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Entry tags:
now the world is only white noise
WHO: Chloe Price and yoooooooou
WHAT: Chloe's suffering from some exaggerated anger & stubbornness, looks a bit blue, and doesn't particularly cared for being forgotten. Alternative title: Graffiti The Shit Out Of Things
WHEN: During Phase II - IV
WHERE: The Gallows because lol where else
NOTES: idk like... swearing and stuff is pretty norm for her, some mentions of previous abandonment issues/parental death.
[ A ] i'll set fire to this whole place (phase ii)
Chloe wasn't unfamiliar with people suddenly gaining abilities, exactly; between the freaky shit that happened with Rachel that could or could not have been some kind of weirdly elemental driven bullshit, and then Max literally getting the ability to rewind time out of nowhere, it was becoming kind of a Thing in her life. What she wasn't used to, though, was being the one to have them.
Specifically, she wasn't used to being the one to accidentally set shit on fire without meaning to, and it was freaking her out more than just a little. She wanted it to go away because what if she accidentally burned down Kirkwall? It's not like she hadn't seen fires start and get out of control before. It was gonna be her fault and she was gonna get in way more trouble than she ever had before and shit, shit, shit --
In her panic, she'd accidentally set some of the papers she'd been trying to sketch on aflame, making her groan and quickly try and put out. "When's this gonna stop?"
[ B ] i don't even care about my house (phase iii)
She was more than relieved when it finally went away. More than ready to no longer have to put up with smelling like smoke and hoping that she didn't actually burn someone just because she got too flustered. It felt like maybe she'd get a break, a respite from what felt like non-stop symptoms since the moment she'd gotten here, except that her skin never stopped being blue and she was getting pretty sick of it at that point. She'd started cracking jokes about trying to match her hair just to make herself feel a little better.
It didn't seem like anything weird was happening, but the longer her skin remained that awful color, the more angry she got about it. The hotter her temper flared, the more agitated she became at the idea of not finding a cure. The crystals saying that it could lead to death certainly weren't helping anything and she found herself wanting to reply asking if announcing that kind of severity was a normal thing for the healthcare providers in Thedas, despite the reality of mass panic and --
Whatever.
What did she care?
She continued to try and preoccupy herself with drawing. She could be found in various places around the Gallows, trying to get some semblance of freedom despite the quarantine by not staying in her room, charcoal in hand, paper in front of her, and looking... well, probably anything but approachable, given the tension that radiated off of her and the scowl on her face. Anyone who wanted to approach probably did so at their own peril.
[ C ] don't know how i'll ever break this curse (phase iii)
The agitation was not helped by people forgetting about Rifters. She didn't have a lot of people she was close to here, exactly, but there were at least one or two people who should have recognized her face and regardless, people had been fairly consistent about at least acknowledging the existence of Rifters, good or bad.
Being ignored was something that made her stomach churn. Memories of Max abandoning her, fear of her mother forgetting about her like she seemed to have forgotten about her dead husband, an entire school pretending she was mute so they didn't have to talk to her.
So Chloe was doing the only thing she knew how when it came to coping with her anger; destructive behavior. Not drinking, this time - no, it was more destruction of other stuff, primarily in the form of graffiti where she could manage to actually partake in it. It hadn't taken much to mix together a bit of black paint, using her fingers as a brush. A general 'fuck this place' sort of attitude having overcome her as she filled blank walls with sometimes not the most friendly of images or words. Probably easy enough to wash off since she hadn't exactly found a decent binder in this place, but someone really ought to stop her before she did too much and got herself in trouble.
Or maybe they could catch her and get in her trouble regardless. It would be her luck.
WHAT: Chloe's suffering from some exaggerated anger & stubbornness, looks a bit blue, and doesn't particularly cared for being forgotten. Alternative title: Graffiti The Shit Out Of Things
WHEN: During Phase II - IV
WHERE: The Gallows because lol where else
NOTES: idk like... swearing and stuff is pretty norm for her, some mentions of previous abandonment issues/parental death.
[ A ] i'll set fire to this whole place (phase ii)
Chloe wasn't unfamiliar with people suddenly gaining abilities, exactly; between the freaky shit that happened with Rachel that could or could not have been some kind of weirdly elemental driven bullshit, and then Max literally getting the ability to rewind time out of nowhere, it was becoming kind of a Thing in her life. What she wasn't used to, though, was being the one to have them.
Specifically, she wasn't used to being the one to accidentally set shit on fire without meaning to, and it was freaking her out more than just a little. She wanted it to go away because what if she accidentally burned down Kirkwall? It's not like she hadn't seen fires start and get out of control before. It was gonna be her fault and she was gonna get in way more trouble than she ever had before and shit, shit, shit --
In her panic, she'd accidentally set some of the papers she'd been trying to sketch on aflame, making her groan and quickly try and put out. "When's this gonna stop?"
[ B ] i don't even care about my house (phase iii)
She was more than relieved when it finally went away. More than ready to no longer have to put up with smelling like smoke and hoping that she didn't actually burn someone just because she got too flustered. It felt like maybe she'd get a break, a respite from what felt like non-stop symptoms since the moment she'd gotten here, except that her skin never stopped being blue and she was getting pretty sick of it at that point. She'd started cracking jokes about trying to match her hair just to make herself feel a little better.
It didn't seem like anything weird was happening, but the longer her skin remained that awful color, the more angry she got about it. The hotter her temper flared, the more agitated she became at the idea of not finding a cure. The crystals saying that it could lead to death certainly weren't helping anything and she found herself wanting to reply asking if announcing that kind of severity was a normal thing for the healthcare providers in Thedas, despite the reality of mass panic and --
Whatever.
What did she care?
She continued to try and preoccupy herself with drawing. She could be found in various places around the Gallows, trying to get some semblance of freedom despite the quarantine by not staying in her room, charcoal in hand, paper in front of her, and looking... well, probably anything but approachable, given the tension that radiated off of her and the scowl on her face. Anyone who wanted to approach probably did so at their own peril.
[ C ] don't know how i'll ever break this curse (phase iii)
The agitation was not helped by people forgetting about Rifters. She didn't have a lot of people she was close to here, exactly, but there were at least one or two people who should have recognized her face and regardless, people had been fairly consistent about at least acknowledging the existence of Rifters, good or bad.
Being ignored was something that made her stomach churn. Memories of Max abandoning her, fear of her mother forgetting about her like she seemed to have forgotten about her dead husband, an entire school pretending she was mute so they didn't have to talk to her.
So Chloe was doing the only thing she knew how when it came to coping with her anger; destructive behavior. Not drinking, this time - no, it was more destruction of other stuff, primarily in the form of graffiti where she could manage to actually partake in it. It hadn't taken much to mix together a bit of black paint, using her fingers as a brush. A general 'fuck this place' sort of attitude having overcome her as she filled blank walls with sometimes not the most friendly of images or words. Probably easy enough to wash off since she hadn't exactly found a decent binder in this place, but someone really ought to stop her before she did too much and got herself in trouble.
Or maybe they could catch her and get in her trouble regardless. It would be her luck.
no subject
That seems like a bit much to say out loud, though, so instead she settles with; "Yeah. Thanks. The tea will probably help a lot. Did last time." If she can stay corporeal long enough to make a pot and drink it. But it didn't matter because she'd thought to bring it in the first place and something about that makes her feel warm for the first time in weeks. "I - ... I really appreciate everything you've been doing for me, Fern. I hope you know that."
no subject
On instinct Fern ducks her head some to hide the little smile that brings to her face, rubbing at the side of her neck, and she's in the process of saying, "Oh, really, it's nothing..." before she chooses to stop herself. No, it isn't nothing; she means it, very sincerely, and had meant it when she'd put that silly drawing of Chloe with Rooster down onto paper, too. Peering up, she lifts her chin and lets her smile grow warmer, less nervous. "You're very welcome," she says earnestly instead. "Anytime."
no subject
"I guess I'll... see you later?"
no subject
"Maybe," she starts, chews her lower lip, then suggests, "maybe come by the herb garden tomorrow? If you feel up to it, I mean."
Then, before she can blush any more fiercely or give herself the opportunity to trip over her words another time, she adds a shy-sounding, "Goodbye," and then slips out of the room.