#mocktvrtle

It’s almost as if the previous week had never happened. But almost never truly is enough - this is something Clementine is incredibly aware of but often chooses to forget. She functions in close encounters - in barely and nearly and almost-situations. A fist clipping your chin as you lean out of the way of a swinging fist. The edge of a knife as it tears through your clothes, just scraping the skin, only to leave you unharmed, all your blood inside of you. Everything close, everything possible - reality only as real as the image projected.

That was the goal: to let the news wash over the Wishbone, to move on with the week, the month as if this had never happened - and to Clementine, it seemed to be working. Seats were filling, the crowd electric, their voices rising and lapping across her skin as she stood at the center of the ring - victorious, bleeding, glorious in the harsh spotlight. The blood in the ring shiny and too-pink in the light. 

(Nothing had changed for those who watched - how could it with nothing at stake? Too content to lie on top of a city that was no more than a piece of meat to those who would seek to carve out their own piece.)

She shifts her weight as they announce her win, allowing her to bask for a few moments before ushering her away as was new protocol following the incident. Precaution, she was told, swallowing it for now, instead too focused on the dull throb in her leg as she heads towards the locker room. 

Interesting phrasing that: intentionally, unintentionally. In the end, ‘intent’ matters little, doesn’t it? Especially when it comes to whether or not the intent is deserved.

“Logic would dictate someone from Over, no? Someone who doesn’t want Wonderland to sink any deeper than it already has, who would like to keep all the pretty little souls walking our streets on the streets rather than in the belly of the beast.

One of your Queens perhaps, who doesn’t like her competition’s preferred source of revenue being so close to the heart of the city. Of course, you know who I’m referring to don’t you, darling boy.