The crisp, golden leaves that accompany Autumn each year crinkle beneath the footfalls of Dana and Clarice. Classes began a few weeks ago, so now all of the academy’s students are settling into their respective schedules. Indeed, the two of them, specifically, have already mapped out the times they’re able to meet between classes—- even if it’s just to grab lunch or exchange notes.
“All right, I’d better go now.”
It’s the usual good-bye, paired with a knowing gaze. ( It’s not as though their classmates are ignorant of their ‘friendship;’ it’s that the knowingness rarely translates into understanding or empathy. ) So when Dana presses a quick kiss to Clarice’s lips, her cheeks blush a shade darker than her her usual complexion. Still, a giddy sort of smile appears—- one she can’t seem to stifle.
Starling can’t help but dryly laugh as Scully tends to her minor wounds. Training at Hogan’s Alley always means getting a few scratches and bruises here and there, but Dana still insisted upon helping Clarice out. Of course, there was little resistance on Clarice’s end. It’s not every day that she gets the chance to be tended to. ( Indeed, she’s not sure how her experience at the academy would be like, were it not for people like Dana Scully and Ardelia Mapp. )
As Dana delicately takes a wet cloth to her back, Clarice slouches forward a bit and manages to refrain from flinching. The wound on her upper shoulder stings, but she doesn’t mention it.
“Thanks again, Dana. You didn’t have to do this. Really.”
God, how she hated these things. Annual conferences that consisted of agents from all around the country flying into D.C. just to blow smoke up other asses and talk about themselves for a while. Mulder wasn’t even here- he’d opted out again to deal with a case somewhere in Missouri. Skinner had insisted at least one of them go, and Scully had been voluntold in her partner’s absence. So, she was without a familiar face to tether herself to and instead had to try and fend off jabs and cruel remarks about the two loonies in the Hoover basement alone. Rarely did people ever actually ask about their cases, despite the fact that they were, in fact, cases- but Scully had given up caring about what others thought of her and Mulder and their spooky cases.
It was much too hot, a combination of hot breath and a room full of suits making the air muggy and stifling. Scully ran a hand through her hair and huffed a sigh, peeling away from the endlessly boring group of men and women discussing morality and ethics among the branches of the bureau to find the source of the little paper cups of water she’d seen people carrying around. She made her way to two of the walls before finally finding it, a bubbling blue beacon of oasis amid the cheap polyester suits and endless chatter.
It wasn’t the water that caught her though, but rather the calling of her name from a familiar voice. Head turning sharply towards the source, a wide smile soon spread across her lips, taking in the longer blond hair and gently weathered eyes that had changed over the years- she was sure hers had too. Approaching the woman with a newfound wind, Scully let a laugh swell from her throat. “Clarice Starling,” she mused. Ethics, how ironic. “My God, the last time I saw you, we were both fresh out of the academy and without a clue. How are you?”
“Think I’m still without a clue, Dana.”
She laughs a laugh that somehow rings empty. There’s joy in her eyes, but it’s dim. And this is not her ideal environment, anyway. She’s here to show her face– as they requested. That’s all. ( Or, as Crawford requested. )
By now they’re blocking the watering area, so Clarice takes it upon herself to walk a few feet and relocate, continuing her reply.
“Still, living on. It’s odd not being here anymore. But I’m finding some others things to enjoy in life. You know?” She takes a final drink of water from the provided paper cup. “What are you up to now? I thought you moved far away or something.”
Ardelia Mapp is asleep on her side of the duplex, and once Clarice hears a knock, she waits a few moments in her bed. She’s sure it’s coming from a friend of Ardelia’s; that’s how it always goes. A male friend, two in the morning, thudding down the stairs, twisted lock. However, the usual sounds don’t follow, and Starling fumbles out of bed and towards her window. She opens the blinds and peers towards the front steps and has to rub her right eye to focus her vision. Shit, she thinks, moving her hand against the wall until she reaches her dresser.
She slips on her glasses and looks out the window, this time able to focus on the rain-soaked visitor. Surprise finds its way onto her sharp features and she throws off her glasses before running downstairs. She’s still groggy, but she manages to unlatch the door and card her hand through her tousled hair, looking at Dana Scully with confusion in her eyes.
“Well goddamn, Dana, what happened?”
Before her friend can respond, Clarice hauls her arm over her shoulders and leads her through the doorway.
Clarice makes a mental note that she should check on the soup she left in the microwave before Scully fell asleep.
“Don’t even bother with that bull, Dana. This is what friends do.”
She plops onto the bed and places the backside of her hand against Scully’s forehead. A slight frown ensues, but she’s thankful it’s Friday afternoon; otherwise, she’s sure Scully would force her out of the way and head to work, sickness and all.
“You want me to start you a movie or anything? I’m gonna go warm some soup.”
Although the chatter that fills the auditorium is far from idle, Starling seeks respite from intensive questioning by grabbing her third cup of water from the drink station. This way, she fruitlessly attempts to stay away from those who incessantly grill her about her experiences with Hannibal Lecter, coupled with her infamous backslide from the FBI. ( She wonders why the institution invited her back, anyway, but soon recalls the fact that it thrives on fame more than truth. Why wouldn’t they want Special Agent Clarice Starling walking about?) She stifles a groan at the thought.
After a few uninterrupted sips of water, she spies a familiar face—- or, a familiar hairstyle and color, and inwardly feels relief. She knows it’s Dana Scully, the woman with whom she almost worked. It was many years ago. She hopes that Dana remembers her passing face, as they never talked much.( Still, the act of walking up to the other woman is a bit self-centered, for Starling does it mainly to keep herself too busy for old male colleagues to question her.)
“ Dana—-?” Her tone is far from timid. “It’s Clarice.” Encouraging recognition, she adds: “We took ethics together, back at the Academy.”
One thing before proceeding: I am a full-time university student with a full-time job. As a rule of thumb, I will not respond to threads in a timely manner. I only post replies when I have some free time outside of my other hobbies, which is not often. If this turns you off to writing with me, that’s okay. I just want to make this clear in advance!
…ONWARDS!
I. Default verse: during- and post-TSOTL.
The default verse for this blog is set after The Silence of the Lambs, during which Clarice is a Special Agent of the FBI. However, I have also read Hannibal, so I can ( and would love to ) write in that verse as well! There is a remarkable difference in Starling’s character between The Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal—- if you would like a specific verse, please tell me.
Please note that I prefer book and movie canon to show canon; however, I can adapt Clarice to said canon without problems.
II. Small, private blog.
I tend to follow a very small amount of people only because I tend to interact with a small amount of people. I also prefer a smaller audience to read my writing, to be honest. This is not personal.
Thus, mutuals-only with regard to all interaction.
III. Ask prompts, reblog karma, etc.
Feel free to send in memes or questions at any time. I am more than happy to write multiple threads, and accept and send multiple ask prompts.
I tend to send in multiple ask prompts when I am close with another writer. This is not me pressuring you! It’s just me exploring our characters’ dynamic(s).
After all, we’re all here for one thing: to explore our characters!
IV. Shipping.
I will never force a ship on you, despite personal biases! ( I.e., Clannibal. )
V. Multi-verse, mains, exclusives.
There are massive quantities of AUs on this blog!
I am also very keen on the notion of exclusivity and mains, so feel free to drop me a line if we’ve talked enough ic or ooc. It’s really great to build solid relationships between characters when we have lots of threads going with each other. It’s the shit.
VI. Violence, god modding, etc.
God modding is not chill. Killing or causing serious harm to Clarice is considered god modding to me, but do not sacrifice your character’s personality for ‘nice’ interactions! Pushing, shoving, yelling — all fine. Just nothing serious unless you consult with me first hand.
VII. Discord info.
My Discord (forjustice #4751 ) is always available for threads outside of Tumblr. I tend to write more often via Discord since I am not on my laptop that often. Feel free to exchange user IDs with me so we can write or chat, or do a bit of both! Just let me know your URL when you do!
VIII. Triggers.
I have no triggers, save for screamers, and I will gladly tag triggers for you. This is what a trigger tag looks like: ‘ abuse // '
IX. Lastly...
Please keep in mind that roleplaying is a hobby and not a job.
* Protocol sounds tough, but it’s really not! As long as we read each other’s and generally abide by it, all will run smoothly. I’m an extremely gregarious person and I always welcome ic and/or ooc interaction! Never feel scared to send in an IM or message or anything of the like. We’re all here to write together, anyway!
** Please do not steal any graphics or any writing that you see on this blog. Unless otherwise stated, it is all of my creation.
*** This blog is in no way affiliated with Jodie Foster, Clarice Starling, or Thomas Harris.
