"Miss Clementine, if you would, your mother requests that you perhaps make some time for your studies after breakfast, she suggests perhaps math for today." said , softly. was an aging man, but always kept himself in the most prim and upright manner- his clothes never had a wrinkle, his hair never strayed away from his coif. Mr. Amble had to keep up these appearances, for he was the butler to the Hatchet family- one of the most well respected families in all of Mistral.
"Mother's having guests over again, isn't she." Clementine replied. Clementine was as well kept as the butler, dressed in a estately clean dress, a cloth hat that seemed nearly clamped to her, and with her smooth orange hair that draped to her waist tied in the back with a matching bow. Her eyes were a striking green, but one she kept hidden under a swath of hair that swooped neatly over her eye, and then back into the rest of the hair. Clementine's expression was grim; she had learned to keep her emotions in check long ago, it was part of being a Hatchet. The butler merely nodded, a surprisingly sheepish look from a normally stately man.
Clementine looked over to her little sister, who seemed to be happily playing in the parlor with her dolls in hand. Clementine looked back to the butler, grabbed her toast, and walked back up to her room.
The staff treated her just as nicely as her sister, well, at least Mr. Amble did, but her parents didn't as much. Her father ignored her, and her mother seemed scared to touch her most days. Once Clementine got to her room, she untied her hat, nearly ripping the thing off and throwing it to the ground. Large ears, donkey ears, uncurled themselves from underneath, twitching slightly as they were brought back into the air.
Clementine was a bastard, and she didn't mean that as the insult, even though she might agree with that too. Clementine's mother had been drunk and lonely, her husband had been away, and the gardener had been available. When Clementine had been born, there was no hiding whose child it was, her ears had made sure of that. Her father, or, more accurately, Mr. Hatchet, had just quietly looked at her, told Mr. Amble to fire the gardener, and never said anything more. Her mother drank more, and the two never quite looked at each other the same, but the next daughter came out with the husband's hair and looks, and no ears, and that had been that.
Clementine was hid away while guests were here, for she was an unseemly reminder, and her sister Hazel was flounced and toted in front of guests, for she was a strong symbol of the proper Hatchet lineage.
Sometimes Clementine just wanted to cut her stupid ears off.
Now that mother was having guests, no one would bother Clementine for the rest of the day, they would all be too busy, and frankly, too embarassed to. Clementine's room was simple, yet fine- a desk, a bed, a wardrobe. Years ago, the wardrobe had a panel underneath come loose, revealing a craggy hole underneath, where things could be hidden. Clementine went to it and pulled out the loose board, letting it clunk softly on the floor besides her.
Inside were a few trinkets she had bought, for Mr and Mrs. Hatchet always seem to leave some money drifting around. She pulled out a few bits of clothing from the stash, and put the board back over the hole. She tugged off her dress, folding it neatly and placing it underneath her bed, undid her hair tie, and started to redress in her commoner clothes.
She took out a snug sports bra, and carefully removed the cups. She slipped it on, letting it mush down her chest as she gave a soft smile. She threw on a baggy tshirt and jeans on, smiling at herself in the mirror. She slipped on an army green jacket, and carefully tucked her hair and ears into a beanie, letting the small swath still swoop down to cover her one eye. She popped her jacket collar, grabbed her scroll, threw open the window, and hopped out her second story bedroom, delicately balancing on the fence below.
She, well, on this day she preferred he, although that was not always true, carefully escaped the estate and made his way to the city streets. The sun was still newly bobbing above the horizon, it's yellow strands lazily reaching into the swirls of pink in the sky. The city was still slowly waking up as well, the people in it still clutched to to go cups of coffee, the normal resounding beat of feet and cars slowed to a sleepy meandering rhythm.
Clementine wandered around the streets, before settling on wandering into a small corner store. The clerk inside, a ruffled teen, was staring softly out to the street, only giving a soft flick of her eyes to the door as Clementine walked in. The teen let out a rumbling sigh, and looked back out the windows, of which was somewhat obscured by metal bars that were placed like a grate in front of the glass.
Clementine treaded over to the candy aisle, a banished item in his home, and peeked up at the security camera that stared silently from the corner of the room. He adjusted himself to be just out of view, and slipped two candy bars into his pocket. He wandered around for a little bit, and finally bought a small can of soda, for the refrigerated doors were a lot harder to steal from. And it's not like he didn't have the money, it's just that stealing was fun.
The teen kept the same expression throughout the entire exchange, and returned back to her window staring as Clementine left. The sun had creeped a little farther on the horizon, the dusty blue brightening as the pink fell to the edge of the horizon, slowly slipping away. Clementine turned down some alleyways, hopped up some ladders, and ended up on a roof, overlooking the city, watching as the rhythm it beat slowly evened out. He opened up the soda and a candy bar, and sat.
Clementine was about halfway through the can and a third of the way through the bar when he heard something behind him, and saw two mismatched eyes peer from behind an air conditioner unit. A girl was staring intently at the candy bar Clementine held. Clementine sighed, laid the second bar beside him, and pushed it over to the girl. The girl quickly snatched up the treat, a flurry of pink and brown and white that quickly ducked back behind the air conditioner. Clementine snorted and stared back at the city.
As the pink of the sky finally receded away, and the blue grew bright and boisterous, Clementine stretched, and looked down at a small trashcan below him. He held out his hand and dropped the can. It made it. He held out his candy wrapper and dropped it. It floated away in the wind. Clementine huffed and then shrugged, taking the ladder back down to the alley way.
As he got down there, a group of rapscallion kids seemed to be gambling in the alleyway, with what seemed to be dice. Clementine didn't know that anyone played that anymore. Clementine kept his head down and walked away, but some of the kids shouted at him.
"Hey, punk!" One shouted. Clementine quizzically raised his eyebrows, because seriously did anyone say punk anymore what century were these kids from. "Hey kid, I'm talking to you." Clementine turned around. "Is this yours?" One of the kids held up a candy wrapper. Shit. That was his.
"Littering is bad." One of the kids said, his voice without a trace of humor.
"Uh...Sorry." Clementine said, trying to lower his voice and speak from his chest. His voice was still a little too high, a little too feminine. Clementine frowned slightly and turned around, trying to leave.
"Hey, we're just messing with you kid." One of the kids said, reaching out to Clementine, tugging at his beanie. The beanie fell, and his hair tumbled out, swishing with a dramatic flair back to his waist, and his ears poked back into the half shadowed sunshine. Silence stood quietly in between the two parties, finally being broken as one of the kids spoke.
"Are you trying to pretend like you're a real person, like us you dirty faunus." The tone was flat, a knife's edge hidden in the ways the kid spat out the syllables.
"You know a faunus robbed my aunt last week, you know him donkey-girl?" said another kid. Clementine winced at the words.
"You know not all of us know each other. And I'm a boy." he said, dragging his voice down into a menacing rumble.
"Oh, it's a queer too, huh." The kid speaking this time seemed to be the small gang's leader. The kid sneered and flipped out a switchblade. Clementine turned around at the sound, the small piece of hair that blocked his one eye floating away. His eyes locked with the leader, and his previously covered eye glowed a bright red, matching the cherry colored eyes of the leader.
Clementine couldn't control his semblance well, or actually, at all. His simple solution was to cover up that eye and not to look people in the eye if possible. As the two stared at each other, Clementine could feel the leader's hatred, a hazy feeling of disgust, pride, and nervousness passed through him. He could see the vague plans floating through the leader's head, he could feel the violence, he could hear the muffled thoughts, the want of the kid to show the other kids that he was tough, that he was a leader, that they were better than this faunus, than Clementine. Clementine's hair settled back over his eye, and the red faded back to green.
"You'll regret your sassy tone you thieving fag." The leader hissed. Clementine's face spread into a panicked look, and he took a step back, balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to book it out of the alley. The crowd of kids seemed to encircle him. Shit. The leader started to strut forward, a grin spreading on his lips. Fuck. The kid lunged at him, but before Clementine a blur of brown and pink and white was standing, holding an old umbrella that was tattered with holes, blocking off the blow. The girl immediately went on the offensive, driving the umbrella into the leader's knees.
The leader cried out in pain, his eyes narrowing at the small girl. "You bi-" He was interrupted at the umbrella smacked his face so hard that the handle bent a little. The leader staggered back, and another couple kids swung their fists at the girl. The girl ducked, pushed up the umbrella, letting the unfurled nylon block their fists, and pushed back, letting the kids fall to the concrete. She closed the umbrella and swung it back around, hitting another kid in the jaw.
"Damn faunus can't even fight their own battles." The leader grumbled as he staggered back to his feet, and spat at the ground. The spit was almost all blood, and one small tooth. The leader looked panicked. "Oh shit." he said. "My tooth." He stared at it. "My mom's going to kill me." he whispered. "Shit." he hissed, panic rising in his voice.
The girl grabbed Clementine by the sleeve, and pushed the beanie into his hand. The girl dashed off in the confusion, dragging Clementine with her in a miasma of alleyways, until she stopped next to a small pile of garbage in a completed shaded alley. Clementine could barely hear the street from here.
"Thanks." he whispered, tucking his ears and hair back into his beanie. The girl sat down on a blanket that sat upon a small pile of newspaper, and patted the ground next to her. Clementine sat down as instructed. The girl rummaged around and brought up a pen and paper. She scribbled on it, and passed it to Clementine.
"Thank you for the candy. It was tasty." it said.
"Uh. You're welcome," Clementine said. "Thanks for beating up those people." Clementine passed the notebook back. The girl scribbled on it.
"My pleasure." Clementine snorted. He rather liked this girl.
"I'm Roman." he said, holding out his hand. He had never told anyone his chosen name before, for in truth he rather hated the name Clementine, but this girl felt special. The girl shook his hand, and then scribbled on the paper again.
"I don't like my name. It's a boy's name, but I'm not a boy." Roman looked at the girl. Ah. Now he really liked this kid. Roman pondered for a second, narrowing his eyes at the girl.
"How about Neo, like for Neopolitan. You kinda look like the ice cream." he said. Neo smiled and nodded, and then wrote on the paper,
"I like that. Thank you." Roman chuckled.
"Hey, how about as a celebration, we go steal some to eat." Neo's face broke into a grin and she nodded vigorously. Roman had a feeling that this was going to be a good partnership.