witchy woman

it’s  only  when  the  end  of  mick’s  sentence  reaches  her  pointy  ears  that  her  frizzy  head  snaps  up,  abandoning  her  throne  to  zoom  toward  the  entrance;  not  before  pushing  through  the  multicolored  crystals  to  give  his  cheek  a  bite.  “  really  goin’  now,  baby,  really  goin’.  don’t  miss  me  too  much. no, actually, do miss me too much.  ” door  swings  open  (  after  a  bit  of  persistent  tugging  ),  and  clementine  shuts  it  right  away,  with  them  both  outside.  “  wanna  go for  a  walk,  man?  ”  an  answer  isn’t  needed;  it’s  more  demand  than  question.  her  shoulder  smacks  against  mick’s  as  she  moves  past  her. into the trailer park's night they go.

sure, this might as well happen are his first waking thoughts. romy doesn't need to see to know the source of the fingers pressed against his throat. groggily, he pushes the hand away "jesus. i'm alive." in a way, he's flattered she even had the thought to check. it must've been clem who had his phone ringing nonstop on the couch downstairs. romy slowly sits up, muscles aching, and flicks on his bedside lamp "i'm sorry if i scared you."

a  few  hours  without  an  answer  and  clementine’s  mind is  as  good  as  lost  (  not  that  it  was  ever  found  to  begin  with  ).  death  pushes  people  to  act  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  preserving  what’s  left  of  their  heart  however  they  can  —  it’s  only  natural.  what’s  natural  doesn’t  matter  to  her,  though;  isolation,  she  decides,  is  the  coping method she  hates  most.  stupid,  because  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  her.  anyone  with  eyes  should  be  able  to  tell  that  the  weird  cloud  hanging  over  the  people  of  wrensted  doesn’t involve her much at all …  but  the  restless  beast  that  starts  clawing  at  her  gut  when  the  first  signs  of  abandonment  appear  doesn’t  exactly  leave  room  for  reason.  that  beast  is  the  one  forcing  her  to  break  into  romy’s  poolhouse;  the  beast  is  the  one  that  puts  her  fingers  to  his  neck,  clinging  to  the  comfort  of  his  blood  drumming  against  soft  pads.  doesn’t  take  long  before  he  stirs.  can’t  a  girl  check  a guy's  pulse  in  peace?  “  yer  alive  …  but  are  y’livin’?  ”  is  it  strange  or  evil  that  his  state  of  aliveness  offends  her?  he’s  breathing,  he’s  able  to  move,  yet  he  chose  to  leave  her  calls  and  texts  unanswered.  apology  helps  to  sweeten  the  sour,  to  tame  her  snarl  —  if  only  a  little.  light  flicks  on,  revealing  his  disheveled  state,  a  look  of  concern  shooting  across  her  freckled  face.  “  wasn’t  scared  before  …  am  a  lil’  now,  man.  y’look  — ”  in  an  instant  his  cheeks  are  trapped  between  her  fingers,  smooshed.  she  tilts  it  from  side  to  side,  from  up  to  down.  “  yer  pretty, pretty  face.  ”

“  that  why  yer  out  here  then?  ‘cause  it’s  so  fuckin’  borin’  in  there?  ” as  she  points  to  the  home,  she  covers  the  gesture  with  her  palm  —  a  useless  attempt  at  keeping  her  opinion  on  the  party  private,  the  seemingly - permanent  high  level  of  her  voice  having  already  revealed  everything  to  any  possible  onlookers.  “  MEH  …  it’s  the  least  they  could  do  for  us,  y’know?  considerin’  how  they’ve  been  torturin’  everyone  with  their  intelligent  jokes  and  big,  fancy  words  —  ” the  same  finger  makes a comeback,  a  dramatic  gag  its  purpose  this  time  around.  “  i  simply  adore  what  you’ve  done  with  the  living  room,  dear,  and  those  chandeliers?  oh,  i’d  compliment  them  if  i  wasn’t  so  jealous.  ” people  with  money  talked,  walked,  probably  shat  like  they  came  from  an  alternate  universe;  it  never  crossed her  mind,  not  even  once,  that  she  might  be  the  strange  one.  clementine’s  eyes  sweep  over  benji’s  form  —  the  stiffness  in  his  shoulders,  the  line  on  his  forehead. something akin to tenderness swells inside her chest, provoked by the sight of him in that suit. out of place, just like her. “  y’seem  pretty  fuckin’ tense,  man. y’ate somethin’ that smelled all funky or —?  ”  before  digging  into  every  pocket  of her  ancient  attire  to  locate  a  stray  joint,  she  stretches  her  arm,  presses  a  digit  to  the  soft  skin  between  his  eyebrows.  “  wanna  make  a  run  for  it? i know how t’get deep in the woods … no one would find us. not even us. ”

leah’s all-too-aware of the number of eyes on the pair of them, a number that surely grows with clementine’s antics. it’s why her teeth sink into her bottom lip in a desperate attempt to hide the smile that threatens to overtake her face that the theatrics. the fake coking is a nice touch. impressive too; it’s almost believable. years ago, leah wouldn’t have been caught dead standing next to clementine at an event like this — even now, she has half a mind to be embarrassed by being caught with such an unruly and ill-mannered companion — but the hyper-awareness didn’t pay off; it’s just landed her back in wrensted. so she pushes those thoughts out of her mind, and when clementine urges her closer, the smile leah had been holding back wins out. as she gave in to the smile, she gives in to clementine’s coaxing, stepping closer and allowing clem to pull her outside. the sun has just barely started to set, and the warmth of it is a relief following the castros’ overly air conditioned house. leah points to two chairs on the porch. “want to sit?”

“  how’d  y’know  i  enjoy  a  good  sittin’?  ”  and  the  backwards  walk  continues  —  an  opportunity  she’s  never  had  to  properly  study  the  other.  every  mark,  every  lash  along  the  top  of  her  eye;  she  sees  it  all  for  the  first  time,  hopes  it  won’t  be  the  last.  it’s  much  nicer  outside  the  house,  too  —  something  about  the  trees,  the  breeze,  the  company.  realer.  more  reachable,  perhaps.  besides,  all  those  bright  lights  mixed  with  rehearsed  laughter  were  starting  to  make  her  brain  go  fuzzy.  “  hey,  i’ve  got  a  query  for  you.  ” she  hops  onto  one  of  the  chairs,  perching  on  the  back  rail  like  a  bird  with  frizzy  feathers,  balancing  herself  with  the  valiant  aid  of  its  arms.  one  of  the  stolen cigarettes  finally  makes  a  triumphant  appearance,  floating  with  a  little  melody  clementine  hums  before  it’s  pinched  between  her  teeth.  short - lived  moment  of  glory. “  leah  …  be  straight  with  me, man.  ”  cheek’s  smushed  against  her  hand  as  she  swivels  her  head  in  temperance’s  direction,  preparing  herself  for  some serious mind - reading  (  not  )  by  making  blue  lids  all  scrunchy. “  do  i  scare  ya?  or  … how  come  we’ve  never  done  this  before?  y’know,  the  whole  you  say  this,  i  say  that  stuff.  maybe just wasn't the right ti – i ever betray you or somethin’? some folks sleepwalk, i sleepytray. ”

the  urge  to  sprint  is  there,  but  clementine, as  any  secret - friendship  whizz  (  isn’t  this  her  first?  )  would,  glides  slowly  toward  the  door  — not  unlike  a  phantom  stalking  the  halls  of  their  cobwebbed  manor, or  a  snail  in  a  comically  oversized  suit  struggling  up  the  side  of  a  tall,  mighty  tree. which  some  might  argue  is  just  as  suspicious,  if  not  more.  she  sheds  her  subtle  disguise  the moment she  hops  over  the  threshold,  barreling  toward  benji  with  a  scarily - wide  smile  —  a  smile  no  one  would  ever  think  destined  for  him, of all people.  “  man,  we  totally  fuckin’  fooled  every - fuckin’ - one.  suckin’  suckers!  the  lot  of  them!  ”  no  time  for  greetings;  she  simply  must  blab  about  their  nonsensical  mission's  success.  well, a  violent  tug - and - shake  to  his  arm  is  given  —  so,  not  completely  rude.  “  i  had  a  secret like–  alternative.  just  in  case  things  went—  ”  the  entire  upper - half  of  her  body  tilts,  frizzy  curls  and  untrimmed  ribbon  sweeping  the  floor  …  clem’s  pretty  sure  it’s  cleaner  than  her  entire  trailer  anyway.  “  fuckin’ sideways,  y’know?  was  gonna  point  one  of  their  fancy  knives  at  you  and  everythin’!  start screamin’ like crazy! y’ruined my life … and for that y’must pay! with yours! ”

memory   arrives   in   quick-cut   flashes:   paper   hats   and   sticky   aprons,   the   hum   of   freezers   in   the   back   room,   trainers   squeaking   against   linoleum.   and   before   she   knows   it,   juni   is   bee-lining   straight   for   clem.   her   hands   fly   up   in   the   air   in   an   unsteady,   delighted   gesture,   as   though   she’s   announcing   herself   to   the   whole   world.   “clemmy !!!”   the   name   bursts   out,   “you   look   so   pretty   tonight !   i   totally   mean   it,   you   do   -   like,   unfairly   so !!!”

"  oh?  " one  thing  clementine  isn’t  ( besides  sane )?  insecure  —  at  least  not when  it  comes  to  her  looks. upon  receiving  the  other’s  compliment, she  flings  her  arms  out,  dropping  her  head  in  a  lazy  curtsy. "  why thank  you,  thank  you  …  i  live  t’please.  " right,  which  is  why  no  one  in  town  is  ever  pleased  to  see  her  heading their way. no warm reactions, just plain hiding. "  y’knooow,  y’didn’t  have  t’ambush  me  out  here t’get  some  lip  smacks.  " she illustrates the point with exaggerated, crude making - out noises. " come sit, man, think the breeze’ll d’ya good! y'look tasty too, by the way. "

really, leah shouldn’t be surprised by clementine’s affection-filled greeting. by not scolding her for the kiss at the diner, leah definitely set herself up for the embrace she finds herself in. still, it comes as a shock. leah tenses in clementine’s arms, but she doesn’t step away. after a moment, she even accepts her fate, relaxing into clem's grasp. though, that doesn’t mean she’s not the slightest bit relieved when she’s released. leah cares deeply about her appearance. her wardrobe is carefully curated, each step of her her skincare routine was thoroughly researched before implemented, and she taught herself how to braid to ensure it would always be done the way she wants it. even beyond her own vanity, she dedicated her life to performing. in front of an audience. it seems counterintuitive that she would balk under direct attention, but her cheeks flame as clementine takes her in with that intense gaze of hers. her face only grows hotter at the whistle, the sound of which draws a few more sets of eyes. awkwardly, leah folds her arms over her chest. the compliments hardly soothe the embarrassment, instead, they have leah pressing her lips together and looking anywhere but directly at clementine.  she’s never been so grateful for the addictive quality of nicotine as she is when clem pulls out a pack of cigarettes, as it promptly moves the conversation from leah’s appearance. “no,” she replies. “i don’t smoke.” and after eyeing clem for a short moment, “you shouldn’t either.” she has to say it, but she doesn’t linger on it long — if fighting smoking was a winning battle, the lessons in health class would’ve been enough to dissuade her peers from picking up the habit. “but if you’re going, i could use some fresh air.”

the  smoking  comment?  that  she  not  only  picks  up  on  but  digs  her  claws  into — replaying  it  over  and  over,  more  teeth  showing  with  each  glorious  repetition. you  shouldn’t  either  … leah obviously  cares  about  her  then,  right?  about  keeping  the  pinkness  of  her  lungs  safe? even  though  it’s  a  sad  evening — missing  girl  still  missing  and  all — she’s  having  a  wonderful  time  with  her  chosen  companion. "  yeah, it’s  proper  suffocating  in  here, innit?  " probably  a  strange  sight  for  the  rich  attendees,  watching  clementine  pretend  to  choke  herself;  the  suffocation  she  means  far  more  to  do  with  them,  the  saccharine  fakeness,  than  the  expensive - smelling  air. " no need  t’fret,  though!  i’ll  take  ya  far  away  from  all  this  fuckin’ madness!  " her  backwards  steps  begin,  large  pants  tangling  with  her  boots,  turning  her  movements  a  tad  clunky. "  come  to  me,  asante.  " and if  the  raspy  tone  wasn’t  creepy  enough, she  also  curls  a  finger  to  lure  her  closer.