pc | Camille

[quirkwall]

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w0, mon

[quirkwall]

[ what's up fam Hawke has reached BORED status "it's Monday" bored to tears I tell you. catch her staring unhappily at her newest mark on her arm and wondering if fire works as a cleanser ]


Maker. Why'd it have to be spiders, anyway?

[scrapdraught]

[No she's right it is deadly boring here. Camille is taking her 80th walk about town, feeling sullen and scratching at her wrist, willing the text to not shine through her clothes again.

She slows as she reaches Marion, curious.]

Spiders? [A beat.] You got drawings instead?

w2, mon

[quirkwall]

[ so you know how you can have a good day but suddenly a memory from your past hardballs directly into your face and now you're left spiraling?


welcome to the memshare version ]

[scrapdraught]

[how is it wednesday already, shaking and crying

Camille comes out of the memory breathless. She's been subjected to a few horrors in her own time and many more creative ones here. She hates these kinds the most. Sewn up, reanimated, desecrated bodies.

Mother. The word is far warmer for Hawke than it is for her. It makes the comedown all the more ragged. Raw.]

He...he used her body?

WEEK 2: Friday

[scrapdraught]

[Camille can be found in the refectory now. She has a plate and a glass of water in front of her, both untouched. She still smells of smoke in spite of her efforts.

Oh yeah her head is fully on the table.]

[quirkwall]

[ wow mood.

hawke still probably smells a bit like gas station fire but she does plop down across from her clutching onto the worst swill piss the place had left to offer ]

What a way to end this miserable week, huh?

w3, mon

[quirkwall]

[ voids us for now. hawke will just be shuffling her way agonizingly to camille and tap on the nearest wall to get her attention ]

Your head still attached alright?

[scrapdraught]

[love me a void.

Camille turns at the wall tap. If she's been sleeping it hasn't been well, but she's not the tear-stained, ragged-voice mess she'd been Saturday night. Just a muted resignation. It isn't cute to keep crying in public. Save her pity parties for privacy.]

As far as I know. [She takes a pull off a cigarette.] You here to help screw it back on?

w3, weds backdated

[quirkwall]

[ kabby if you're dead i swear to god.


anyway. hawke is coming over to hang with her after the debate nonsense ]

I've not half an idea over what most of them were talking about and at this point I'm not quite sure I want to know.

[scrapdraught]

That's why I ducked out.

[She smiles though, tilting her head to scope out the situation.]

Learn anything exciting from all that?

WEEK 4: Tuesday

[scrapdraught]

[Camille is

existing. I guess.

She's actually sat by the pyre staring red eyed at the bulletin board. Hawke's missed whatever tears there might have been but Camille still sniffles as she looks up. Grimacing by way of greeting.]

Less than usual. I should take that as a good sign, maybe.

[quirkwall]

[ finally crawls in now that it's cooler. her animal crossing :delight: emotions are currently being intensely ignored ]

Given the weekend you've had, I'd say you're allowed a few extra.

w4, fri

[quirkwall]

[ well. hawke is incredibly easy to find after the announcement tonight. just listen for the bellowing.

at the waters edge somewhere on the boardwalk, hawke simply shrieks her rage out into the sea. the call for vengeance and retribution sure sounds like it's two seconds away from summoning something to destroy them all. ]

[scrapdraught]

[Camille is too restless to sleep now. That's the first reason she's even out here at this hour.

Also she does hear the bellowing. She jogs closer, apprehensive.]

Hawke! Hawke, that's enough!

WEEK 5: Monday

[scrapdraught]

[They are at the Surgery Ward. Camille is unfortunately stricken with the hug curse so Hawke is going to have to put up with their arms being looped together. She surveys the room with a sinking feeling.]

What kind of "Paradise" was this supposed to be?

[quirkwall]

[ do you think hawke has had her traumatic flashback about other certain zombie surgeries yet? if not we're just gonna dissociate for a bit! hugging her is probably a good thing right now. ]

Not one worth living that's for sure.

WEEK 5: Saturday

[scrapdraught]

[Camille has no mind for company. No mind to be alone. No mind for much of anything, really. She's gone and fetched the fresh whisky she'd bought from Elysium this week, letting it dangle from one hand as she wanders, listless. Thoughtless.

Until she sees Hawke.]

...Hey.

[quirkwall]

[ looks at camille. looks at her own bottle of brandy. lifts it up in the worst sort of cheers ]

Hey.

WEEK 6: Monday

[scrapdraught]

[Crosses her path sometime after the refectory business]

...Hi.

You feeling...better?

[quirkwall]

[ with a terrible amount of cheer ]

I'm going to vanish into the grapevines and not return until this week is over.

WEEK 6: Thursday

[scrapdraught]

[They have been swampethed.

Camille is probably dragging herself out by the elbows, erases every concerned soul who waits by the swamp for healed friends. She collapses on the bank, breathing hard, and then looking to the side.

Hello Hawke.]

Come here often?

[quirkwall]

[ help meee. alf can hover over their combined shoulders while they ignore him I guess. she just looks like a sad drowned rat right now anyway. ]

I'd say we need to come here less often.







[ actually, wait camille what are you doing here anyway ]

w6, sun

[quirkwall]

[ HAHAHA SO THAT SURE HAPPENED. knowing what was coming sure didn't make it any less easier to deal with.

you can find hawke tucked away somewhere crying quietly. ]

[scrapdraught]

[Bro what a mood.

Camille does find her. She's in between rounds herself, despondent and dry eyed only for only half an hour now. Marian will find a hand coming to her back, gently, as Camille takes a seat at her side.]

Rough one today.

ENDGAME

[quirkwall]

[ we did it!! she's swanning over to check up on the squishiest half of her people ]

Well! Wasn't that something?

[scrapdraught]

[NOT THE SQUISHY CHECK

She gives Hawke a look that is on the border of existential dismay.]

I've never and will never see the likes of it again.

[Please. God. Let that be the end of all madness.]

...You make it out okay?