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@clairerevfield
An independent roleplay blog of ππππππ ππππ ππππ from the πππ¬π’πππ§π ππ―π’π₯ series. Remake based portrayal, unfamiliar with some of the original media. Welcoming and friendly to Alternate Universes / Duplicates / Original Characters.
ABOUT. RULES. VERSES. PROMPTS. PROMO.
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So many questions, Far too many for someone trying not to let her thoughts race, knowing just how easily they could run rampant. Knowing that closing her eyes would feel far too much like where she just was, if there was a where at all, Alena turned her eyes to the blonde across from her. A bit younger than herself, barely. But clearly just as accomplished in her own craft as Alena was in hers. Unfortunately so. Were the dead not due rest?
Without thinking, her hand moved quickly to the healers as she settled her back to the bed. Her touch light, gentle fingers curling around the other woman's smooth skin. Not quite gabbing, rather...as her senses returned everthing felt so new. Or perhaps she had forgotten what it was like to be touched. Her gaze catching hers for a moment before it shifted to the offered water and she released her in favor of the mug.
"Alena."Her name comes as a breath for air only after she takes two drinks. "You'll have to ask him about that. "She's too tired to lie, to make excuses. But the alchemist wasn't so foolish to think she could speak freely about the kings desires. Her hand trembles slightly as she runs it through her hair. "What else would I think of?"The question slips out in a soft tone before she can think better of it. Family, perhaps. A spouse. Though she had neither. Perhaps why she found comfort in the few things that did belong to her. "Well...my clothes fo-"A sour look across her freckled features as a realization struck. Her clothes were likely covered in blood.
"Want do you wish to know?"
Claire softens a little. In her pursuit to bring the other woman back from the dead, she doesn't consider the burden or the discomforts. She could blame her exhaustion but it's a poor excuse. Some days she thinks she is getting too used to the macabre of King Spencer's kingdom.
"Alena..." She repeats, committing the name to memory. If she reaches into her memory, she thinks she remembers that name passing by. It's difficult to know for certain. The King's healer, and his best chance at living a long life, lives in quiet solitude. Most times she is too important to risk. Something that changes with the death of Alena. She doesn't interrupt, she merely listens with a concerned furrow of her brow. It's only fleeting little details but she gets the distinct feeling that she understands her life. That it's something small and lonely, they live to serve.
Her head tilts. "I'm Claire. I wish to know many things... but first I need you to close your eyes." She rises, and briefly returns the sheets that covered Alena. "Be a sleeping beauty for me."
Claire leaves the room quickly. When questioned, she lies. Claims to need an important tincture. She returns to the room with the same hurried steps. This will be her only chance to speak with someone with a similar life as her own. For now, Alena remains dead to the outer world. It's a lie that can only last so long.
"It isn't much, but I have an underdress and a simple linen dress." Claire figures Alena might prefer comfort over fashion given the ordeal she has been through.
While there isn't exactly a luxurious bath built into the room, they do have a modest basin filled with fresh water. It's supposed to be used for washing hands of blood, but it can be used to wash hair and a body all the same.
"Okay... do you need my help, or do you need privacy?"
"Oh, to be mortal and to only know mortality."
That was the response given to the young woman who only meant to help and to console, surely. Over and over, Emiya had to remind herself not to blame the messenger, Claire did not know what she had done. What sin she had inadvertedly committed in calling her back into a mortal body. Whose body had this been? What poor girl had they killed in order to house her spirit?
"A being such as myself had no name, until others decided to bind me with one," came forth the truthful answer. This was how she could be so easily called back, Emiya figured. Because she had a name, no other spirit could be taken into this new form, just as it had been the first time.
"He named me Emiya."
This whole exchange, Emiya had not looked at Claire directly, yet when she decided to say her name she slowly turned her gaze so that it may meet the healer's. What should have been dark eyes were instead a red, similar to the colour of a sunset. Beautiful, yet inhuman.
"What year is it?" Best to figure out the details, so she could know if it was the same person who wished her return. Or perhaps a foolish descendant.
Claire can only tip her head in acknowledgement. Yes, she was mortal. That implied the young woman before her was not. It was a thought she found difficult to reconcile with when she appears very-much-human. Not to mention the whole bringing back from the dead part of their interaction.
They lock eyes, and her lips silently part. The crimson warmth is... new. The hairs at her nape rise. It's like prey meeting the gaze of a predator, a sensation that is not new. Not for a storied healer as herself. She rarely uses her talents on people she could take in a fight, but it has always been people.
"... would you like me to call you Emiya?" She asks in a gentle tone. Her hand withdraws as she hopes the social norms remain true. Don't shoot the messenger.
Claire sits with a straighter posture. To business, then. "The year is 798. King Spencer ordered me to bring you back, to wait at your bedside until you were awake. Now..." Her head turns. The night is dark, sunrise is still a long wait. "You will have until daybreak. I am supposed to send word to him immediately, but he will likely be asleep, and you need your rest."
Claire watched in abject horror as Luis coldly and ruthlessly clears a game of Minesweeper in less than a couple minutes. She couldn't look away from the scene. It was at that moment she realised the gap in their intellect, and she thanked her lucky stars that he already started his research on future schools for their future bebΓ©. There was a 50% chance they would have the same brilliance as their father, not whatever the fuck she had going on. "... I didn't think that was a real game."
Luis had been bored. And he also had been so happy to find this little classic game on the old funky computer Claire and he owned. It had taken a little bit to understand the rules, but then it had just been⦠fun.
And Luis was someone, who mumbled his thoughts out loud while playing Minesweeper. While he slouched in the office chair, balancing a slushie on his knee, that he was sipping on and wearing a childish pair of sunglasses he had just found somewhere. So Claire also got this crazy show with the constant little utter of:
βAquΓ, aquΓ, aquΓ. No hay ninguna. AhΓ. AquΓ. AquΓ no hay ninguna. AquΓ hay una bomba. AquΓ. AquΓ. AquΓ. AquΓ no hay ninguna. Y aquΓ. AquΓ. AquΓβ¦.β
It certainly wasnβt a mark of intellect. Not in Luisβ head. He was just that.
Bored.
At Claireβs comment, he turned around with a grin, though.
βDo you want me to explain it to you? Itβs a bit mean they never really tell you how to do it and you gotta figure it out, eh? But itβs fun!β
@clairerevfield
i love you intimacy in reverse order. yes we've had sex before and i know all the details of your pleasure, but i don't know anything else. i don't know what it feels like to embrace you carelessly. i can barely hold your hand, the grip is so slight it makes me lose my breath. i want to kiss you but what pressure is the right one? how much is too intimate? yes we've had sex and i've done all these things before - but without the guise of mutual pleasure, can i be sure you won't turn me away? will you allow me the delicate feeling of your hand in mine when you know it is me asking to hold it? i know i've held you before with our clothes off, but can i hold you even tighter? may i listen to the steady sound of your heartbeat? is it alright to look for it in front of everyone? yes, yes of course we've had sex before. i know what you look like naked, ive touched you with the lights off. is it alright to want see you with them on? in the morning, with the sun flitting through the blinds?is it alright to want you when the sun is up? yes we've had sex before but have we ever been intimate? can we be? tell me that it's alright to hold you. no, not like that. just like this.
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I need more people to join TerraSave. Don't worry, it's clearly very well-balanced with only three surviving members who have names. It's not as dangerous as DSO fieldwork, just ignore 2011, it was a very whoops time. Also can someone cover the therapy bill.
Surviving TerraSave members:
Claire Redfield
Moira Burton
Marilou Mabou
Rani Chawla's aunt
The woman who disavowed Curtis Miller
Deceased TerraSave members:
Curtis Miller, former member (2005)
Leader, Neil Fisher (2011)
Edward Thompson (2011)
Gabriel Chavez (2011)
Gina Foley (2011)
Pedro Fernandez (2011)
InΓ©z Diaco (2014)
anyone else feeling the Effects lately. due to all the Things
ππππ Β & Β ππππ πππππ πππππππ Β Β (a Β series Β of Β nonverbal Β prompts .Β Β Β β my β muse Β belongs Β to Β the Β one who Β posted Β the Β meme Β - Β send Β β + REVERSE β Β to Β reverse Β the Β prompts .)
β Β Β π . Β Β GENERAL
β Β hush . Β raise Β a Β finger Β in Β a Β gesture Β to Β silence Β my Β muse . β Β sit . Β gesture Β for Β my Β muse Β to Β sit Β down . β Β door . Β hold Β a Β door Β open Β for Β my Β muse . β Β tap . Β tap Β my Β muse Β on Β the Β shoulder Β to Β garner Β their Β attention . β Β hunger . Β give Β my Β muse Β something Β to Β eat Β / Β drink . β Β cook . Β present Β my Β muse Β with Β home - cooked Β food . β Β brush . Β work Β a Β brush Β / Β comb Β through Β my Β museβs Β hair . β Β read . Β silently Β read Β a Β book Β alongside Β my Β muse . β Β hand . Β hold Β out Β a Β hand Β for Β my Β muse Β to Β take . β Β dressed . Β help Β my Β muse Β put Β on Β an Β article Β of Β clothing . β Β note . Β give Β my Β muse Β a Β note Β saying : Β [ content ] . β Β amplify . Β turn Β up Β the Β music Β in Β the Β car .
β Β Β ππ . Β Β ANGST
β Β patch . Β help Β my Β muse Β patch Β up Β a Β wound . β Β night terrors . Β hold Β my Β muse Β after Β they Β wake Β up Β from Β a Β nightmare . β Β company . Β silently Β sit Β with Β my Β muse Β to Β comfort Β them. β Β hospital . Β my Β muse Β is Β told Β that Β yours Β is Β in Β the Β hospital . β Β revelation . Β show Β my Β muse Β evidence Β of Β a Β lie Β they Β told . β Β indulge . Β find Β my Β muse Β drinking Β to Β cope . β Β downfall . Β find Β my Β muse Β collapsed Β on Β the Β ground . β Β console . Β comfort Β my Β muse Β as Β they Β cry . β Β nurse . Β give Β my Β muse Β company Β in Β the Β hospital .
β Β Β πππ . Β Β AFFECTIONATE
β Β wink . Β wink Β at Β my Β muse . β Β wrap . Β wrap Β an Β arm Β around Β my Β museβs Β [ shoulders Β / Β waist ] . β Β caress . Β gently Β caress Β my Β museβs Β face . β Β tousle . Β mess Β playfully Β with Β my Β museβs Β hair . β Β chest . Β place Β your Β head Β on Β my Β museβs Β chest . Β β Β comb . Β comb Β fingers Β through Β my Β museβs Β hair . β Β grasp . Β run Β to Β my Β muse Β & Β jump Β into Β their Β arms . β Β lean . Β lean Β on Β my Β museβs Β shoulder . β Β tender . Β kiss Β my Β muse Β on Β the Β [ forehead Β / Β cheek Β / Β nose ] . β Β abrupt . Β kiss Β my Β muse Β out Β of Β the Β blue . β Β chaste . Β chastely Β kiss Β my Β muse . β Β good morning . Β kiss Β my Β muse Β the Β morning Β after . β Β volumes . Β gaze Β at Β my Β muse Β in Β a Β way Β that Β silently Β says Β βi love youβ .
β Β Β ππ . Β Β VIOLENT
β Β strike . Β [ slap / punch ] Β my muse in the face . β Β gun . Β wield Β a Β gun Β at Β my Β muse . β Β twist . Β twist Β my Β museβs Β arm Β behind Β their Β back . β Β throttle . Β aggressively Β wrap Β your Β hands Β around Β my Β museβs Β throat . β Β parch . Β burn Β my Β muse Β with Β a Β hot Β object . β Β take down . Β forcefully Β bring Β my Β muse Β to Β the Β ground . β Β gouge . Β wield Β a Β sharp Β object Β at Β my Β muse . β Β shunt . Β shove Β my Β muse Β backwards . β Β stickup . Β yell Β at Β my Β muse Β to Β put Β their Β hands Β in Β the Β air. β Β shoot . Β [ fatally Β / Β non-fatally ] Β shoot Β my Β muse . β Β stab . Β stab Β my Β muse with a Β [ knife / other object ].
@sacredpyre | continued
Claire subtly narrows her eyes. Afraid of the King? Not unheard of, but it's a surprise given the current circumstances. This mysterious woman crowned in golden hair was vehemently not allowed to die. She hadn't once considered that life could bring fear, when usually it was pain or death.
"The King's search for what?" It's a question born from curiousity. It's also quickly abandoned when her charge seems determined to rip herself out of her sick bed in record time. Soft hands reach for and attempt to steady her. She is barely in any condition to sit up, let alone set out in search of her worldly possessions.
"I don't know who you are. I don't even know your name. I certainly don't know where your belongings would be. Talk to me." Claire urges, reaching for water, offering it when she knows she should be reporting that her charge is very much alive and awake.
"What's so important about these things, that you barely wake from the dead and they're among your first thoughts?"
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Emiya had resigned herself to die. Because what could she do after everything was said and done? Everyone always talked of the journey, of the happy end for the heroes...but what comes after journey's end?
What waited for a living weapon in a world living in peace?
She had been summoned, a spirit asked to aid in protecting the kingdom from a great evil. Called forth from the very deepest depths of legends that could only be found on the reverse side of the world. A being that could only be called through very specific rituals that would only allow a temporary existence. That was all she was meant to be, so to find herself called back, in a physical body was gut wrenching.
Her contract was over, so why...why was she being called back?
Emiya looked over at the stranger who had called her back from nothingness and part of her was so frustrrated and angry, but she called up all the decorum and grace she could not to explode on her. This was not her fault. It was that stupid KING'S.
Her fingers are tested, hand above her face as each moved one by one until she could clench a fist. She spoke, her voice a little raspy, as if she had not spoken in years (and there was a possibility that years had passed).
"I wish you had left me to the void...I can feel this body DYING all around me...I should not be here."
Claire offers a simple tilt of her head. It's sharp and brief, a silent 'noted', while the symptoms should sound concerning they're a reflection of her own state. It's good enough for her. "The world can't be that bad. To prefer a void over meadows of wildflowers and spiced custard tarts."
There's a beat of silence. She reaches, just barely laying her hand over her fisted hand. This may be an order but she is genuinely interested in the condition of the young woman. "Our bodies are dying. Some quicker than others. That's what it is to live, and most only get one chance at a life. It would be a shame to waste..."
She still doesn't know who she is. "My name is Claire. Unfortunately for both of us, I'm quite talented at weaving spells. Destruction comes easy. Few can mend." Healers were rare. Their lives often significantly shorter than fellow weavers. Her eyes shift over the woman's features. She isn't a fool, she recognises how tense she holds herself. Turning briefly, she reaches for an intricately crafted metal cup, wordlessly holding it up to her lips in offer. It's always difficult to scream at the one offering pieces of comfort.
Another long moment comes to pass. She passes off the water, then rises from her chair to just barely seat herself at the edge of the bed. This time her fingers brush her cheek in a delicate almost-hold. "Can you tell me your name?"
Claire is seated at their bedside. She doesn't hold an iron-straight posture, she's reclining and at her own rest, watching over them, waiting. Her orders are clear. She is not to leave until they wake. It's unusual treatment for someone who seemingly isn't highborn. Who are they..?
Their first stirring movement receives no reaction from her. They have been faking her out for hours now, having vivid dreams or reliving memories. She's certain they're out of danger now but orders are orders. It's only when they snap open their eyes and jolt that she slowly leans forward into their periphery. "The hero lives again." It's an odd comment, punctuated with a tired smile.
"You're the first person I brought back from the dead." Not for a lack of skill, but the cost of such drastic spellcasting is a rarely discussed factor. "You must be important, for the King to risk his best healer... how do you feel?"
You know, inspired by a single post (thats Livia!) but Claire in a medieval themed AU being a spell caster and her hair looks like a pale platinum blonde not because she was born with it but because healing spells naturally draw from the caster themselves and her hair and skin have greatly reduced melanin.
you'reΒ defendingΒ them?Β afterΒ everything?
Stirring the pot.
Claire doesn't hide her scoff. While Shauna bristles, she smiles with teeth, they're both on edge. There's tension as taut as a tightrope and it's all around them. They're not the only ones with high emotions and enough rage to hunt down their own.
"Who died and made you leader? Oh right, Jackie." She gets up in Shauna's face. They're chest-to-chest and close enough to snap at each other's throats. "You're trying to beat down everyone just so you're not the only one feeling like scum."
Hunger did things. It reshaped people, they're meaner, and they're no longer bound by society. They live as the wilderness wills them to. "Yeah I'm defending them. What are you going to do about it?"
I never said i was a good person.
Stirring the pot.
Claire looks them over. She found them inside the underground laboratory but they pleaded that they were just the clean-up crew, and while they were a little bit odd she didn't expect them to slam a button that apparently places the whole facility into lockdown.
Her lips purse. "Why claim you're a person at all?" That was a low blow, though it felt justified with how much they just fucked her over. The clandestine nature of her movements were completely tossed out the window. People were probably going to die now, just normal people, who signed up as security for an extra few bucks.
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Say that again. I dare you.
Stirring the pot.
Claire straightens her own posture a little. "Your guilt won't purify you." She speaks evenly, repeating what Luis dares her to. "No matter how badly you feel, you're no better off than people who have done the same and don't care. You have to let it go, Luis. You're tying yourself to an anchor and sinking yourself for what? You're suffering, for what?"
She is frustrated and her words have sharper edges than her intentions. She wants to take her combat knife and slice through the tethers to his past. No matter how far they come, he is always dragged back in his steps, sinking into a self-perpetuating misery that he can never escape.
Her hands ball to fists at her sides. It isn't anger so much as it's tension. "You're a good person through your actions. You're altruistic. You use your brilliance to heal this shitty world. That's enough. You're enough. Stop punishing yourself."
