Clemente
Clem files away the redhead's name for future interactions with the woman if he ever comes across her. At least he knows faces and can pin them to what they'd said at the meeting at least, and that gives him an advantage that means more than simply knowing what their parents slapped together into a title when they came out of the womb. Clem is good at listening, secreting away knowledge. The names will come in time, of that he's certain.
He takes the warning - and the second name - and keeps it close to heart, nodding seriously. Wessex may assure that Amalia would never hurt him, but Clemente can't help but doubt. Not Wessex of course, but this unknown woman who is so against his family. Clem has seen the weight and cruelty of prejudice. Even the smallest crumb of trust in her to not hurt him is a chance he can't take.
Finally, after all this time in Caido, he gets to know why. Even on a surface level it is a satiation of painful curiosity that he has held since he first discovered the differences in his body upon arriving. Despite feeling satisfied with knowing, the pain doesn't abate. It claws up his chest and takes hold of his throat, and he's glad he doesn't have to feel the way it would have once made his breathing short and stiff with emotion. "Th' Old Gods ain't perfect either," he growls lowly, recalling the anonymous posting on the Notice Board (unaware it had been Sam who had written it), the knowledge that the Old Gods had put innocent people in the barrier without caring, just knowing it would lock away The Voice. His shoulders slump with a relief he didn't know he needed as she says that both she and The Voice will still love him, even if he refuses a command. Clem has so much he wants to say, to ask. To thank her for her devotion, to ask if she's sure out of his own insecurity. Instead he blurts out a response that comes straight from the electric cradle of his heart before he has a chance to swallow it down. "I love you too." Big guileless eyes stare at her, feeling swallowed up by her love. By the devotion she has to her Ascended family, just as potent and powerful and stubborn as The Voice herself. "I...I just want to be helpful. To the family." Because that's what they are to him. Family. Not just a group of people lumped by race. The one thing he has looked for all this time, ever since his father abandoned him and his mother chose an endless high over a son whose name she soon forgot. Here, beneath the moon and the stare of his matriarch, he is overflowing with emotion so bright and electric it dances on his tongue. Demanding some sort of outlet but not wanting to invade her space, to push too far. Always, always, always aware of the burden his presence puts on others.
He takes the warning - and the second name - and keeps it close to heart, nodding seriously. Wessex may assure that Amalia would never hurt him, but Clemente can't help but doubt. Not Wessex of course, but this unknown woman who is so against his family. Clem has seen the weight and cruelty of prejudice. Even the smallest crumb of trust in her to not hurt him is a chance he can't take.
Finally, after all this time in Caido, he gets to know why. Even on a surface level it is a satiation of painful curiosity that he has held since he first discovered the differences in his body upon arriving. Despite feeling satisfied with knowing, the pain doesn't abate. It claws up his chest and takes hold of his throat, and he's glad he doesn't have to feel the way it would have once made his breathing short and stiff with emotion. "Th' Old Gods ain't perfect either," he growls lowly, recalling the anonymous posting on the Notice Board (unaware it had been Sam who had written it), the knowledge that the Old Gods had put innocent people in the barrier without caring, just knowing it would lock away The Voice. His shoulders slump with a relief he didn't know he needed as she says that both she and The Voice will still love him, even if he refuses a command. Clem has so much he wants to say, to ask. To thank her for her devotion, to ask if she's sure out of his own insecurity. Instead he blurts out a response that comes straight from the electric cradle of his heart before he has a chance to swallow it down. "I love you too." Big guileless eyes stare at her, feeling swallowed up by her love. By the devotion she has to her Ascended family, just as potent and powerful and stubborn as The Voice herself. "I...I just want to be helpful. To the family." Because that's what they are to him. Family. Not just a group of people lumped by race. The one thing he has looked for all this time, ever since his father abandoned him and his mother chose an endless high over a son whose name she soon forgot. Here, beneath the moon and the stare of his matriarch, he is overflowing with emotion so bright and electric it dances on his tongue. Demanding some sort of outlet but not wanting to invade her space, to push too far. Always, always, always aware of the burden his presence puts on others.
i felt so much so often
that i started to feel nothing
that i started to feel nothing
