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On second thought, splitting off from her friends might have been a poor decision. Clementine swayed back and forth as she walked down the quiet streets, delighted by the lack of bystanders to see her less than graceful stumble back home to the Necropolis.
She heard a shuffling behind her and whirled around to face the noise, the world subsequently spinning dangerously around her. ‘Oookaay,’ Clementine thought. ‘Big mistake.’ Nothing lurked behind her, either. She needed to sleep. Maybe she could just find an inn, or something. She still had some gold left from the night out with her friends, and after a simple spin nearly brought her to the ground? Well. She really didn’t need to be found passed out drunk in some alleyway.
Clementine knew there was an inn on the cheaper side somewhere around…but each street she peeked down, and every shop front she passed by left her more disoriented than the last. ‘Shit.’ She couldn’t be lost, she tried to rationalize. She didn’t get out much, and drank even less, but she was better than that. She knew Nevarra City well enough to find the biggest landmark the city had. The landmark she lived in . But still, there was a nagging in the back of her mind that said otherwise. Barely old enough to drink in the first place, wandering the streets alone for the first time, and a woefully horrific sense of direction? Decidedly not the best combination of traits. ‘What were you thinking?’
A frustrated groan escaped her as she kicked at a pebble near her feet, throwing her balance off-kilter enough she had to catch herself on a nearby lamppost. A snicker caught her ears across the cobbled street, and she let out an annoyed whine when she saw the trio of boys who must’ve been the source of the noise. ‘Great.' She offered them a vaguely rude gesture in return, and they sauntered off, loudly guffawing at her state. As she watched them go, Clementine thought with a grimace, that she might’ve recognized them from past classes at the University.
With a slow shuffle to hopefully prevent any further humiliation on her part, Clementine wandered in the same direction she’d been travelling since she left the bar. “Please lemme be close to home,” she half-slurred to herself, despite recognizing (and accepting) the fact she could be no more than a stone’s toss away and still not manage to find her way back. Futilely, she rounded a street corner and instantly huffed a sigh of relief. Not the Grand Necropolis, but the next best thing to a drunk Clem. A bench just ahead of her, nestled between the cozy warmth of two lamplights. Sure, it wasn’t home, but maybe a quick sit would help her find her bearings.
To her dismay, the sinking pit in her stomach only worsened when sitting for twenty-some-odd minutes did nothing to clear her mind. She had no idea how late it was, but it couldn’t be long until she was expected back. And if she was late, in a state like this no less: Myrna would be furious. In her own way, at least.
She wasn’t sure Vorgoth would react much better, either.
Maybe she could hold out until morning and make up some pathetic excuse about staying with her friends when she sulked back in. Or maybe she would sober up a bit and face the music. Regardless, Clementine was ready to accept it, if it meant she could just pass out on this decidedly very comfy bench and forget she’d made a mistake or two tonight. Better than stressing herself to the point of sickness, at least.
Just before she could try to make herself comfortable (Why did no one tell her that closing her eyes would make the spinning worse ?), she saw him. Across the street, clothes crisp, hair neat, and that air about him that all but pulled her off the bench.
“Professor! Hey, wait, sorry - wait up, please!” Clementine waved her hands around erratically, a dorky smile plastered to her face when he took notice of the scene she was making, surprise etched plainly into his own features. By the Maker he somehow managed to be even prettier up close. She stumbled forward, eyes glued on the man. Eyes that were certainly not checking both sides of the street before she ran out into it. And by yet another small miracle, the carriage that was being drawn down it just managed to avoid crushing her. One of the poor horses did, however, come up a bit close in the driver’s hurry to rear them back, its shoulder bumping into Clementine gently when it steadied its footing. A sober Clem would’ve taken the nudge like a champ. Hell: a sober Clem wouldn’t have been running out in front of a horse drawn carriage in the first place.
Unfortunately for all parties involved, sober Clem was not home. And so, a verifiably past drunk Clem toppled over with a pathetic sounding ‘oof’. She did at least manage to look embarrassed, when the driver shouted something at her- not that she heard him. Her attention was squarely focused on the man that had hurried into the street and helped her up. Which, she noticed a bit too readily, he managed quite easily. She hadn’t imagined he would be particularly strong…but now she could be sure the memory would live in her head, assuming the night wasn’t a total blur by the time she woke up in the morning. ‘Maker please don’t let me forget this,’ Clementine silently prayed, waving sheepishly to the man in the carriage as if it was a proper apology, as Emmrich gently pulled her out of the street. Maybe a bit pathetic, that she would want to remember a casual run of the mill interaction she could’ve had with anyone, but Clem was shameless enough to enjoy the little fantasy in her head. She clung tightly to his sleeve, grip tight even after they’d reached safety. Somewhat embarrassingly, her balance teetered slightly when the professor finally pried her off.
Clementine gaped silently for a moment, tips of her ears turning pink when she realized he wasn’t moving away from her. ‘Duh, you dolt. He’s worried you’re going to fall. Again.’ She rubbed the back of her neck. “Thank you. I’m… Sorry, I’m,” Clem started, brain scrambling to spark together a thought or two. “Thank you!” Nice one. “I need to uhm- get back? To uhh,” another pause, and she could’ve sworn her mouth and brain were fighting to make her seem as stupid as possible. “I saw you and- ugh. One second.” A hand shot up to the bridge of her nose, squeezing to try and relieve the pressure in her skull. ‘Never again, Clem.’ Her head continued to throb, and any attempt at explaining her predicament slipped from her grasp. In all honesty, it had been a blessing she had been able to form any coherent words to begin with, when faced with Emmrich and her drunken state.
Mind finally catching up, she opened her mouth to speak again, but Emmrich saved her the embarrassment and raised a hand.
The look he gave her wasn’t quite withering, but it reminded her of Myrna. ‘Are all senior Watchers like this?’ His subsequent sigh left her staring at her feet like a child, before her eyes caught the movement of his arm, gesturing down the street. Opposite of the direction she had been traveling, she noticed. “Given your attire, I presume you are…struggling to find your way back to the Grand Necropolis?” He had a wry sort of smile on his face like he'd been there before, too, and Clem relaxed with a sigh. Thank the Maker she’d worn her Mourn Watch reliefs tonight. She wasn’t confident she would have been able to explain- at least not in so few words. The professor stared at her expectantly and, eyes wide, Clementine managed to mumble out a ‘yes, sir’ in turn.
Emmrich stared down at her for just a moment longer, eyes lingering on her face in a way that brought the blush back to her cheeks with a quickness. She could’ve sworn the sight made him smile, or smirk, or blush in return, but the whole interaction must’ve been the drinks talking. A girl with a crush would always see things that weren’t there, right?
He offered Clementine a gentlemanly arm and with assuredly too much enthusiasm, she took it. “It seems we’re both heading the same way, blessedly,” he offered politely. The delusional part of her jumped with joy inside of her, but the rational part of her knew he lived there too. Preoccupied fighting off her thoughts, she didn’t respond, and Emmrich hummed quietly to himself in thought for a moment. “Are you a student of mine?”
Clementine stared up at him with a confused look. “...what?”
“I only wondered,” he started to explain, with an overly grand hand gesture. “You called out to me as ‘Professor’. Given your reaction to seeing me, there was clearly recognition, even in your inebriated state.” She had the sense to look away in embarrassment at the comment. “I apologize if I should have recognized you. It’s simply that, with the new term starting, I’m afraid students who haven’t continued my lecture series have unfortunately fallen to the wayside.” He sounded genuinely distraught over the idea that he'd forgotten her, or that she might’ve expected he’d remember her somehow, and it made Clementine giggle.
She shook her head. “Nooo,” she slurred, swinging herself around playfully on his arm. How kind of him to not mention it. “Well, maybe snuck into a lecture or two. Just to see you teach,” Clementine trailed off, grip tightening as a wave of almost sobering nausea (from the alcohol and nerves) gripped her. Emmrich granted her the courtesy of stopping in his tracks to let her settle. He also didn’t mention how strange she was for saying that. “Ugh, ahem. I- I probably shouldn’t have admitted that.” So much for being normal about him. “Was just glad to see a face I could recall. And maybe ‘Professor’ is less personal than shouting ‘Emmrich’ at the top of my lungs.” Emmrich only responded with a soft laugh of his own, and Clementine’s chest heaved with emotion. It was quiet then, neither continuing their conversation. She couldn’t blame him. This probably hadn’t been how he imagined the end of his night going. But for Clementine, the silence was frankly torture.
Quiet let her think too much. And thinking was the last thing her drunk self needed to do. With her luck, she’d start thinking out loud, and suddenly Professor Volkarin would know precisely why she remembered him so well. Instead, Clementine used the silence as an opportunity to think about how shitty she felt. Physically, emotionally...self-pity was a powerful thing. Maybe it would bring the mood down, if he asked. But it kept her mouth firmly shut and assured that her stupid schoolgirl crush would go all the way to the grave with her, at least.
It couldn’t have been more than a fifteen minute walk before the statues surrounding the Necropolis came into view, and Clem felt herself physically melt into Emmrich’s side in relief. ‘Thank the Maker.’ She couldn’t wait to snuggle into bed and- Emmrich’s voice cut through her thoughts. Had she said that part out loud? “Was it such a terrible walk, then?”
Clementine could’ve wilted completely from the words. She wasn’t able to bring herself to look up at him while her mind ground to a halt when she needed it to come up with some sort of excuse; a half-baked explanation about how she genuinely felt ill, that she was just happy to be home after the stress of the night. How the walk was perfect, and she was just too drunk to properly enjoy spending the time with him- on second thought, maybe it would be better to leave that bit out. But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw his lips curve into a smile and his chest jump with a silent laugh. Unbelievable. He was making fun of her! She nudged at his arm and shot him a dirty look: until his eyes met hers, and her slight annoyance dissolved into some happy, soft thing again.
“I… You’re nice,” Clem blurted out, voice hardly above a whisper. She wished she could take it back instantly, but the way pink crept across his cheeks made her stomach flutter in a good way for the first time that evening. “Sorry, Professor. I don’t,” she managed, as her heart rate accelerated and every fiber of her being screamed at her to retreat. Clementine felt herself stumble out from Emmrich’s grasp and she turned to face him as properly as she could. “I appreciate all the help, sir.” She was wobbling dangerously on her feet, and he took a step closer, arms outstretched to catch her if she toppled over. “I can,” she trailed off and her brow furrowed.
Emmrich had made the right call, as she dizzily tipped forward, straight into his arms. Well, shit. How was she still this drunk? Was it always this way? This was awful.
Thankfully he didn’t seem to mind when she made no attempt to pull away from him, his arms wrapped securely around her so she wouldn't slip in her practically boneless state. ‘He smells nice,’ Clementine thought, taking a breath full of his cologne and a hint of aftershave. She allowed herself to smile against his chest for just a moment before righting herself in his arms: she was almost certain she’d never have a moment like this with him again, so why not savor it? He maintained his soft grip on her forearms as she pulled back, and she felt her cheeks burn even hotter. “Thank you,” she repeated, for what felt to her dramatic mind like the tenth time that night.
And he smiled down at her with the softest gaze she thought she’d ever seen. “Anytime...” Emmrich fished for her name, and sheepishly, she gave it to him. "Anytime, Miss Clementine." The sound of her name from his mouth made her shiver. Maker the dopamine and alcohol were giving her urges.
She wanted him. Wanted him to embrace her, and kiss her, and protect her, and behold her like this forever. But outside of her sweetest dreams, he was a thing she couldn’t have. Something to look at, but not to touch. He would forget she existed entirely; whether in a day, month, or year…she knew the memory would mean nothing to him, in time. And in turn, she would pine after him, silently replaying this one night over and over in her head. No, Clementine couldn’t have him.
So instead, she settled with leaning on him for support as he guided her—with gentle hands and gentler heart—back home into the Grand Necropolis.