💀 * [ maya hawke + cis female + she/her ] —— have you met clara elderton? they are a twenty-two year old first year postgraduate currently studying medicine. they live on farrow, and word around campus is that this gemini is incisive + observant, as well as callous + sardonic. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. a boat club scarf in deep maroon tied tightly around a pale neck (forced back across the collar of a grey checked wool coat by a brisk early morning breeze), indecipherable notes written in easily smudged black ink, eyes like unfamiliar and uninviting deep waters.
hello! i’m jess and this is my grumpy med student/river girl clara – more info beneath the cut (not particularly coherent)! this got accidentally long and rambly but tl;dr is: useless lesbian ice princess gets considerably more frosty when she returns back to holloway to find her best friend (who she was totally in love with for four years) has transferred out without telling her, leaving her alone to a) captain the rowing team her friend started and b) sulk herself to death.
like this for plots and i will come bother you or feel free to drop me a message (i’m southern gothics#8995 on discord) if you have an idea or just want to vibe!
𝐢. 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧?
holloway’s rowing teams haven’t historically done very well in inter-collegiate competitions, your guide explains, trotting cheerfully along the paths down to the boat house. it’s the first week of a new school year and this poor soul has been tasked with giving you the lowdown on clubs and activities –– of which there seem to be an endless variety.
your guide’s voice takes on a conspiratorial tone as he grinds to a halt just before the boat house. the boat club never did well UNTIL emma miralles and her friend clara elderton arrived at holloway about four years ago. by their junior year, the girls had completely revamped the women’s first boat and for the first time in decades holloway was holding its own in national competitions. emma should have been captain again this year - she was pre-med, y’know, they both were. they were going to stay here forever, because those courses take so many years, right? but something happened between them in spring.
so emma didn’t come back at the end of summer and now clara is here on her own –– captain of the women’s boat, even though she’s half the rower and half the captain emma was. i heard that she doesn’t even like rowing that much –– she was just doing it for emma all along.
it would be kind of sad if clara wasn’t so awful.
the girl in question emerges at the door, engulfed in an enormous blue jumper. she doesn’t look AWFUL but her grim expression starkly contrasts with the warm glow of her appearance - gently tanned, golden-haired and spattered with freckles.
anyway–– your guide whispers, though clara is clearly out of earshot –– all this to say don’t bother trying to join the women’s first boat. she’s made three girls cry already and there has only been one training session.
𝐢𝐢. 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?
❈ clara has always had a starkly unromantic view of the world. she does not believe in fate or in luck. the only time she has even considered the existence of destiny or a higher power is when the universe dropped emma miralles (quite literally) at her feet on her first day at holloway.
❈ from the first flash of that enigmatic smile it became clear that the half-italian girl was everything clara was not - excitable, easy-going, effortlessly cool and yet welcoming and warm. somehow, despite the disparity in their upbringing and personalities, the two girls would be joint at the hip from then onwards.
❈ clara was from some nowhere town just outside of boston. her parents were not especially rich themselves, but a distant relative and good samaritan had left a considerable sum in her will to allow the female line of eldertons to be educated wherever they chose, for as long as they wanted. clara, who had excellent grades and a desperation to get out of her dead-end town, found the longest course of study there was on offer –– a guarantee to keep her away from a town and a household that had never really been interested in her.
❈ emma was passionate about a lot of things - becoming a doctor fell just short of her love for rowing. clara was passionate about only one thing - emma - so whatever the other girl threw herself into, clara followed. she hoped that on the banks of the river, 5am, the sun creeping out over the frosty, dew-decorated grass, the light might hit her face in a certain way, that seeing clara in all the things she loved might one day allow emma to add clara to that list. clara threw herself into the work and into the sport, mustered a smile for all the people that fawned after emma.
❈ the argument came out of nowhere, but at the same time seemed to have been brewing since they’d first met. as if they were always hurtling towards the same point, to the riverside on that balmy may evening. on campus clara was known for her sharp tongue, her biting remarks. few people knew that emma, away from the crowds of adoring freshman, the dumb blazered boys, the party-girls and doting tutors, was capable of quite equal malice.
❈ perhaps, as had been suggested that night, emma had always known how clara felt about her - revelled in it slightly, enjoyed being worshipped. clara spent the whole summer holed up in a research lab on an internship in washington trying to find out. emma didn’t respond to any of her calls, not a single text.
❈ but - this would be fine. there would be time in the fall to repair their friendship, right? wrong. emma didn’t return to holloway, leaving clara and the boat club completely in the lurch.
𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲
[ ON THE SURFACE ––– she’s cold and abrasive, keen to let you know that she’d rather not participate in small talk and sees it as a waste of her time. in class she is attentive and bristles with do-not-sit-with-me energy, she has been likened to a robot and often gets comments on her need to improve her bedside manner if she ever hopes to be a surgeon. in the corridors she glowers - a warning to keep a wide berth. at training she is a machine, relentless in her criticisms even as she appears aimless, even despondent. she cannot trick anyone into thinking she cares as much as emma did.]
[ BEHIND CLOSED DOORS ––– she softens noticeably, but is still made up of sharp corners. her words are still cutting, but more obviously said in essentially good-natured jest. she will lounge on furniture, sitting in imaginative ways to study and work on her notes. she isn’t easy and open with her affections, instead approval is shown in a series of quiet gestures: a cup of coffee appears unprompted, she reaches across you to tuck the label in your sweatshirt, she offers up her scarf without question, she lingers outside your final class of the day.]
𝐢𝐯. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬
i don’t have any specific wcs because i love to bounce off other characters with a bit more flexibility but please do let me know if you are looking to fill anything that you think clara might work for or we can muddle through something between us!
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𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙸𝚂 𝚆𝚈𝙼𝙰𝙲𝙺 , 𝚄𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿𝙿𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴 ; 𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚁𝙰 𝙴𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚃𝙾𝙽 , 𝙸𝙼𝙼𝙾𝚅𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙱𝙹𝙴𝙲𝚃 . he had always been so obstinate , an appetite for a challenge — and her constant reluctance to be seen with him , to acknowledge him , made it all more riveting to his current insipid life free from his previous proclivity for debauchery and intoxication . francis was bored , but more importantly , he needed someone . so many already burdened and so many bridges already burned , he latched onto clara in hopes that she could see that maybe , it wasn’t all just by mere chance . that maybe , there was a reason that she was the one to find him that night .
❝ look , i know your sapphic sensibilities can’t appreciate this , ❞ he began with the roll of his eyes , voice with feigned irritation as he gestured at his own face , ❝ but where can you find someone who looks as pretty as me with two hours of sleep ? you call it looking like shit , i call it a peculiar and otherworldly beauty . ❞ last few words said with utter conviction , though , one could guess that he wasn’t serious as the twitch of his lips threatened to let out a laugh . and while he managed to restrain himself on that part , he couldn’t help but be tickled by clara’s paranoia over being watched , chuckling at her when she gave the drone the finger . ❝ i think i like you most when you’re like this — disheveled , paranoid , disrespecting inanimate objects . definitely beats the robotic clara alderton , if you ask me . ❞
“what do you think happens in women’s brains, francis?” she frowned, genuinely confused. did he even think before he opened his mouth? “do you think i just see your face as some kind of cipher? like-” she affected a robotic voice, ‘not potential sex object, facial features cannot compute.” she rolled her eyes in a way she was worried to find was almost affectionate. “no, i know what a good-looking man is, just like i know you are not it.”
there were a lot of things that troubled her about the other, but she had to admit that she almost envied francis’ endless reserves of sincere conviction - his apparent sense of the gravity of every single god damned second of every single day. it must be exhausting, looking for the poetry in every piece of abandoned litter, or whatever. she was a little stung by his reference to ‘the robotic clara’, and while she understood the impression she gave off (and couldn’t imagine an alternative version of reality where she went for something different) she wasn’t particularly happy with being viewed that way. “i came here to work,” she shrugged, “this isn’t holloway university’s best friend race.”
Silas was beginning to regret heading down to the bonfire. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy parties, but the beginning of a new school year always felt like diving into the deep end when the pool hadn’t yet warmed past ten degrees– something akin to an icebath. He liked to ease his way into things, which was why he switched between idle puffs from the menthol that sat neatly in the crux of his fingers and tiny sips of the radler he cradled in the other hand.
He was on his way into the thick of the woods when he and a girl ahead of him, barely visible with a halo of warm light behind her, nearly stumbled over the same prone figure. Silas’ groan was audible– he hated to feel obligated to do anything. “So,” he said, glancing up now from the arm he’d almost tread on to the girl who had stopped before doing so. “What do you think we should do?” Another pull from the cigarette billowed a hazy halo around his shaven head. “Because between you and me, I’m totally comfortable with pretending this never happened and I never saw them.”
She rolled her eyes at Silas’ response –– classic Holloway student reaction. “Seriously man? We need to move him, he needed to be back in his dorm like ten minutes ago.” She would move this guy herself, but past experience had taught her the difficulties of trying to wrangle someone to the safety of their bed when they were drunk out of their minds. She always got lumped with this.
On cue, the guy rattled to life, making some vaguely distressed noise as he came round, swaying into a seat position momentarily before falling straight back, bumping his head against the ground. “Hey-hey... hey, c’mon man,” she appealed gently, reaching out to prop him up. Then, to Silas: “Are you going to help or just stand there?”
“Don’t worry, Elderton, your image is in good hands here,” he promised. He wasn’t going to toot his own horn but he’d gotten plenty of people their first beer pong win and that was something he cherished almost more than the victory himself. “You ever played before?”
She actually did believe him, her usual cynicism set aside by the alcohol she had ingested and the fact that she knew well that Ethan was good at what he did - it was a sports-person’s respect for another sports-person. “Ever played?” She repeated incredulously, stepping up to grab a bat. “Clausen, I’m a local champion - we’re going to make a killer team.”
parties weren’t exactly theo’s forte. she didn’t mean to be a goody two shoes, that was just how she was, how she was raised. after hopping around from foster home to foster home as a kid, once she got adopted, she promised not to FUCK it up. since getting to college, she was trying to let loose more but it was easier said than done. it seemed to be more easier for her brother. after enough convincing, she decided to check it out, a book under her armpit just in case she needed to sneak off to some corner to read. “oh shit!” theo bent down, tucking strands of blonde behind her ear, “is he okay?” she let out a sigh of relief when she saw he was still breathing and just seemed to be sleeping, “should we like…move him?”
clara looked up from where she had instinctively sunk to a crouch next to the guy, slightly startled by the presence of the angelic-looking blonde, but successfully not showing it. “he’s okay,” she promised, “i think he was probably trying to drag himself home but didn’t make it too far.” her tone was scathing, yes, but it lacked some of her usual unforgiving tone, replaced with something that bordered on sympathy. she shook the guy’s shoulder, rolling him into the recovery position confidently. “if we can get him to come round then you might have to help me help him back to campus,” she explained, looking up at the girl apologetically, more expressively so when she spotted the book under her arm. “i’m strong but drunk people are wriggly.”
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even as much as he liked to party, down a couple of drinks until he was really enjoying himself – even he needed a break from the crowd for a few moments or so. he always used ‘going for a smoke’ as his excuse to bounce. naturally, of course, he used said excuse in this exact moment, taking the opportunity to lurk around the forest for a bit.
“ oh, you’ll find a few of ‘em. lightweights for ya. ” he chimes in, offering a shrug in response. “ you trying to bounce ?? ” he can’t help but question. “ pretty early to leave a party. ” granted, he had no idea what the time was.
his nonchalance annoyed her, even if this was just one of many unfortunate casualties of the night. she crouched by the guy, frowning, casually checking for breath. she visibly relaxed when she felt it on the back of her hand. “bouncing to bed,” she nodded, shaking the guy on the ground firmly. “wake up dude,” she called, pressing two fingers to his pulse point carefully, “nicolò here needs someone to annoy once i am gone.”
if he was being honest, he hadn’t even considered the fact that there were literally people that had been killed or rather, one person had been killed, and another had been almost killed. “oh, you right, murders–” he paused his legs swinging from his position atop the machine adjacent to the one she was using. “i don’t know, i just don’t think the murderer will follow us if we leave holloway, that just seems like a lot of work for a murderer.”
“i always think murder seems like a lot of work,” she shrugged, “so i wouldn’t put it past them.” she’d never really thought about committing any serious crimes before she came to holloway, but something about the people here really did test her. “plus even murderers like holidays to european destinations, you know? maybe the polaroid pictures would come out better with some picturesque settings and stuff.”
He’d offer to help with the equipment but something told him she’d just say no, so there he stood like a white suburban dad watching a barbecue. ❝ That’s hot— ❞ he says doing his best Paris Hilton impression ❝ and I don’t mean that in a straight guy sort of way, like good for you girls are hot. ❞ He pauses, smile faltering ever so slightly as his words hang in the air. ❝ as a representative of Decker house— ❞ A position he didn’t actually hold. ❝ I know you don’t like parties but i’m sure the rest of the girls do, ❞ he says thumb pointed over his shoulder to the girls who’ve almost all disappeared now. ❝ We’d like to invite the rowing girls to our next party, I promise it’ll be worth it, you can stick with me. ❞ Not that she probably would want to.
“Self-elected resident pervert, is it?” She arched a brow, but didn’t immediately shut him down as he voiced his generous invitation. Though she couldn’t imagine anything worse than a bunch of Decker guys drowning in tequila, or whatever, she was smart enough to consider that this might be just the thing to win over some of her more difficult team members. Emma had been fun, easy-going, excellent at parties. Clara didn’t really want to think ‘what would Emma do?’ (her thoughts were too occupied with the answer to the question ‘what should Emma do?’, which was ‘go fuck herself’), but the answer here was obvious. “Okay,” she nodded, slightly tentative, “sure.” She tried not to sound too strangled as she added her thanks.
lyra’s no stranger to incel infatuation, though she’s much more adept at handling them in her instagram dms than in person, where she’s out of practice and increasingly reliant on jason’s constant, handsome, muscular presence warding off campus creeps. it’s moments like these, when she’s forced to laugh mirthlessly as cheeto breath wafts in her face, that she realizes she’s taken her friend’s male privilege for granted and starts thinking about how she should really start carrying around a knife to wave around at ugly math majors if they get too close.
she’s startled by the sudden presence of a vaguely familiar girl, though lyra tries to paint a nonchalant image of familiarity as she takes the hint, giving the guy a pointed look in the process. “nobody important,” she retorts, and immediately squishes closer into the girl’s side as lyra glances back at her with a fake, adoring smile plastered on her face, though this guy probably wouldn’t know the difference. “don’t we have a date planned? we should really get going.”
clara’s pleased that the girl’s acting is far more convincing than her own, is impressed by her ability to run with the facade. she gets the small rush of a plan well executed, a plan that - from the look on this guy’s face - is totally working. after days, weeks, months even, of fucking up again and again it is an extraordinary pleasure to see this horrible little man shrivel up at the word ‘date’, to start looking around his shoulder slightly awkwardly.
“we absolutely do,” clara nodded, sliding her coffee along to the brunette, as if she’d collected it especially for her, and getting her phone out. “first we have to facetime my parents though, they haven’t seen you for like a fortnight and they are on me to catch up with you - they’re so annoying.” she knew she was laying it on thick, but what the hell - she was almost having fun. she blinked up at the guy again. “sorry dude, was there anything else we could do for you?”
“i can’t back right up, clara, if i say it again, i’ll receive double the brain damage. it’ll be irreversible, i’ll never be the same.” a flair for the dramatics and rambling in no particular direction. that’s— that’s what winslet james was known for. the blonde couldn’t help the tiny snort that escaped her, a grin stretching at her lips from how realistic clara tended to be. perhaps thats what winslet lacked of these days, a good ol’ dose of realism. it felt nice being anchored down by the ankles every now and again. “thanks, i’ll definitely do that. not sure about the whale noises.. but i’ll consider the other stuff. i mean, i’m already outside, i think i’m doing a decent job recovering from that mental throttle.” the blonde places her face against the cool surface of the table, blue orbs closing in relaxation. “speaking of wild things.. are you ready for your dance lesson tomorrow?”
though this was only approximately clara’s second (third?) conversation with winslet ever, she was struck by how often she felt she understood almost none of what the other girl was saying. they lived on very different planets. she felt like she’d suffered some kind of physical whiplash as the blonde jumped from whales to dancing in one swift movement, recalling their previous conversation. “hey,” she hissed, looking around them suspiciously. “literally nobody can know about this. i am serious. i don’t... dance. even just thinking about the prospect of it is causing me so much stress i feel like i am going to burst a blood vessel.”
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that is a question that still runs through jason’s mind even after a month of wearing the c. he could rattle off a numbered LIST if he had to : the very same one they’d presented to him the day the coaches told him they wanted to stitch the letter on his jersey because they knew he was going to try to say no. but the question coming from clara hardly feels threatening in the least, just another timely swing in this never ending bout of banter between them. besides, a LIFETIME on the ice & a lifetime of chirps means developing a thick skin. he is slightly surprised she doesn’t attempt to remove him from the bench herself, but he’s not looking any gift horses in the mouth, just rolls his eyes and lies back down. " oh, y'know — “ he says, arms raising and hands wrapping around the bar as he prepares for the next set. ” — they’ll make just about anyone captain these days, elderton. “
though she undoubtedly deserved it and absolutely brought jason’s comment upon herself, she was surprised by how much it stung. the fact he’d begun his next set in the same breath, cutting off her opportunity to boot him off, only added salt to the wound. she stretched further over her right leg, pulling on her flexed foot harder, despite any discomfort. “that’s a low blow and you know it,” she added when rose back up. she tried her best not to sound like a kicked dog, but ,as it was how she felt, it was questionable how successful she actually was. “maybe i didn’t even want to be captain - some have greatness thrust upon them, etc.” she shrugged, “unlike you i don’t have the energy to spend three years buttering up everyone on campus like i am trying to win some kind of popularity contest.”
the moment benny was accepted in to holloway, he wrote a large list of things he wanted to get done before graduation. while a regular bucket list may contain items such as ‘skydiving’ and ‘getting a tattoo’, benny’s was more along the line of ‘laundry’ and ‘riding the bus’. which is, of course, the only reason he finds himself inside a city bus for the first time in his life at twenty-three years old. ❛ you know, that’s usually not the response i get from women. ❜ he said, a forcefully nonchalant smile tugging at his lips; he’s so out of his depth inside the vehicle, seeing clara’s familiar face is almost a balsam. ❛ c’mon clara, don’t be like that. the creep three seats down looks ready to mug me, if anything happens i need you to give your phone to him so i can keep mine. ❜
she glanced over at the ‘creep’ in question and had to admit that he didn’t look particularly friendly. “hey- hey dude,” she called over at the guy, in suitably hushed tones so he wouldn’t actually hear, “are you single? my FRIEND here wants to know.” she settled back into her seat and chose to look rather aggressively out of the window - anywhere but actually at benny. she could count on one hand the people who knew, really knew, about the disaster argument she had with emma back in spring, and she’d never really intended for benny to be on that list. now he was she feared they had some kind of inherent bond that comes from secrets shared between practical strangers. she didn’t particularly want to be bound to him, but she did want to keep him close enough to murder or blackmail, should it seem that he might let something slip.
clara was picking her way out the forest, headed down a path parallel to the entrance marked with the white line, just in case she ran into someone fun determined to guide her back towards the bonfire. she only had one destination in mind and that was her bed. maybe an episode of masterchef, a peppermint tea or something.
the light was considerably dimmer here, just east of the main bonfire, but the faintly warm glow was enough to make out the distinct form of someone passed out just ahead of her, faintly reeking of alcohol. “great,” she grumbled to herself, “NOW it’s a fucking party.”
In a small clearing in the woods, the light of the bonfire shone through, but was still a bit distanced. It was the moon that did most of the shining in this particular spot. Sam strummed his guitar, pounding the ball of his foot against a smooth, flat rock to create steady rhythm. His fingers plucked away as some of his dark hair fell over the brown eyes that were cast down on the instrument. He was covering The Chain by Fleetwood Mack off of their iconic Rumours album. Sam was no Stevie Nicks, but he sang along anyway. It was one of his favorite songs to play acoustically.
When he was done, he looked up, accidentally making eye contact with someone who’d been watching. He felt his ears growing a little hot, curious about what they’d thought of his little performance. Thankfully it was dark enough and his hair covered the tips enough where it wasn’t overly obvious. Sam smiled and rolled his shoulder lightly, patting the strings with the palm of his hand. “I might take a request in exchange for some water or something,” he mused, the serious expression of his face lightening up to a small smile.
“Not bad,” she observed, before adding, “not good either, but like not the worst I’ve ever heard.” It was the guy from the library, she recognised him through her vague beer-induced haze. “Hey- ADHD guy,” it was almost a chirpy hello coming from her, “what you doing playing Fleetwood Mac alone deep in the forest, dude? You depressed too?” Coincidentally she was carrying two bottles of water she’d just swiped from some guy’s cooler, so she offered him the one in her right, hoping it also worked as a peace offering, she hadn’t been particularly nice. “I used to play,” she mentioned, gesturing to the guitar, “like way back, used to just drone out a bit of Joni Mitchell’s ‘River’ or whatever.”
benny is more than just a little drunk as he stumbles across the uneven terrain, throwing one arm around the person that had the misfortune of walking by as the other held a death grip to an imported bottle of vodka. ❛ do you know what we should do ? ❜ he asked, eyes shining with mischief as he offered the other a smile. ❛ go skinny dipping. no no hear me out, the lake is like, just two minutes in that direction, it could be fun ! ❜
“great idea man,” clara enthused, filled with sarcasm and complete with a big, faked smile, “i’ve been hoping you’d yeet yourself into a body of water and spare me the difficulty of looking at you, so this is ideal.” she moved to get up from where she sat, leant against a pine. “actually, if you want me to chuck you in i think i can manage it, you’re only tiny.”
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dylan saeli. ↬ open. / bonfire event.
trail toward the woods, mid to late afternoon.
— - a noise of disgust was paired with a sweet scrunched nose, watching the trail of white paint disappear into the thick forest. they’d wondered how on earth there could be a single space BIG ENOUGH for a bonfire hidden somewhere in between the trees. as their boots dug into the soft dirt, crunching leaves on purpose, they groaned, trying to find a few stars to deafen the sound of ( fake ) frat boys already enjoying their SECOND red solo cup full of cheap, warm beer. ❛ and here i was thinking frat boys had gone extinct, ❜ a paused chased their words, fixing the fact that they’d been thinking aloud and turning it into a conversation. ❛ wishful thinking, i guess. ❜ smooth, dylan. very smooth.
clara let the silence sit, hoping an answer wasn’t expected of her. she’d snaked her way back from the bonfire, ready to sit out after less than thirty minutes of said frat boys and their chanting or whatever. when it became clear that they might expect a response, clara hovered slightly awkwardly, already feeling like she’d exerted all of her social energy for the evening. “imagine fossilised frat boys,” she finally added, thoughtfully, “like with the dinosaurs, post-extinction.”
“Will you be my plus one for beer pong?” Ethan proposed as he got on one knee and produced a ping pong ball as an offering, He hoped the flashy gesture just might get them to agree to a game… or two. “I guarantee we’ll win and I promise I’ll even drink your cups if they manage to get any points on us,” Ethan promised trying to sweeten the deal. He’d had a beer or two already but that only sharpened his beer pong ability and the table had been calling his competitive side all night.. “So what do you say?” Ethan asked still grinning up at them.
Clara was visibly unimpressed by the dramatic gesture, beating the ball out of his hand from underneath and catching it in her own free hand. She took a final swig of her own beer with the other, before setting it down on the ground. “Fine, but no losing Clausen, it’s bad for my image,” she nodded, without even a glimmer of a smile.
