DISC : I don't own Claymore.
This is the proper version of chapter 1 - I mean, without mistakes ^^ Thanks to my beta :D
Chapter 1 - Meetings
"You know, sometimes, I hate her."
Deneve had said it with an angry look. Miria nodded and Claire turned around to look at who they were talking about. It was Helen, who had gone across the pub a while ago; she was completely drunk, talking to a strange man, too close from him, and Deneve felt all of this could turn out very badly. Claire turned around again and shook her head with a desperate look saying, "It's too bad…"
Deneve sighed heavily and reluctantly, she stood up and forced her way through the crowd to join Helen.
The other two knew that convincing Helen would take a long time and that Deneve was the only one who could do that, so they took time to talk.
Miria appreciated talking with Claire. The latter was discreet and respectful; she never talked nonsense nor asked embarrassing questions.
"You know, I saw Flora yesterday."
"Aww… and what happened?"
"She returned me the ring I gave her."
"I'm sorry for you…"
Claire looked at Miria sadly. Flora was Miria's girlfriend for three years. They planned to live together; Miria was even about to leave her apartment to settle in with her. And then one morning, she was dumped without any warning. The only explanation Miria managed to get was, "I received the answer of that Irish university, I was on their waiting list but they finally accepted me, so I'll be gone for three years." And Flora didn't think that their relationship could survive it.
Saying that, Flora hadn't cried, she didn't even seem moved; her face was expressionless. Yesterday she brought back the ring Miria gave her to celebrate their first anniversary, and today, right at the moment they were talking about her, Flora was in a plane.
"I'm lost" Miria said. "Only two weeks ago we were still together and now she's broken three years of relationship. What am I supposed to do?"
"Maybe you could just cry. Or talk, as we do. If you want, come to my place tomorrow after school, so we can talk more."
"Perhaps. Thanks, Claire…"
"You're welcome."
"It's good to see that I can count on you, and also on Deneve, and Helen…"
"… but not right now I guess" Claire added while she saw Deneve holding one of Helen's arms and coming back with her, who was stupidly laughing.
"We should go while I can control her," Deneve said.
"Alright. Let's go," Miria agreed.
Claire stood up, took her bag and catching Helen's other arm, helped Deneve to take her outside. Miria sighed, seeing this, then took her crash helmet and followed the other three.
One moment later, they were outside. Apparently Helen wasn't able to stand by herself anymore so she was simply hanging onto both her friends, one arm around their neck as she kept raving. Near her motorbike, Miria was about to put her helmet on her head, when Helen suddenly collapsed in silly laughter yet again.
"I preferred when she remained silent," Deneve said. "Stand up, you fool!"
And Helen went out of control again, Deneve chasing her in the street; Miria and Claire following them with their eyes.
Miria suddenly asked, "Claire, do you think Teresa would mind if I leave my bike at your place for the night?"
Claire was living with Teresa two streets away from the town centre; they would reach the house ten minutes later. Miria planned to help Deneve bring Helen home (the two were roommates near their university, twenty minutes of tramway from the centre), because she knew that Deneve, as strong as she could be, couldn't manage her drunk friend all alone in a place like the tramway. Helen often drank; but this time, she went far away her limits and she wasn't able to revert.
"Not at all," Claire answered.
"Fine. Thanks."
Miria caught up with her two friends and quite roughly put her helmet in Helen's hands:
"Well, play with it for a while and stay quiet!"
Helen briefly looked at the helmet before trying to give a salute to Miria; she then said with her drunken voice:
"Understood, Captain!"
Afterwards, she put the helmet on her head, opened the visor… then she stretched out her arms and moving her hands like on a motorbike handlebars, she began to sing out loud, "Je n'ai besoin de personne, en Harley Davidson…!"
Then she turned around the place, still singing.
"What a good idea, Miria. Congrats," said Deneve.
"Have you a better one? Anyway, catch her, we're going to Claire's, I will leave my bike and come back with you."
"Thanks. I didn't know how I could take her in the tramway all alone. Who knows, she may bite someone or vomit or…" Deneve listed the horrendous things the drunken Helen had already done in the tramway, but now that Miria was coming with her, she was smiling with relief.
Deneve had managed to catch Helen and the latter was walking with them – Deneve and Claire still holding her by thearms – thoughshe didn't stop singing. Now, she had switched on some obscure anime soundtrack, but since she didn't speak Japanese, she simply hummed the melody, adding here and there the very few words she knew. Her voice was distorted both by alcohol and by the helmet she had kept on her head; the whole situation could have been hilarious if it hadn't been at least the 100th time it was occurring.
"We should have watched her more closely," Claire said.
"But I did…" Deneve answered. "But this man never stopped buying her drinks… If not, she wouldn't be like that…"
"When will she understand that those men just wanna have it off with her…" Miria sighed.
"I'll explain toher again tomorrow when she'll be sober…"
They arrived in front of the old, heavy green door of a two-storied town-house. Claire opened it and moved aside to let Miria enter the hall with her bike. Thanking Claire, she began to attach carefully the two anti-theft devices. Helen continued singing, louder this time.
"Shut up!" Deneve hissed, "You're gonna wake Teresa!"
"Oh come on…" Helen persisted, with a gesture of her helmeted head which could have knock Deneve out if she hadn't moved aside in time. "You know Teresa can't sleep until Claire's back…"
"Think of the neighbors, then!"
"Don't care about the fu–"
A door on the left, near the stairs going to upper levels, just opened and all heads turned to that direction.
"What's going on?"
This was a tall, slim, beautiful woman with long, wavy, fair hair. She was as elegant as usual, wearing a black silk dressing gown, and her look almost immediately rested on Claire.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"Yes, Teresa," Claire answered, approaching her as if she wereattracted by the very simple presence of the woman.
Everyone greeted Teresa – even Helen, and Teresa smiled when she heard the muffled drunk voice under the helmet whereupon Claire quickly explained the situation. Miria was done with the motorbike and they all were ready to move; so, they politely refused Teresa's offer to stay there for the night.
"Take care then!" said Teresa, returning inside the house.
"Send a message when you're ok," added Claire, her fingers typing in the air on an imaginary phone keypad. The other three nodded – well, Helen shouted something instead – and went out.
Claire entered the house, locked the door and put her bag on the nearby sofa. Teresa was standing in the kitchen, putting a mug of water in the microwave oven. This was for her traditional tea-before-sleeping - rooibos tea, one which doesn't prevent onefrom sleeping.
"Did we wake you up, Teresa?"
"No", she replied, turning around to face Claire and leaning against the worktop. "I was reading some paper for the literature class of tomorrow…"
Claire put her arms roundher waist, looking up at her with a smile:
"You never loved the start of the new year…"
"Well, there are always dozens of first year students; they never listen to anything, and half of them finally never come during lessons. Plus you don't even know if they'll come again or if they vanish in the nature… I hate this - when I have to put 'zero' in dozens of boxes of a listing just because they don't even take the exam."
"You shouldn't worry so much about the first year ones… you know it's like that every year."
"You're right. I know it. But when you choose to become ateacher, especially in university… it's because you love what you do, and to pass on your passion for a domain… and seeing that people don't care is always a little painful and frustrating."
Claire, tightening her embrace, rested her face against the other woman's shoulder.
"Always trying to comfort me…?" Teresa asked – of course it was a false question, she already knew the answer, and she liked that answer.
"I hate sensing any bad emotion in you."
Teresa placed a kiss on Claire's hair and they spent a few seconds in silence – only disturbed by the purr of the oven. After a short while, Claire looked up again:
"Helen said that you can't sleep until I'm back."
"So what?"
"You shouldn't… I'm okay with Miria and the others. Nothing can happen to me…"
"Are you blaming me for loving you?"
They looked deeply into each other eyes. Teresa had that faint smile of hers; Claire wasn't sure whether she was joking with this question…
"Never…" she just answered.
Teresa's smile was now a wide, beautiful, shining smile; Claire suddenly felt proud to live with such a woman. The oven rang joyfully, breaking their embrace. Claire quickly opened an elegant wooden box, took a tea ball and filled it halfway with some dark red sawdust-like powder, then put it in the mug and gave it to Teresa.
"Thanks, my dear."
"I like preparing your sleepy-tea," Claire joyfully remarked. "But now that I'm here, go to sleep!"
"Okay, Mom…" Teresa replied, smiling again. Yes. Everything was definitely better when Claire was around her.
Claire took her bag, turned the lights off and followed Teresa in the corridor. They stopped in front of the door to their right.
"Have a good night, my dear," Teresa said, kissing her on the forehead.
"The same to you, Teresa," she smiled at her and vanished into her room. She heard Teresa in her own room, the "click" of the bedside lamp's switch, even the rustling of the sheets and the creak of the ageless bed. She took a look around her room. She loved that place. She loved living with Teresa. It surely was the best thing that ever happened to her. She appreciated having a social life, friends, whatever, but her true harbor, that was here. She smiled and quietly prepared herself to sleep.
"Helen, you know, soon or later, you'll have to give me back my helmet…" said Miria, threatening.
"You don't need it, you're on foot."
"But if you damage it, I swear I'll kill you!"
The three girls were in the tramway for a few minutes. There were no sitting places of course so they had to look very closely at Helen: her drunkenness was particularly strong tonight and she could do almost anything. She still had Miria's helmet on her head so at least nobody could see her face. Nothing could break her reputation.
She barely stood, hanging onto a bar. Happily she hadn't spoken to anyone yet; however, they hadfifteen minutes left to travel and anything could happen.
Suddenly, the tramway stopped; and what happened… had to happen.
"Ow!"
A young woman leaning on a window was looking angrily at Helen. The latter had just lost her balance and her helmeted-head had just frankly gotten to know her shoulder. And now the girl was holding that painful place where she would very soon have a big bruise.
"Oh, I'm so soooorry!" shouted Helen, raising her hand in her direction – but the girl disdainfully pushed her hand away. "Anyway, Miria, your helmet works pretty well! I didn't feel any harm, not at all…"
"Sorry about her," Miria apologised to the unknown girl while the tramway set off again, forcing Deneve to embrace Helen, preventing her from falling on someone else.
"Are you okay?" Miria asked, more so to stop looking at Helen – and prevent herself from killing her –than to really know the answer.
"It's okay, I'm not made of glass."
Miria took a more detailed look at the girl. Happily she was tall enough to have been hit only on the shoulder. What would have they done if she had been knocked out?
Despite the season – early September in southern France was almost as stifling as the middle of summer – she was wearing blue hip-hugger jeans with a white sleeveless, low-cut T-shirt which was tight around her breasts and then looser, light enough to not keep warm. She had a long, thin, silver neck-chain but the pendant was hidden just under the edge of the décolletage. When Miria realized she was watching that girl so openly, she reddened and looked away. She was slim; her whole body looked harmonious… she had endless blonde hair, cobalt-blue eyes, thin lips – she was beautiful.