Claire Novak (angel_heart) wrote in witchinghour, @ 2015-08-02 13:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: claire novak, character: logan howlett |
Who: Logan and Claire (and possibly OTA later, will update)
What: Bonding?
Where: Hocus Pocus/Ruins of Marrowood/TBD
When: Saturday afternoon
Rating: Likely low.
Status: Complete
It'd been days. How many days- Claire had no fucking clue. She woke up after dying, just like everyone else on the wrong side of Marrowood's latest mood swing, but the town itself was left looking like a demilitarized zone after the apocalypse, and everyone was feeling the pinch. The food that wasn't crushed or destroyed under rubble was running out. People were dirty, and tired, and terrified. Claire refused to let herself go back to sleep for a long while- at least until she couldn't fight exhaustion anymore, and now the days had started to smear together.
Then the whole road thing...
Despite everything that'd happened in the last two weeks, the teenager's immediate reaction was a weird flicker of hope. Maybe it was a way out? Or at the very least, it was a way away from this place. But, like the way a beaten dog flinches from any kind of raised hand, the thought of what the mysterious and sudden new path through what she'd been told were Murder Woods might lead to twisted her insides hard. Then seeing that both Killian and Sam were already jumping on the volunteer train to check it out didn't help. It stung like something way too familiar. Rational or not, at this point Claire was too frazzled, frustrated, and scared to differentiate. For better or worse, everyone eventually leaves her.
She barely kept herself from throwing her phone-thing across the crowded and dirty emergency shelter that was the nightclub. Instead, it was shoved into the pocket of her leather jacket- which was the only piece of her original clothing salvaged from the dinosaur disaster- so she could check it obsessively for updates on when Killian and Sam came back- if they came back. She curled in a ball in the corner near what had been her 'bed' for days, breathing into her kneecaps to keep the worst of the thoughts away, but it didn't work. Her grip on her own arms dug in tighter and tighter as the back of her eyes burned, threatening to spill the more she fought them.