12-12-2018, 12:50 AM
Clarence was religious in the same way nearly everyone was religious in London. Or, if you asked the right person, he practiced witchcraft. In fact, apparently his whole family did, so they said. They didn't. At least, Clarence didn't. He supposed he couldn't really say anything for certain about his sister or his mother but he tried not to think about that. The idea that they'd been able to lie to him for that long was overwhelming. He still would've gone to the Navy, even if they were. Nothing could've made him hesitate in that decision. He just wanted them to be safe. When he'd asked about it, of course they denied all of it, but he wouldn't probably never really know for certain. He had to admit, showing up in a strange world with talking animals, in which he was basically just a large black cat did raise some questions. Questions that he didn't have the energy to answer, quite frankly.
There was no denying he'd faced hardship. Between accusations of witchcraft, being blackmailed into the Navy, and the passing of his dear friend, the last few years hadn't been easy for Clarence or his family. He didn't really think much about how it affected him, though. No, he preferred to ignore it altogether. Things were easier when you didn't have to think about them, so he just didn't. Of course, sometimes he'd lay awake at night thinking about all the things he refused to think about consciously, or sometimes he'd be plagued with terrible nightmares or day dreams that seemed to follow him everywhere he went, even into this new world. In fact, they'd gotten worse. Still, he just ignored those too. Eventually something would become a problem and he'd have to deal with it, but he figured he was doing well enough to not acknowledge any of his issues for now.
Clarence happened to be coming back from one of his runs (which were now regularly scheduled. He liked having a routine, it made things feels less strange) when he noticed Orpheus holding a sign and calling out about writing letters. Confusion immediately covered the man's face and he approached, his brow furrowed. If there was anyone related to the holiday season, it would be Father Christmas. He'd never heard of anyone named Santa. And he wasn't sure why someone would want to write a letter to Father Christmas. He wasn't sure what the point would be. "Who's Santa?" he asked simply, obviously finding nothing strange about his questions before adding, "Do you, perhaps, mean Father Christmas? And why are you writing letters to him?"
There was no denying he'd faced hardship. Between accusations of witchcraft, being blackmailed into the Navy, and the passing of his dear friend, the last few years hadn't been easy for Clarence or his family. He didn't really think much about how it affected him, though. No, he preferred to ignore it altogether. Things were easier when you didn't have to think about them, so he just didn't. Of course, sometimes he'd lay awake at night thinking about all the things he refused to think about consciously, or sometimes he'd be plagued with terrible nightmares or day dreams that seemed to follow him everywhere he went, even into this new world. In fact, they'd gotten worse. Still, he just ignored those too. Eventually something would become a problem and he'd have to deal with it, but he figured he was doing well enough to not acknowledge any of his issues for now.
Clarence happened to be coming back from one of his runs (which were now regularly scheduled. He liked having a routine, it made things feels less strange) when he noticed Orpheus holding a sign and calling out about writing letters. Confusion immediately covered the man's face and he approached, his brow furrowed. If there was anyone related to the holiday season, it would be Father Christmas. He'd never heard of anyone named Santa. And he wasn't sure why someone would want to write a letter to Father Christmas. He wasn't sure what the point would be. "Who's Santa?" he asked simply, obviously finding nothing strange about his questions before adding, "Do you, perhaps, mean Father Christmas? And why are you writing letters to him?"
LISTEN UP; HEAR THE PATRIOTS SHOUT
BLOOD LUST IN A HOLY WAR