sunday often fell slow for the arcade, all those kids were home stuffin’ their stomachs and preparing for school the following morning. so, maya’s shift was cut short and she was sent on her way. that’s cool and all, but god, was she bored. bez was off doing god knows what, julia had a lead, and maya was left to her own devices. shit.
thrifty’s seemed like an easy time-filler. with a bit left over from her latest check, the idea drew to her and soon enough she was browsing through used shoes and rattled purses.
“ clem ? “ the voice was sudden and abrubt, but the woman wasn’t one to announce her presence. “ uh, well they’re blue, like, dark blue. wide-legged… “ a quick peek towards the tag, “ size six. i’m uh, not sure what fabric. “
hm. size six. might be able to make that work... in the past, she’d do some quick snips, stitchwork, and be on her merry way with new pants –– but now ? now, things ain’t so simple.
clem’s compelled to pop them back on the rack, move on to a different item. but somethin’ about the texture of this pair in particular, keeps her interest. her fingertips dance along one of the side seams.
poor girl. she’s about to be roped in.
“ y’think they’d look better on me or the floor ? ”
she doesn’t move but manny keeps reaching for her anyway, sliding his hand up to scratch her back lightly. the grin hooks on his teeth and a dry chuckle escapes. “much better looking than dracula, i think,” he boasted playfully.
he stared at the back of her head, sandy hair, silky and soft. he can feel her breathing. and then she turns toward him, eyes closed.
“i’m thinking… that you look just as sexy as you did last night.”
clem can’t help but melt back into his touch. she’ll never confirm as much –– but over the years, manny’s become... a comfort. she shakes the thought off with a clipped chuckle. “ ‘dunno, he might give you a run for your money. ”
they both know there’s no competition. unless manny’s significantly wilted over these past few months, clem’s sure. he’s got looks that put mount olympus to shame, last she checked.
his thought tips her lips into a sleep-slowed smirk. “ oh ? ” now that they’re facin’ one another, clem shifts closer, fingertips walkin’ up his wrist, forearm, bicep, ‘til they rest teasingly on his shoulder. she only opens her eyes when she leans her nose to hover just above his neck.
this damned town’s only got one watering hole. so it’s no wonder, the one time clem’s here without manny to pay her tab, that blend of cardamom and bergamot wafts through the door.
“ look what the cat dragged in, ” clem hums without turning to meet the individual who’s moved to occupy a barstool close by. she raises whiskey to her lips and sucks a good half of the liquor down. “ here t’arrest some day drinkers, are ya ? ” a pause. ruby red lips tug into a satisfied smirk. it’s now she turns, eyebrows liftin’ in cillian’s general direction.
“ good thing you ‘n i both know i’m a fan of those cuffs. ”
“ the dark makes everything look amazing. “ xander bit back, but his tone lacked the usual frost, a soft warmth lying between twisted syllables instead. he catches the soft emphasis within her movements, but the man chooses to ignore it. she was one to brag — she was the reason xander hadn’t gotten any in weeks. probably longer than that.
xander would’ve replied, he really would’ve, if he hadn’t known for a fact that she’d head for the right spot without any help from him. she calls this a fling — just mindless fucking and a cigarette afterwords, but the laundry load filled with her clothes and the personalized coffee mug on the counter says otherwise. not that he was going to mention that, though.
“ he left just fine, thanks to a special performance from none other than the sex olympics just down the hall. “ a soft roll of his eyes quickly followed the statement, yet another sip from his coffee, and a slight glare the gorgon’s way. she might not see it, but he knew she could feel the heat from his stare.
cream pours nice ‘n steady –– one mississippi, two mississippi –– as xander’s speech makes clem’s smirk grow. nimble fingers recap the dairy bottle and place it back in its proper place; glass bottles clink as the fridge swings shut. the gorgon takes a looooong sip of her mornin’ cup before facing xander, leaning her back against the counter.
“ sounds like someone’s a lil’ green. ” she’s wise to it, their little dance –– but can she really be to blame, when the kid gets off his radio show so late, just ‘round the time she’s ready for her pre-dawn cigarette ? nah, that’s on them. never shoot the messenger.
clem’s fingertips dance along the sides of her mug as she relishes in xander’s nickname for her thrilling night with manny. “ olympics, eh ? what d’ya say; think we went for gold ? ” sharp eyebrows lift suggestively. her next sip’s more of an audible slurp.
“ hope i live to see the day you two finally get to it. clock’s tickin’. hope he won’t get bored... ” she ain’t blind –– not to the emotions festering ‘tween those two. bez’ll be around, hell, probably longer than she ever will. ‘specially now that he’s a ghost.
“ ‘cause that ? ” another sip. a slight shake of her head. “ that’ll haunt ya. ”
manny knows clem worries—behind that stunning cold glare—she has a lot going on. between the fair recently and all the shit that went on before that… he’s heard about it. not from her, of course. he has his sources.
he feels the bed move as she wakes, shifts. he just lays there, but his left arm reaches out for her, palm up. “don’t get up then,” he murmured, voice raspy from sleep. he didn’t need it, really. but he liked it when they woke up next to each other.
“oh, please,” he murmured, finally opening his eyes. he props himself up on his elbow, watching her. “you know i prefer nights.”
she feels the sheets give as manny’s hand draws near, and fights every impulse to slide hers over to meet it. the pre-dawn air’s cool to the touch; if she focuses, clem can still envision blue-black light and the way she used to watch it dance across his jaw, illuminate his cheekbones.
sometimes, she mourns it. the light.
“ yep. you’re a postmodern dracula, aren’t ya. ” her usual bite sits this one out as her dips lower against her knees. closes her eyes. she preferred nights, too, before waking up to a world where the lines between day and dark smeared blacks ‘n blues until not even the most trained painter could tell the difference. she preferred nights, when preferrin’ them was still a choice.
manny’s gaze trains on her –– clem can feel it. she wants to ask him what he still sees in her. she wants to ask him why he’s still here.
“ what’re you thinking ? ” the gorgon asks instead, tuckin’ blonde locks behind one ear. she lifts her head, turns to face manny. eyes still closed. careful.
georgia was taking an order when caroline sped past her and mumbled five. she didn’t even have to look up. she knew what it meant. it meant clem carmichael was in her usual booth and that everyone else was too much of a chicken to go near her.
they’d all learned early on that georgia seemed to be the only waitress that didn’t manage to get on clem’s bad side. because y’all treat her like a broken doll when she’s a strong ass woman. from that point on, table five was georgia’s. she wasn’t sure how that worked out on her days off, but clearly well enough, seeing as no one had been murdered yet.
she stopped at five and shook her head, taking the menu someone had stupidly placed on the table and throwing it over her shoulder. “heya clem, what can i get ya?”
clem’s been in better moods. this morning, she’d accidentally poured orange juice into her coffee, and had been too proud not to drink it. even brushin’ her teeth and gargling with listerine didn’t nix the damned taste. so her prickly heart and betrayed tongue find their way to the only place she knows can make things right.
as soon as she reaches her booth, clem discards her cane onto the seat across from her. stupid. it bounces off the upholstery and clatters to the floor –– good. the sound brings on a sliver of a smile. clem tosses long blonde locks over her shoulder as pitter-patter feet pass her by. she purses her lips but can’t help her growing smirk.
“ usual. ” coffee, one cream, two sugars. bagel, toasted, extra cream cheese. “ but be a doll ‘n throw in one of those cinnamon sweet rolls ? ” she pauses, a hand reachin’ out to tap georgia’s wrist. “ make that two. and whatever you’re drinkin’. ” it’s an invitation posed in gentle demand. georgia could say no. but clem’s got a feelin’ those sweets might seal the deal.
the sun was a burden on weary eyes, but the all-natural fix of coffee was proven a savior within the home. on the dot, xander could hear the rumble of waking bodies from his spot in the living room. manny was sure to be out for another hour or so, but the man knew one soul would be up to occupy his morning.
“ mornin’. “ a grumble of a response, but it was all he could muster. only a few hours of sleep under his belt, xander wasn’t the happiest camper. “ not too hot yourself, clem. “ eyes flicker over her rugged frame, still creased and shaking from a night’s sleep. it was sure to wash away soon. “ cup’s ready on the counter with two sugars. still can’t get your cream right so that’s on you today. “
the mention of bez catches the vamp’s attention, one brow quirking in curiosity, lips sipping at his mug. a soft ahh before he answers. “ ha ha ha. hilarious. “ he rolls his eyes, but it’s expected. this was the usual banter. “ had to run off early to his sister’s, only stayed an hour or two after his broadcast. “
“ my night would say otherwise, ” clem jeers, swayin’ her hips a little extra as she saunters to the counter and feels for her mug. thank you isn’t quite in her repertoire, but the cheeky smile she tosses xander’s general direction does the job.
“ cream in the fridge ? side door ? ” she’s here so often, she’s startin’ to know manny’s place better than her own. bein’ pre-coffee prevents her from seeing how maybe that might point to something deeper than a good routine fuck.
careful hands close around the mug as she leans down to give it a whiff. “ mm. ” to the fridge she goes, before xander’s even got the chance to respond. she knows this house. maybe it’s starting to become a home.
“ quickie, then, ” clem teases as she pulls open the fridge door and scans bottle-tops with her free hand. she’s no stranger to xander and bez’s unfortunate interruptions. “ he leave able to stand ? ”
it’s the stupidest fear. but clem always makes sure her head’s turned away from manny ‘fore she opens her eyes. just in case. it’s well before sunrise when she stirs –– sleep’s always been a bit shuffled since she lost her sight. and lately she’s been gettin’ those night terrors again. dreamin’ with sight. seein’ his face go gray.
she jolts into a seated position, eyes still screwed shut until she can feel the bedspread, feel the edge of the mattress behind her knees. only then does she open her eyes and let out a tiny sigh.
but then she hears it –– the hitch in manny’s breath. no point in askin’. she knows she woke him. lean legs lift ‘til she can hug ‘em to her chest and rest her chin on her knees. still facin’ away. still safe from disaster.
“ not mornin’ yet, ” she mumbles, as if he can’t see it for himself. there’s a twinge of guilt in her gut, for rousin’ him. usually, she’s able to shake these things off on her own, undetected. have a smoke outside, quiet her mind. long nails press crescents into bare shins. the silence feels too... intimate.
“ sorry t’dissapoint. ” it’s as close to an i’m sorry she’s gonna get. and then the quiet resumes, and clem can’t think of anythin’ casual enough to fill the space.
she’s goin’ without sunglasses today. forgot where she put ‘em. and clem can’t really bring herself to worry –– fat chance many people’ll be out shoppin’ on a sunday. she drags a palm along a rack of pants at thrifty’s, fingertips dancin’ along different fabrics. corduroy. denim. cotton. she pauses on a particularly interesting texture and furrows a brow, searchin’ for the tag. she feels it, drags a thumb across it, and doesn’t feel a number. the stichin’ isn’t raised.
“ hey, ” she calls sharply, spinnin’ toward where a shadow cuts the sunlight. as she does so, a bird out the window drops mid-flight and shatters when it hits the pavement. clem doesn’t notice a thing.
“ tell me ‘bout these. ” please ain’t in her vocabulary. ‘cause she ain’t askin’. “ size, color, fit. gimme somethin’. ”
mid-morning sun drenches the kitchen, enough to grant clem’s clouded world a soft, pinkish glow. her path to the island calls for fifteen steps and a quarter-point turn –– she snatches an orange with practice grace and rips into its flesh. juice drenches her hands and coils past her wrists, tangy ‘n cool to the touch.
“ mornin’, ” she calls. manny’s still in bed, but the barefoot, oversized-tee-wearin’ gorgon knows a thing or two ‘bout routine in this house –– coffee’s already brewed. xander’s been up for a while. “ don’t need to see ya to know you look like hell. ” clem rips another orange wedge and takes her time savoring the juicy bite.
“ where’s your boy ? ” clem finishes off the orange. light fingertips roam for a few seconds before relocating the countertop and setting the spiral-torn peel there. then she gets to work suckin’ on her fingers before the juice can dry. “ he run outta boos ? ”
she likes xander ‘nough not to say ghost too loud. maybe her subtle smirk wilts a bit, after the lil’ jab has a chance to settle.
u n s e e i n g e y e s f o l l o w a p p r o a c h i n g f o o t s t e p s . . .
“ hope you’re not try’na be a sneak.
it’s unbecoming. ”
a warning laced with poison.
she stands by the window.
no cane. no fear.
friend or foe, they’ve got
one thing
she’s after.
“ got a light ? ”
( jodie comer, gorgon, she/her & cisfemale ) is that ( bad reputation ) by joan jett & the blackhearts ) playing? (clementine cornelia carmichael ) must be nearby! heard folks say the ( one hundred fifty ) year old ( ex-mercenary ) was at the thanksgiving fair, ( lightin’ a cigarette by the kiddie play pen ) when chaos ensued. during the glitch, ( she dropped her cane while jumped by some no-good, possessed werecreatures, ‘til a mystery someone swooped her off to safety ).
b a c k g r o u n d .
clementine cornelia carmichael was the second of two daughters born to the carmichael family in georgia... and the disappointment starts there. her parents had been vying for a son, but alas –– with one x chromosome too many, they had no choice but to amend their planned wills. their family fortune, derived from plantation money, would go to the first daughter to marry, and her husband.
the catch. clementine didn’t know about this policy. only her older sister ( wanted connection ) was aware. so when clementine married her first husband, jeb, at 16, her older sister began brainstorming ways to sabotage their marriage to get the inheritance back in her name. it began with petty things. flubbing house parties. planting rumors. attempting to seduce jeb. eventually, it became clear this love was strong and she wouldn’t break it alone.
and then her lucky break struck. jeb and clementine’s efforts to have a child grew more desperate in the third year of their marriage. by 19, clementine had two miscarriages and narrowly escaped with her life. little did she know, getting so close to death activated a dormant gene in her...
all carmichael women are gorgons. her older sister knew about the family lore but clementine had never bothered to listen to her mother’s old tales of men turned to stone. it was only folk tales, old wive’s tales designed to scare both daughters into staying prim, proper, and well-behaved.
imagine her shock when, while they were making love, jeb turned to stone. talk about yikes. clementine flipped. her older sister came to the rescue –– with a pick axe and a sledgehammer. the two women pulverized the stone and buried it in an urn in the back yard of the young couple’s yard. widowed, clementine was reduced to nothing. no joys in life presented to her. the kicker? gorgons can reverse their own stone-turnings. and her sister? the bitch bloody lied to get her hands back on the inheritance.
a year and a half later, gorgon hunters stormed the house and mistook clementine for her sister. they kidnapped her and planned to kill her, until the quick-witted lady pitched an offer they couldn’t pass up: she’d provide them with mercenary services in exchange for her life. all of a sudden, their hunting jobs got ten times easier.
clem before jeb’s death was gentle. docile. calm waters, soothing breezes, dog-eared pages come morning. now? she whipped at the world with a vengeance. why deny what she was? why fight her essence?
clem later turned her captors to stone and privatized her mercenary jobs. her body count rose and rose, with no evidence left over for incrimination. but... by the late 1960′s, she grew tired of running. tired of hunting. with fresh dust on her hands, she finished her last kill, collected her hefty bill, and used the money to relocate to tiny letum falls, oklahoma.
there, she began to help out at the garden emporium, adding to its statue collection from pure boredom. she’d go to the bars, sleep around, repeat.
in the 70′s, she met manny otero, and the two have danced around one another ever since –– fuck buddies. she’ll never admit she actually might have feelings for the man.
in september, descendants of the hunters clem worked with and killed arrived in letum falls, searching for a blonde gorgon –– they found what they were lookin’ for, but not exactly who. again, mistaken for her sister, clem was attacked and left for dead in an abandoned house by the woods. dumb asses. didn’t know a gorgon can’t die unless you behead her.
clem awoke from the incident bloodied and blind. she can make out light and some loose peripheral shadows, but the blows to her head damaged her optical nerves enough to render her legally blind. she begrudgingly carries a cane when absolutely necessary, but she’ll more often than not defy using it by just... struggling her way through things. it’s messy. inelegant. but she’d rather stumble and trip than admit she needs assistance.
unlike other people, who might view tragedy as a way to make amends and realign with the world, clem’s attack just fueled her fire. she’s agitated. bristly. ready to snap at anyone who gets too close. it’s a miracle she hasn’t done a number on manny yet, or xander. ( she’s got a bit of a soft spot for the guy. )
t h e f a i r .
she went ‘cause everyone expected her not to. idiots. of course she was going to prove assholes wrong. of course she was going to light up a few cigs near the kiddie play pen. who do you think she is ? a changed woman ?
like clockwork, the first screams rang out when clem finally heard her lighter catch. so she took her time. lit the cigarette, took a looooooong drag. then came the footsteps. the snarls. the corner of her lips turned up in the teeniest of smirks.
she smelled it before she felt it. the blood. but just as soon as the pain blossomed ‘round her right forearm and shoulder, she was being pulled in the opposite direction. practically carried.
yeah. someone saved her ass. and she’s pissed about it.
c u r r e n t l y .
spends her time drinking, smoking, ‘n adding to brooks baker’s gray clouds over at the bakery. when she’s not there, you can find her sitting in her favorite diner booth sipping her umpteenth black coffee or tearin’ into a big fat slice of key lime pie.
aw. you scared ? you think some big bad glitch is gonna come back to take you, too ? cry her a river, hun. this ain’t nothing.
the local bartenders already know to pour her a double whiskey, straight as soon as she walks in the door. clem’s got this presence about her –– she turns heads and makes ‘em want to turn away all in one go.
c u r r e n t c o n n e c t i o n s .
fuck buddy / savior – manny otero. she’s got him right where she wants him... in bed. these two ooze libido and become a show almost anywhere they go. sometimes she’ll let him buy her a drink. other times, it’s just easier to cut to the chase. since becoming blind, things with manny haven’t changed much, and clem’s thankful for that. little does she know, he’s the asshole who saved her life at the fair.
unlikely ally – xander chapell. these two share late night cigs after clem gets some and, xander, well... does not, due to a variety of freak and unfortunate incidents. often clem barging in pre-bang. they have a special trust between them. xander opened up to clem about losing bez the night after the glitch. and she opened up to him, a little, about her past. it’s uncanny. but their bond works.
w a n t e d c o n n e c t i o n s .
enemies. give me people who really rub clem the wrong way. it ain’t hard to do.
her older sister. their relationship is dysfunctional. deceptive. manipulative. you’d think they were the heads of opposing armies, not borne from the same flesh and blood. surprise surprise, clem has since uncovered a gorgon’s ability to reverse their changes. needless to say, she’s wanting to seek some kind of comeuppance. the issue? her older sister has been the only person to succeed in forcing help on her after losing her sight. and killing her own caretaker? that’d look pretty gnarly, from the outside lookin’ in.
drinking crew. they’re not close, but they share a dark sense of humor and a penchant for dullin’ the senses.
garden emporium customers. i would love to have a connection whose relative / dog / etc. were turned to stone and showed up at the emporium the very same week they decided to snag some kind of lawn ornament to complement their new landscaping... let’s make it crunchy, and awkward, and terrible.
hookups / past flings. she’s been here a while. been around the world for a while. so i reckon while her body count for kills is high, her body count for beddin’ gives it a run for its money.
mentor / mentee type of thing. someone’s looking to learn from her. why ? who knows. but she’ll offer ill-founded advice and bitter philosophies. doesn’t have a good reason not to.
