Circle That Never Ends // Kid Squad

[CLEMENTINE P.]

▹▹▹▹Clementine was... Settling in as well as one could expect. It was hard for any place to feel like 'home' when 'home' moved so frequently. Already in her short six months of life, she had lived in... What, three, four different places now? This was the fourth, wasn't it? Honestly, Clem couldn't even remember. All she knew is that no place ever felt permanent. There was no friends that she had made that she missed, there was no face that she had encountered that made her heart ache with longing to see them again. The reality was that she only had her father, and that her father only had her. Her other siblings, the ones that should have been the same age as her now, had died when they were born. She, too, had almost passed in her early youth, leading to her father's somewhat over-protective nature. That being said, it was almost hypocritical how often he had been willing to leave her be, to make her worry so much as to go looking for him here. But, she had him. That's all that mattered to her now.

With a sigh, Clementine sat out near the Observatory in the early afternoon sun, carefully digging through a small box of craft supplies that she had found somewhere. The box was dusty and a little beaten up, some while it wasn't usually in Clementine's heart to take things without asking, it seemed like it would hardly be missed. Besides, there wasn't much in it. Some small balls of bright colored strings, some beads, and a few plastic containers of dry water-color paints all hastily shoved into the miserable little box. What could she even do with these? Her father had made bracelets once- Friendship bracelets- but there was no one that Clem was friends with. Besides, everyone that he had tried to give a bracelet to dismissed it, openly saying that they had no inclination to be friends with them at all. Clementine didn't want to make a fool of herself like that, even if she knew a few faces that she thought might appreciate the gesture, even as a piece of jewelry.

Oh well, it wasn't like she had anything better to do, and maybe she could at least make some to give to her dad. Yeah! That was a good idea! With her spirits somewhat lifted, the little serval pulled out one of the small bundles of string and began to untangle it, working quietly as her claws carefully tugged at the bits of string.

[member=2172]ISABELLE M.[/member] [member=2093]HARLAND M.[/member]

  [b][color=#bbc3d0] 

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="width:450px; font-size:8.6pt;line-height:1.2; color:#000;font-family:calibri;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:.5px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]Home is where the heart lingers, within those who have found root within the beat of it, a still pond disturbed by movement, or so one may say. May one ever truly deem another a safe haven, given what may be viewed almost as a privilege to hold within their grasp the heart of another, or is it merely wishful thinking. Loaded almost is such a concept, a snake hidden beneath delicate flowers waiting for the moment to strike and show there is nothing within such a naive concept.

The child deemed Harland had known only two places he had felt the pull of want, thoughts turning until tongue curled about the frame of that word. Home. The first had been simple in overall structure, no set building for they moved about a landscape choked with sand left a golden haze stretching from one point upon the horizon to the next. Buzz of life had been dull within those hours of day, contained to when night had left them chilled, the crackling pop of the fire they had all sat about familiar and wanted. Yet so too was there something hateful within the flames, in once what had been nothing more than small blaze set about a bundle of kindling and brush. He had simply stood by, frozen as muscles screamed at him to run or help, anything at all, watching the canvas of tents he had known for all his short life disintegrate.

A few months had passed since that time, never enough was it, however, the faint memory of it all lingering beneath the surface of turbulent thought. Lips pressed together into a hard line, the sound drawn from them low and strained, heat curling about the base of his throat. Slowly it worked through taunt muscle until it was wrapped about clenched jaw, ache building until teeth parted, sigh passing through the small space. Time enough had passed for the effects of the ill begotten blood to fade but still it lingered, damage merely built upon until it left the vocal cords near to useless. There is nothing good to come from such, clutching at memories left cast into a bleak shade, and yet he does so for what else is there.

Click of beads, the few caught upon the string rattling together, marks the lift of the slight body. About him the bright light of the sun beat down, a warmth that seemed to bear weight as it touched shoulders and back, the long grass he had been resting within trailing along his sides as he moved. Never had there been much like for the observatory, the chill of the floor and the walls about him was enough to sour any want to be within, few able to draw him back. But the need to linger was present and so he seemed almost a shadow clinging to the wall by the open doors, golden eyes watching the passage of others. Such was his plan when steps faltered, almost dragged down as his weight settled incorrectly, small paws shifting forward to stop him from falling.

Caught within the gentle light of the sun she bears a tone he can think only as silver, a bright gleam about a slight frame. Though downcast slight is the glimpse of eyes, bright tone of green almost a match to the grass upon which she has settled and yet it is more so, vibrant a colour hinting at tears he can not quite detect. Slow is the shift of his attention, brief as it touches upon the box of assorted items. There seemed a great many of such things, discarded containers of all sorts, some wood with the surface broken by carvings skilled hands had carefully tended to while others were simple, given no such flourish to their finish, this decorated only by wear. Within he could see a few strings poking over the lip and plastic within which powdery colour is contained, confusion gently touching pale lips, drawing it down into a frown.

“H-hello...” Gentle thought pushed forth, lips quickly taking on an upward draw as slow steps draw Harland a bit closer. Still there is some distance there, enough so Clementine may dismiss his presence if such is what she wished, paws shuffling as his head fell. Though no real tone was present to though there seemed almost a trace there, faint embarrassment within the set of shoulders as eyes moved about the landscape, never wanting to settle upon the serval once more. Stupid was such a thing to approach another, the want to do so not something to be followed but it seemed an impossibility to do anything in the wake of such. “I... uh, I'm Harland... A-are you new? I mean I have never seen you around... just...” Trailing into silence the smile faded and ears pressed against the curve of his skull, golden eyes peering up only a bit.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” To what? Question lingered in the forefront of his mind and for a beat he was left speechless, the want to hit a paw into his forehead barely withheld, such action likely to tip him and he had made enough of a fool. And so he thought better of speaking once more, merely permitting a shaky smile to take hold.

[guts]

Since she was born, she had resided in this clan. She had been raised here, where all her relatives were. There was never any thought of leaving, though she was indeed intrigued by the chatter about other clans, but it was simply just a child's curiosity. She would never leave her loved ones behind. Despite her mothers being absent, she still wanted to stick around, not wanting to lose the few she had left. She feared being left behind, alone and on her own. Even if there were other people around, there was still the loneliness looming over her shoulders, a longing for a familiar face.

She wasn't one to sit still. Self-control should have made it's start on her, but alas, she seemed to have inherited her brother's brashness. She knew not how to hold herself back, or her comments and complaints. It was only natural that she looked up to her sibling. Even though he probably wasn't the best role model, he had been the one to help her along after their parents' deaths, so she couldn't help holding him in such a high standard. Despite all the warnings, she still found herself outside, running and tumbling as she saw fit. It didn't take much to keep her entertained, after all.

Though, as her eye caught sight of the pair, Isabelle changed course and eagerly trotted over to them. She didn't know what they were doing, but even so, she still found herself butting in. "Hi, Clem! Sorry, can I call you Clem?" she corrects herself, not wanting to call her something she didn't want to be called. "I'm Isabelle, by the way! But if you want, you can call me Belle." a nickname for a nickname.

Then the kitten would turn her head, observing Harland with a curious eye. She quickly noticed the timid way he held himself but didn't give it much mind--all she really registered is that she had never caught his name before. "What's your name?"

"speech"