Watching her shrug off her outer layers only increases his panic, arms coming to wrap around his gangly body as if to conceal it from her sapphire gaze. He's not much to look at, but what does that matter to the carnal side of things? Clem can't take her at her word, it's the greatest mistake any person could ever make. But his eyes, wraithlike and gauzy, find the mark upon her neck and stares blatantly at it. It reminds him of the brands that gang members have, tattoo needles unable to pierce their tough skin. Oh god, is that what she is?!
Before the panic has time to set in her soft voice is touching his ears once more, slowing the pounding of his heart. Clemente still doesn't believe her. Yes there are charitable people in the world, but trusting in them too quickly is just a death sentence. Cruelty loves to wrap itself in the fleece of kindness. It makes the eventual pain so much worse for the sting of betrayal that accompanies it.
As she speaks further he frowns contemplatively. Perhaps there was some truth to her words, if the Ascended were as small in number as she proclaimed, he could understand the idea of sticking together. That, at least, is something Clem understands. The same way the street girls would huddle in a shared apartment, limbs askew and cuddled up for warmth on the dirty floor. The way other homeless children and adults would create camps; still far enough from each other for privacy and stoicism, but close enough to remember they weren't alone.
Clem takes the water without really thinking about it, sipping it carefully as he listens to her. [say]"I...okay, if you say so,"[/say] he finally relents, holding the glass close to his chest as he sips at it periodically to calm himself down. Only when it's empty does he offer it tentatively to Rexanna, feeling wrongfooted and mean in the face of her stubborn kindness. [say]"Can you tell me about us? And where we are?"[/say] An olive branch. A gesture of kindness in return, or at least a willingness to listen and perhaps trust. Just for a little bit.
Before the panic has time to set in her soft voice is touching his ears once more, slowing the pounding of his heart. Clemente still doesn't believe her. Yes there are charitable people in the world, but trusting in them too quickly is just a death sentence. Cruelty loves to wrap itself in the fleece of kindness. It makes the eventual pain so much worse for the sting of betrayal that accompanies it.
As she speaks further he frowns contemplatively. Perhaps there was some truth to her words, if the Ascended were as small in number as she proclaimed, he could understand the idea of sticking together. That, at least, is something Clem understands. The same way the street girls would huddle in a shared apartment, limbs askew and cuddled up for warmth on the dirty floor. The way other homeless children and adults would create camps; still far enough from each other for privacy and stoicism, but close enough to remember they weren't alone.
Clem takes the water without really thinking about it, sipping it carefully as he listens to her. [say]"I...okay, if you say so,"[/say] he finally relents, holding the glass close to his chest as he sips at it periodically to calm himself down. Only when it's empty does he offer it tentatively to Rexanna, feeling wrongfooted and mean in the face of her stubborn kindness. [say]"Can you tell me about us? And where we are?"[/say] An olive branch. A gesture of kindness in return, or at least a willingness to listen and perhaps trust. Just for a little bit.
