Clemente
Clem likes to think he's a good person. He's kinda not, but he likes to think it anyway, if only to keep things fresh. So, dear reader, Clem would like to propose one single, important question: what the fuck is happening?See it all started in some approximation of normal. Cried all over Bastien, sucked it up like the man he'll never be now, and went for a walk in this glorified prison in order to get his chill back. The Temple is rightly huge, at least to Clem, and there are so many interesting rooms to explore that it takes up most of his day. Night? Whatever. A lot of the rooms contain things he's not really supposed to touch, and won't for fear of some asshole somehow finding out and eating his fingers, but they're interesting nonetheless.
He's halfway down a random hallway when he hears the thudding of feet. It's easy enough to shrug off, because there are a metric fuckton of people holed up in the temple right now. Except then, moments later, it's succeeded by a shrill voice (Satan? Is that you, coming to claim my soul?) shouting out in warning. Of course, Clem gets about half-turned, startling like an alley cat, when the next words are shouted helplessly.
And then he's face down on the floor, unrealistically grateful for the fact that he can't feel the pain of slamming his whole face into hardwood. He does lay there for a few long moments, soaking up those last few words before their collision, and forces his forearms beneath him to turn and look stupidly over his shoulder at the gremlin laying on his back. Because holy shit, this cannot be real.
"Dante?!" Clem flips over immediately, likely sending the tiny monster flying, but he's grinning like a loon and reaches out to grab the other boy by the biceps so he can shake him like he's a particularly annoying baby and Clem is a terrible mother. "Holy shit! Dante it's you! How the hell did you get here?!" And then he drags the boy forward with his now not-inconsiderable strength, ruffling his knuckles over Dante's curly hair and laughing euphorically, perhaps a little crazily, at being reunited with his shithead best friend.
i stopped being a kid the day
you sent me down here to die
