Who: Abby, Lev, Clarisse and Bella (plus others? perhaps guests) What: Settling in! Catch-all for house shenanigans When: Month of September Where: At the team's joint abode, located in Ache
[ It's late. Three in the morning, four? The house is dark, quiet aside from the wind outside and the odd creaking as a board settles.
A door clicks open and Clarisse walks into the room, in her usual PJs—a t-shirt, basketball shorts. Tonight she also has on a pair of white socks, because Bella's feet make hers feel cold sometimes, and she's problem solving, okay. Anyway, she crosses the room and leans over the person sleeping in the bed, then places a hand on their shoulder in a way that's surprisingly gentle, given the person who's doing it. ]
(abby comes alert with a violent start and a sharp pull of breath.
everything had just been starting to curdle. for a second abby's still in it, wild-eyed and breathing fast and shallow, not seeing her, caught up in the dregs before she finally shakes herself lucid. her expression crumbles in relief when she realises who woke her up.
just a nightmare. abby reaches out to touch, her fingertips skittering clarisse's arm as if asking silent permission to grab her shoulder next, reassuring herself that she's there, and whole, and before she can completely catch herself her palm lifts and touches to the edge of clarisse's jaw, framing her face on one side.
her arm drops afterward, just as suddenly.)
... Thanks. (her voice is low and rough, and she wipes her eyes with a sniff.) You've got good timing.
[ Not that Abby was making noise in her sleep, at least not enough to wake Clarisse on the floor above her. She woke up on her own, sweaty and terrified for no good reason, and had left her bed only to make the feeling stop so she could go back to sleep. She's tired and trying not to feel sympathy for Abby, and it's only half working. ]
You good? [ she asks after just a few seconds too long have ticked by. It's stilted and awkward sounding, and Clarisse's arms cross over her chest, not in direct response to Abby touching her but as a sort of afterthought. Then again, it can get chilly in the house at night, with all the rain this month. ]
... Right. (her powers. did she see what abby was dreaming about? she really hopes not but she feels horribly awkward to think that she might have. there's a very long pause before she can think to say anything else, in which clarisse sits straight-backed on the edge of her bed and the both of them don't look at each other, and it feels so, so awful.
at least she's alive. abby would take this strangeness between them a thousand times over clarisse's lifeless body, broken and bloody, stretched out across the floor of her father's surgery.)
I'm good.
(nothing about this is good, but clarisse looks so tired and uncomfortable, and abby feels bad for having woken her up. she smiles, a brief flicker, an empty gesture.) Thanks C.
[ Clarisse swallows a yawn and slouches forward a bit, unwilling to stand up and leave just yet. It feels bad—mean, to wake Abby up and then walk out right after, like Clarisse doesn't even care. She cares too much, is the problem. She wishes she cared less, and that her feelings weren't so hurt over something that Abby probably doesn't even know she did, and that she could shut them off the way she used to do at home, just go numb all over and not have to feel anything at all.
How is she the same person who'd get screamed at by a literal god and then just go on with her day as if nothing had happened? Or who watched the best person in her life die and then went back to camp and threw people in the lake and laughed and acted like everything was fine? What happened to her, what changed?
Unhappiness is rolling off her like a wave, and she tries to turn it off before it can get to Abby, she tries, but she has no idea whether it works at all. She hates it here, she hates her powers, she hates this.
Finally, just to have something else to say before she fucks off back to her own room where she can be depressed in peace (maybe), ] What were you dreaming about? I have these fucked up nightmares sometimes where I'm trapped underground.
(there's more to the silence than simple unease. abby can feel it coming, a bit at first and then all at once, like grabbing a live wire. she gets a jolt of sadness and confusion that makes her breathe funny for a moment, choked up, like she's trying not to cry. her lip wobbles.
she hunches up her legs where she's sitting up in bed and it passes, leaving her watching clarisse from the safety of her arms, folded protectively across her knees.)
My usual, (she replies, once she's sure she can speak without the words sticking in her throat.) It's... this reoccurring thing, about my dad.
(not... a lie, per say, just a half-truth. she doesn't want to freak clarisse out with the full story, is what she tells herself, not when she's already acting strange. abby presses her mouth against her arms, uncharacteristically unsure of herself, watching clarisse as she slouches forward and doesn't quite return her gaze.)
[ Right. Abby's dad. Clarisse doesn't know what happened to him, either, only that he died. She has no idea what it's like to mourn a parent, at least not in that way. The only thing she's ever mourned about her own father is the idea of him, and her mom... She has a single memory of that first night in the Ares cabin, being ten and lying in a bed that felt unfamiliar and strange, and crying into her pillow because it had suddenly occurred to her that she might never see her mom again—but then one of the older boys had heard it and told her to shut up or he'd make her, so she had.
Her shoulders tense, and she doesn't let herself look up. She should've just let Abby have her nightmare and pretended not to notice. ] Why wouldn't I be? Shouldn't I be asking you that?
'Cuz I woke you up in the middle of the night with it?
(it can't be any fun to experience, is what she's getting at. dealing with her own bullshit is something she's used to, but now she's forcing clarisse to deal with it too and that isn't fair.
and clarisse seems angry about it. abby doesn't really understand why she would be, but maybe she's scared. maybe she just saw her own dead body in abby's nightmare and that rightfully freaked her the fuck out; she reaches out to where clarisse's hand is on the sheets, propping herself up, and she touches the backs of her knuckles gently, almost apologetically.)
It's not a contest, you know. It's okay if you're not okay, it doesn't take away from my shit.
[ She can't control whose feelings are going to hit her without warning like a punch to the chest, or when, but Clarisse assumes this is going to be happening pretty frequently now. The middle of the night, everybody asleep, and Clarisse's stupid blood is going to laser focus on the strongest feeling it can, aka whoever is having the shittiest dream.
... Okay, (abby mumbles, unable to help feeling hurt as she retracts her hand again. why is she so mad? clarisse isn't the only person who wishes she wouldn't have nightmares, they aren't fun for her either.
at this rate, having abby in the house with her at night is going to become unbearable, huh. cool. that feels great.)
I'm– going to get up, (she adds, expression shuttering as she turns away, pushing the covers back.) Don't think I can get back to sleep. Won't happen again.
[ Clarisse finally raises her head and looks at Abby, taking in the hurt, bewildered expression on her face. Abby doesn't know what's wrong, and Clarisse hasn't told her. This would be the perfect opportunity to talk to her. Maybe they could go for a walk or something. Clarisse has been doing it often enough, when she feels too restless and the moon won't let her sleep.
For a couple seconds she's tempted to ask, and to let that weight slip off her shoulders and simply move forward from it, but she lets the silence drag on for too long, and then the moment passes. No matter how much she wants to, she can't be the person who backs down first. It eats at her, the shame of knowing that, but she'll let herself get eaten alive before she gives in. She's always been this way, exactly like the stupid scorpion who stings the frog and dooms itself to drowning, and the whole time she's watching herself do it. ]
Right, [ she mutters, standing up from the bed and moving toward the door. She pauses before crossing the threshold, one hand resting on the doorframe, not sure how to end this. ] See you later, [ is what she settles on, quiet, before walking away. ]
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deercountry2021-09-16 09:00 pm
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A door clicks open and Clarisse walks into the room, in her usual PJs—a t-shirt, basketball shorts. Tonight she also has on a pair of white socks, because Bella's feet make hers feel cold sometimes, and she's problem solving, okay. Anyway, she crosses the room and leans over the person sleeping in the bed, then places a hand on their shoulder in a way that's surprisingly gentle, given the person who's doing it. ]
Wake up. You're having a nightmare.
no subject
everything had just been starting to curdle. for a second abby's still in it, wild-eyed and breathing fast and shallow, not seeing her, caught up in the dregs before she finally shakes herself lucid. her expression crumbles in relief when she realises who woke her up.
just a nightmare. abby reaches out to touch, her fingertips skittering clarisse's arm as if asking silent permission to grab her shoulder next, reassuring herself that she's there, and whole, and before she can completely catch herself her palm lifts and touches to the edge of clarisse's jaw, framing her face on one side.
her arm drops afterward, just as suddenly.)
... Thanks. (her voice is low and rough, and she wipes her eyes with a sniff.) You've got good timing.
no subject
[ Not that Abby was making noise in her sleep, at least not enough to wake Clarisse on the floor above her. She woke up on her own, sweaty and terrified for no good reason, and had left her bed only to make the feeling stop so she could go back to sleep. She's tired and trying not to feel sympathy for Abby, and it's only half working. ]
You good? [ she asks after just a few seconds too long have ticked by. It's stilted and awkward sounding, and Clarisse's arms cross over her chest, not in direct response to Abby touching her but as a sort of afterthought. Then again, it can get chilly in the house at night, with all the rain this month. ]
no subject
at least she's alive. abby would take this strangeness between them a thousand times over clarisse's lifeless body, broken and bloody, stretched out across the floor of her father's surgery.)
I'm good.
(nothing about this is good, but clarisse looks so tired and uncomfortable, and abby feels bad for having woken her up. she smiles, a brief flicker, an empty gesture.) Thanks C.
no subject
[ Clarisse swallows a yawn and slouches forward a bit, unwilling to stand up and leave just yet. It feels bad—mean, to wake Abby up and then walk out right after, like Clarisse doesn't even care. She cares too much, is the problem. She wishes she cared less, and that her feelings weren't so hurt over something that Abby probably doesn't even know she did, and that she could shut them off the way she used to do at home, just go numb all over and not have to feel anything at all.
How is she the same person who'd get screamed at by a literal god and then just go on with her day as if nothing had happened? Or who watched the best person in her life die and then went back to camp and threw people in the lake and laughed and acted like everything was fine? What happened to her, what changed?
Unhappiness is rolling off her like a wave, and she tries to turn it off before it can get to Abby, she tries, but she has no idea whether it works at all. She hates it here, she hates her powers, she hates this.
Finally, just to have something else to say before she fucks off back to her own room where she can be depressed in peace (maybe), ] What were you dreaming about? I have these fucked up nightmares sometimes where I'm trapped underground.
no subject
she hunches up her legs where she's sitting up in bed and it passes, leaving her watching clarisse from the safety of her arms, folded protectively across her knees.)
My usual, (she replies, once she's sure she can speak without the words sticking in her throat.) It's... this reoccurring thing, about my dad.
(not... a lie, per say, just a half-truth. she doesn't want to freak clarisse out with the full story, is what she tells herself, not when she's already acting strange. abby presses her mouth against her arms, uncharacteristically unsure of herself, watching clarisse as she slouches forward and doesn't quite return her gaze.)
... You okay?
no subject
[ Right. Abby's dad. Clarisse doesn't know what happened to him, either, only that he died. She has no idea what it's like to mourn a parent, at least not in that way. The only thing she's ever mourned about her own father is the idea of him, and her mom... She has a single memory of that first night in the Ares cabin, being ten and lying in a bed that felt unfamiliar and strange, and crying into her pillow because it had suddenly occurred to her that she might never see her mom again—but then one of the older boys had heard it and told her to shut up or he'd make her, so she had.
Her shoulders tense, and she doesn't let herself look up. She should've just let Abby have her nightmare and pretended not to notice. ] Why wouldn't I be? Shouldn't I be asking you that?
no subject
(it can't be any fun to experience, is what she's getting at. dealing with her own bullshit is something she's used to, but now she's forcing clarisse to deal with it too and that isn't fair.
and clarisse seems angry about it. abby doesn't really understand why she would be, but maybe she's scared. maybe she just saw her own dead body in abby's nightmare and that rightfully freaked her the fuck out; she reaches out to where clarisse's hand is on the sheets, propping herself up, and she touches the backs of her knuckles gently, almost apologetically.)
It's not a contest, you know. It's okay if you're not okay, it doesn't take away from my shit.
no subject
[ She can't control whose feelings are going to hit her without warning like a punch to the chest, or when, but Clarisse assumes this is going to be happening pretty frequently now. The middle of the night, everybody asleep, and Clarisse's stupid blood is going to laser focus on the strongest feeling it can, aka whoever is having the shittiest dream.
Abby touches her hand, and Clarisse goes still. ]
I'm not making this a contest, Abby.
no subject
at this rate, having abby in the house with her at night is going to become unbearable, huh. cool. that feels great.)
I'm– going to get up, (she adds, expression shuttering as she turns away, pushing the covers back.) Don't think I can get back to sleep. Won't happen again.
no subject
For a couple seconds she's tempted to ask, and to let that weight slip off her shoulders and simply move forward from it, but she lets the silence drag on for too long, and then the moment passes. No matter how much she wants to, she can't be the person who backs down first. It eats at her, the shame of knowing that, but she'll let herself get eaten alive before she gives in. She's always been this way, exactly like the stupid scorpion who stings the frog and dooms itself to drowning, and the whole time she's watching herself do it. ]
Right, [ she mutters, standing up from the bed and moving toward the door. She pauses before crossing the threshold, one hand resting on the doorframe, not sure how to end this. ] See you later, [ is what she settles on, quiet, before walking away. ]