Claire Walcott

@claire-walcott

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. ~Frank Herbert (1920–1986), Dune

39 posts

Dreamwalk || Lilith & Claire

The ominous creaking of the door signaled its arrival, the boy sucking in a breath next to her enough of a sign that this was what had terrified him. She’d had few expectations of what she might see, not shaded by a child’s imagination and a child’s dreamscape. But even so, the monster that stepped into view was human only in shape, and that shape was something back and shifting. The only thing truly visible were teeth, sharp and wide like a shark’s mouth in a human head.

It slides into the room, it’s attention on the bed next to them and the quiet shape that wasn’t there before. She can’t tell if the whimpering comes from the boy next to her or the ghost of one with his back against the mattress, but it echoes off the wall and the smile in front of her grows wider. She watches dispassionately as it leans over the small figure occupying the bed, back arching and hands out with long, sharp fingers stretched towards its prey. There’s a muffled scream, and the lights flicker around them, the whole room momentarily going black.

When the flick back to life, it’s gone, and so is the boy that they’d come here looking for. And she doesn’t have to guess what happened. The child next to her closed his eyes. It left him with only those screams in his head, no image of whether his roommate was devoured or stolen. It has her sighing in some mild disappointment before she closes her eyes and slips back out of the dream world and into something more like reality.

Her hand pulls back, head tilting to the side to focus on the door behind her. Somehow it doesn’t surprise her to see Claire waiting. “It feeds on fear. Shapeshifter, possibly,” she offers, and maybe that’s something. “Whether he’s still dead or alive, our friend here didn’t see.”

Claire’s quiet as she let’s Lilith do her job. Whatever she feels about the concept or what Lilith is, she’s put aside long ago. She no longer judges monsters just on what they are, just on being monsters. She judges them just the same as though they were ordinary humans. Everyone gets a blank slate and usually that blank slate is tainted with mistrust and detachment. It’s nothing personal. It’s survival.

The moment Lilith is done walking in the dream, she speaks. Claire lifts her head to look at her, taking the words in with a nod of her head and that narrows it down even further. She has an idea now to what it is, she’s studied the monsters in the world the same way a doctor would study medicine, or a zoologist animals. Cryptozoology was the real thing for her and she’d spent years learning about it when the rest of the world learned about professions and their own brand of science. It was a shame none of the science that was important to Claire managed to sneak it’s way outside of Tenebrae knowledge.

The news about not knowing if the child is dead or alive doesn’t phase her. She’s already made up her mind that he’s dead. There’s a theory that unless you solve a crime in the first 48 hours, it is less likely to be solved. Claire’s not sure if she shares the sentiment, but she knows that there are very few monsters out there that like to play with their food for more than 48 hours. Maybe that’s what she goes with.

“That gives us a few candidates,” she tells Lilith, which the woman probably already knows. “Shapeshifter would explain it being able to move around the hospital.”

#lilith #dreamwalk

Dreamwalk || Lilith & Claire

There’s no noticeable shift, at least not to anyone who might happen by the room and chance a glance inside. Just a woman standing over a child, some soft look on her face while her hand rests on the top of his head. Lilith is aware of that reality, but in the space of a breath it becomes a less solid thing than the one she slips into. Inside his head, the dream world his mind wanders through, and its easy for her to take shape there, to witness the wildness of an untamed imagination.

She can feel the presence of guilt, a thing that only makes him stronger and would make it that much simpler to twist his dreams into nightmares and feed off the boy for it. She doesn’t, because with children the guilt is rarely a deserved thing, and her preference is to torment those most worthy of it. But it’s the source of it that draws him in, makes it easier to step through hallways in his head.

The room looks like the one they stand in. A hospital room, even if the walls are peeling like the rot of years has taken hold of them. But the bed is vacant, and it doesn’t take her long to discover why.

She crouches down next to it, fingers tugging the sheet up to reveal the child hiding beneath the mattress. His eyes go wide when he sees her, the breath stalling in his lungs before his gaze flicks to the door. There’s light seeping in from underneath it, but it’s only an ominous thing when shadows slip by, the floor creaking in response to whatever lurks outside it. “Quick,” the boy hisses. “You need to hide. He’s coming.”

She tries not to smile as she does as she’s told. As though she’d ever need to hide in a dream. But she wants to see what he sees, and it has her kneeling to climb under the bed with him. “Who are we hiding from?” she asks, a tone more gentle than any in the Tenebrae have heard from her.

“The bad man,” he whispers back.

The parents give her nothing more. They talk a little bit about children, Claire says that they’ll do everything in their power to figure out what happened but she doesn’t promise that they’re son will return. She thinks they’ll get bones. A corpse. Ash. But not their son. Just what’s left of him and if it’s morbid, it’s just the way the world works. A world they may not know or choose not to admit they live in until it’s thrust on them, but it’s still their world.

Claire had learned at a young age just what horrors were out there. She’d grown up with some of them in her home. Monsters weren’t monsters to her. It wasn’t black and white like it was to some people. This was her world and while she was human, she still thought she belonged here. Not just because of her knowledge, but because living in the world long enough, you started to belong.

Stepping out into the hallway, she makes her way towards room 407, where Lilith had disappeared into. She stops just outside the door, leaning against the wall. There’s a child inside, but no parents and she wonders just where they are. If their life is too busy to come and stay with their child while he’s sick in the hospital. Do they even know what’s going on in this place? Are they even aware that their business could cause them to lose out on a life they’re raising.

She doesn’t listen in. She just waits. Billie and Killian are off doing what they can, interviewing and establishing first hand knowledge of the place. They’ll regroup at the motel afterwards and then discuss what comes next, once they know what they’re dealing with.

#lilith #dreamwalk

Dreamwalk || Lilith & Claire

The nod’s enough, assurance that she won’t stop her. Permission maybe, allowance, it doesn’t matter much to her. And if she’s not technically the woman she should be asking it for, it’s not completely ambivalence that has her disregarding it. Claire is more wholly Tenebrae than she’ll ever be, and she knows the games they like to play with their own. They’d all deny it, but it’s all a game in the end, and it’s half of what’s kept her entertained for all these years.

She slips down the hallway, content enough to leave the parents to someone more invested in exorcising the kind of patience required to deal with them. Instead she watches the numbers tick down, feet carrying her to 407. Where one child was stolen from his bed.

There are a number of monsters in the world that might be responsible. And if the FBI or local PD or whatever human authorities they called in like to dismiss the thought, Lilith isn’t completely convinced. They have just as many crimes committed against children as the monsters under the bed, and occasionally she’s been one of them. But children carry less guilt, and she’s never caused the death of one. She simply doubts she’d hesitate on it.

She presses the door open, slipping inside and shutting it quietly behind her. One bed sits empty, its vacancy somehow morbid in the silence. A thing filled only by quiet breathing, a still form lying beneath his covers. She wonders if he thinks pulling them up over his head will protect him. She doesn’t ask. She just settles fingers over his head and offers a quiet “Sleep, sevgilim.“

Lilith disappears and Claire listens with half an ear but full alert as the parents talk about their son. No, not feeling ill. Was getting ready to have tonsils removed, spiked a fever. Stayed overnight. All details she’d learned from the police report. Her attention is elsewhere. Mostly on the monsters she can list off the top of her head who are capable of such a thing. There are plenty. Plenty out there who would target something easy like a child. Those that could slip by unnoticed, shut off cameras, etc, narrows it down a bit and she has a few on her short list.

She’ll leave it up to Lilith to name it. Not because she has to rely on the woman and her powers, but because Claire takes few instructions on her assignments but the one that was given to her by people higher than Ethan was observe. Being the quiet observer. Participate as much as what is necessary, don’t get attached, don’t get involved. Make sure people stay alive, step in to keep them that way if necessary. It leaves a weight on her shoulders that she doesn’t mind. That she had trouble balancing in the beginning, but with a cold detachment from everything, she’s found it to be easier.

Save someone who can’t save themselves, injuries are warranted, deaths are not. She’s human. She’s human in a house full of hunters, monsters and inhumans. She’s capable of it but some days when she can take a step back and put her lifestyle into perspective, she can almost see the humor in it.

“Do you have children, agent?” the mother asks her, making Claire’s head tip to the side and a practiced smile come to her lips.

“A daughter,” she gives with ease. It’s a lie, but it’s easier to get parents to relate and open up when they feel like they’re talking to a kindred spirit. “She’s two.”

The mother nods, on the verge of tears.”Oh the terrible two’s. Good luck to you.”

#lilith #bogeyman

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Treaded Path || Claire & Killian

poisonous-killian-blog-blog

Despite the fact that an entire rumpled suit would quite obviously not fit into a medium-sized bag, Killian continued to use every faculty he had in order to try to cram the damn thing inside. It was with several oddly placed grunts and lost curses that he answered Claire, only glancing at her once during his entire rant. “Light Fae, burnt bread, blackberries, Gala apples, stuffed animals, velcro, the entire decade that was the 1980’s…” He trails off for a moment when he notices he was going to finish with the Tenebrae.

They had trapped him into a profession that was far too orderly for his taste, and though part of that was his fault, he can’t help but hate that he’s forced to be here. It’s an interesting concept, of course, and a great excuse for a fight, but being controlled by series of rules and clauses and binding contracts isn’t something he imagined ever being. Killian clears his throat and continues with a few more things he dislikes, though none quite as much as the organization they both work for. “The color blue, eggplants and fucking Charlotte.” He finishes with a smile that’s too forced to be understood as genuine before uttering one last curse and simply dropping his bag and kicking it under the bed. He’ll fucking leave the hotel naked the next day and glamour himself some goddamn clothes.

The bed creaks as he throws himself down upon it. The ceiling is an unobtrusive shade of white, and he can’t help but hate it as well. Turning his head to the side, he acknowledges the voice in his head that says he should ask about the state of the mission. “What’re you doing?”

There’s amusement on her face as she watches him try to cram the suit into his bag. It won’t fit and even if it did, it would be rumpled beyond measure by the time he pulled it back out. She didn’t have to know him with any sort of intimacy to know that it didn’t bother him. He hated the suit. Hated that he had to wear one and the only reason they were forced to was because there was a certain look they had to go by to be believable to the proper authorities while doing the investigation portion of their job. Claire had dressed in multiple different outfits. There was something about dressing up that she’d always liked.

His list is impressive and she makes note of the important ones. The other Fae mostly, because that could lead to problems down the road and those are the type of things her job has her looking for. Potential problems. Things that needed to be taken care of before they got too bad. She stands up as he finishes and goes to the bag he’d kicked under the bed. She pulls it out and brings it to her own, a garment bag hanging in the small closet of their motel room that already holds her own pants suit. It’s not a problem to put his in with hers.

“Filing the case notes,” she tells him plainly. “Examining the data and narrowing down the culprits.” She already knows what they’re dealing with, for the most part. Based off what Lilith had found out during her time with the other children. She thought Killian would like it. At least he’d be able to fight something. “Why the color blue?” she asks as she turns to look over her shoulder at him. It’s not the piece of information she should have picked up on, but it’s curiosity at this point.

#killian #treaded path

poisonous-killian-blog-blog

Treaded Path || Claire & Killian

Without a doubt, investigation was the worst part of a mission. The team was forced to act and pretend and resort to petty lies and cover-ups in order to unearth clues about a monster that probably doesn’t give a flying fuck whether it gets caught or not. There’s hardly ever any fun in it for him, no beating someone up within an inch of their life or enacting some kind of psychological torture. No, he’d been stuck in a room all day talking to a series of parents whose children had disappeared. Even worse, he’d had to keep up another glamour all day just so the parents would answer his questions.

Killian wasn’t stupid, he knew the appearance he had chosen for himself when he had come to this plane wasn’t the friendliest, but for fuck’s sake. Baby blues and salt and pepper hair really didn’t go with his personality. And fortune forbid the parents would ask him a pointed question; working his way around the truth was like trying to chase a preschooler through a jungle gym.

He sighed as he walked through the door of the hotel room, shaking off the foreign physique with a shudder as he nearly ripped the jacket off his shoulders. He could practically hear the seams stretch as the clothing a sixty year old man would wear protested against his 6'4" frame. Killian eyed Claire for a moment, grunted in greeting before grabbing his bag and entering the bathroom. he had to assume she wouldn’t much appreciate nudity while she did whatever it was she was working on.

He emerged in a couple of minutes, old shirt thrown over his shoulder. “There are few things I hate more than suits.” Killian grumbles on his way to stuff the offending clothes into a random bag.

Claire sat cross legged on the bed, notes and guns spread out in front of her. There were small leather pouches with herbs, a bible, and a dufflebag with anything else she would need. She’d been going back and forth between cleaning her equipment and looking once again at the case notes the FBI had given her. Still using paper. She’d spent a good hour putting the case notes into her tablet, which sat on her lap. Perhaps the FBI should invest in upgrading to digital.

Killian came into the room with a grunt and disappeared into the bathroom. She didn’t bother to ask him how his day went because she already knew. He wasn’t an inaction type of man. Not one to sit back and console grieving parents or children who missed their siblings. She didn’t blame him. Maybe after all the time being alive like he had under his belt, those things meant little unless they were personal. And Killian made very few things personal.

As he emerged again, she gave a soft smile at the comment, looking over at the clothes he’d changed into. “Name them,” she told him and despite the seriousness she usually holds with him, there’s an almost playfulness to her voice, a need to know what he hates more. It’s nothing that’ll go in his file, unless it’s worth it. It’s simply that she wants to know. “What do you have more than suits?”

#killian #treaded path

Dreamwalk || Lilith & Claire

The answers don’t surprise her. They’re routine, but they have little to do with their presence here, more suited to human authorities that are already failing. It isn’t their fault, and she can’t say she cares, but on the whole humanity is content to pull blinders across their eyes and ignore the presence of anything they can’t understand. Or maybe it’s not understanding. Maybe it’s the presence of things older and more powerful that they can’t reconcile with.

She often thinks it must be that one, because when she was new there was more awareness of what lived in shadow. Things like her, vengeful spirits that would make them pay for their sins. She’d been stopped before by knives beneath pillows that left her with only aching claws. Now that almost never happens, and it’s no wonder the Americas are a fertile breeding ground for monsters.

Her attention wanders from the couple trying to hold back tears, though if it were required of her she might try and pay a little more attention. But Claire is better at handling them, when she thinks there’s little about her that’s honest to start. It’s no judgement. Simply observance.

It’s likely a lie to tell them they’ll ever see their child again, but it’s the one they ask to hear and she’s just as disinterested in that. They want reassurances, she can understand it, but they have to know that it’s nothing anyone can promise them and it leaves her almost irritated with the request. It’s just one more inspiration for restless feet to carry her away from their side, attention shifting to open doors, somewhere down the hall a nurse escorting a child by the hand.

She pauses in the doorway of the first room, eying empty beds and ones occupied by small frames. She glances back, attention focusing on Claire instead of the parents, but that has less to do with boredom and something closer to respect. If she tells her to sit and stay then she’ll do as she’s asked. “Which room was his?”

Claire can tell the moment Lilith grows bored. It’s not anything she didn’t expect, the woman was more forced when dealing with grieving parents than Claire was. At least Claire could fake it like the best. Lilith could if she put her mind to it, but she doubted it was worth it to h er. She didn’t honestly know what Lilith held dear anymore. Memories, perhaps. Family, though she doubted she had any left who still welcomed her into their circle.

When she stops at the door and asks what room, Claire glances over at her and waits for the parents to answer. “407,” the wife says, wiping at her face as though there were any tears left for her to cry. “He was in there with another little boy. Thank God that other boy is alright.” It’s nothing they hadn’t known. Claire took a look at the notes from the FBI case, getting her hands on them easily thanks to Tenebrae resources, and a nice smile in their direction.

A small nod is the only motion she gives to Lilith to tell her that whatever she has to do, go do it. She knows why the woman was assigned to come along. Something taking kids at night, there are a few culprits, Lilith’s own kind being one of them. But others, night time is her domain. It’s where Lilith could get the most answers and Claire won’t be the one to hold her back.

Turning back to the parents in front of her, she resumes questioning. “How was your son the last time you saw him? Still feeling ill?” The parents shake their head as Lilith disappears outside the door.

#lilith #dreamwalk

Dreamwalk || Lilith & Claire

There’s a certain level of indifference on Lilith’s part that can’t be helped. She has no problem doing her job, in whatever capacity that entails, but things like this bore her. She occasionally wonders just how much the Tenebrae would appreciate knowing how much of this she does only for her own amusement, but then she’s never made a secret of it. Her kind aren’t hunters, they simply are. Some unholy vengeance meant for the guilty, and if she hopes for anything on this case it’s that the one responsible is something or someone who’s head she can wander inside and tear apart.

And the indifference stops there. While her emotional response to it is a limited thing, there’s a reason she’s called the Red Mother in the right circles. Sins involving children should be punished more brutally than any others.

Still, she’s not overly anxious to spend her time talking to distraught parents. If it makes her cruel just how little interest she usually has in the victims, it can’t be helped. It’s not in her nature to heal, or comfort. She’s a creature designed for vengeance, and little about that involves softness. It makes her more than willing to take a backseat when Claire leads the way towards them, especially when she at least can remember their names. But then she’s always been good at her job, and beyond that Lilith finds it hard to pin down any solid opinion of her.

The man nods, reaffirming his identity. “Yes. That’s us.” He straightens quickly, eyes widening as he focuses on Claire. Both of their faces reflect that conflict of emotion, a desire for hope crashing brutally against the thought that there’s only bad news waiting on the blonde’s tongue. “Did something happen? Do you have something new?”

“No,” Lilith says, the thought that she’d prefer this conversation over as quickly as possible. “Just some questions.”

Lilith follows behind her and there’s a professionalism about the woman that Claire appreciates. She can’t say that she particularly likes the woman, but she can’t say that she dislikes her either. There’s a mysticism about her that Claire’s never bought into. She’s met creatures as old or older and Claire’s never been big on letting age or years under a person’s belt define the type of respect she’ll show them. Lilith had never done anything to earn her disrespect, however, and so Claire’s been content on keeping their interactions professional at all times. What the woman thinks about her doesn’t matter, if Lilith decides to tear the sect apart from the inside out, they won’t see it coming no matter how close they are.

“These questions may be difficult to answer, but they are routine and they are meant to help find out what happened, so I appreciate your cooperation,” Claire says. The words may seem cold, abrupt, but it’s how she gets the job done. The Gearys in front of her nod their heads, the husband wrapping an arm around his wife.

“Of course,” the woman says.

Claire nods. “Has you family made any enemies. Anyone who would want to hurt either of you?” she asks. It’s not a question that’s relevant in their case. The Tenebrae wouldn’t have been given the case if it was simply a matter of a person kidnapping children. That wasn’t their jurisdiction unless that person was a witch using the children for sacrifice or some such. It was a possibility, but Claire didn’t think this fit the MO.

“No,” the husband says. “No, no one who would go to these lengths. My wife’s non-confrontational and I usually sort out all my problems. There’s no one who would do this.”

“Any of the medical staff who showed a peculiar interest in your child? Even the smallest detail that seemed out of the ordinary could be helpful.”

Again, another shake of the head. “No. The staff had been all very helpful.,” this time the wife had answered. “They were so nice to Tommy.”The woman looks up at her with wide eyes. “Please, Miss, where is our son?”

The smile Claire gives her is one of understanding and comfort, but it’s a practiced thing. One she can plaster on at a moment’s notice and not really mean. Their son is dead. Claire knows it. And if he’s not, he’s suffering. They’ll never see their boy again. It’s not the answer she gives. “We’re going to do everything in our power to be able to answer that question, ma’am.”

#lilith #bogeyman

Dreamwalk || Lilith & Claire

There’s a detachment that comes with this case, the same type of detachment she feels with any job she gets sent on, any mission she reads the file on. This is a job. This is something the Tenebrae does to kill the monsters that shouldn’t be walking this plane. The type of monsters who threaten humanity and if there’s questionable goals when it comes to some of these jobs, Claire doesn’t voice those questions. Ever. Their mission wasn’t to come here and save the missing children. To Claire, that’d be wishful thinking. Rose tinted glasses and the likes. She knows those kids are already dead and that’s where the detachment comes into play. They’re not here to save the kids who were taken, they’re here to save the kids who haven’t been taken yet.

It should be difficult to see the parents there in one of the hospital’s conference rooms. There’s an FBI agent who’s been talking to them for days now, but nothing new from any of them. The same story. The kid was admitted to the hospital for a routine tonsil removal. Dad fell asleep by the kid’s side and when he woke in the morning, the kid was gone. Right from under his nose this time. The hospital and the FBI couldn’t explain where they were going and the video cameras seemed to cut out at just the right time.

Lilith and Claire are taking one set of parents while Killian and Billie take another and scour the hospital for anything they could find. Claire can fake it. Probably better than any of them. Lilith would lose interest, Claire already knew that. She eyes the parents in the corner and the fake badges that got them into the hospital come out as she makes her way over, going to stand in front of them and showing the badges to the parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Geary?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. The looks on their faces tell her everything she needs to know about who they are.

#lilith #bogeyman

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As Claire taps away at her tablet, Gale tilts her head to the side wondering what she’s pulling up- probably a schedule. But not seconds later, she hears her cellphone buzz and her open laptop ‘ping’ quietly. Jesus, she was efficient. But then again, Gale guessed that was a given for the secretary of a sect. Or really anyone in the Tenebrae. They all had their specified talents and skills- all part of the reason why they brought in. “Uh… tomorrow. I’m pretty sure that might work.”

“It’s a plan,” she nods her head, tucking the tablet back under her arm. She’s got her batons and everything is in order. She has no problems training with people in the sect. Gale is a useful asset to the manor and to keep her on top of her game, she’ll do whatever training she can fit in with the woman. “Tomorrow, then.”

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There’s relief to be found in when Claire agrees to train and help Gale out. Though there’s a certain lump forming in her stomach because the moment that Claire agrees, Gale’s already got a vision of Claire kicking her ass six ways to Sunday. Unlike Gale, Claire was human and most, if not all, hunters she met were bonafide badasses in hand to hand combat. Claire would probably knock her around when they got into the ring together. Unless Gale’s dodging skills were still up to par. “Uh… well, I usually get out of the library around 5 on weekdays and I’m free on weekends. So I guess any of those times that might work for you and your schedule?” she smiles.

Claire uses her tablet to pull up her calendar, her day scheduled down to the minute in most cases. She makes a quick note and sends a meeting request to Gale’s e-mail. She knows not everyone else in the house is as organized, at least not to the level she is. “I’ve texted you a proposed time,” she says. and it’s purposefully cold and professional. It’s how she stays for the most part. Especially when she’s got business in mind. “Tomorrow after you get home. Let me know if the time doesn’t work for you.”

gale-sullivan-blog

“Yeah…. I probably should…” If her mom found out she was slacking on the physical stuff, she’d probably affectionately wring her neck. While her mom did focus on magic since she was a witch as well, she always did emphasize that being physically capable was just as important should her daughter find herself in a pinch. Understandable enough, but sometimes it seemed downright impossible for Gale to match her mom’s physical capabilities. Gale was decent and fast, but the woman was a god damn Amazon. Still, there was that never ending drive to prove that she was good enough to be here that kept Gale going and has her sheepishly asking the woman in front of her, “You think you can help me out with that?”

It’s nothing she would refuse. If the girl wants to train, Claire would oblige. She keeps up her own regiment and it’s not because Ethan requires everyone in the house to stay on top of their game. It’s because Claire requires it of herself. She makes more enemies than friends in the Tenebrae. Maybe not overnight. Maybe Kykuit is different for right now, but there’s a sect in Seattle that was closed down because of something Claire had reported. It left for a bad aftertaste in a lot of people’s mouth towards her and luckily it hasn’t followed her yet to Kykuit. “Of course. When would you like to schedule?”

The Moon: Something they fear

There’s not much Claire fears. She’s taken on some of the most deadliest and frightful monsters known to the Tenebrae. She’s seen people bested by those monsters and she knows that it’s a possibility one day one will get the best of her. It doesn’t scare her. There’s really only one thing that Claire fears and that’s something she can’t fight. The ordinary and mundane. Her parents, both prominent Tenebrae members, weren’t taken out by a monster or demon, but rather a drunk driver. She fears similar. She fears leaving this world in an entirely human way – illness, accident, unfortunate events. She’d rather die fighting.

gale-sullivan-blog

“Ah, gotcha.” Gale nods as she takes a quickly look around the closet before stepping out and closing the doors. On the wall just beside the closet doors was a little clip board. Grabbing it she quickly jots down Claire’s and Ethan’s name, the two batons’ numbers, their voltage and the date Claire came in to check them out before returning it to the wall. Gale makes a bit of a face at the question because it really had been a while. Unlike her mother who excelled in both physical combat and magic, Gale’s scales tilted more to the magic side of things. “With those specifically? Uh… maybe about a month…?” she finally gets out. She never did like get zapped and it was the main reason why she didn’t train with them that often.

Claire gave a small smile at the response. Not everyone in the house was adept at hand to hand combat, but it was expected they would practice. That they would gain the skills and at least put their best effort in. There were some that relied on what they were or what else they could do. Claire wasn’t one of them. She was born unfortunately human, though she had no interest of giving that up for any of the things it was possible for a human to become. “You may want to get some practice in.”

Death: Someone they really miss

Eohn. Bodyguard. That had been his official title. Claire had never given it much thought as to why she’d needed one as a child. She just remembered him being there. From her first memory to the memory of him saying goodbye. It had been with a handshake and it was probably the only time in Claire’s life that she’d thought the professionalism of it all should have been ignored. She’d wanted to hug him. Wanted to yell at him. Wanted to tell him to stay. But he was a bodyguard and they’d both made it clear that he could never be and would never be anything more. Even if she did like waking up to the sight of him beneath her sheets. But when her parents had died, when she’d gone from privileged daughter to Tenebrae asset, she hadn’t needed the protection anymore. So he’d been reassigned. Bodyguard, babysitter – one who’d watched her grow up and who’d never aged. Vampire. He’d never left a mark. Not a visible one.

Strength: Something they struggle with

Identity. Personas. It’s not a thing she struggles with in front of other people. She knows who Claire Walcott is, depending on who she’s talking to. It changes. It changes into what it needs to be to get information, to relate and to understand. She’ll smile with those who are won over by it, she’ll yell at those who respond best to authority, she’ll lay her hand on the shoulder of someone not strong enough to shake it off. But alone. Alone. In her room, in front of the mirror when she looks at herself, she’s quiet. She doesn’t say a thing and doesn’t think one way or another. She tries to identify who it is looking back at her and she doesn’t know. The real Claire Walcott. Did she ever exist? She can’t quite remember.

The Star: Someone they consider perfect

Nothing and no one. Everyone has a flaw and every flaw can be exploited if it’s necessary to do so. Whether she’s the one doing the exploiting or shielding the Tenebrae from others who would want to do so is determined by who exactly she’s evaluating. Any thoughts she has on a person and their flaws is in the mindset of her job. It doesn’t get turned off, she’s not sure if she knows how. If one day she found herself severed from the Tenebrae, she can’t picture what she’ll be doing with her life. She is Tenebrae. Flaws and mistakes and all.

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Gale’s spins in her chair to face the back of her room. “Training batons? Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re good to go.” she replies as she gets up and makes her way towards her room’s closet She carefully opens the heavy doors to reveal the weapons and gadgets that lined them and the walls. Sure she could have used this space to store her clothes, but Gale just opted to make a built in drawer at the bottom of her bed to store all her personal things to free things up. She ignores all the other devices lining the walls and goes for the drawer turned charging station that contained the batons Claire requested. “Training… okay so lower voltage…” she mutters to herself before she finds the ones she’s looking for and unplugs them. “Ah, got it. Here you go, two training batons fresh off the rack. Gonna be doing some practice soon?” she asks, gently handing the batons to Claire.

“They’re for Ethan,” she tells the girl and while they’re not anything the man has asked for, she knows him well enough and has put enough together through recent transfer files that she thinks she’ll just offer him these. Better than fighting with actual knives, she thinks. Though she doesn’t doubt the man is capable of holding his own, this may lead to a less bloody and more civil training experience. She looks up at the girl afterwards. “When was the last time you trained with these?” It sounds like more of an accusation than what’s necessary.

Claire Walcott @claire-walcott - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag