Clemente
Time goes just as sideways as he slides down the tree bark, unfeeling if it scrapes his skin. He buries his head in his knees, folding his gangly arms over both and pressing, trying to squeeze the panic out of himself. It only increases at the sound of hurried footsteps, and though he knows he called out for help, Clem can’t help but shrink further into himself even as he looks up over one knee at the swiftly approaching form.She’s...pretty. Reminds him of Mom, with her dark hair and brilliant eyes. But she is far more alive than Mom had ever been, and she approaches cautiously. He eyes her nonetheless, scared out of his mind. Clemente had spent so long memorizing his city, narrowly evading the clutches of death as he learned the harsh cruelties of the street. He can’t bear to relearn it in a new land, not one so completely different to his home. Not during winter.
The woman’s words barely register, and he blinks up at her. The shaking is from panic, not cold, though he can distantly tell that it is. Clem shakes his head jerkily, though her surprising appearance before him has his not-breaths slowing until his chest is still once more. ”N-No,” is all he can think to say, tone warbling but trying to seem strong. She doesn’t seem the type to hurt him, to steal from him, but he can’t trust it. Not yet.
”How do I go home?” he begs, unfolding his long limbs and standing despite the trembling that still shakes his skin. Worries at his lip with his sharp canines, and tries to withhold the tears, though his cheeks are still damp with their telling remains.
i stopped being a kid the day
you sent me down here to die
