FireRed & LeafGreen [Clara|Closed]

The woman looked up into the yellow, draconic gaze of the creature, chocolate brown eyes soft with care as she ran a pair of spindly fingers across its jagged maw. If anyone had been watching, it would’ve been a strange sight to behold; a woman, fussing about a fully grown dragon as if it were nothing more than a dog that needed grooming. Up and down the dragon’s head she moved, sometimes brushing off bits of broken stone and rock that had been embedded into the beast’s skin, while other times removing cracked and/or broken scales entirely, allowing the damaged sections to heal up for the next battle. Not that Clara wanted another battle like the last one. Even if her actions had been justified. Somewhat.

Bah, she had better things to think about than what had happened in Karakura the other day. Like finding Charlie. It was strange, how he’d just disappeared right after Drakey had blasted through the coffee shop; he’d left for days on end before, but Clara had always known that he was leaving and, even more importantly, that he was coming back. She didn’t even know where or he’d gone to this time, let alone how long he’d be gone, or why he’d left, or even what he was doing running off in the middle of a fight like some kind of limp dicked retard with a hero complex the size a fucking skyscraper. Honestly, why did he have to always-

Drakey heard it first, but she heard not soon after the dragon twisted its massive head towards the source; there was a person stumbling through the undergrowth nearby (or, at least it sounded like there was), and if their supreme lack of stealth was any indication, the woman knew exactly who it was. Turning her head towards the noise, Clara opened her mouth and, in the loudest voice she could manage, barked out an order she’d been wanting to give her friend for a long, long time. “Oi! Dumbass! You and your stupid face get over her right now, before I have to send Drakey out to drag your ass back to the cave. And don’t think I won’t think I won’t let him roast your ass either! He’s hungry as hell right now.”
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WC: 380
GP: 7
OOC: THIS POST IS HORRIBLE I WILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

The instant her command had been answered, Clara had known it wasn’t Charlie; that soft voice, the timid tone, the womanly manner in which the stranger had acquiesced… all of it spoke of a young, timid girl who had wandered into the woods, rather than the hardened survivor with a heart of gold she’d hoped for. Dammit Charlie… where are you? She thought, turning her attention back to Drakey and his scales.

Not here, obviously. The Grimoire interjected, pushing its way into her thoughts in spite of her attempts to keep it out. He was getting better at that, and had been ever since Charlie had disappeared. She didn’t want that fucking book inside her head anymore! She wanted Charlie back, and she wanted him back now.

I thought I told you to fuck off Grimm.

Yes, you did. Several times, if I recall correctly. You should remember, however, that it is impossible for me to, as you said “fuck off”; our bond is unbreakable, or have you forgotten what happened when Carl?

I remember perfectly well the results of what Carl did, Grimm. Or did you forget that I tried to undo it at least half a dozen times?

Of course not. And I will tell you the same thing I told you then; you cannot get away from me, no matter how hard you try. We are bound together more tightly than you could possibly imagine. Our souls are untied as one.

Yeah yeah I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

And do you think I enjoy being bound to the world’s most hormonal woman? I did not choose this; when I first attached myself to you it was out of need, but now, thanks your actions, we have become utterly inseparable!

Whatever, Grimm. I still say that’s bullshit, and once I find Charlie, you are so going back to-

A scream, loud, terrified, and shriller than a shrew, pierced through her diatribe with the Grimoire; that had come from the woman visitor. But why? Had Drakey tried to eat her? That would make sense; she hadn’t fed him in a few days, so he was due for another large meal (though she’d been hoping to give him some deer or elk instead of human; he got so testy when he ate people…). With a twist of her neck, Clara shifted her gaze to look upon the scene that had just transpired, a look of mild frustration sliding across her face as she did so. The woman had fainted. Like an idiot, she had left herself completely defenseless in front of a very hungry dragon that didn’t like being yelled at. It was a wonder he hadn’t eaten her already.

“Drakey!” She snapped, shoving her index finger as close the giant lizards face as she could without touching it; touching him would make this worse, as he would feed off of the anger inside of her rather than cower in fear of it. The beasts eyes lingered on the unconscious form of the woman for a moment, the temptation drawing out enough of his bold side to warrant a second warning. “No. Bad Dragon! No eating random strangers unless I say so!” Drakey turned its head to face its master, somehow mimicking the look of a crying puppy with its massive, scaly maw; the look persisted for several seconds, but withered soon after underneath her stern gaze. “Bad. Dragon. Now go; get yourself something to eat that isn’t a person. But no burning down the forest!”

The dragon leapt at the command, literally pushing off of the ground and into the air with a single, powerful burst of its legs and wings. I do not know how such a large creature could ever look so pitiful, but you, girl, always manage to make that giant oaf appear more like a whipped dog than a tool of destruction.

It’s called practice. That and neutering.

Ah, castration. The perfect tool for a female, is it not?

Clara ignored the Grimoire; she had more important things to think about right now. Like waking up the woman who had stumbled across her new campsite, and erasing her memory of the incident so that she didn’t fucking tell anyone where she was staying. Bur, first things first; it was time to wake the woman up.

Pulling a large, military grade canteen out of her nearby knapsack, Clara opened it up and, in a loud voice, spoke to the woman just as she poured a small amount of it onto her head; not enough to soak her, or even ruin her make-up (if she had any) but enough to be felt. “Hey. Girly girl. Wake up. Gonna ruin your pretty make up if you make me waste more of my water on you.”
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WC: 806
GP (Post/Total): 16/23
OOC: Yay! Better post is better!

Scratch that; upon closer examination, Clara had determined that her uninvited guest was not, in fact, a woman.

She was a teenager. Wonderful.

Why, I do not know what you are so distraught about girl! The Grimoire cut in, its amusement leaking through into her own mind as she waited for the girl to awaken. This is just what you needed! Someone your own age to speak with!

Grimm, I will fucking BURN you. She did not this shit right now; there was already enough on her pate as is, what with Charlie being gone, Drakey being blasted to all hell, and the fact that there was a teenaged girl at her back-up campsite. Which meant that it was compromised. Which meant she either had to move (and find a new spot because all of the ones nearby would be compromised as well), or she was going to have to erase the last few hours of the girl’s memory. Something that wasn’t easy to do when you don’t have that person’s permission. Which she wouldn’t be getting without a fuckton of lies. Which she wasn’t good at making. At all.

Honestly, child, I thought you would know better by now; there is always a way to- A loud smack of flesh on flesh interrupted the Grimoire’s comment, and for a moment Clara’s wasn’t exactly sure what had happened.

Then the woman spoke, and everything made sense. “Finally awake, eh?” She mused, ignoring the wet red spot that had formed on her forehead; she’d had far worse injuries in the past from just a simple spar. A little bump on the head wasn’t going to bother her. Not that she could say the same for the girl; she had rubbed her own forehead for at least thirty seconds before stopping, and had even to rub Clara’s own mark. The green haired woman had risen to her full height before the red-headed teen could so much as come close to touching her skin; no one was allowed to touch her. No one. Only Charlie had that honor, and he wasn’t here right now.

The teen introduced herself, and in a flood of words almost too fast to follow, bombarded the woman with questions; who was she? Why was she here? Was she a camper? Why was her hair green?

Too much. To many words, too many questions. The teen needed to stop talking. Right. Now.

She could do it. Clara could silence her right now; all it would take was a single Fireball straight to the face. Hell, she could call Drakey and have her eat the girl. That would be enough to deal with the meddling whore. It would be easy. Quick. Painless even. And then she wouldn’t have to worry about how she was going to answer all of her questions without lying, or what she was going to do about her campsite, or even how she was going to get the woman to trust her. Because she would be dead, and Clara would be alright.

The fact that she was seriously contemplating murdering the poor redheaded girl made what the Grimoire said next all the more shocking. No, girl, I do not think you will be doing that. Not today anyway.

...What? Since when did you-

You do not have it in you to murder this girl, no matter how much you think you wish to. Or do you think your beloved Charlie would approve of such an action?

…Fuck.

She didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to let that stupid book be right. But dammit, he fucking was.

Fine. I won’t kill her. But that still leaves us with no fucking options on what to do.

Patience, child. An opportunity will present itself, in time.

Of course you would day that. Not that it wasn’t right though. She had time; time to figure out a plan, time to earn this woman’s trust and maybe, just maybe, convince her that she needed to have her memories scrubbed and altered so that any hint of their encounter was erased.

Yeah, because that’d ever happen.

When the teen had finally finished speaking, Clara opened her mouth and, in what was perhaps the single longest bit of dialogue she’d had with another person in the last ten years, answered every question that had been thrown at her to the best of her ability, without revealing anything that could ro would indicate that there had indeed been a fifty foot long Dragon in the clearing not three minutes prior. “To answer your questions in order; No it didn’t hurt. That makes no sense, my hair color wouldn’t make think there’s a Dragon in the clearing, don’t know why you’re asking me that because it’s not a question, My name is Clara, I live here so that would, in a way, make me a camper, I’ve only just got here an hour or so ago so no, I don’t hang around here often, it depends on the herbs in question, and yes, I did run away from home. It was a long time ago though, so don’t even bother; my parents are long gone.”
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WC: 861
GP: 17/40
OOC: Yaaaay! Moar Posts!

Belief was a strange emotion- on the one hand it denoted a certain level of trust in whatever was being said or done that went beyond merely accepting it as fact and leaned more towards a religious kind of “faith” in the person/object/actions in question, but on the other hand, it also spoke of an as of yet unreached threshold of mental inclusion that kept one safe from being fully destroyed from a betrayal. It was difficult, after all, to change what you believed, but it wasn’t impossible. Especially if given the right kind of motivation. But letting go of what you cherished most in this world, of shattering the very lenses through which you view the world, only to put a new on in its place? That was damn near impossible, if not outright suicidal. How could anyone ever do such a thing? It would be like is she abandoned Charlie to save herself. Or, worse, let him die so she could live, despite there being another way.

Yes, that would be rather world shattering, would it not? The Grimoire’s voice echoed in the back of the woman’s mind, it’s half-real tone still sending chills down her spine, even after all this time together. Creepy fucking book- one of these days she was going to find a way get rid of it, without dying or losing her powers in the process. And when she did…

I shall tremble in fear at the day child. But first, the matter of the young lass? Or have you already forgotten she needs to be... taken care of?

Oh. Right. The teenager. Sumire something or other.

Clara blinked, her attention shifting from her mental landscape as the red-head spoke. Huh. Didn’t figure her for a dyke, but that’s about the only way she’d see me as anything even CLOSE to pretty.

I think you underestimate your attractiveness girl. There is a reason your lover fell for you.

The witch’s face flushed scarlet at the comment and, without thinking, she let loose a blisteringly hot retort, uncaring (and unaware) that she had done so out loud until it was almost too late. “I am not a fucking [i[pretty girl[/i] you stupid waste of-!” Almost, because she managed to catch herself before going any further, but still. Damage done, right?

Use it.

“I…” The words slid out of her mouth before she could think about them, something in the back of her mind twitching to life as she spoke. “I’m sorry Sumire. I didn’t mean to…” Her voice came out slow and stuttery, brown eyes shifting from the ground to the teen’s own gaze before dropping back down to the earth. She had to play this right, or else it wouldn’t come off as real. Just like she had done with Charlie. “I’ve just… I’ve been alone for a long time now. I’m not really used to getting… compliments.” Smile shyly now, and bring your left hand behind your back, yes just like that. Now grab unto your arm just above your shoulder and push-

It was just a simple act of kindness, just a quick brushing off of some dirt that had been caked onto her one of her cheeks.

That all it was.

But that little bit of contact was so much more than just a touch. It was an opening. A moment of openness, of vulnerability, of weakness that went past a simple kind gesture and into the realm of opening up. Of forging a bond, a friendship, a relationship of sorts in which two people mutually agreed to trust one another. To choose to be friends or lovers or whatever to one another, no matter what. And that choice, that option?

It pissed her off. A lot. Enough that, had she not stopped herself, she would have followed up the lightning fast grab she’d performed on the red-haired teens outstretched arm with a jab to the face, or a kick in the gut. As it was, she was already having trouble not crushing the girl’s wrist underneath her grip, no matter how tough her skin felt.

…Crap.

This wasn’t good. She’d have to switch gears, have to play it off or something like that. She might have to abandon the plan entirely and just kill the girl outright- it wasn’t like she’d believe her that she meant no harm if she kept blowing up like that. Yes, that was the best choice, she was going to have to-

Play it through. Don’t give up just yet.

Blink. Breathe in, and then out. Lower your head in shame. “See?” Voice should be barely above a whisper. Let the tears flow, find a painful memory and use it. Yes, that’s it. Now loosen your grip, make it tender. “I can’t even let a pretty girl like yourself touch me, no matter…” Stop speaking, look away for a few moments before starting again. Act as if it’s hard to talk. “I mean… Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Flawless. Truly flawless child.
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WC: 838
GP: 16/56
OOC: Annnd done! :3 Enjoy!