"She taught me all about real sacrifice. That it should be done from love... That it should be done from necessity, not without exhausting all other options. That it should be done for people who need your strength because they don't have enough of their own."
Veronica Roth
There comes a point in every person's life when they need to ask themselves what's important.
Clara had known from her creation that she was nothing more than a tool. She was spirit from within the Egg. She was projected with a body with what power the Egg managed to obtain from past sacrifices. Clara knew the moment she heard Tommy's wish that she was created to manipulate him. She was supposed to convince Tommy that the Egg was the salvation this Server had been searching for. Clara needed to find, awaken, and train the power that Tommy possessed, and eventually focus that power onto the Egg. Clara was the bridge between karmic destiny and the Egg. That's all she was supposed to be.
Clara wasn't supposed to feel this way. She wasn't supposed to care about Tommy. She wasn't supposed to look at his face and see a son... her son. She had held him in her arms, she had fed him, she had given him cloths and ways to protect himself. Clara had watched Tommy crumble beneath the weight of his past and demons, and she had been the one to bring him back to reality. Clara remembered that determine glint in his eyes when he gave up the power over death in exchange for Clara's life. She wouldn't have blamed him if he left her behind. Tommy could have become a god, but he chose to remain at Clara's side.
Clara left the island home she had brought Tommy to. She didn't know where she was going, but Clara knew that she needed out. She couldn't handle the surplus of emotions that threatened her sanity, and the Egg's whisperings didn't do her any favors. The Egg's plan would come into fruition soon enough, and Clara wanted to save Tommy from it even though she knew that he would need to be sacrificed. Clara knew it was her duty to led the lamb to the slaughter... Clara knew she had no right to love Tommy with what she had planned for him. Clara couldn't look at Tommy anymore. Every time her eyes saw him, her mind conjured the image of a bloody Tommy in chains before the Egg with the cult around them. Clara didn't want to know what she would see if their eyes met.
Clara wandered into the main part of the Server. She knew that she would either die or have to kill if she remained there for long. Clara stopped when she saw Tommy's dirt house. Instead of normal vines, a red tree with hanging blood vines like a weeping willow grew in his yard. Red flowers of all different kinds formed bushes that surrounded the doorway. Clara laid a hand across the fence, fingers dancing along towards the gate.
"What are you doing here?" Someone asked. Clara looked to see it was a woman from the Red Banquet. She had puffy white hair while wearing a navy blue jacket. Clara had worn a similar outfit once which meant that Tommy cared about this person. Still, Clara didn't know anything about her. She would a potential threat, though, so Clara drew her rubite sword in front of her with a glare. "Whoa. I don't mean any harm. It's just... you've been taking care of Tommy, right?"
"He's my responsibility, yes," Clara said while lowering her sword. Clara looked away from the woman towards the house. Her glove landed on the latch that would open the gate. She tapped it instead of opening the gate. Clara didn't want to enter the yard or the house. It would remind her of the fight with Karl and the one with Hannah. Thinking about her memories with Tommy would do more damage than the fights.
"I'm glad he has someone. I run a therapy office. One day when I looked over the people who wanted therapy, Tommy had written me a note that said 'help'. Nothing more than that. He hasn't come in. I don't think we've talked since he wrote that," The woman sighed unhappily. She took a step towards Clara while fidgeting with the buttons on her jacket. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Puffy. I used to be a seafarer, so some people may call me Captain."
"I was given the name Clara. I don't know it's significance other than it's from an astronaut in space. At least... that's what he told me," Clara whispered as she remembered receiving her name. Most people didn't appreciate how wonderful it was to be given a name. They were babies when they got their name, and some people didn't get nicknames that could substitute the feeling. Clara had been happy that day when Tommy had given her a special name. He didn't chose Bitch or Asshole. Tommy picked Clara, a genuine name with a story that meant something to him.
"I like that name," Puffy said as she continued striding towards Clara. The pinkette's grip tightened around the hilt of her sword. It had been a long time since she had met someone without hostile intentions towards her. The cult had shown reverence, but it was clear that they didn't like her. Tommy cared about Clara for the simple reason that he was conditioned to like anyone that at least didn't seem to despise him. "As happy as I am that Tommy has someone he can trust, I'm not too sure if I trust you. It doesn't have anything to do with your affiliation with the cult or your violent responses... I'm concerned about your intentions. I've met several people that manipulate to get what they want, and Tommy has mostly been on the receiving end of that. I don't know anything about you. What do you stand for, Clara?"
"What does it matter to you? From what I've seen, nobody gives a damn about Tommy. Don't start asking these questions now when you haven't done that before. Where were you asking Wilbur or Dream that?" Clara snapped. Something about Puffy questioning Clara made her upset, and she decided that anger was the most familiar emotion. The Egg was the manifestation of spite, after all.
"I wasn't involved with the war to know that anybody was getting hurt. Dream... he was my little duckling. I couldn't believe him capable of evil until I was faced with him holding two kids at sword point. After that, it became about my guilt. I should have cared for Dream more. I should have seen the signs. I should have watched out for Tommy. I should have asked these questions a long time ago," Puffy laughed bitterly. "It's too late. I can't show up in his life unannounced. All I can do is make sure he doesn't get hurt again, and hold onto this note."
Puffy opened her hands. A piece of paper fell into her grasp from her Inventory. It was a pristine paper with Puffy's logo on the top. Sprawled across the white was the singular word 'help' in runny ink. Clara's hand hovered over the paper to bring up the name of the object and who signed it. TommyInnit. Clara didn't even need the name. She knew Tommy's handwriting. Puffy held the paper close to her heart as tears and resolve filled her eyes.
"He asked for help. He reached out his hand towards someone. Towards me. I won't let him go. I won't let him fall again," Puffy said. The note disappeared back into her inventory. She turned to Clara with a patient smile. Puffy wiped her eyes until the tears were gone. All that remained was pure, unfiltered determination that couldn't be stopped. "My question is... will you, Clara?"
The pink haired woman didn't respond. She turned tail and ran. Puffy didn't follow, but Clara ran as if someone was chasing her. Clara knew what was chasing her. It was her emotions. Clara couldn't face them. She couldn't understand them, and she certainly couldn't combat them. They were wrong. They went against what Clara was made for. Clara shouldn't be able to care or love or wish. Clara shouldn't be able to admire Puffy's will or be proud of Tommy's accomplishments. She shouldn't care what Tommy thinks. She shouldn't love him like her child. She shouldn't wish that they had a second chance, somewhere else, where Clara wasn't part of the Egg. And yet... Clara was doing all of that. She was sobbing while running away from someone who succeeded in opening the floodgates. Clara didn't stop until she tripped.
Clara felt all her power disappear. She wasn't a god or a Dreamon. All that was left of Clara was the small bit of humanity that had sprung in her heart. The fragile aspect of herself that could be killed or grown. Clara looked up to see someone was standing right in front of her. It took a moment for Clara to figure out who is was through the tears, but the figure and color scheme were unmistakable.
Foolish, the totem god of death and the ocean who sacrificed his divinity for a chance to be human.
