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.
sobs no it's just- i'm cutting onions...
"I think that's the most important part. I think you'll do good," Clementine says as her gaze drifts up to him but she means it. "You want them. You need each other. You do your best to- to take care of them. It has to be."
It has to be what's required of her with AJ.
She will give everything she has.
"The two adults- They were fighting a lot. Kenny lost so much. Every time something went wrong, he lashed out. We were in the middle of a snow storm, and-"
100 years later FEEL FREE TO DROP if you need to
He hopes he will do right by his daughter. He hopes that willing and wanting and needing it to be so will be enough in the practice of trying. Klaus blinks past the tears hearing her words, taking in the shared belief they both need. He is choked of words for a moment, for it means no small thing, coming from this strong, anguished little girl without a parent for herself nor a place to call her home.
Klaus swallows thickly. He listens. He hardens. Finds quiet words. "Did he hurt her?"
DROPS immediately!!!
Clementine lifts her gaze up to look at him when she feels his fingers wrapping tight around her own. She breathes in and finds the strength through that hold to continue on (to say things that are hard to say but true. they're part of her, sharp and uneven
they stick. she's never getting rid of that shrapnel).
"Yes." She swallows thickly. Once he accidentally elbowed her in the face. He blamed her for Sarita dying. Kenny lashed out when he was hurt. It was only a matter of time. She'd always known it but didn't know what to do about it because she still cared about him. "They fought after she upset him on purpose. I tried to get in the middle of it but it didn't work. He was about to kill her when... I shot him in the head."
She killed him first.
SOBS!!!!
These abuses don't just happen; they don't start and end with the terror of one decisive moment. He can piece together the tapestry from her small confessions, her guilt, her anguish. This man was not a good one (nor, he suspects, was this woman in association) and that cruelty and selfishness reverberated among them all, building to this: this moment Clementine details as if the memory itself is shaking inside of her.
She did not deserve this. She did not deserve the maltreatment, the lack of tenderness; she did not deserve the responsibility of being the adult surrounded by those too wrapped up in their own fear to spar a thought for her or their child.
(Klaus considers he would have liked to slaughter them both in lieu and in deference to her suffering. The world might be better off.)
He reaches to cup her cheek then, the hardness of his rage muted and softened by his desire to comfort her. "No one should have to do what you did," he tells her, because people should not have to die, to be killed or to kill. Because it should not have been on her shoulders at all. But it was. It was, because life does not deal in shoulds.
She did what it took to survive. That is not wrong in his eyes. That is strength. "But you were brave in doing it."
no subject
Clementine closes her eyes when he cups her cheek. The gesture surprises her but it does- it comforts too. People don't ever- Physical affection isn't common. People get tired and worn out and stamped, and in her world, she can't remember the last time anyone even hugged her (her father used to hold her face like that when she was scared). She closes her eyes briefly against the rapid burning at the edges of those eyes before she looks up at him when he speaks. She rarely ever looks away from anyone, from anything. It's something Carver commended in her. He thought she was like him, and maybe she is like him in some ways though she believes what Georgia told her (he wanted to manipulate her, to use her, to quiet her). But she has to be like him in some ways, because she does know how to make terrible choices.
She is capable of doing what needs to be done.
If there's anything she knows how to do, it's survive. She breathes in, steadies herself, feels the reassurance in the meaning behind his words.
"Thank you for saying so."
Nothing ever feels brave in the moment. It feels desperate and strained.
"It's just me and AJ now. The baby."
It's why she asked him more about being a father now, because she's going to take care of AJ by herself. "I don't think I'm ready either, but it's good to know maybe I never would have been either." She's joking mostly cause she's actually scared. Scared of letting AJ down, scared of not being able to protect him. Scared because she never would have chosen this but she took one look at AJ and she has to try.
no subject
Desperation does not preclude bravery. In many instances it necessitates it, and though Klaus would not hold his own instincts of survival brave — not at the hands of his father, his mother, or any else that has stood against him — he knows even in the warped and beaten recesses of his mind it is not her fault, no matter how it might seem to him, taught so thoroughly it is a base and primal feeling, that it was his.
She did what she had to do. She saved herself and that baby even if she does not see it; even if she has not and will not forgive herself for the ruthlessness of the act.
Klaus turns his hand to brush a comforting touch down the slope of her jaw. Gently, he nudges her chin at the end. He had assumed as much, about her question, about the baby. It's why he can find it in him to let his features soften at her strained joke; he can let a brightness enter his eyes despite knowing she is afraid. Because she is afraid. "It will be all right," he tells her softly, and not because it is an empty platitude, but because it will be. She is strong, and capable, and smart. He knows sometimes how that is not enough regardless, and he'll assume it's ever more true in her world.
He knows this to be true, too: "And if it's not all right, it will be again." She'll find her way through this, too.
no subject
Clementine swallows and looks up at him when he nudges her chin. Her near yellow eyes fill with tears as she watches his face and then nods as if saying it makes it so, as if saying it will make it real. Then she folds herself against his side. A very long time ago, Lee promised Clementine that he would never leave her. The promise ended up being untrue, but it's what she needed to hear at the time, and she thinks back on that memory over and over again after she lost him.
Klaus now promises her it will be all right.
She believes him because she needs to hear it right now.
Whether or not it ends up being true, she believes him.