Clary Fray/Fairchild (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
babyhunter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pineslog2017-05-02 09:54 pm
babyhunter) wrote in pineslog2017-05-02 09:54 pm
001 - On my own
Who: Clary Fray & OPEN
Where: Home/Shelter/General Store
When: May 01 – 08
What: Day to day stuff, feel free to tag at any point during any post.
Warnings: None
[Open/]
Clary had been settling into life as best as she could. It was awkward living alone, she wasn’t completely used to it yet, and there was a lot of uncertainty in her day to day life. She found comfort in simple tasks or memories. Like staying up late and eating a copious amount of junk food.
When she could, she’d convince Jack to sleep over. A lot of times they’d fall asleep on the couch, the TV blared some random cartoon that Clary had managed to find on the few channels she got without cable. She had some VHS tapes but they were mostly Disney movies and you could only watch The Lion King so many times before you craved to watch anything else. She’d ask for something more violent but then again Disney never really shied away from violence.
Just look what happened to Simba's dad.
They were sitting on the couch, Clary was hogging the popcorn, and watching Darkwing Duck. The TV was old with thin static lines running along the top of the screen. It worked well enough that Clary found no reason to try and save up and replace it. Her nose scrunched up at the screen as a duck in a cap pulled a rather large comical looking leaver, dropping another duck in a whole. "So wait, why are they ducks? Do you think this would be as popular if they were all polar bears or something?" She was getting bored with the show but she’d keep watching if only for something menial to focus on.
A knock at the door pulled her attention and she leaned forward, placing the popcorn bowl down. "I’m coming." She shouted at the door before stepping around the coffee table and pushing the front door open. She didn’t see anyone, instead there was a package sitting on her front porch.
"Ominous." She commented solemnly. "Hey, Jack, can you clear off the coffee table?" She placed the package down before pulling off the sticky tape that held it together. When she got the box open she found herself staring quizzically at its contents. "What? I said these weren’t mind." Apparently no one at the police station believed her when she said it was a mistake. Inside the box was a glass looking blade and then a long thin length of metal wrapped in black cloth. Her thoughts returned to the scene from one of her dreams before she pushed the thought away, looking up at Jack. "What do you think?"
The flooding hadn’t been ideal for her lawn which added to the frustration of having a lawn. She remembered living in something like a second floor apartment at one point; no lawn just a paved paradise of concrete and stone. Not to say that Clary didn’t like grass. She just liked grass that she wasn’t responsible for.
She’d gotten a warning stating that her grass was growing too long and that the two bushes out front of her home were becoming too ornery. That wasn’t the word used in the letter but when she stepped outside she noticed thick branches twisting up like nails clawing in all directions of what used to be a beautifully trimmed bush. It was a fitting description.
Dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple green tank top Clary decided to attack the yard with a vengeance. Her hair was pulled back and for at least half of the day there were a determined look spread across her face. She could be found at many different levels of lawn care. The first was fighting with the old push mower that she’d pulled out of the garage. After she couldn’t get it working she kicked it and cursed, somehow thinking that it’d roar to life from the intimidation. Nothing, not even lawn mowers, were intimidated by a thin five foot pale slip of a girl, Clary thought with dismay as she seated herself next to the old machine.
She could also be found staring at those two front bushes, having gotten the lawn finally mowed but not knowing what to do next.
Finally, Clary gave up and sat on her front porch with a glass of lemonade, mixed from the powered stuff she’d picked up at the store, and her sketchbook positioned on her lap. The stele was sitting next to her but try as she might, she couldn’t figure out what it was for. It just felt important to keep it with her.
Clary usually only worked a few days a week on alternating afternoons. This weekend she’d ask Randel for extra work, trying to save up for more painting supplies. She could have probably asked a family member for the money but Clary was firmly against borrowing, even if it was for something that she considered a good cause. At least at the animal shelter she might convince someone to buy one of her drawings. It was like making money on what she wanted to do only those profits went directly to the shelter.
It was usually busier on the weekends but there were still times when Clary was stagnant. She was left with her thoughts and found herself thinking about her dreams. Every morning she’d wake up and draw, spilling her dreams and nightmares onto a white page. Her most recent one had been of a boy with golden colored hair. She thought he was an angle but it felt stupid the more she repeated the thought in her head. She’d eventually snap out of her thoughts, usually due to the sharp nails of a dog or cat digging into her leg.
In the early afternoon she went from working in the main shelter to opening up the café attached to it. The cats that were currently in the room were following a thin sliver of sun that moved across the store front.
When someone entered Clary would look up, mostly to make sure none of the cats were making a mad dash to the outside world. Watching the café was more relaxed and often slower than her other work. Some people ordered a salad or smoothies but they mostly just sat around and played with cats. It never got too crowded because there were only so many cats to go around. Clary ended up sketching the most during this time, pausing only to greet and help those who came in.
Clary was resilient but it didn’t make life any easier. She moved through the notions of a normal life until she ran out of things to eat at her house. She wasn’t a frivolous shopper but she did manage to spend a great deal of time at the store, trying to figure out what to buy. She’d found that frozen foods fit her life style the most, that or buying large quantities of those dried noodle packets. Yes, they were bad for you and filled with salt but she was young and had no one in the immediate vicinity to tell her that it was a bad idea. That and they were a dollar; being feed for a dollar was very alluring.
She’d circle through the store a few times. She picked up: paper towels, batteries, frozen pizzas, cans of soup, soda, and other assorted foods. It was very obvious by what was in her cart that she wasn’t an avid chief.
Clary spent some time standing in front of the fruit before finally picking up two apples and a tiny collection of bananas. It wasn’t that she was healthy but apples and bananas were delicious. She also picked up orange juice, the kind that had somehow managed to extract all of its pulp. There was always extra pulp, no pulp and then regular when she went to the store. Clary couldn’t help but wonder if they put the pulp from the no pulp orange juice in with the extra pulp orange juice to then give it the extra pulp it claimed to have. It was a thought that earned itself a few minutes of Clary blocking the way before she finally moved.
On her way out she almost ran into someone, stopping just before her collection of food, which would make a college student proud, found its way to the floor. "Sorry. Guess I was zoning out."
Where: Home/Shelter/General Store
When: May 01 – 08
What: Day to day stuff, feel free to tag at any point during any post.
Warnings: None
[Open/]
BFF Sleep Over! – House L12 [Closed to Jack] – May 01
Clary had been settling into life as best as she could. It was awkward living alone, she wasn’t completely used to it yet, and there was a lot of uncertainty in her day to day life. She found comfort in simple tasks or memories. Like staying up late and eating a copious amount of junk food.
When she could, she’d convince Jack to sleep over. A lot of times they’d fall asleep on the couch, the TV blared some random cartoon that Clary had managed to find on the few channels she got without cable. She had some VHS tapes but they were mostly Disney movies and you could only watch The Lion King so many times before you craved to watch anything else. She’d ask for something more violent but then again Disney never really shied away from violence.
Just look what happened to Simba's dad.
They were sitting on the couch, Clary was hogging the popcorn, and watching Darkwing Duck. The TV was old with thin static lines running along the top of the screen. It worked well enough that Clary found no reason to try and save up and replace it. Her nose scrunched up at the screen as a duck in a cap pulled a rather large comical looking leaver, dropping another duck in a whole. "So wait, why are they ducks? Do you think this would be as popular if they were all polar bears or something?" She was getting bored with the show but she’d keep watching if only for something menial to focus on.
A knock at the door pulled her attention and she leaned forward, placing the popcorn bowl down. "I’m coming." She shouted at the door before stepping around the coffee table and pushing the front door open. She didn’t see anyone, instead there was a package sitting on her front porch.
"Ominous." She commented solemnly. "Hey, Jack, can you clear off the coffee table?" She placed the package down before pulling off the sticky tape that held it together. When she got the box open she found herself staring quizzically at its contents. "What? I said these weren’t mind." Apparently no one at the police station believed her when she said it was a mistake. Inside the box was a glass looking blade and then a long thin length of metal wrapped in black cloth. Her thoughts returned to the scene from one of her dreams before she pushed the thought away, looking up at Jack. "What do you think?"
Out front of her house - L12 [OPEN] – May 04
The flooding hadn’t been ideal for her lawn which added to the frustration of having a lawn. She remembered living in something like a second floor apartment at one point; no lawn just a paved paradise of concrete and stone. Not to say that Clary didn’t like grass. She just liked grass that she wasn’t responsible for.
She’d gotten a warning stating that her grass was growing too long and that the two bushes out front of her home were becoming too ornery. That wasn’t the word used in the letter but when she stepped outside she noticed thick branches twisting up like nails clawing in all directions of what used to be a beautifully trimmed bush. It was a fitting description.
Dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple green tank top Clary decided to attack the yard with a vengeance. Her hair was pulled back and for at least half of the day there were a determined look spread across her face. She could be found at many different levels of lawn care. The first was fighting with the old push mower that she’d pulled out of the garage. After she couldn’t get it working she kicked it and cursed, somehow thinking that it’d roar to life from the intimidation. Nothing, not even lawn mowers, were intimidated by a thin five foot pale slip of a girl, Clary thought with dismay as she seated herself next to the old machine.
She could also be found staring at those two front bushes, having gotten the lawn finally mowed but not knowing what to do next.
Finally, Clary gave up and sat on her front porch with a glass of lemonade, mixed from the powered stuff she’d picked up at the store, and her sketchbook positioned on her lap. The stele was sitting next to her but try as she might, she couldn’t figure out what it was for. It just felt important to keep it with her.
Lotus Street Animal Shelter/Cat Cafe [OPEN] – May 06 - 07
Clary usually only worked a few days a week on alternating afternoons. This weekend she’d ask Randel for extra work, trying to save up for more painting supplies. She could have probably asked a family member for the money but Clary was firmly against borrowing, even if it was for something that she considered a good cause. At least at the animal shelter she might convince someone to buy one of her drawings. It was like making money on what she wanted to do only those profits went directly to the shelter.
It was usually busier on the weekends but there were still times when Clary was stagnant. She was left with her thoughts and found herself thinking about her dreams. Every morning she’d wake up and draw, spilling her dreams and nightmares onto a white page. Her most recent one had been of a boy with golden colored hair. She thought he was an angle but it felt stupid the more she repeated the thought in her head. She’d eventually snap out of her thoughts, usually due to the sharp nails of a dog or cat digging into her leg.
In the early afternoon she went from working in the main shelter to opening up the café attached to it. The cats that were currently in the room were following a thin sliver of sun that moved across the store front.
When someone entered Clary would look up, mostly to make sure none of the cats were making a mad dash to the outside world. Watching the café was more relaxed and often slower than her other work. Some people ordered a salad or smoothies but they mostly just sat around and played with cats. It never got too crowded because there were only so many cats to go around. Clary ended up sketching the most during this time, pausing only to greet and help those who came in.
French’s General Store [OPEN] – May 08
Clary was resilient but it didn’t make life any easier. She moved through the notions of a normal life until she ran out of things to eat at her house. She wasn’t a frivolous shopper but she did manage to spend a great deal of time at the store, trying to figure out what to buy. She’d found that frozen foods fit her life style the most, that or buying large quantities of those dried noodle packets. Yes, they were bad for you and filled with salt but she was young and had no one in the immediate vicinity to tell her that it was a bad idea. That and they were a dollar; being feed for a dollar was very alluring.
She’d circle through the store a few times. She picked up: paper towels, batteries, frozen pizzas, cans of soup, soda, and other assorted foods. It was very obvious by what was in her cart that she wasn’t an avid chief.
Clary spent some time standing in front of the fruit before finally picking up two apples and a tiny collection of bananas. It wasn’t that she was healthy but apples and bananas were delicious. She also picked up orange juice, the kind that had somehow managed to extract all of its pulp. There was always extra pulp, no pulp and then regular when she went to the store. Clary couldn’t help but wonder if they put the pulp from the no pulp orange juice in with the extra pulp orange juice to then give it the extra pulp it claimed to have. It was a thought that earned itself a few minutes of Clary blocking the way before she finally moved.
On her way out she almost ran into someone, stopping just before her collection of food, which would make a college student proud, found its way to the floor. "Sorry. Guess I was zoning out."
no subject
There were some days, though, that living with two horned girls who would punch a wall out with their index fingers made all the harrowing battles and brushes with mortality he'd experienced look like child's play.
Retreating to Clary's house sometimes wasn't cowardice, he told himself. And it wasn't because he was lonely (even if part of it was). Clary was just easier to deal with, and she knew more about this place's culture. And she didn't threaten to eat his chocobo, which was a bonus. She was, in a way he wasn't totally comfortable defining with the influence of fake memories, a friend, and though he didn't understand half the things they got up to at her place having never watched Saturday morning cartoons in his life, he felt like it was important to keep tabs on her. Make sure she was doing okay.
Real friendship or not, he could do that much, and she looked like she could use that much.
"Mm, Darkwing Polar Bears doesn't have the same ring to it," Jack said from his cross-legged position on the floor. The life of a couch potato was a whole new world opening up before him, and he was curiously entranced by basic cable. There sure seemed to be a lot of talking animals. It was only when Clary went to answer the door and called out that he peeled his gaze away, twisting around to see. "What's up?"
Was that a box? Why did that seem so...
Helping her set it down, he had a niggling feeling there was something important about the timing. What day was it? Could it be?
To his perplexity, it was. A box with equipment in it, just like the one he'd received. But where he'd been waiting for his, she didn't seem to recognize the items inside hers.
"The town officials seem like they have a reason for everything they do," he offered. "Do they look familiar?"
no subject
"You say that but I don't get what that reasons is. Oh, let's give a sixteen year old something that looks like a glass short sword from a D&D campaign." She reached into the box and lifted the sword. It looked like it would shatter if she dropped it and yet Clary knew that it wouldn't. It hummed with energy and after a second she quickly put it down, reaching for the long thin object wrapped in black velvet cloth.
"This is a Stele." She spoke the word as if it was familiar to her and yet she had no idea what it mean. Clary looked up at Jack. "At least, that's what I think it is called." She had a feeling that this had been gifted to her, it was her mothers, she told herself but it felt hard to believe.
She waved at the sword. "What do you make of that thing anyway?" She felt like Jack would know better. What she didn't realize was that the sword would object to being held by him and sear his hand.
no subject
Could be these were her things and the memories just needed time to rise to the surface.
"Anything else?" he asked, watching her reaction. "Maybe something will come to you the longer you look at them." Did that make Clary a swordswoman in real life? The large of the items was a strange blade, to be sure. It looked like a sliver of crystal attached to a hilt rather than steel. Reaching for it, he admitted, "It's not like any sword I've seen before. Wonder what kind of crafting went into this..."
As soon as his hand made contact with the hilt, though, he wrenched it back with a sudden hiss.
"Ow, it's hot! Like frying pan hot." What the hell.
no subject
When she was sure that Jack was okay she looked back down at the blade and picked it up. It felt cool to her touch. "It's fine." She heard a name spoke in her head but she wasn't sure if she could pronounce it. "Nephilim." She suddenly remembered.
"That's right. Alec had mentioned that word. It meant a child of angel or something. These's... can only be used by Nephilim." She looked up at Jack as if she should have remembered that. "Jack I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... I should have remembered." She wasn't born for this life. She heard the words in her head.
'You aren't a shadowhunter.'
Clary frowned and shook the thought away. That voice, she kept hearing the same voice and she hated it. That stupid smug voice.
no subject
Because that sword really didn't want an Agito cadet holding it. To his mystification, however, Clary went right back to holding it like nothing.
"What's this about baby angels? What are Nephilim have to do with weapons?" He was definitely at a loss on that front, but her apologies earned a quick smile and automatic shake of his head. "Uh, I don't really get it, but it's okay! I'm tougher than I look. Are... you okay?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
lotus street
...that last one is not his cup of tea at all.
Which is why a somewhat-exhausted Randel makes his way into the cat cafe at the end of the week and just sort of flops where the cats can crawl where they like. He needs a recharge. He's not getting one but this is almost as nice. And because he's not a total barbarian, he lifts a hand to wave to Clary.
lotus street
Clary watched him with a concerned stare. She'd been trying to help out as best as she could but she couldn't be at the shelter all the time. Randel looked worn out and she wondered if he's been sleeping or if all that's happened has taken to hard of a tole on him.
Her thoughts were skittish, fleeing from one idea to the next. She thought of the Stele in her pocket and then of the strange imagines that she'd drawn in her notebook. The object weighed heavily in her pocket before she remembered something that she'd used as a distraction a few days before.
"Oh!" She pushed herself up, one cat protested loudly as it slid off her lap. "I have something for you. Should i give it to you later? You look like you need to sleep." She pointed it out, just in case he didn't realize how awful he looked.
no subject
"So whenever you like."
no subject
She walked over to her backpack which she kept just behind the counter so that the animals couldn't get to it. When she returned she was holding a piece of paper that she then handed to Randel.
It was the drawing she'd promised a month before with a beautiful woman sitting among pillows. Her eyes were deep and filled with affection while her shoulders were positioned with confidence and allure. Reams of fabric were drawn around her but everything brought your eye back to the woman in the middle of the picture. She shared some traits with Randel though the lines around her cheeks were softer than his.
"What do you think?"
no subject
"Here," and he gestures with one hand to the cat cafe, "I sleep in the back near the pens all the time. But it's wrong to sleep in front of customers."
But then he's looking at the drawing, at the woman in front of him, and it's everything in him not to snatch it up. As it is, his eyes fill, more than a little, before he swallows and pushes the heels of his hands against his face to try and stop the waterworks.
As he can, he nods. Yes, yes, that's... that's her.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
May Fourth.
But what if it wasn't? What if Paris was connected to the journal and being told to get away from people. What if this was... No, no, it wasn't her fault, because she just wasn't that important. There was something wrong with her head; that was something that she knew immediately but hadn't wanted to dwell on. It was there dogging each step that she took, so that she was a bit out of breath when she paused in front of Clary's house.
For a moment, Ana watched those bushes that Clary watched, remembering what her brain had told her about her memories. She knew Clary when she was growing up; Clary was her cousin's niece even if nothing about either of those people was familiar. Still, Ana fixed on her smile before she called out softly: "So, are you waiting for those two bushes to come out and do a trick?"
May Fourth.
"Are you running?" She remembered that Ana was an avid runner. Clary never saw the point of running unless you had a place you were running too.
Her head tilted to the side as she turned back to the bushes. Maybe if she looked at them using a different angel it'd help? Her head kept turning but the bushes didn't look any different. "I got a letter saying I needed to keep better care of the lawn."
no subject
Teasing, Ana ran the back of her hand over her forehead. "Can't get anything past you." There was no heat in it as she looked at the girl and the bushes that were behind her. But the idea of a kid (and Clary definitely felt like a kid to her, despite the memories that were inside of her head. Clary was certainly younger than Rex who would always be a kid in her mind.) getting a letter from the town made her frown, and her back straightened for a moment as she looked around, wary.
She didn't much look like a teacher right in that moment.
But Ana managed to pull her persona on after a second and smiled. "Well, I can give you a hand with the bushes, I'm pretty good with them." She thought, or at least according to the yard and her garden.
no subject
At the offer Clary brightened. "Really?!" She assumed that everyone who owned a house just magically knew how to take care of a garden. Having a house was never on Clary's plan, her plan was to leave like her mother had and become an artist.
"Do you know what to do because I have clippers but they seem to small." She pointed to large clippers that she had tossed on the small lawn in front of the long one story house.
no subject
"I have an idea," she said as she took the clippers and flicked them between her fingers for a second. "The size doesn't matter... like every other tool, it's all in how you use it." The tools of which Ana spoke were very clearly more than simple the garden tool that she had in her hand. "When in doubt, always start with the smallest cut and then work out from there." And that was what Ana did: a small prune, and then another, using the clippers with a speed that she probably shouldn't quite have.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
General Store
"Hey, now," he managed, voice a deep rasp of surprise. When he was sure she wasn't going to fall apart - not that it truly had been a concern - he took a safe step back with his hands held up. In part, it was a show that he was trying to be non-threatening, but part of him couldn't let go of the notion that he had to be ready at all times, just in case things got messy. Always be ready for the worst.
"No harm, no foul. You all right?" She didn't look all right. No one who bough bags piling with instant noodles and frozen food was all right. That screamed 'struggling college student' to him.
General Store
Her frown gave way to surprise as they worked to keep her food in her basket. Most of it would have been unharmed if it fell to the floor but Clary really didn't want to take that chance. Having only one general food store meant that she'd have to keep coming back here, even after making a scene or a mess.
"Yeah. I was just surprised." Clary had a lot on her mind and she wasn't sure where to put her thoughts. She used to draw them but since having her Stele returned to her she wasn't so sure about that. Her voice sounded a but dazed as she continued. "I'd ask how you are but..." He was at least twice her size and it felt like a really silly question.
Re: General Store
It was a little odd, seeing her; part of his brain felt as though it was trying to kickstart into operation, flashes of deja vu that darted away from him like fish in a pond. Had he met her before?
No, that wasn't possible. He would surely recognize anyone he knew on sight, right? Then again, he had no idea how amnesia actually worked. Not this total, murky wipeout he was experiencing, anyway.
General Store
There was something familiar about this guy. The same sort of familiarity that Clary felt around her aunt. She was having trouble placing it but she knew she was comfortable around him.
"Also steering." She added with a smile.
no subject
With another pleasant smile, he took a step back to let her pass. "You have a nice day. Be careful now."
(no subject)
Out front - May 4th
Out front - May 4th
"Do you want to give it a try?"
no subject
"Hn. Stubborn."
no subject
"Welcome to my hell." Clary spoke as she dropped to the grass near the lawnmower. She wasn't about to sit to close and tempt it to turn on next to her. She felt like that's something a lawnmower would do, just to be spiteful.
"Got any other ideas? If not I'm going to just pay someone to cut my lawn."
no subject
"So how's life?" he asked without lifting his head.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)