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Claudette knew she struck the other survivors as...odd. Yeah, they were happy to have her around. She was like the sweet-hearted mother of the group, constantly checking up on everyone and patching up those in need. Her loving smiles and tender touches soothed those around her; and her ever-patient attitude made it so that others constantly confided in her when they felt like they had no one else to turn to. She was just as odd to them as she was beloved.
Phillip, The Wraith as the original four survivors had dubbed him, was also considered odd by his own “social circle”. He was a well-meaning, good person before he snapped on his boss. He never meant to become “evil”, he just couldn’t stand the injustice in the world. The universe itself was just so...corrupt, and Phillip felt this overwhelming need to purify it.
He didn’t enjoy killing the survivors, but he needed to please the Entity so he could stay in it’s realm. It was gruesome and horrifying, yes, but the world he was originally from? Even worse. He saw the evil and wrong in every single inch of it. At least here, in the Entity’s realm, things were straight-forward. No lies and secrets; the killing and the living was pure. The cycle here was honest.
It wasn’t just the killers that saw Philip’s disdain for killing (or “sacrificing”, as it was called here) however. The survivors saw it too.
So, it didn’t reach Claudette’s mind; the idea of running from Philip’s shimmer. Outside of a trial, Philip wouldn’t even hurt one of the local crows, let alone one of them. Claudette just continued the humming of her mother’s favorite song as she picked her flowers. True, she usually only picked random herbs and other essentials needed for healing or offer-making, but sometimes she liked to add nice (as close to nice as it could get in this realm anyways), regular flowers to her personal garden near the campfire. It was her sanctuary and everyone knew not to disturb it in any way.
She felt the Wraith directly behind her, watching her moves intently. She didn’t mind.
“Would...would you like to learn?” She finally spoke, pausing her humming and putting down her woven bag. She kept her eyes focused on her gloved hands, not looking up at Philip. She had a tendency to be shy. She was never the social butterfly.
Which was good, because neither was Philip. He kept silent, still cloaked. Upon not receiving an answer, Claudette turned around to look up at where she assumed he was. She reached into her bag and took out a tree peony.
“Sometimes, the Entity spawns these regular, cute flowers from my world here. They’re a little...off. Some look weird and others are missing certain details. Like this paeonia suffruticosa, which has each petal missing it’s purple basal patch. It’s also a weird color. I don’t think this one has ever had a cultivar form that’s blood red and has bright, glowy veins in it’s corolla…” She gave an awkward laugh towards the end and stared wide-eyed at the Wraith, waiting for a response. Her innocent brown eyes gave Philip chills from how trusting she looked. He felt comfortable enough to uncloak himself and, cautiously, kneel down besides her. Claudette beamed, proud of the fact that she just made a new friend, or at least, that’s how she saw it.
“Here, let’s start with making your own garden! We’ll have to harvest some new plants from these woods and then find a little clearing you can call your own, that’s where we’ll relocate these babies we gather, okay?” Her eyes shined with so much pure enthusiasm and Philip had no choice but to nod.
Trials weren’t so agonizing anymore, because even when he was forced to sacrifice her (though he usually found a way to let her escape, either by the gate or the hatch), he was still always able to meet her afterwards at his little garden, where she’d teach him techniques and terminology and all the other cool things about this fun little hobby called “gardening”. He was still learning these English words, another thing that the woman was helping him with.
Maybe his world was corrupt, and maybe this world was pure evil, but he found something - someone - who was a world of pure kindness, pure good. He’s going to treasure the flower girl.