Clemente
the difference between a garden
and a graveyard
is what we choose to put in the soil
Normally, Clemente would not be so foolish as to ignore his surroundings. If not out of habit, then definitely because of the rising tensions since LongNight had ended. In the Atheneum, every passing footstep echoes softly, and in some place in his mind the boy registers the approach of someone new. He still jolts a little when the chair on the other end of the table is pulled free and re-settled with a clack of noise, eyes lifting from the page and swimming a little with drying tears as they refocus on -
Ah. Amun.
Clem gives a little quirk of his lips in greeting. He doesn't mind the man so much anymore, finds him more amusing than anything after Rexanna's assurances that his teasing was harmless. He likes to think they handle each other a little better since LongNight, though they'll probably always be a little teasingly antagonistic towards each other. Clem doesn't mind - it makes him think Amun is closer to an older brother, one he'd never had.
"Yeah, but it makes people overlook me as an Ascended," he points out, sticking his tongue out with squinted eyes, a little smirk playing on his mouth. Clem has the art of disappearing into the background down to a science. Making himself seem like a normal child in the library? Cake. He hesitates a little at the next question, self-consciousness suddenly crashing back down onto him oppressively. Head ducking, he mumbles softly. "I'm trynna teach m'self to read." He needs to be as useful to Wessex and the Ascended family as he can, and reading is one of the first things he can do. How else will he read the notice board? Flaxen eyes dart up to stare at Amun from under his fringe, shoulders hiking up defensively, prepared to snap and defend himself at the first sign of mockery.
