Claire Keane
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@claytonbeauchamp
"Perhaps someday I will." Rai gave him an unconvincing answer but told him what she knew he probably wanted to hear as they would never come to an agreement on the subject.
"You can't doubt yourself, that will only make it harder. Focus on the good things Rai." Maybe over time with enough convincing he could get her to believe in herself, that would make controlling her powers much easier.
"You’re taking off your clothes? I’m proud."
"That is nothing new. I've known how to do that for years. You being lady like on the other hand, that is new."
"Until you get found of course. Is this your usual hiding spot?"
"Oh no, there is no usual spot. I have to stay creative or I'll be found."
More like hiding from her…
She avoids the offices? I'll keep that in mind.
"I’m not one to turn down a challenge, Clayton. — And don’t accuse me of cheating, I would never.” No one would know if she was cheating or not. That was the beauty of being a telepath, her abilities were inherently sneaky. “Do you ever think about leaving again? You know, going on one of those missions… perhaps a shorter one.”
"Of course, you're just as likely to cheat as me." When it came to prank wars Clayton wasn't saying much with his vow not to cheat and they both knew it. "All of the time, some days more than others. Things are safer her though, better." That's one of the things he told himself to keep from leaving again, and it was true.
Broken Returns || Clayton and Abi
She stumbled, her boots catching a root as she took a step— her hands catching the bark of a tree. Luckily they were all familiar. She’d ran wild in the woods as a child so she knew them well. Her fingers flexed, the rough bark biting into her already tender and beaten flesh. She knew she was bleding. Her gloves were long gone, it was hilarious really— all of the perfection and posh she worked so hard for, was gone on the road. Littered from Paris to Glasgow.
Her fingers burned as she moved, no one would ever contributed stubborn to her personality but they obviously didn’t know her that well. Those that knew her well enough did. She pressed on, breaking into the clearing where the castle broke into the distance. A breath escaped her, she swallowed, not sure how the proceed. Her stockings were ripped, her dress was soiled and ruined, her hair was a complete and utter mess. She was sure she looked like a vagabond.
But it was what you couldn’t see that was worse, her heart was broken, her trust broken and violated and the walls she’d always had she had to rebuild with stronger defenses. Her attention was struck by movement and she almost darted back into the woods until she saw who it was. Clayton.
A breath of relief escaped her before she realized it, Clayton. He’d come back. When? He’d left not long before she had. Her eyes fell on him and she didn’t know why she was so relieved. “Clayton..” she whispered his named before she all but collapsed in a heap. There was nothing more to say. He was there… she was home. She was glad he was there.
Not much time had passed since Clayton’s return to St. Clair’s and yet again he found himself walking outside the walls of the castle, something he had done every day since his arrival. Before he’d left the walls had felt suffocating, restricting, that’s why he had made the choice to go. Now things had changed, he fully recognized the protection that St. Clair’s offered. Still, the urge to go beyond the walls, to go out in the world and change things hadn’t gone away. Clay never went far on his daily walks, only once had he even gone into town. All other times he simply wandered through the woods.
Running into someone out in the woods wasn’t a common occurrence and Clay knew that, not that anyone would classify Clayton Beauchamp as the silent type that kept to themselves. And he wasn’t, but the silence was still needed. Nothing horrible had happened to him while he was gone, Clay had never been caught using his powers by mundanes and had to flee for his life before he was captured. He’d seen awful things though, and many would say that would be just as damaging. Certain parts of the world favored much more slow and painful styles of executing gifted’s over hangings, which he now recognized was one of the faster ways to go.
The sight of a figure stumbling from the woods in front of him tore Clayton from his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. For a moment he didn’t recognized the frazzled woman before it clicked in his mind who he was looking at. Abigail Bennett. Only she looked nothing like herself.
Mundanes were his first thought. Were they chasing her? Had they been? Could they still be coming? Hesitating any more would help either of them, all of those questions could be asked once they were inside of St. Clair’s. “Abi?” Rushing to her side Clay dropped down to his knees beside her crumbled form, scooping her up into her arms before she could protest getting help. “Are you hurt?” No matter what her answer was she was going to the infirmary, he’d already made up his mind in the time it took him to race to her side.
Life Beyond the Walls || Clay & Rory
Clayton had silently agreed to give his sister space. There was no point in attempting to force information out of her, like his mother wanted to do. Like she had done when he had returned from the mundane world. There were things that just weren't talked about after they happened, Clayton understood that. Cecily should have understood that, perhaps she didn't but not when it came to her own children. So he had kept his questions to himself, held back his worry and bit is tongue. Aurora had never pestered him, he planned on returning the favor. Until her change in attitude was too much. Something had happened to his little sister, something bad.
Giving her space wasn’t helping, her personality wasn’t returning to normal like he had hoped. Staying silent hadn’t worked and that tactic was being fully abandoned by him. Finding Aurora alone wasn’t an issue, that seemed to be how she spent a considerable amount of her time these days. Talking was likely something she wouldn’t be happy with, but he knew she would need to do it eventually. Not bothering to hide the worry on his face he walked up beside his sister, sitting down at the table across from her “Rory, tell me what’s bothering you.”
She scoffed at him, her head tossing enough that a few strands of her hair escaped her bun. As usual she caught the strands and tucked them back into place without missing a beat. To be fair she would never admit to that when she was in a snit, and that mischievous light in his eyes meant just what it did to her. Her teeth ground as she leveled the bat over her shoulder, it was clear the idea of just tapping him in the head with it had crossed her mind. The veneer of perfection falling from her like water as she turned her head smartly. “I assure you I could come up with something..”
And her jaw clenched all the more, blue eyes narrowing as her temper flickered across her eyes. He wanted that fire and in a way she knew it but she couldn’t’ see it past the temper. Even if she’d wanted too, he gave her license to be angry. The man always had, he gave her someone to shout out, someone to be angry with when she had to be perfect at all times he gave her someone to throw all of that pent up energy at and he allowed it. She could just be with him, and she pulled the bat off of her shoulder with a haughty toss of her head, setting fly another few strands but this time she didn’t move them. This time she ignored them as she pinned him with a look. “Easy on me?” The fire flashed in her. “Give me your worst, Beauchamp.”
When she grumbled the insults she delivered to him were in his native french, her eyes on his face. Had she ever been like this with anyone else? Perhaps not. She was a firebrand under all that polish perhaps, she had a lot of frustration, a lot of heart really, she was a caretaker, a good woman. But she had to be the pillar of her family.. she had no one to fall onto. Stand strong, perfection, her own schedule, she would not allow anyone to keep step. He just didn’t take no for an answer.
“And I’m sure you know I’m counting on that.” If Clayton weren’t challenging her to come up with a more interesting name, something he hadn’t been called before, he would have only laughed at her early comments. Now he was doing more, egging her on with his words. All if it was an open invite for the insults, for her to throw terrible words at him, ones he would just laugh at and not be bothered by. Things he knew she was thinking about and refused to say. This was her out, her way to yell at someone and not get in trouble for it. No feelings would be hurt, not his by any means.
The determined look in her eyes just convinced him to actually try, to see what she could do. If Abi wanted a real game, it’s what she would get. “Alright then Ms. Bennett. Don’t forget, you’re the one who asked for it.” He knew she’d seen the game before, they’d played in several times in school. It was turned into a training game for them by one of their professors, many of the students could turn it in to a way to test out different aspects of their powers. That’s why Clayton had played it so often. And the few strands of loose hair didn’t escape his attention. If she didn’t fix them he’d be sure to point them out to her, tease her about her bun falling apart and how indecent it looked. That would come later, when he knew she wasn’t planning on fixing the strands like normal.
Hearing the mumbled French insults made him burst out in laughter. “Careful Abigail, if one of the students come by you’ll be corrupting their poor young minds.” Though insults were something many of them had probably heard before, muttered by mundanes in reference to the gifted. Some of the most horrible, stomach turning, insults he had ever heard were aimed at the gifted. Pushing the thought of his mind he refocused on the game. Tossing the ball, he bounced it off the ground and towards her.
He knew her too well, it was probably as bad as it was good. Her eyes closed as she felt the last of her tears, hot and warm cascade down her cheeks. He brushed them away with his fingers, as cleverly as he phrased his words. Her breath came out on a small laugh, though her eyes were still watery. Sniffing lightly she pressed her face to his shoulder as she listened, it was all she wanted to do in that moment. Listen to him talk because he was right. Tomorrow, in an hour even, she wouldn’t want to speak of this moment again. Her moment of weakness, of her own collapse. It wasn’t something she was proud of, because she had to be strong. And a lady couldn’t show such weakness.
Even so the tears came, even with his words, knowing they were true. She never had to thank him for what he’d done. Or for the confidences he’d kept. He’d kept her secrets when she’d never asked him too and never asked for anything in return, not even her friendship. He was just there. A steady mountain of unbelievable frustration, there to drag her out of her stupor of routine. She was horribly predictable, she did it for a reason, and he knew that too. And yet he came back, over and over again. With that annoying smile to drive her into a snit so she would not send him away. He liked the fire in her eyes, he laughed at her, liked to see her angry. Clayton knew the truth, she wasn’t perfect no matter how hard she pushed herself into being so. She was far from it. And yet he stayed at her side.
He was solid, strong, she pressed her face into his shoulder and held on tighter than she ever would had anyone else her eyes closing as she nodded her head. “I know I didn’t and I don’t. But thank you. For being there. For being you. Thank you. Even when I am hardly appreciative of you, I want you to know that I mean it even when I’m cross with you. And when you need me I will return it in kind.”
Even though he wouldn’t ask, never expecting an answer even if the question were to leave his lips, Clayton doubted many other people had ever seen Abigail like this. He knew she’d never let them, that’s she’d hide it away from the world. And he understood that, it was exactly what he would do if the weight of the world were coming down on his shoulders. There were just some things no one but a very select group of people needed to know. For Abi that group was most likely a single person. She said nothing about his promise, just laughed. It was probably better that way. If either of them really thought about it he had no true way of assuring his promise. No one needed to say that out loud. He had faith in his own determination to keep the promise.
When she thanked him for being himself he couldn’t help but laugh, his eyebrow raising in questioning. It wasn’t to ruin the moment, just a look of surprise. Clay’s constant pestering, it annoyed her and he knew that. Abi had made it clear time and time again that she wanted him to stop, stop coming by her office, distracting her from work, being himself and yet here she was thanking him for doing just that. Not that he would have stopped even without her thanking him. His distractions kept her life interesting and he knew that. So he didn’t stop, he kept going back to try and draw her out. Some might argue everything he had done would never work, but her reaction at that moment would be proving them wrong. Abigail Bennett could, and did, open up to others when she really needed it. All it took was persistence.
“You’re welcome for all of it, even for driving you made. Just remember, I might not mention what you said again but I’ll still remember it.” His tone was teasing, trying to life her mood again so that the tears would stop. They both knew all it would take was one look from him and she could tell that he was thinking about her thanking him, he could use that in the future when she was angry. “Thank you for telling me the truth about what happened, I know it can’t be easy.”
Often times I prefer my office.
Overworking yourself to keep my mother away I assume.
Rai couldn’t help but be grateful for his comments even though she believed none of them. “No one needs to tell me that. I know what I’ve done. What I’m capoable of. Control is so elusive I feel as if I will never grasp it. I do appreciate your kind words though.”
"All of us feel like that in times when we lost control. I have and I know I thought that exact same thing, especially with powers capable of hurting someone. But control isn't elusive, you'll get it." He actually gave a serious answer, a smile on his face.
"Last I recall, I never said that I was giving up completely. Who is to say I won’t give you a fright when you least expect it? I’d be on my guard if I were you, Clayton, the grounds are dark and scary after night fall.”
Eve linked her arm with Clay’s, tugging him out towards one of the many paths. “Do you ever grow bored, staying here at the institute?”
"If you actually manage to scare me, I won't even be angry with you. Consider that a challenge Eve. No cheating though, you remember the rules about using powers. I don't use mine, you don't use yours."
Clay let himself be pull in the direction she wanted to go, putting up no fight against it. There was no point in lying in response to her question, she would know. "That's why I left."
"No. I was just arriving when you opened the door."
"Is this a 'hiding from mother' visit or are you stopping by to see your favorite brother?"
