SCENE 12 – Homecoming
The first thing about this household that greets Clare is the lingering smell of sour stale rot. As the greyness inside shows itself to the pouring light through the door, she makes out the unkempt and tattered state of the house.
Overturned furniture and a very large pile of scattered cloth litter the parlour. There's one archway into the front hall – and another leading to a dining alcove and through there the kitchen.
Clare shuts the entrance door ever so slowly, leaving only the dreary grey shining through the drapes for light. For the moment, she stands in indecision, not sure what to do next in the way she is now. She just stares out from under the hood at the mess. The suppression pill seems to be wearing out – the drag of her greatsword no longer seems to pull her down with all its cumbersome weight. Still though, there's a certain lethargy that is still lingering through her self.
She tries to sense the presence of the Yoma – its yoki now the stench of a perfume overwhelmingly saturating the air. It's all too much for her to determine where it might be lurking even. But something inside tells her that it will be all right.
Very slowly, she unsheathes her greatsword (so heavy!) almost falls over in the effort, and wields it with her two hands.
Step by step, Clare makes her way into the open hall, sword wavering.
A grisly and pulverized body lies - fleshy stumps of legs propped up against the wall in the unclear darkness. Everywhere is stained by the dark red of blood spots. Now the stink hits her full on
it hurts
Her breathing comes down harder, unsettled, taking in the decayed air.
Some moaning, heard muffled through the walls.
A little pause, before Clare makes her way to where the cries come from, avoiding stepping near the body. It twitches a little as she creeps her way past it; the eyesockets, though eyeless, still seemingly eyeing her.
The mahogany door lies closed at the end of the hall – the handle dulled and worn. Clare lays her fingers on the cold cast-iron, turns it slow- it opens in a soft creak.
The chamber here is with rags and towels hanging sagged beside washbasins – the windows have all been covered up with the hanging curtains. There's an uneven dripping sound, for one of the towels, stained a bit red, leaks its spare drops into the basin. A door right in front shows hints of the outside light creaking through the cracks, while another door on the left wall..
It's the same weak moaning – right through the left door.
Clare holds her sword down as she heads over to the left – finds it hard just to pull it open-
as it grabbed one of the bound and tied young children in its hand, and went on to the kitchen
In the darkness of the pantry, three children, naked and bruised, lie on their side against the cold ground – their hands and feet are bound by many rags of cloth.
They whimper, as they struggle along on the ground.
Oh shit..!
Clare rushes on down, lays her claymore by the side, hurries her hands to untie and rip their bonds apart. The boy.. the girl... the other boy (somehow familiar). Her hands fumble. She could not help but notice their wrists and ankles are a ghastly purple.
Now these bonds are but shredded rags.
The children shake, shivering in the cold.
Clare raises a finger to her mouth - "Shh. Shhhh shh." She gives a little smile and takes off her hood to show her face. "It's okay."
And they look to her, and manage their smiles too - they are in good hands now.
"Okay," she goes, hushed. She helps them all up, and hefts the claymore from the side.
Clare inches her head out the door, looking around the laundry room to see, before she notions for them to follow. She doesn't want them to feel so cold anymore, so she rummages through the piles of cloths for anything that resembles clothing – swaddles them
and opens the back door to outside.
/
The backyard seems bare, enclosed by hedge bushes and with a withered, leafless old tree at the corner.
Clare leads them over to the tree's shelter, with the concealment of the tree trunk and hanging branches. The children huddle together, as they go to sit down and look upon Clare in her poncho.
"Stay here," she goes to them, before she heads off-
"But where are you going?" the girl asks worryingly. "Where's Mama? Papa?"
A beat.
Clare could not bring herself to say anything for a moment – the body down in the hallway brings back so much pain and horror and the sadness in her mind for her own.. Papa.. Mama..
The tears well down from her silver eyes, her heart under so much pain. The children do not say anything – just bewildered and frightened, that someone so brave would just cry all of the sudden.
But finally, she manages to bring herself to say something, with all sincerity. "I will find your Papa and Mama," she goes. "And I'll make sure.. that monster.. will never bother you ever again."