Clemente
"She can?" Awe suffuses every syllable, pale golden eyes going wide. He doesn't want to doubt their Goddess, but he hasn't even had the chance to meet her one-on-one yet. Had only been graced by her presence when they'd made the shrine, and had nearly wept when he'd finally laid eyes on her. "'m sure she could make somethin' awesome." Devout even in this, despite having less than zero idea what The Voice would even want to make in the first place.
The bag on the ground prompts Clemente to start searching more seriously, though he combs over the rocks with a stubborn jut to his jaw and a critical eye. More akin to a jeweler appraising a diamond than a teenager collecting rocks. As he drops a few into the bag, he pauses and digests Wessex's words, her empathy. "Yeah...it was. Mum died of 'n overdose, got hooked on some nasty shit that made ya feel more human, got ya high, made ya forget to feed. A few humans made it cuz they didn't like us relyin' on their donations." Ironically it wasn't the humans who had to worry about being at risk despite being physically weaker and with a shorter lifespan. They'd been the ones begging for every drop, and the humans had still turned around and waged a drug war on his city to bring them to their knees.
He welcomes the subject change, easily sliding that particular shadow back into its box. Grief and trauma don't pay the bills or keep you fed. Or maybe he's just used to suppressing it all now. But the light in his eyes and the shy smile on his face are genuine as he thinks about Rexanna and Bastien. "Nah, don't wanna cramp their style. I live in Rex's old place, but they're good! I visit them all the time." More than he'd ever expected to in the beginning. Clem never thought he'd come to love them as much as he does, but he's glad he's been given the chance. Dropping a last rock into the bag, he glances at Wessex questioningly. "Think this is good?" It was her quest so she would be the one to decide, but it was certainly getting pretty full.
The bag on the ground prompts Clemente to start searching more seriously, though he combs over the rocks with a stubborn jut to his jaw and a critical eye. More akin to a jeweler appraising a diamond than a teenager collecting rocks. As he drops a few into the bag, he pauses and digests Wessex's words, her empathy. "Yeah...it was. Mum died of 'n overdose, got hooked on some nasty shit that made ya feel more human, got ya high, made ya forget to feed. A few humans made it cuz they didn't like us relyin' on their donations." Ironically it wasn't the humans who had to worry about being at risk despite being physically weaker and with a shorter lifespan. They'd been the ones begging for every drop, and the humans had still turned around and waged a drug war on his city to bring them to their knees.
He welcomes the subject change, easily sliding that particular shadow back into its box. Grief and trauma don't pay the bills or keep you fed. Or maybe he's just used to suppressing it all now. But the light in his eyes and the shy smile on his face are genuine as he thinks about Rexanna and Bastien. "Nah, don't wanna cramp their style. I live in Rex's old place, but they're good! I visit them all the time." More than he'd ever expected to in the beginning. Clem never thought he'd come to love them as much as he does, but he's glad he's been given the chance. Dropping a last rock into the bag, he glances at Wessex questioningly. "Think this is good?" It was her quest so she would be the one to decide, but it was certainly getting pretty full.
Your mother started drinking like the whole world died
And You've been waiting for a miracle all your life
And You've been waiting for a miracle all your life
