No blaming me for your inability to keep an appointment.
[ The retort slips out before Clea can stop it, and she immediately looks... not chagrined, as that is not an emotion Clea Dessendre expresses. Something else. Something more complicated. Regret is a part. So is anger. At herself. She crosses her arms, unconsciously defensive. ]
I'm sorry.
[ Her voice is clipped and she's vocally disgusted with herself for getting into a situation where she had to apologize. For foolishly allowing the man's eyes and voice and... for speaking as though he's someone that they both know he's not. For her own weakness. She needs to be better than that. This man has only existed inside of the Cavnas - he doesn't know that time inside of the Canvas doesn't have a precise relationship to time outside, and the reason that sometimes a week in the Canvas is a day and sometimes it's two hours is because Clea had a hard time Painting time. Or that Verso used it as an excuse when they were children. ]
That's how I know you aren't my brother. He'd never give me permission to call him 'idiot'.
[ Because what else would she call him? Verso is the only name he has. She uncrosses her arms and sticks one hand into her skirt, fiddling with the cactus statue. It's grounding to touch something. She feels around the statue, visualizing it by touch. ]
Do you have another name you'd want me to use? Am I allowed to choose? I wanted Maman and Papa to name him Alvaret, but they never listen to me.
[ They could move on, but there's something Clea would like to address first. Her fingers trail the ridges of the cactus in her pocket. Travel over its little eyes and its open circular mouth. She certainly feels like she's full of needles. ]
I could let you be if you promise not to be stupid.
[ She doesn't know how he's here or how long he'll be able to 'live' - there's nowhere to attach his Chroma to. Nonetheless, he is one of Maman's art works and carries a piece of her brother's soul. Clea would be quite displeased if he were stolen and broken. That decision is to be made at home by the family.
'I could let you be' meaning 'do you want me to let you be?' He isn't her brother. Maybe at one time, Clea would balk at being somewhere like this alone, but what difference is there really between here and the manor? She's alone either way. ]
no subject
[ The retort slips out before Clea can stop it, and she immediately looks... not chagrined, as that is not an emotion Clea Dessendre expresses. Something else. Something more complicated. Regret is a part. So is anger. At herself. She crosses her arms, unconsciously defensive. ]
I'm sorry.
[ Her voice is clipped and she's vocally disgusted with herself for getting into a situation where she had to apologize. For foolishly allowing the man's eyes and voice and... for speaking as though he's someone that they both know he's not. For her own weakness. She needs to be better than that. This man has only existed inside of the Cavnas - he doesn't know that time inside of the Canvas doesn't have a precise relationship to time outside, and the reason that sometimes a week in the Canvas is a day and sometimes it's two hours is because Clea had a hard time Painting time. Or that Verso used it as an excuse when they were children. ]
That's how I know you aren't my brother. He'd never give me permission to call him 'idiot'.
[ Because what else would she call him? Verso is the only name he has. She uncrosses her arms and sticks one hand into her skirt, fiddling with the cactus statue. It's grounding to touch something. She feels around the statue, visualizing it by touch. ]
Do you have another name you'd want me to use? Am I allowed to choose? I wanted Maman and Papa to name him Alvaret, but they never listen to me.
[ They could move on, but there's something Clea would like to address first. Her fingers trail the ridges of the cactus in her pocket. Travel over its little eyes and its open circular mouth. She certainly feels like she's full of needles. ]
I could let you be if you promise not to be stupid.
[ She doesn't know how he's here or how long he'll be able to 'live' - there's nowhere to attach his Chroma to. Nonetheless, he is one of Maman's art works and carries a piece of her brother's soul. Clea would be quite displeased if he were stolen and broken. That decision is to be made at home by the family.
'I could let you be' meaning 'do you want me to let you be?' He isn't her brother. Maybe at one time, Clea would balk at being somewhere like this alone, but what difference is there really between here and the manor? She's alone either way. ]