plot twist twistin' my heart 'til it's hollow
band-aids for all my scraped knees
Everything is happening so fast, uncaring of how Clem feels as everything falls to chaotic ruin around him. Rexanna is gravely injured, the Guild is burned to the ground, Dante is somehow here, and Clem? Well, he does what he does best, and he melts into the background. He's functionally useless, little better than a fly on the wall with an open ear for information Wessex may want. But he doesn't want to be underfoot. It's the best way to get kicked after all.
So instead he retreats. Strategically, or so he tells himself. There's a lot to occupy himself with in the Temple at least, which is a blessing for someone who can't sleep. So he sits himself down in the corner of a bench and with a full knife and some stubbornness, begins to try his hand at whittling. Carving. Whatever they call it. Maybe if he practices he can make something decent for Rexanna, something for her to keep the way he keeps her bracelet close.
So instead he retreats. Strategically, or so he tells himself. There's a lot to occupy himself with in the Temple at least, which is a blessing for someone who can't sleep. So he sits himself down in the corner of a bench and with a full knife and some stubbornness, begins to try his hand at whittling. Carving. Whatever they call it. Maybe if he practices he can make something decent for Rexanna, something for her to keep the way he keeps her bracelet close.
blankets when i had bad dreams
felt like nothin' could hurt me
CLEMENTE
