not exactly, obviously. for clementine, the fire and the blood were something that came well after losing her home. but the heat and the smoke and the glow of the flames make her tense up. and there's no divine blood, never any belief that people would survive against stacked odds. but.
she knows the feeling of responsibility and guilt. she knows being the only one who survives. watching the people she owes her life to lose theirs instead again and again.
[When it's like this, the past becomes the present. Old emotions surface anew, and the tears from the memory carry over to the now. A couple tears fall down the slope of his cheeks as Sieghart stares up at the garbage ceiling. He lifts his hand and wipes his eyes with the back, taking a silent breath.
The ache passes through him, and he's left with nothing in the aftermath.]
[This place is leaps and bounds better for offering proper food from the outset. Thanks to some unwelcome stardust, however, Sieghart doesn't get the chance to say this.
He recognizes the boy. It's the face he sees every time he passes Clementine's door, and it rankles whenever he does, because children shouldn't have to carry such experiences at that age. Reality isn't always kind, though. After witnessing the fiery daycare, it's no contest to him as to which location is more preferable.
[ man being fine with people seeing your memories and then them seeing specifically the one that still gives you nightmares is. unfortunate. but alright, sure. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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not exactly, obviously. for clementine, the fire and the blood were something that came well after losing her home. but the heat and the smoke and the glow of the flames make her tense up. and there's no divine blood, never any belief that people would survive against stacked odds. but.
she knows the feeling of responsibility and guilt. she knows being the only one who survives. watching the people she owes her life to lose theirs instead again and again.
well, fuck. hard to say anything after that. ]
... I'm sorry. That looked - awful.
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The ache passes through him, and he's left with nothing in the aftermath.]
Don't be. It was a long time ago.
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That doesn't make it any less awful.
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What's done is done. I've gotten my revenge as well. There's no need to dwell on it.
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[He stretches, starting with his arms over his head.]
No, it's me who should be saying sorry. That memory wasn't meant for you to experience.
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I just get the feeling you didn't have a say in it.
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Like I said. Everyone's memories are like that. It's not like I mind people seeing.
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Yeah, well. It's always something, here. I didn't know the weird weekly stuff would still happen even when you're on this side of things.
[ she didn't die in her last game... ]
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[ she can't decide. ]
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[ maybe it's just that everywhere sounds kind of cool to her since it's all so different from home.
anyway speaking of fire trauma and daycare. an old memory begins, starting at 1:07:50 until 1:18:00
edit: wait i should probably trigger warn for gun violence as per it is TWD ]
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He recognizes the boy. It's the face he sees every time he passes Clementine's door, and it rankles whenever he does, because children shouldn't have to carry such experiences at that age. Reality isn't always kind, though. After witnessing the fiery daycare, it's no contest to him as to which location is more preferable.
He stares straight ahead.]
. . . That's his name, huh?
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Yeah. Uh... Alvin Junior. After his dad.
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That was good advice back there.
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They're all practical stuff. Don't go alone. Stay quiet. Check for exits. And always save one bullet.
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