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
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
"I need to sit down." She declared as she moved over to the couch. Clary didn't realize it but she'd picked the Stele back up and was holding it lightly in the palm of her hand. She felt safer with it.
Her thoughts rolled from one explanation to the next but none of them made any sense. She wished her mom was here. She'd know what this was.
Clary's head turned towards Jack. "I think I'm going crazy. How can I be an angel? That doesn't even make any sense. I've lived here for most of my life and I'm normal." She remembered her and her mom moving around a lot when she was very very young but that still didn't make any of those make sense.
no subject
"Wow, Clary, so it's true, cute girls really do fall from heaven!" He couldn't resist. It was an automatic response born from years of making such jokes, a pin in the balloon of the weighty revelation to ease some of the pressure. Leaving the sword for the moment, he followed her as she sank back onto the couch.
"I don't think you're crazy," he said, putting the burn's sting out of his mind. "I think you're just remembering something you used to know and forgot."
no subject
She never stayed mad at him for long and none of this was really his fault.
She signed heavily and snuggled in next to Jack's side. "Yeah but it doesn't make sense. How could I forget that and how could I be an angel? It just sounds like a start to a really bad teen book." She closed her eyes and took comfort in the familiarity that was Jack.
Clary wished her mom was there. Jocelyn would know what to do and yet she couldn't bring herself to say that around Jack.
no subject
He sat still, letting Clary settle in at his side, a simple and uncomplicated sharing of warmth, a holdover from implanted memories. To his own surprise, he didn't mind it. To felt... good, to be depended on for comfort. To give that comfort freely. Jack had built his life around being a comforting person, but in non-physical ways. Hugging didn't factor too heavily on the battlefield.
Would she still be this relaxed around him once she remembered everything? Would they lose this... intimacy? What surprised him most of all is that he thought he might miss it, at the same time he was glad for. Animals needed closeness and physical touch, and so did people. But people were better at denying themselves.
"It's a good thing, though. That you're having these flashes. Maybe it doesn't make sense now, but if you let them come back to you and don't fight them, I bet they'll start to make for sense like they did for me." And everyone else who'd been in an 'accident'. "Hm, I thought angels had wings."
Clary didn't look like she was hiding anything under her shirt...
no subject
"You're right." She finally admitted before tilting her chin up to look at him. "Hey. Don't get any funny ideas. I am not letting you look to see if I have wings." She elbowed him softly in the ribs as a warning before snuggling closer to his side.
Whatever Clary remembered, whatever happened next, she'd always be Jack's friend. She promised herself that. She wanted to be there for him just like he was there for her now.
"You know." She broke the silence, her voice lighter than it had been a moment before. "I don't know how to use a sword."
no subject
Another good question: how a girl could come to be in possession of a sword only she could touch, and flowing runic tattoos not unlike the symbols of the strange language the cadets had uncovered in Silent Key. Clary might be the only one who could answer that, but unfortunately, between the memory loss and the ban on discussing the past she wasn't talking just yet.
He rubbed his burned hand against his knee. The sting helped keep him focused. "What else do you remember? Looking at that stuff seemed to trigger something." Looking over, he gestured at the small cylindrical thing still held in her hands. "What kind of weapon is that, anyway?"
no subject
"I think it's called a Seraph Blade. Which makes sense given the whole angel theme." She lifted the stele and turned it over in her hand. She didn't know how to use it but as she looked at the runes carved into the metal piece lines and shapes began to rise to mind. It was as if they were being shown to her. "That was... weird."
She lowered the stele and sat up, turning to look at Jack. "I remember..." Clary rose quickly to her feet, running into her bed room. When she returned she was holding her sketchbook. She flipped to the first page, where she'd started drawing the creatures and scenes from her dreams. This page was decorated with runes as well as a gross looking demon. "This-" She pointed to the bug like creature. "I remember this-"
She stopped again and fell back down to the couch. "It attacked me but I didn't have the sword then. I didn't have anything. I think I lost..." Her voice trailed off. Clary was looking straight ahead, as if she was falling into a dark memory that might just swallow her whole.
no subject
The natural question was on his tongue--what was weird?--but she was already moving, sliding off the couch to return with her trusty sketchbook in hand. Of the things Jack remembered, he could recall her sketchbook with as much clarity as his own sword, something held to equal value, something she was rarely without.
"Ohhh..." He'd seen her art a dozen times since meeting her, and a thousand times more in their half-remembered lives, but now the implications cast them in a new light. "Wait. So these are real things that exist?"
no subject
Clary was trying very hard not to freak out about all of this.
"Yeah. They do. They're Reaver Demons." She spoke as if the word was a natural thing to say. "They attacked me. I can't remember what happened next. I was at home." Wherever home was. "Then I fought one and it began to burn but not before it struck me." She lightly touched the back of her neck.
"I can't remember anything after that."
no subject
"Maybe we should get some air," he said, offering up the non sequitur in place of acknowledging her answer for now. A breezy smile set a tone of reassurance, the suggestion couched in friendly concern. "Come on, we can sit outside a sec, take a breather. You can get yourself together."
He held a hand out to her. It'd be easier to talk outside, where she wouldn't be in danger of breaking Wayward Pines' cardinal rule where prying ears could hear.
no subject
She slipped her stele into the pocket of her jeans as she stood. "Yeah, sure." Clary didn't sound convinced but she trusted Jack. Her hand slipped into his and his skin felt a little cold. She didn't remember Jack being that cold but she pushed the thought away. It wasn't that important.
"We might be able to see the stars now."
It was an innocent comment and one that Clary really needed. She liked normalcy and she didn't think she had it.
no subject
Once there, Jack made sure no one was watching before releasing a small burst of electricity around the area, just enough to kill electronics in the area, cameras and microphones included. There.
"Okay, now we can talk," he said, releasing a relieved breath. "It's just us--us and the stars. If we'd gone any further, they might have intervened."