glad- I'm glad you're the one who found me."
no subject
He cried when his uncle died, however briefly. Richie knew full well what it was like to need to keep your shit together around certain other people.
He didn't particularly want to be one of those people. Not to her, anyway.
And she's right. It does have to be worth it. Losing his uncle, then losing Kate, it had to mean something. That's why he hadn't given up on finishing taking over his operation. Then again, he'd just ended up here, but now Kate was still alive.
Wonderland did love to make things complicated.
"Yeah. Me too." He backs up a couple steps, not wanting to bail, but pretty sure she wants some alone time. "Get some rest, alright?"
no subject
Having emotions, it means she's not at her best.
Survival is endless, but it's good to have the reminder. She doesn't have to shelve it all to survive or to stay alive. She doesn't have to be at her best all the time. Her eyes are still burning, but she feels better than she did when she showed up, and it's because of him.
"Okay." She nods, sliding into her bed fully then until she's lying down in it, still covered up in his jacket as her hand fists into the pillow by her head. Every muscle in her body welcomes the comfort of a bed and a mattress. She sinks into it, welcoming it, feeling like she's home (and knowing that's impossible too.
this place isn't real. it's not meant to stay, and she's not meant to stay in it.)
no subject
It's the reason he said anything. Back home, he might be one of those people to others. But Clementine is different. Sometimes, he's the one that's different these days too.
He pauses briefly, watching her before he steps over, pulling a blanket over her small frame to tuck her in before stepping back and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Catch ya later."
Without lingering any longer, he heads out. No doubt this conversation will loop through his head more than a few times over the next handful of hours until he manages to sleep himself.