[ARC 29: LIVE IN IGNORANCE]
[Stranded]
Amelie Cousteau was Kate's favorite first-year, and that afforded a certain amount of leverage, much of which she spent ensuring her mentor Claire would not be expelled. She had been without her mentor's guidance for several months, although her progress had not slowed; she would study past students and trained twice a day, having killed her way to being the top-ranked first-year.
It has fallen to Amelie to take care of Claire in recent months, especially as her alcoholism had worsened; if Claire did not return home then Amelie would go out to find her at local bars, and ensure that even if she were drinking, she would not be lured into any dangerous situations. She would come across civilians taunting Claire if she was too drunk to speak or stand well; they would mock her as a waste of taxpayer money. Occasionally Claire would respond, and this was when Amelie would need to go to Kate to preempt whatever report was to come.
But she believed that were she to give up on Claire, no one else would be putting Claire at the center of their life; even her mentor had dropped out, though for what reason she did not know. There were times where Amelie would extend help and understanding to Claire, yet as her addiction deepened, the more Claire attempted to reject that understanding. Amelie persisted, however, and she had begun to scratch her proverbial surface in the last month.
It's debatable whether Claire understood herself at any deep level, however; even sober she had never seemed possessed of an interior. Throughout her addiction she had been attuned to her base desires and senses, though even this in their inwardly distorted fashion, part of the nothing that typically infects addicts; without the craft of intellect her emotions were often left unfiltered. When she disliked someone, she let them know; her expressions of love were over-weening and prone to self-pity. Without her addiction she was rather lucid; the verisimilitude of reality repulsed her in that she felt too conscious of its every blackhead.
And these qualities, generally, were why she seemed to have always been on the outs of society. What Amelie had found is that she had few friends; her mentor had dropped out a few months before the start of the semester with no reason, or rather, not one she was to bear witness to.
Still, Claire felt obligated to go see this movie with Amelie.
She watched as Amelie spoke to the ticket booth attendant, who seemed to be encountering some issues. Amelie glanced back at Claire, smiled at her, then looked to him again.
To Claire the most notable element of the theater was the harsh hue of its sign; the greasy smell of popcorn and the disgusting people walking out of it. She felt good about herself whenever she looked down upon others, enough to where her mind might be termed its own solipsism; but her greatest disdain was for those that, not ironically, usually matched her own flaws writ large.
Amelie told the attendant something and went back to Claire. "They're having a little trouble with the tickets. I'm going to go ahead and get some popcorn, but can you make sure we get our tickets? I already paid."
"Okay."
Amelie separated from Claire and walked to the theater's entrance. She passed by a few posters, and soon heard Claire arguing with the attendant.
"It's wine. You going to tell me it's not allowed inside? You see the badge, you snot-faced prick?"
MICHAEL FASSBENDER STARS IN ANOTHER AWARD-WINNING PERFORMANCE
"That's *Ms. Riptide* to you. I can bring whatever the fuck I'd like in here."
Steve McQueen interrogates in this film whether it is better to see someone you care for suffer, or see someone suffer and realize you do not care.
From the director of Shame comes another masterpiece.
"Just give me the tickets, dick. No, I don't remember the name of the..."
She turned around and went back to Claire, smoothed over the attendant, and helped Claire walk with her. Claire's face was tense, her breathing frustrated. "God, I hate teenagers. They just like pissing students off because they know we won't do anything. Did you hear what he called me?"
"Claire..."
They stepped inside and Amelie waved her badge to the attendant as they passed by. She tried to focus.
"I know I don't exactly command respect, but what about me being a student?"
"Claire... Please, you've been doing good lately. I've been wanting to see this for a few weeks. Alright?"
"I know, I know. I shouldn't have let him provoke me like that. It's just, god damnit, I..."
They reached the concessions counter. The smell of candy & buttery popcorn reminded Amelie of the store her & her younger sister would go to, where they could buy chocolate by the poundage and their mother would scold them for eating themselves fat. She smiled.
"Who's it by?"
"I told you. It's by Steve McQueen."
"Well, does he make funny movies?"
"No. He makes deep character studies about loneliness."
"How's that supposed to make any money?"
"They usually don't."
"Oh."
Amelie bought their concessions and looked to Claire (and the wine she was holding), then nodded. Being a host, Claire's addiction would not kill her if she went cold turkey, but Amelie had begun reconciliation on the condition that she gradually lower her intake. She walked with Claire to their showing, who seemed guilty over her earlier outburst.
"Ah, jeez, Amelie, I don't see the point of this. You always gotta keep pardoning me for something stupid I do. You should just cut me loose. I wouldn't blame you, Amelie. It'd serve me right."
Amelie did not reply. She said not a word as they were seated and the movie grew in the empty screen; she thought not again of the questions posed by the film, for it was merely fiction.
Claire's life had begun to resemble Waiting for Godot; the repeated occurrence and slow mutability of daily life, interrupted by the occasional humor or sadness; but mostly there was little from which she could construct a coherent memory; life was of liquid moment, but the composition too smeared to separate. Time weathered her as events flowed around her; she did not understand many things.
As they left the theater Amelie was explaining parts of the film to Claire, who threw away her half-drunk bottle of wine as they left. Amelie smiled at this improvement, and focused again as they walked out to her car, yet Claire seemed guilty as they passed the attendant from earlier, then angry.
"God damnit, it's just the way people'll judge me off the most superficial of things. Then it just pisses me off, I ruin your evening, even though I'm supposed to be the one mentoring you, and..."
"Claire, please stop apologizing."
Claire stopped apologizing.
With that they shared not another word until they were in Amelie's car, and Claire's phone vibrated. She was slow to answer it. "Hi. No, I'm not out fighting, I'm… I'm out training with Amelie."
She opened the door and stepped outside for a minute as she talked to her mother. Amelie could still hear her, though she tried not to eavesdrop. She felt anxious and began sharpening Delinquent's blades; it was a persistent worry of her's that they would otherwise dull.
"So you talked to her mom lately? … Yeah, no, that makes sense. That's a real bad area for Revenants. Amelie had an investigation there a month or two ago. … No, I haven't. I haven't seen Rebecca since highschool. She broke up with me, not the other way around. No, you're thinking of Amelie. Amelie got broken up with recently. Well, of course she's French. She's sweet. Never waves a white flag like you'd think.
Ah, jeez, I don't really wanna talk about it. I've been stressed lately. No, you'd make fun of me if I told you. … Okay. Okay, but it's embarrassing, and you gotta promise not to laugh.
Well, I got approached by a talent agent outside of class once. He said he was with... umm... I don't remember the name now. He's an older man, but I'm a host, so what do I care, right? He was with some modeling agency. When did I-? Oh, I told Rebecca I was out testing my Revenant, but to tell you I was over at her place if you called. But still, people always told me my looks were good, so I thought maybe even if I was attending Urasaria I could be in magazines on the side I went with them down to a studio. They had a place set up for test shoots, but they said I'd need to pay a fee. I did.
…
Why? I'm a host. What could they have done to me? It's not like I'd fall for it now, y'know. I know real agencies don't ask you to pay them. But beauty doesn't get you much in life but jealousy otherwise. Yeah, maybe I'm a little uglier than I thought, but that's still a face hardened to life itself.
Anyway, umm… well, Rebecca eventually asked me about all this 'cuz I had them send a letter to her house. She confronts me about it and she tells me all that stuff about it being a scam. I didn't get what she was talking about, but I guess I thought it over, and thought ok, maybe. But she told me that she couldn't see herself being with a girl who was that gullible.
Well, I said it was embarrassing, didn't I?
Okay, but I don't need- no, I'm putting you on mute, damnit. I try to tell a funny story and you just want to lecture me? Ok, fine. I thought it was a funny story, but instead you gotta embarrass me deeper. Well, I don't need your advice. I don't need anybody's advice except Claire's. Jeez, it's not like I'm a man. I can learn from my mistakes. … Okay, you're off mute. Okay. Okay. Okay, fine. It was nice talking to you otherwise. I'll try not to get caught in any more scams. Bye."
She hung up but continued to lean against Amelie's car for a minute or so. With the death of her ex-girlfriend Rebecca's mother, the place of her childhood was withering as she aged; less & less people were around to say 'yes, Claire, I remember when that happened too'. This was where Claire was at this time, or at least felt an obligation to be, even if she did not know why she should.
There was another memory important to her, and it was one she recalled whenever she felt too sad. It was a time as a kid when her & her mom were out in 2007, and she had seen Urasaria's student body president walking across the street. To little Claire, this was the prettiest girl she had ever seen, and she loved her long, blue overcoat with runic symbols hanging off of them. It was known at this point that Claire possessed both gene & birth Revenant for later activation, although she did not entirely know what students did (nor was she allowed to look it up until she was older).
So, when her mother wasn't looking, Claire rushed over to the student and tugged at her coat. The student had turned before Claire even took one step, and said to her: "What do you want?"
"Are you with Ura… Your a stair... Are you a student?!"
"Yes. Do you need help finding your parents?"
"No, she's over there!" Claire pointed. "But I want to talk to you!"
She smiled faintly, wryly. "Well, okay. But why would a kid be interested in me?"
"Because you're the president! The president of all hosts!"
"Wow, very astute."
"What's that mean?"
"It means smart. … What's your name?"
"Claire!"
"Okay, Claire. Are you going to be a student?"
"Uh-huh! I want to fight bad guys like you do!" Claire jumped up and down. "Do you get my letters? I sent you one yesterday!"
"I do, sweetie, but I can't read them until the end of the year."
"Aww..."
"Just keep sending your fan letters, okay? Maybe I'll even send you one back." She ruffled Claire's hair. "Now, I need you to bring something back to your mommy." She pulled a paper & pencil out of her pocket (most likely Revenant-created), then wrote on it, folded it up, and gave it to Claire. "Go give that to your mom, okay? Make sure you look both ways."
"Okay!"
Claire went off, and when she reached her mom, the student was no longer there. But she had treasured this autograph for many years, for she felt that if a president of Urasaria had seen something in her, enough to go out of her way to talk to her, then she must be special. Or, as her body squirmed against the impingement of full night, that was what she hoped.