Clementine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
willrememberthat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2013-12-29 11:31 am
willrememberthat) wrote in paradisalogs2013-12-29 11:31 am
Entry tags:
against the tide we struggle with the skin we’re in
Who: Clementine and Lee
What: Clem wakes up after being unconscious for a week and a trip home.
When: January 2nd
Where: Clem's room
Rating: S for Sad, most likely. And spoilery!
Clementine wakes up with a sharp, startled gasp. She immediately regrets sitting upright in her bed (her bed? a bed? both seem wrong) because it sends a sharp pain down her arm. Her head hurts too, but that pain is a new one. Still, her arm calls her attention first and foremost. She looks down, past her blood-stained sleeve, cringing at her sloppy stitching. The bite still weeps, and she can see in between the puckered flesh. Better than before, but still bad. Probably safe from infection, but the pain is still the same.
Paradisa. That's where she was. Worlds away from that cold, broken shack.
Did she have to worry about sickness here? No, most likely not, but that thought doesn't comfort her. Paradisa. She's back, years later. There aren't any walkers here. No reason to scan the room for weaknesses in the walls or eye the windows as if something will crash through. She reaches up for her hat, only remembering when her hand touches her hair that it's never been here with her. It took it. She'd been okay without it--if only she had that knowledge at home. She could have been more willing to part with it, and things would be different.
There were a lot of things she'd do differently.
But being here again means that she left. Somehow. Everything is foggy, but between her aches and pains she can feel a pressure squeezing her chest. She went home. She never, ever, ever wanted to go home. A little taller, a lot thinner, and a lot more tired is the girl that's come back. And she feels guilty for it.
All she can do is sit in a bed in a room that's both familiar and unfamiliar. The brightly colored bedding and toys littering the corners seem like they belong to someone else. They used to be hers. Are hers? She has no idea.
What: Clem wakes up after being unconscious for a week and a trip home.
When: January 2nd
Where: Clem's room
Rating: S for Sad, most likely. And spoilery!
Clementine wakes up with a sharp, startled gasp. She immediately regrets sitting upright in her bed (her bed? a bed? both seem wrong) because it sends a sharp pain down her arm. Her head hurts too, but that pain is a new one. Still, her arm calls her attention first and foremost. She looks down, past her blood-stained sleeve, cringing at her sloppy stitching. The bite still weeps, and she can see in between the puckered flesh. Better than before, but still bad. Probably safe from infection, but the pain is still the same.
Paradisa. That's where she was. Worlds away from that cold, broken shack.
Did she have to worry about sickness here? No, most likely not, but that thought doesn't comfort her. Paradisa. She's back, years later. There aren't any walkers here. No reason to scan the room for weaknesses in the walls or eye the windows as if something will crash through. She reaches up for her hat, only remembering when her hand touches her hair that it's never been here with her. It took it. She'd been okay without it--if only she had that knowledge at home. She could have been more willing to part with it, and things would be different.
There were a lot of things she'd do differently.
But being here again means that she left. Somehow. Everything is foggy, but between her aches and pains she can feel a pressure squeezing her chest. She went home. She never, ever, ever wanted to go home. A little taller, a lot thinner, and a lot more tired is the girl that's come back. And she feels guilty for it.
All she can do is sit in a bed in a room that's both familiar and unfamiliar. The brightly colored bedding and toys littering the corners seem like they belong to someone else. They used to be hers. Are hers? She has no idea.
no subject
"Christa taught me how to sew," she says after she's sure she's steadied herself. For clothes, Christa had said at first, but Clementine knew what else could need sewing. Flesh.
no subject
There's no way to keep that relief out of his voice.
"Glad we found them. She's a smart woman, Clem - I hope you're learning a lot from her."
Because she has to learn from someone. Has to disprove Chuck's prediction at any cost.
no subject
"She taught me a lot. Omid, too. But they're gone now."
no subject
"For how long?"
It's not much better, but.
no subject
And all she can do is shrug. What is there to say?