Clemente
the difference between a garden
and a graveyard
is what we choose to put in the soil
Clem has decided LongNight is prejudiced. He's not really sure if it can be considering it's like seasonal or whatever but he's adamant that it is. Why? Because there's no damn sun, and the Ascended can't even go out and enjoy it. As if he needed more reasons to despise the monsters that had hurt Rexanna and Bastien. It's still frustrating to be stuck indoors during the daytime, especially when he can't even sleep to pass the hours.
Which is how he finds himself here, slinking around in the early hours of darkness to slip into the Atheneum for the day. He hasn't told Rexanna where he's going to be or why, too ashamed of the answer and the sympathy (pity) that be would receive in response.
Because Clem is sitting at a table in the shadows away from the daylight, oil lamp flickering golden light across old pages, one hand tangled and tugging in frustration at his hair as the pointer finger on his other hand underlines unfamiliar words. He sounds out the smaller ones in uncertain mumbles, writes down the letters he doesn't recognize (of which there are many), but he's making minimal progress. Frustration brings tears that Clem stubbornly holds back, fangs biting onto his lower lip as he fights through the feelings of unfairness.
He just wants to learn.
