closed.
Who: onequarter & knows_it_all.
When: August 9.
Where: Kunsel's Clare's apartment in Dismas.
Format: paragraph, present tense.
What: hugs and puppies.
Warnings: doubtful.
Clare has never had a home before.
This was the first place she had gone. Fled, more like. When she'd woken up she'd known. This is the second time after all. But Clare hadn't gone to see the people she cares about to reassure them of her existence, for fear that they'd be gone. Teresa. Raki. Irene. Helen. Deneve. She couldn't bear to lose even one. (She couldn't bear to face them knowing how they'd lost her.) So, Dismas, and she sighs with relief when her yoki vanishes.
In order to carry out her revenge.
The stairs up to her apartment creak. The smell of woodsmoke and gas lamps is familiar, too. Maybe no time has passed at all. Maybe only the fragment she lived, second for second. Regardless, it's strange to realize that she wants to be here more than anywhere else, is comforted by the simple action of entering a building and climbing stairs on human legs.
(Coming home.)
In order to carry out her revenge.
She is going to put the kettle on and fill the room with the soft scent of jasmine. That is the only plan Clare allows herself to make. Since she doesn't know what happened to her key, she might have to break in, first. But the spare is in the place she left it, a good sign, and she doesn't have to attack her heavy front door.
Instead, something leaps out of the darkness before her eyes have adjusted, before the door is fully open, and something attacks her.
In order to carry out her revenge. She became a part of that thing.
When: August 9.
Where: Kunsel's Clare's apartment in Dismas.
Format: paragraph, present tense.
What: hugs and puppies.
Warnings: doubtful.
Clare has never had a home before.
This was the first place she had gone. Fled, more like. When she'd woken up she'd known. This is the second time after all. But Clare hadn't gone to see the people she cares about to reassure them of her existence, for fear that they'd be gone. Teresa. Raki. Irene. Helen. Deneve. She couldn't bear to lose even one. (She couldn't bear to face them knowing how they'd lost her.) So, Dismas, and she sighs with relief when her yoki vanishes.
In order to carry out her revenge.
The stairs up to her apartment creak. The smell of woodsmoke and gas lamps is familiar, too. Maybe no time has passed at all. Maybe only the fragment she lived, second for second. Regardless, it's strange to realize that she wants to be here more than anywhere else, is comforted by the simple action of entering a building and climbing stairs on human legs.
(Coming home.)
In order to carry out her revenge.
She is going to put the kettle on and fill the room with the soft scent of jasmine. That is the only plan Clare allows herself to make. Since she doesn't know what happened to her key, she might have to break in, first. But the spare is in the place she left it, a good sign, and she doesn't have to attack her heavy front door.
Instead, something leaps out of the darkness before her eyes have adjusted, before the door is fully open, and something attacks her.
In order to carry out her revenge. She became a part of that thing.