october catch-all [ota]

[laruetheday]

Who: Clarisse + anyone!
What: October catch-all
When: Throughout the month
Where: Two prompts that are out in town + one for just the house

Content Warnings: Just The Depression™



01 | loneliness kills [ota]

[ At first, Clarisse thinks she's hallucinating. It seems like the natural progression to whatever's been happening to her head since she came to Trench. First the unbearable tense energy, and then the onset of migraines and the whispy white figures she can sometimes catch in the corner of her vision, and now... walking corpses. Sure, makes sense. Except the corpse doesn't go away. It walks steadily behind whoever's approaching her, glassy eyed and silent.

The corpse doesn't seem violent, which is the only thing that keeps her from attacking it, but her entire body tenses up like a cat waiting to pounce, and she's staring at whoever is making their way toward her. Or, more accurately, she's staring at the dead thing behind whoever is making their way toward her. ]

You... there's... [ Finally, lacking the right words to explain what she's seeing, she resorts to pointing a finger. ] Dead person.

02 | welcome to the black parade [ota]

[ Even misanthropic migraine sufferers need to leave the house every once in a while.

Clarisse is standing near the shop window of Shape of Blood, where she's been ogling a set of knives, and trying to avoid taking a strange mask in the shape of a monster's face from a native. They've clearly just explained something to her, because she's shaking her head. ]

I don't need protection. Ugh—seriously, I don't—back off!

[ Looks like someone isn't planning on showing up for the parade this month. ]

03 [closed to housemates]

[ Clarisse is lying on the couch, curled up and facing inward, her back to the room. At first she might seem to be asleep, but if someone enters the room, she twists the slightest bit so she can see who's there, before turning back to press her pale face against the cushion.

Her head hurts, all the time. Last month, Luna's potions had eased some of her restless energy, and talking with Bella had helped her feel less crazy, but it's abundantly clear that things have gotten much worse with the onset of October. The pounding behind her eyes, the crushing loneliness of everyone around her. She's suffocating under the weight of it. All she wants to do is sleep and forget about this place, but even when she sleeps, she has a headache. Even in other people's dreams, she's sad.

After a few seconds, when she doesn't hear the person exit the room, Clarisse's shoulders tense. She doesn't lift her face from the cushion, and her voice is muffled when she says, sounding almost defensive, ] What?

04 | wildcard!

[ Wildcard option! Feel free to have your character show up at the house looking for Clarisse (or anyone she lives with, if you'd like her to just be the one to answer the door or something). She'll be pretty much AWOL aside from some very rare appearances this month, but this is one way to catch her. ]

Comments

[laruetheday]

[ Clarisse is quiet again for several moments, staring up at the ceiling as she tries to put the words together in her head. She twists a section of the blanket around her finger, tight, letting the pain focus her. ]

You keep things from me. [ The words are blunt, almost void of emotion, because if she lets herself get worked up she'll never be able to deescalate on her own. ] You know things about me that nobody else does, but you never even told me your friends' names. Feels really shitty. And you said I don't understand. I don't understand.

[ It's been eating at her, that fucking sentence. It's what's been taking that hurt and sharpening it into anger, hour by hour. ]

When that thing happened, with the Waste, you let me... stand there thinking I was the only one. And for weeks after that. And then that thing with the boat happened and you said that shit to me. I had to be away from you for a while.

[armd]

(abby bites the inside of her cheek, expression crumpling. she pushes her shoulder against the couch. maybe if she shoves against it enough, she'll slip through and disappear in the cushions.

clarisse is completely right. abby has reasons, but they'll sound like excuses: the tiny moments she tried to reach out, threads of herself that she gave over because too much at once would have hurt. now she wishes she had just done it. she could have shared more back at silena's grave, it didn't have to be everything. she could have mentioned being scared that a waste might show up on their doorstep and bleed to death in her arms, but this is now, not then, when clarisse was white-knuckled in front of her, full to the brim.

she didn't want to take away from that moment. she wanted it to stand alone, to be important, and that had been the wrong decision.)

Yeah. (her voice is a little rough with upset. she breathes in, and out,) That makes sense.

(would an apology be worth anything? an explanation?)

I... lost them all before I arrived, (she tries, hesitancy in the tangling of her hands together,) Right before. A month, or two. I don't know how to talk about them without... (an inhale, sharp, and she touches her chest, over her heart, her fingers lingering against her shirt.)

What I said wasn't right.

[laruetheday]

[ Clarisse turns her face toward the couch cushion again, curling her arms against her chest. Her eyes are burning with the effort not to blink. She doesn't want to feel Abby's hurt or her guilt. She doesn't want to be understanding and empathetic, or to see the opposing side of the argument. She's so sick of other people's feelings being forced onto her, so close that they become her own. She just wants to be angry and let that be enough, like it always was before. ]

Okay. Well. You still said it. You meant it at the time. [ She swallows hard and lets the silence hang for several moments, but then bites out, painful, like the words are being pulled out of her in bloody pieces, ] I get why you didn't want to say anything. I really do. But I feel so stupid, too. You know things about me that I never wanted anybody to know, about... about my father, and... I hate that you know. That it's in your head when you look at me. I fucking hate that, and it wasn't my choice. But when I told you about what I did to Silena, that was... I wanted to tell you. I thought—it wouldn't be fair otherwise.

[ Now she wishes she hadn't.

Maybe she'd been blinded by the rush of actually having friends again and had laid too much of herself in front of Abby as a result. Doesn't mean Abby was obligated to do the same. And maybe she'd been holding Abby to some impossible standard without even knowing it, and she can recognize that it was unfair of her to do. But it still hurts, deep in that animal part of herself that logic can't begin to reach. It makes her feel weak, and stupid, and worthless. Pathetic, just like Ares always said she was. ]

[armd]

I was in shock at the time, (she murmurs, and perhaps it slips underneath of what clarisse has to say to her next, but she feels like it's worth mentioning. she lost time out on the river that day, and she wouldn't have said it otherwise. her fingertips are still on clarisse's ankle, resting lightly on the bone. she has to resist the urge to grip her tight upon realising she's scared of her pulling away.

what she's saying makes sense. abby nods, the inside of her cheek between her teeth. she studies a white scar arching across the knuckle of her index finger while she thinks of what she wants to say; usually she'd open her mouth and let it all tumble out, but clarisse is worth so much more than her first draft.)

That's not what I see when I look at you. (this feels like the most important point she wants to make.) If you could have chosen, you wouldn't have let me see it, I get it, but knowing that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I don't think about it. (she would never look at clarisse and remember her cowering in front of ares.)

And I'm sorry I didn't tell you, (she adds, soft, and sad. there's a lump in her throat that makes talking harder, but all she has to do is take a moment to swallow before she continues.) It's not because I don't trust you, C. I do, but–

(she shakes her head, and heaves in a quick, sharp breath. feels like there's something heavy pressing on her, squeezing all the air out.) I'm scared of what I'm going to feel.

[laruetheday]

[ Clarisse doesn't pull away. Eyes closed, she breathes in and out, shaky at first but steadier each time, and still for so long that Abby might think she isn't going to answer. That it'll be the text conversation all over again. Then, finally, quiet: ]

I know. Feelings really suck. [ It might sound like she's trying to be funny, but she's being genuine. She can understand being afraid of your own feelings, either their intensity or what they might turn out to be. Half the time she can't figure it out herself, even while they're happening. Like being trapped under a wave, drowning, dashed up against the rocks.

Slowly, she stretches one leg, nudging Abby in the side with her foot and then leaving it there, taking a small bit of comfort in the feeling of Abby's fingers around her ankle. Seems like it's been forever since she's felt tethered to anybody or anything. ]

You're still my best friend. And you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I just— [ She sucks in a small gasp of air. ] On the boat I could... feel... everything. I was scared because you were scared, and sad because you were sad. Maybe it made it bigger in my head.

[armd]

Yeah. (it comes out a little thick. she hasn't been dealing with what happened out on the river. or; she hasn't been dealing with anything, ever and it's finally caught up now that she has time to sit with it, and people to share it with. honestly, this is probably the best spot she's ever been in to talk about what's on her mind, and yet... the reluctance is cloying. familiar. easy to wrap herself up in than do the hard thing.

clarisse's nudge interrupts that thought, and reminds her to breathe in.

she does, slow and steady, and swipes at her eyes with a quick brush of her fingertips. runs her tongue over her teeth, and unsticks them.)

Nah, (she breathes, low and bruised,) I want to tell you. (clarisse has already felt it. she already knows, and she's still here. that should count for something.)

It's– (a rough breath, as she considers where to start,) The man that I told you about, the one I killed back home. Joel Miller. He's the reason that my dad is dead.

(it won't explain everything, but it will explain a lot. she lets it hang in the air for a horrible, ringing moment, before she continues rigidly,) I tracked him down. It took me six years to find him again. (her gaze is unwavering, honed to a point over clarisse's shoulder.) He didn't even know who I was.

(that might have been the worst part. that she'd wasted that much of her life on somebody who did so much wrong they couldn't tell her apart from the pack.) He told me to say my little speech and get on with it. So I killed him. (she blinks, and breathes out, and shifts in place. her voice has smoothed out, oddly calm.) Took my time.

[laruetheday]

[ It isn't everything, but it's enough—enough to fill in some of the gaps in Clarisse's understanding of Abby, to add some horrible splashes of color to something that's seemed so blank and unknowable all this time. Like why Abby doesn't talk about her dad. Like what she must dream about on those nights that Clarisse finds herself waking up in a cold sweat and not knowing why, and then lies in bed feeling nothing but cold fear radiate upward through the floor like an invisible poison.

She sits up, moving to lean closer, almost protective, and somewhat startled that raising her head doesn't send throbbing pain down the inside of her skull.

Maybe this isn't right, what she's about to say—it's certainly not healthy, it's not coping. It's something formed from pure loyalty and anger on behalf of her friend. Besides, the Olympians, and their children, operate under a different view of what justice is. Justice is revenge, pure and simple. ]

You did good. I hope he hurt.

[armd]

(the words pang in abby's heart. she stares at clarisse, stricken. in a way, what she said reminds her of manny, he was the only person to ever validate her decision to torture joel. everybody else turned away, let her fold in on herself and start to hate what she'd become. abby didn't blame them for it but there's still something wild and savage curled up in her heart that desperately wants to believe she was justified. she wants other people to know what he did and tell her she was right to do it. that he deserved it.

she reaches out numbly, and takes clarisse's hand, pressing her thumb into the palm of it.)

He didn't even struggle, (she recalls, her gaze flickering up.) He– let me do it.

(he didn't have much of a choice, but he didn't beg, or cry out. he just took her blows in resigned, aching silence until the pain became too much, and then he yelled. and screamed. her hand is clutching clarisse's so tight she must be hurting her, but abby doesn't seem to notice.)

But– one of his people found us, and tried to stop it. We got her too and– Owen, he– (fuck, she'd never seen him like that before. angry, and messed up, and scared of her. she takes a wobbling breath,) He told me I was done. To end it. So I killed him in front of her, and left. And she came after us.

(saying it out loud offers terrible clarity; they should have killed her. but it wasn't about her, it never was. it was about him. abby was only ever after him. she has to force the next bit out in increments, her throat threatening to stopper.) Tried to kill me. Didn't. But she got everybody else.

[laruetheday]

[ It all makes a sad amount of sense, what Abby's telling her. It seems what happened was inevitable. It's just that Abby played it fair and square, went after the guy who'd ruined her life and then left it alone, while the person who'd gone after her in return hadn't been as selective. Everybody else, Abby says, as in more than just the two bodies they'd seen on the riverbank.

Clarisse gets it. After she'd killed the drakon, she had wanted to face Kronos. Alone. None of his stupid underlings mattered, she hadn't given a damn about any of them. In Abby's situation, she would have let the woman go, too, probably, and paid the price for it later. ]

He knew he deserved it. That's why he let you do it. [ Someone who'd fucked over enough people that he hadn't even recognized Abby... A person like that knows when their time is up, when they've finally reached the point where they're up against a wall and there's no more cracks for them to slither through.

Abby's squeezing her hand hard enough to hurt, but Clarisse lets her do it. ]

You did the right thing. What happened after that... it wasn't your fault, even if you think it is.

[armd]

(he knew he deserved it.

abby's never thought of it like that before. the notion tears through her.

it's impossible to speak for a wild, trembling moment, but she swallows, and shoves it to one side. she doesn't want to lose herself in that right now. this isn't about joel. she's tired of everything being about joel in one roundabout, fucked up way or another; this place is somewhere he hasn't touched, where abby won't let him exist. trench, love it or leave it, is hers.)

I don't regret it, (she says, finally realises she's squeezing clarisse's hand too tight, and releases her.) But it wasn't worth what I lost to get it.

(it wouldn't have been worth even one of her people, let alone all of them. that's something she's realised far too late.)

I miss them.

[laruetheday]

[ Clarisse tucks her chin against her knees and watches Abby for a bit without saying anything. There doesn't seem to be anything right to say, and she'd rather be quiet than say the stupid bullshit people always do—"you'll see them again," or something. She believes in the afterlife, she's known people who've been there and back. But it's not that simple. Especially not here. ]

I know you do, [ she says after a minute, her voice sad. ] It's... okay if you feel that way. That you don't regret it, but that it wasn't worth it. [ She's struggling to find the right words. This has never been what she's good at. In the end, she has to steal from someone who helped her—what feels like forever ago, back in Deerington, before she'd ever even met Abby. The specifics of the conversation are mostly lost to her, given everything, but not everything. ] People are complicated, and... you made a choice that you thought was the best one at the time. It caused pain. But you can't hold onto what happened like it happened in a vacuum. Wars are complicated, and... [ Her breath hisses out of her, shaky and slow. ] We were just kids.

[ All of them. Different worlds, but war never changes, war never cares. War chews kids up and spits out their bodies, and not just the ones who never make it home. ]

[armd]

(her eyes burn while clarisse speaks, so she closes them to let the tears roll down her face in silence. it still hurts. it's mostly dull and barely-there, embers in her stomach until something stokes it into fire and suddenly torches her from the inside out.

she wasn't a kid when she chose to murder joel, but she was when he decided to murder her father, and that left scars on her, in her. you don't recover from something like that. you just learn to live around it. or at least, you try. abby doesn't think she's been doing a very good job lately, but letting clarisse have this horrible, screwed up part of her to hold in her hands feels like it could be a step in the right direction. it lessens the burn.)

Yeah. (she doesn't know what else to say. yeah.

she's right, and it fucking sucks.)

[laruetheday]

[ Her speech is done, and there isn't anything left to say about it. Nothing else that would make it better, no other absolution she can lay in front of Abby. Sometimes there isn't anything left to do but keep breathing.

Clarisse scoots forward until she can rest her chin on Abby's shoulder. She puts a hand on the back of Abby's neck, fingertips curling lightly in her hair, and just sits that way for a while. Closes her eyes. ]

Sorry, [ she says after a couple minutes. ] That I was such a bitch.

[armd]

(she buries her face into clarisse's neck as she comes close, and folds into her.)

You had a good reason for it.

(abby gets it. what happened on the river was awful, and hindsight grants her a glimpse of the whole sorry thing from clarisse's perspective. if she had been in her position, it would have made her angry too. she would have been sad, and scared, and confused.)

... Thanks for letting me take so long to talk to you. (she finds clarisse's hand between the two of them again, and takes it, and gives it a sober little squeeze. her voice sounds really wet. she sniffs, hard.)

Lev doesn't know the whole story. (hard to tell him, too.) Can you keep it between us?

[laruetheday]

[ Clarisse just shrugs. She can't tell what a good reason to act like a bitch would be, anymore. This place has her so fucked up, her emotions swinging wildly all over the map, and in the moment they seem perfectly justified. Afterwards, not so much.

On the bright side, there's no risk of her talking to Lev about this. Or anything, really, but especially not this. First, she'd have to be talking to People, in the general sense, at all. She doesn't want to bring that up, though. It sounds so melodramatic and attention seeking, and that's the last thing she wants. ]

Yeah. Don't worry about it.

[armd]

(don't worry about it, huh. well she might, a bit. clarisse is important enough to warrant that extra care, and attention.

abby sighs. she leans back to give her eyes a good wipe, and lets all of her breath out at once, like a deflating balloon. it takes her a moment to realise: that weight on her chest that was pressing all the breath out, it isn't there. she feels so much lighter than she did before.

she sits with that for a moment before she opens her mouth.)

That's everything.

(well. almost everything.

that night on the boat, with owen... abby thinks she'd like to talk about that, but she'd rather be drunk, or high. something, anything, it isn't a memory she feels comfortable reliving while she's sober, so terrible and embarrassing. it weighs on her all the same though, and clarisse would probably give her a hard enough time that it would make her feel better.

but until then,) Do you... have any questions? (she'd answer them.)