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“I’m sorry…thank you”
“Innocence and kindness are such beautiful qualities…sadly, they’re also USELESS”
“Anger makes you impulsive. Sorrow causes you to waver.”
Clervie pressed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the futility of shaking Perrie. Putain , she was so dumb. Well meaning, wonderfully, delightfully, heartbreakingly well meaning but putain this woman was so dense. She was trying her best and was leagues ahead of their “Mother” in terms of raising children, but sometimes Clervie really really wished she would take some of the care she so painstakingly disguised with potions and excuses about time and strength and determination and direct it back towards herself.
The ringing of metal on metal made her look up again and she sighed at the sight of Perrie’s scythe ( putain this woman was going to be the death of her) grinding against little Freminet’s claymore (baby little Freminet whose mother unwitting left her son in the lion’s den, who was the first of Perrie’s children). This woman . Perrie’s curved spikes hurtled inwards and Clervie knew she had to have seen Lyney’s fiddling with his hat, but still he was allowed to throw his siblings towards Perrie, providing the momentum and additional strength. Perrie caught them, because of course she did, and Clervie rolled her eyes as Perrie pinned them without piercing anyone (Mother would have sliced Freminet’s throat, stabbed Lynette through the back and slit the Traveler’s throat).
“Honestly,” she muttered under her breath. “Peruere you need to practice honesty more often. I didn’t die for the lies to continue.”
She ignored the voice in her mind reminding her that she’d died for freedom, not necessarily the truth, and that Perrie’s lies, while disgusting, hurt less people. Her lies hurt herself, which was inexcusable for Clervie. She’d held on, surviving until she’d been sure of Perrie’s ascension and it would be counter to her goals if the salope killed herself from neglect. They’d gotten enough of that from their “Mother”.
Something moved in the corner of her eye and Clervie turned to watch her younger self lean towards the finishing fight as if entranced. Clervie frowned slightly, thinking about the apparition. Younger her was the only one who could see her, which was unfortunate because it seemed that her baby version made Perrie sad while her tiny self kept mistaking her for Mother. Truly unfortunate. It was what had provoked some of her more…unruly actions.
Perrie dismissed the children and drew her younger self out. It hurt a little, seeing how she softened (not that it would’ve been noticeable to the Traveler. Clervie doubted even her children would’ve noticed the difference) towards her baby self. It just reminded her how much Perrie had changed, how much she’d hardened. Her Perrie had always wove cobwebs around herself, erecting barriers and walls, but she’d only let in people she trusted as equals. Surrounded by children in a fortified house, she was soft but only in the barest of senses.
The two of them listened to the Traveler weave tales of the other lands. Clervie had to admit, she was equally curious as her younger self, and kept note of all mentions of the Fatui. There were some among the Harbingers who she’d rather didn’t continue to exist (Zandik le tête de noeud) and it was always good to keep up with the gossip. She didn’t always get access to the good stuff in the House.
She ignored the voice telling her she wouldn’t get to stick around longer if Perrie was right and she and her younger self were about to evaporate like the morning dew at the first light of day.
Instead, she watched Perrie’s expressions, trying to puzzle out her reactions to the stories. Perrie would never admit it, but she loved stories just as much as anyone else. Clervie always thought that was why she’d been willing to take up a position that let her spin all the stories she wanted.
Before she knew it, the sun was cresting over the mountains she’d so often looked towards with Perrie on nights they’d (Perrie’d) patched each other (Clervie) up. Clervie had drifted towards Perrie throughout the night and ended up pressing against her side, in a (depressing) way reminiscent of when they were young.
“Take care of yourself!”
Clervie leaned her head against Perrie’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Take care of yourself, you dummy. Move forward, okay?”