Sweet as Sugar // Agathe

[CLEMENTINE P.]

▹▹▹▹ As far as places to live went, Clementine had to say she didn't mind the Ascendants so much. It was wide open, the nature around the area was beautiful, and while Clementine maybe wished there was a bit more forest and something to feast her eyes upon, it was... Nice. Of course, she had been in so many places in her young life, she could never say that she had ever felt at 'home' at one of these places. Clementine just... Had this feeling that one way or another they would end up somewhere new again. Maybe not now, or in a few months, but it always seemed inevitable. The Ascendants made... The fourth? Home she had lived in, in her six months of life. Maybe that's why Clementine wasn't trying to get attached to anything. She had to seek out her father here, so maybe he wasn't sure that he was going to stay. She just had to depend on him, and that was all. If she just had him, then the world wasn't lonely, right?

Her breathes wheezed in her chest as she hiked back towards the observatory. The afternoon had been nice, so she had taken it upon herself to explore within a safe distance of the main hub, trying to get familiar with everything. The sun had been nice, and the fresh air had done her good, but her quickened pace and the cold, autumn air made her breaths burn slightly in her chest as she inhaled the icy air. Yet, Clementine welcomed it. She welcomed every, single, second outside of a den, outside of a medical house, outside of any place that had her confined to nothing but her own company, books, music, or the occasional company of her father- when he wasn't working. And, Clementine supposed, she welcomed the frequent moves from place to place, for the experiences of seeing somewhere new.

Walking on alone, she let her thoughts linger as the sight of the observatory grew in the distance. Perhaps she would read a book when she got back, or practice her French. Spanish, maybe. Maybe both. Maybe she would try to learn some knitting, or make some more bracelets. Maybe she would make some tea and treat her father to something nice, while she still felt she had the energy to do so. Maybe she would try to dig up an old book on medicine. Well, she supposed it all depended to if her father was home or not. Her gaze forward, the little girl carried on alone, quietly stepping her way back up the path.

/oof this is kinda sloppy sorry.

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[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; color: black;"]Agathe was not entirely sure how she felt about the Ascendants. On one hand, this place had become her sanctuary. She had been accepted with little to no question and welcomed as if she had lived here her entire life. The atmosphere, despite the frequent deaths and troubles with that other group she didn't care to remember the name of right now, was pleasant and day by day, she felt the ice around her heart melt a little more. But there was no denying her allure to the darkness that shrouded her past. She did not miss her clan and her sisters per say, but wished that the events that had led her to joining the Ascendants had never transpired. Now, she was entirely alone despite her blood oath and left with a nasty reminder of her matron's - her grandmother's - violence.

At least the wound had healed quickly in the recent days, the bandages that once encircled her side forgone as she set out on a patrol that day. The wind licked at her fur and she absolutely relished in its chill, a rare and genuine smile flashing only briefly upon her features. Perhaps the Ascendants would undo the creature her grandmother had so carefully raised. Perhaps they would finally take the monster out of her and banish it to the darkest shadows of her mind. She had been careful to keep herself in check so far, but she feared that the scent of blood and the promise of battle would lull out the real Ironbeak Heir. The part of Agathe that she neither loved nor hated but simply accepted for all of her benefits and faults.

But the last thing Agathe wanted to think about right now was who she really was, no, those thoughts were not fit for a morning walk or a... Oh no... Was there really a child out here?

The Lunar Lieutenant would abruptly stop as Clementine came into view, the wheeze of her breath as loud as a siren to her. Was she okay? Was she supposed to be out here? Why could she not for the life of her muster up any true worry? Darkness help her, she was terrible with children. But if her breath came that hard to her then... Hm, the poor thing must be sickly then. That understanding did strike a chord within her, features softening almost immediately as she forced herself to move closer to the child. She was by no means a gentle looking creature and yet, in that moment, maybe Agathe had finally been successful in appearing soft.

"Are you supposed to be outside?" She inquired, voice blunt and hard and completely different from the delicate look that embraced her features, "What's your name, witchling?"

[CLEMENTINE P.]

▹▹▹▹Perhaps everyone had something they wished that they had not been witness to, something that they could have simply... skipped over with no consequence. Though Clementine was young, rightly, and she may not have understood everything, or been able to fully comprehend the gray line that the world often followed, there were some things that Clementine had picked up in her many books and hours of discussion with her father. The world, simply, was not guaranteed to give you anything that you wanted. Sometimes, the world was cold, and ugly- more often than not it was, but there was light there too if you knew how to look for it. If you were willing to fight for what you wanted, and aspired towards a better life, then maybe things were... Better. Not perfect, but better. It was easier to forget the things that troubled you. 

In Clementine's sake, it was not her family, nor some dark event in her life, but her own body. It was a strange feeling, to have so many aspirations and wishes, to be so young, yet to feel trapped in the body that you would never be able to escape, to have limitations, like a tether,  holding you back, no matter how much you struggled against it. When Clementine was young, she was more easily able to ignore this fact, to live comfortably in her father's loving care and tenderness, to grow used to the prodding and poking of medics, and the often foul medicines used to open her lungs and help her little body, but now that she was older, she was more aware of it. As if it were a persistent little being, poking at her back and crawling up her shoulders, you are limited.

To which Clementine had tried her best to say: Just you watch me.

It wasn't easy. She never would say that it was easy, nor was she fully capable of explaining the feelings she felt at times, things that she never spoke to anyone because she wasn't even sure what she felt about them. She knew that she was... Shy, that she was soft, and people thought poorly of her at times. She wanted to be better, to be admired by people, to be the image of herself that seemed so far out of reach, she wanted to be good, above all. To never cause any trouble, to not draw too much attention to herself, to be liked, if not loved.

Hence, when Agathe appeared, Clementine stopped short in her tracks to peer up at the woman, a smile instantly lighting upon her face, at least until the sharp words contrasted with the softness upon her face. For a moment, her face crumpled in confusion, then faint alarm and hurt as she glanced around herself. Had she gone too far? She hadn't even reached the border! "I-i... I-i thought it was okay. Am I not supposed to be? I'm sorry! I didn't know!" That, at least, was the truth- hopefully Agathe would accept it as such as the little girl looked up, her eyes wide. "I just... Wanted to be outside."

Witchling? Clementine felt her breath catch in her throat, trying to process everything. Was Witchling a bad thing? A good thing? "My name is Clementine," the answer came quickly, obediently as she took in another breath, her eyes scanning the woman's softer features, trying to put together what had happened between her sharp words and the look upon her face. Was it concern? A scolding? "Clementine Parker, Ma'am."

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[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; color;"]It was this child that stirred some long-dormant emotion within Agathe, willpower and willpower alone the only thing keeping the assassin from displaying her newest revelation upon her already carefully composed expression. See, guilt was a fickle thing and an emotion that her clan loathed. They did not feel bad for the sins they committed nor did they dwell upon the past. The only time a second's more of thought was given to anyone was when their blood ran blue, not red. And yet, standing here, staring at Clementine, caused a surge of remorse to wash over her, past actions suddenly vividly alive within her mind.

The witchling had belonged to the seventh sister, a darling little thing with a quick mind and a heart already too soft. But her body was weak and she was ill all the time, a cool breeze even capable of leaving her bed-ridden for days. After some pleading from her sister, her grandmother agreed to give her three more months to recover, grow strong, and begin to train, but those three months never even came to pass. The illness that seized her was strong, too strong, and the poor thing lived in agony day in and day out. A quick death delivered by Agathe had been her only solace, even as her mother screamed in protest. She hadn't been able to understand, had been too fragile to understand, only staining her own paws blue as she cradled her daughter. Agathe had buried the memory in the recesses of her mind and continued playing the role of the perfect heir, even when her seventh sister stole away into the night, was pronounced a traitor, and then presented to her for execution after she had been captured.

Was Clementine to serve a brutal reminder of the monster she was from her Goddess? Was this child delivered to her as a message? Or maybe a wake up call? Agathe, quite frankly, didn't care to find out. She had abandoned that life, abandoned her clan, and abandoned her title. She wasn't the Red Death anymore, just the quiet enigma of a woman who spent her days handling the many newcomers (who were, much to her chagrin, children and ensuring that she blended in seamlessly with her new clanmates. She didn't care for a life riddled with executions and, though she missed the thrill of the battlefield and the way that flesh felt under her paws, was comforted by the idea of this much more domesticated lifestyle. It kept her safe and, as stubborn as she was to admit it, safety was what she needed.

But that didn't change the fact that she was still obligated to respond to Clem- especially after seeing how flustered the child seemed to get when faced with a simple inquiry.

"It isn't ideal," Agathe finally offered in response, her golden gaze sweeping the area around them as if to check for invisible predators, "You strike me as a smart girl, surely you've heard about the murders we've been facing." Why should she sugarcoat the Ascendants' current ailment? It wasn't necessarily to scare the other girl, just leave her more aware. "But..." The Lunar Lieutenant trailed off, facial features contorting as she contemplated her next words and what they might entail. She hardly felt comfortable offering her company so that this Clementine could get a taste of the outdoors, but maybe it was time to atone for what she did to that little girl. For what she did to her mother. "I can accompany you if you'd like. Don't expect a conversation partner though."

Blunt. Cool. To the point. Though Agathe would admit, she enjoyed watching her squirm about being called a 'witchling'. If only she knew what an honor it was to be considered one of her blue-blooded kin. "And I'm Agathe Ashyver. At least you aren't uncouth like the rest of these children. So unruly; I feel like I'm babysitting sometimes." Her teeth flashed, smile not warm or welcoming but a smile regardless. "And calm down," She continued in that soft voice of hers, head shaking, "I don't bite." Anymore.

[CLEMENTINE P.]

▹▹▹▹Clementine of course had no idea of the effect that she had on the woman with such a dark and shourded past, though the young serval stared up at the woman swathed in a cloak as red as blood itself, the faint flicker of emotions that dared to threaten in Agathe's eyes, yet held back by a stony wall of pure control. Who knew what Clementine would have thought of her past, of her stories, the fact that she had to kill one of her Sisters, a sister that had been so sick like her. Clementine knew the pain well. She knew the pain of feeling groggy, the pain of feeling pins and needles prickle in her chest, the pain that every breath sometimes took when she was sick, and it was as if she were barely drawing in any breath at all, as if trying to breathe through a straw, or with her head beneath the waves. Was Clementine fragile? Phsyically, she was as easy to shatter as an already chipped glass. Mentally, her self-security wavered as she grew, not sure what to feel about herself or about the world around her the older that she got. Perhaps she should have died at her birth like the rest of her siblings. Would it have saved her father any more heartache than he already faced now? He didn't speak too much about her dead siblings anymore, but somtimes the thought crossed her mind, the days he would stand over her bedside, not sleeping, the way he made sure that she was still breathing when she curled up in his bed after a nightmare, a paw on her side, letting it lift and fall with each of her little breaths.

Would it have been better for him if she had not been born? Would it have made his anxiety any less to not have to worry for a child that could so easily crumble? The guilt in his eyes alone when she had shown up to the border of the Ascendants alone had been enough to send a spike through her heart. She knew he felt bad about everything, about abandoing her, much the same that she had briefly held bitter thoughts for his actions, yet.. Was Clementine a reminder? A reminder of every bad part in people's lives? Did they fawn over her, the 'cute' little child, because they wanted to feel better about their lives? To hold on to her, like some dim ray of hope? To smother her in their hopes and dreams for her, even if she could never achieve them? Clementine had tried, she really did try, to make everyone happy. She tred to be the person that everyone else wanted her to be, to be strong, and brave, even if she felt scared, and weak.

It isn't ideal, the answer came, making Clementine's ears flatten back softly at those words, watching the woman's careful gaze. She blinked, swallowing a little uneasily at the bit of praise as she tried to straighten her shoulders, lifting her gaze and her head as high as she dare to face the stronger woman. "Yes, I know Moon said something about it, but I wasn't going to go that far," Clementine said quickly, a promise as much as a child could give. "I know the world is bad. That it does a lot of really mean and nasty things to people- but I wasn't going to go that far! And I was going to be right back before sun down!- I was heading back now, even!" she asserted, her ears flickering softly as she watched the contemplation fall over the woman's face, desperatly hoping that it wouldn't be a scoling.

She held her breath until the words came, some slight surprise lighting Clem's face at her offer. Agathe was going to accompany her? "Oh," she answered, momentarily dumbfounded at the turn of events as her paws shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat gently as she stood back up straight, finding a smile start to pull at her face as she giggled softly at her words, "You don't have to babysit me, promsie! I'm too old for that. I don't want to be treated like a baby anymore." She bounced softly on her paws to join Agathe at her side, peering up at the older woman with an adoring smile. "It's nice to meet you, Agathe. Thanks for coming with me, I think my dad would like that a lot better anyway," she added with a soft sigh, looking around for a moment before she turned away from the observatory and began away from the camp once more. Hey, why not, right? Now that she had Agathe, she could go exploring just a little bit further.

"I like your cloak, by the way," Clem added as she looked back up towards the woman. "Is that part of the... Witchling thingy you were talking about?"

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[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; color;"] "I know the world is bad. That it does a lot of really mean and nasty things to people."

If Agathe hadn't known better, perhaps she might have laughed in Clementine's face, informing the child that she looked upon a wicked creature who would eventually seize immortality and maybe even more. She was wicked and despicable and had committed more atrocities than she could count and yet, she was entirely unfazed by her actions. Why would she feel remorse? Why would she permit herself to be haunted by past misdeeds? She could let that inkling of guilt that rolled like a freshly lit flame in her chest extinguish and revel in her own terribleness and be perfectly content- happy (as fragile as a concept as that was) even.

But Agathe did know better and recognized that she no longer wished to achieve an endless life but maybe... just maybe... redemption. And so she nodded in consideration of the child's words, her expression still unnaturally soft. A child of peace seized by war... Yes, that was what Agathe had been. But here, she was free. Free to be herself and act like the person she was - had always been - at her core. She supposed in that regard, she and Clem were similar. Held back by her own body, the girl that stood before her probably only desired a moment's worth of freedom, just enough to forget her circumstances. She couldn't blame her. Would never blame her. And maybe that was why the smile that ever so briefly curled her ebony lips was the most genuine portrayal of emotion that Agathe had ever expressed.

"It's still dangerous, witchling," She countered finally, voice low. She no longer possessed any interest in reprimanding Clem, not when she had already agreed to accompany her to wherever she might want to go, "And by the looks of it, you have no training." The latter part of her words were not intended to insult but merely state the obvious. There was no denying her sickly upbringing and Agathe didn't need to be told anything more about Clem to understand that she most likely lacked physical strength. If faced with this notorious little murderer, there was no way she'd make it out alive.

Why did that thought make her blood boil?

She resisted the urge to hiss and instead focused her attention on what else the child had to say, nodding along absently to her words before she asked about her cloak. The acquisition of her most beloved position was far from a tale for a little girl, the cloak's history stained in blood that was not that same scarlet, but deep blue. Agathe possessed no interest in haunting her nightmares and ruining her perception of her, so she merely flashed her teeth and lifted a corner of the fabric for her to see better.

"It was a gift from a witch. I was granted special permission by my grandmother - my matron - and permitted to wear it as well as my iron bracers. Our rules and traditions are followed without question where I come from but because I was..." She trailed off, searching for a moment for the right word. Obviously, she couldn't reference the murder outwardly. "Given it rightfully, she could not refuse me." Yes, she supposed that that sounded appropriate enough- and hardly suspicious. Good.

"Shall we get a move on?"

[CLEMENTINE P.]

▹▹▹▹Of course, Clementine still held that small shred of naiveability that all children did. It wasn't so simple to say that the world was just 'bad'. She knew it was worse. She had seen tears upon her father's face and his ragged form after being captured. She tried to be happy a lot; tried to pretend that maybe things weren't really as bad as they seemed deep down, but even for her it was becoming harder to believe that dillusion. She was smart, she was observant, rather. While she may not have been the best at social interaction - ever - a lot of her time spent in isolation or watching the world told her a lot about it. Even when she was sick, people didn't try to make her feel better. She had to help herself, even if she felt like she was going to collapse, she had to do something to reach out to others and make them like her.

Perhaps Agathe was different than most. Perhaps she had done terrible things- but of course, Clementine didn't know of these. And perhaps Agathe was willing to change in some way, had lived a life harsher than Clementine's had been. Her breathe wheezed for a moment in their next steps, and she simply tried to ignore it as she curiously glanced up at the woman from time to time, giving Agathe her full attention when she wasn't focused on watching her step, awaiting her answer. Her own grin grew a little more seeing Agathe smile back so warmly, even purring for just a moment as her step turned a little more cheerful.

"I know it's dangerous," she answered softly.  "But-" she started, but then stopped herself. No, she knew. There were no excuses to be made, her ear simply flicking as Agathe continued, leaving her to nod softly for a moment in answer. "No, of course not. My dad would never let me do something like that. And I don't think I could.. It gets really hard to breathe if I do too much." Did this fact daunt her? The idea that if anyone even so much as had an inkling to harm her- even someone small and fragile - they just had to out run her? They just had to get a good grip on her and that would be it for her? Maybe the thought had crossed her head once or twice, an internal warning to the possibilities. "Besides.. I don't know if I want to know how to hurt people."

The thoughts were dismissed for a time as Agathe lifted her cloak for Clementine to see better, her head tilting momentarily as she considered her words. A gift from a witch, huh? Agathe really was a Witch, wasn't she? She was a little more outlandish than most people in the Clan, and she carried herself differently, too. Maybe Agathe did believe in something different, and Clem was alright with that, too. "So you are part of a.." What was it again? It certainly wasn't a cult- that was a bad, bad thing. "Coven? Is that the word? That sounds nice, though. Always having people there for you somewhere, even if you're really, really far away. It's nice that you have something of your grandmother's too. My dad still keeps a lot of his things from his big sister; it makes him happier, I think." Granted, her father didn't speak too much about it anymore.

For now, Clementine was protected from the truth that Agathe had taken a life; that the scarlet woven cloak that she wore was not threaded from moments of pain and dismay like a proud flag upon her back. That the woman's iron bracers were not instead swords and blades at the woman's disposal; that she was not, in fact, a dangerous woman. Even though, they both knew that she was. Regardless, Clementine's ear flicked at the question as she looked back up with a smile. "Yeah, we can get going. Maybe you can pick somewhere, Agathe? I don't really know this place that well yet. Maybe you can show me your favorite spot!"

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