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etrayamemes2025-05-30 09:20 am
etrayamods) wrote in etrayamemes2025-05-30 09:20 am
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TDM 008
content warnings for this TDM include: gambling references, mild horror themes and suggestive content  ⏵ arrival⏴ Arrival does not happen as Aurora usually plans for it. Newcomers generally find themselves waking up within the hospital, are given a brief overview of their situation, and sent on their way. Now? They wake up immersed in a game within The Gold Saucer. But it doesn't quite feel like a game: whether it's snowy mountains, riding a chocobo as you listened to the wind quickly pass by your ears, or in the middle of a battle with a beast, it feels utterly real. It's only after the game concludes - either by winning or losing - that you find yourself back in the main game area. A bot, dressed as personnel in this lavish playground, approaches each arrival with an earpiece allowing them to communicate with those in their same situation. It also serves to inform them of their goal: collect enough gold saucer points (or GP) by playing the games to acquire a card fashioned to their own likeness from the game counter. Then, they must trade it for someone else's. Seems simple enough, right? Hopefully the cards aren't too expensive...  ⏵ the gold saucer ⏴ The Gold Saucer is an ode to the very idea of fun. It’s huge, labyrinthine, colorful, and lively. Everywhere you look, there’s something to do. At the same time, it’s also impossible to tell what time it is. There are no windows to the outside, there are no clocks. This place is beyond such a thing. There are games everywhere you look, ranging from the pseudo-gambling to sports to pixelated video games in cabinets. Yet no matter which boxing game, pinball machine, or skeeball machine you look at, the same creatures and themes arrive. Cactuars, chocobos, the fiercest Behemoth, the cuddliest Moogle… For those from the realms of Final Fantasy, this will feel natural- homey even. Everyone else will simply understand that there is a fairly strong central theme here about magic, machines, and monsters. It’s hard to tell how long you spend here, and it seems to sit outside of the very concept of time. Still, there are many restaurants, lounges, and vending machines. There are shops and costume rentals. There are even little pharmacies with headache remedies if the partying gets out of hand. And when you grow tired, there is a hotel- though it is made up like a haunted house, you can count on getting some semi-restful sleep.  ⏵ playtime ⏴ At first, stepping through to play any of these games may make participants wonder if they have been teleported somewhere else entirely. But on closer inspection, all the skies above are merely well-constructed interiors with painted ceilings. After all, it always seems to be daytime during these games. Snowboarding - Race to the bottom of the mountain, but avoid obstacles and complete as many tricks as possible! Chocobo Racing- Race on Chocobo-back around a treacherous outdoors race track which can either be taking place in a desert, a swampy forest, or upon an island beach. Work in tandem with your rented bird and against your competition by throwing hazards in their way or utilizing buffs garnered on the track. Different colored birds will yield different advantages. Yellow - Good All Rounder Red - Fast, but hard to steer Blue - Slower, but very easy to steer. Much easier to pick up items from them. Green- Resilient against traps and sabotage Colosseum Battle- Face off against the fiercest beasts around. Pair up with friends or rivals to Collaborate or Compete to do the most damage and deliver the final blow. These battles are synced to the comparative power of the one entering the competition. We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt unnecessarily, after all. And indeed, no one will get seriously, gruesomely, or permanently injured in these battles. Those without fighting capabilities can rent weapons outfitted Materia to assist them in their trial. These will allow anyone to cast spells, though not guarantee any better wielding of weapons. There are a hundred rounds, starting with fairly simple Spriggans, ranging all the way up to blood-thirsty Behemoths to challenge even the most battle-hardened hero. Leap of Faith- Players are presented with an obstacle course that stretches a hundred feet into the air upon floating platforms and islands. Both are held aloft by magical crystals. Powers are entirely nerfed, though falling and hitting the ground is strangely painless. Those who collect the most silver and gold statuettes of cactuars placed at random throughout the course will be awarded proportionate GP; though there is a bonus for those that reach the very top first. Triple Triad- Everywhere you look, people are playing this game on little 3 by 3 boards, or any surface with enough space. You will be given a loaner deck to play with. Are you clever enough to defeat your fellows. Fashion Report- Theobold, familiar to some, stands by himself in a little booth with a dressing room and an incredibly expansive walk-in closet. He is a robot of distinguished fashion and strong opinions on those fashions. Do you dare subject yourself to his scrutiny? Come prepare in his wondrous closets to make the best outfit for the chance to win a prize. Please submit your fashion here! There are Arcade Machines and activities galore. If you can think of it, it’s probably there- Just with that Final Fantasy pastiche on it, of course.  ⏵ the beehive lounge ⏴ There are other places to eat at the Gold Saucer, but the vending machines and cafés all pale in comparison to the dinners at the Beehive. For all the rave reviews, there is a dress code at the Beehive, and this is literal. If you step inside and are not currently wearing a dress, you will be ushered into a sideroom and appropriately made over. However, this is only for those trying to go in through the normal doors. Around the side there happens to be an employee entrance, manned by a bot. He will only allow those in who seem like they intend to work— and therefore must be wearing at least one piece of the Bunnysuit Collection to trick the guard. Once you are made over or have snuck in, you are free to relax inside with drinks, dine on a fine meal, watch the dancers, or participate yourself if you feel brave enough. Why would anyone ever dance here? Well, that’s simple. It pays really well. So if you’re sick of games, or terrible at them— you can always come dance for a shift. Though, don't get any unseemly ideas about freeing yourself of your clothing, this isn't that kind of establishment!  ⏵ haunted house ⏴ When you grow too weary or drunk from a day of games, you may be directed to somewhere a little quieter to sleep. Up the elevator, and through the doors reveals a modest walk through some woods until a quaint, victorian hotel appears. It is always nighttime here, and the stars and moon twinkle above. The receptionist, a bot in a rather bedraggled-looking chocobo mascot costume checks you in and shows you to your room. You can sleep here, especially if you can tolerate the hokey haunted decorations strung up around the place. Though sometimes, late at night, there will come a vigorous thumping on the door to startle sleeping patrons awake- Only for the culprit to vanish and be impossible to locate.  ⏵ ticket counter ⏴ The prize counter is manned by a bot and has a sign posted overhead. Most prizes will be handed over inside an appropriately sized wrapped box, as the contents are a mystery.
This TDM may be treated as a mini-Mission. Time will not pass inside of it in relation to the world outside - meaning, this can be happening at any time between late May into early July! This Gold Saucer is a bit of a mix between that of FF7's and FF14's, but it also has some things that neither have as well. Any inaccuracies are entirely intentional, aimed to make this rest within a space of uncanny valley for those who are familiar. While otherwise being a bit of a chaotic fantastical funhouse for everyone else! If there is something unlisted, chances are it will exist if it is in either of the other versions of the Gold Saucer. Characters already in game are welcome to post to the TDM, too! Please mark them as current characters in your header. Threads can be kept as game canon as long as both characters get into the game! Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! |
spoilers spoilers spoilers
The music ends. The notes hang peacefully (painfully) in the air as he slides his hands away from the keys. He flexes his fingers a few times before he rises from the seat. As he does, the piano vanishes before he would unceremoniously slam his knees into object.
He hasn't seen her in sixteen years. His head tilts away as he thinks that isn't quite true. There are remnants of her that he's attempted to speak to, but those remnants don't desire to speak to him. Not that he can blame them.
His head tilts toward the floor before he sets to walk towards her. He wonders how Renoir would feel if he saw Clea. The complicated feelings he has remain as they are, but he supposes he did cruel things to her (their? no, not their) sister. Not that she ever knew how calculated his machinations were, but either way, it doesn't change what he'd done. ]
I didn't think I'd see you again.
[ He decides to start with that before any other greeting he could give. ]
Yes, thank you! I'm so forgetful. ALL the spoiler warnings
A shiver runs up Clea's spine, resulting in her physically shivering to alleviate the unwelcome emotion.
What is happening? Where is this? Is this...is he a copy of the copy? Or the original copy? Did they copy the experience as well as the man? Were they spying on her family's private affairs?
She should have consumed less wine.
Clea sits in a chair, the motion slightly less graceful than usual, and reaches for one of the bottles of water, staring at Verso with suspicion and the slightest infinitesimal amount of confusion while she takes a sip of water. ]
You shouldn't have.
Why are you here? Where is Alicia?
[ She can be angry about the desecration of Maman's work later, after she ascertains if her younger sister is here. The image makes her frown. Alicia is fragile, and an injured girl should not be left alone around strangers. ]
it's all good o7 I GOT YOU
[ A casual question despite the seriousness of them seeing one another. His eyebrows lift before he draws his gaze up toward the ceiling, musing over his own thoughts. ]
I couldn't tell you. [ His shoulders lift and lower helplessly. ] The last I remember I was erased with everything else. [ He hardly sounds somber or lamenting of his passing. ] I assumed -- [ He dips his chin down. ] -- she is back where she needs to be.
[ Verso wonders if Clea knows how he had been trying to prepare Alicia for the abrupt end of everything. He tried to do what he could to be "ready" to be without him. Of course, grieving takes time; he doesn't expect it to be immediate or for her to wake up ready to live without Verso. But he hopes he made it easier for her to take a small step. Just one. He has that hope in her.
His head tilts to the side as he feels a lopsided smile appear and disappear. ]
It may be that I was pulled here before I was officially erased. [ His shoulders lift and lower. ] Isn't that just the way? [ A dead man still not allowed to rest. He crosses his arms but keeps his distance; he can imagine how difficult it must be to see him. Although, she's the one of the few Dessendres that sees him. ]
o7!
---
Freezing. I should speak to the hotel's proprietor.
[ She might actually go do so. Anything not to admit she feels unmoored, adrift. The emotion is thoroughly unpleasant and lately it seems to come in waves, crashing into her and threatening to pull her out into a sea of nihilism. It pulls her away from herself during the small actions: Why butter her bread? Verso is gone.
And the man in front of her is not Verso. He speaks like Verso and to a degree looks like Verso, but he is not Verso. He is a pale copy assembled from Maman's memories. He is her interpretation, but her interpretation misses so many things. Anyone's would. Aline's misses the side of Verso that he didn't show to his parents: His worries about not being what they wanted, how he practiced his lies, how he'd come to Clea for advice about disappointing them. Their arguments about Alicia and inviting her to join them.
The core is not whole.
Hers would not be either. Doubtless there are parts of Verso that Alicia or his lovers saw that she never had. It's disrespectful to who he actually had been to pretend this man is Verso.
Alicia is not here, and if Verso is correct and Aline and Renoir have concluded their tiff, there are people to watch her. She looks away from the copy of her brother for a moment, hiding a look of slight distress, before she turns back with a placid face.]
I suppose it was my own foolishness to expect to be offered a goodbye.
[Of course they erased it when she was out in a meeting with the manor reconstructionists. Esquie, Francois, and the Gestrals are gone. They died alone while she had been looking at bricks.
There is no surprise. They'd all been willing to desecrate and erase one of her private memories with Verso. Their opinion (or lack thereof) about her feelings had been made quite clear: She was replaceable.
Hmm.]
Or perhaps you were erased. Maman used a soul to create you. Perhaps we are both dead, in which case it is fortunate Aline and Renoir have left the Canvas and can care for Alicia. And that they are less fond of me than Verso so they will not desecrate my Canvases.
[ The very idea makes her feel violently ill. Clea shifts her weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, eyes set on the man in front of her. She's clearly thinking. This may be hell - or something entirely beyond her understanding - but she can feel him. Or rather, his Chroma. Hanging in the air in a way that Should Not Be and which would be fascinating if it weren't for the circumstances. What is he tethered to? Ambient Chroma can't do that. Is it her brother's soul?
Regardless, she feels it. ]
Would you prefer I Gommage you?
[ There is no other Painter here to fight her; she could do so. Clea's jaw clenches and her back straightens, hands coming to rest in front of her in a seemingly neutral fashion but, to those who know her, it's body language that screams discomfort.
This is not Verso. It will still be Verso's eyes looking at her as she unmakes him, Verso's voice saying 'thank you' as he disappears. 'Thank you for making me not have to live with you.' Verso's soul that wants to leave because of how they've acted. She can't blame him, and her emotions are not relevant.
It being hard is no reason not to offer.]
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[ His voice keeps his voice neutral instead of quiets the tone. He lets his eyes drift down before drawing to look around the room. Verso gives her the time she needs to do what she needs to be without someone "scrutinizing" her expressions.
They weren't able to say goodbye before and given the chance to let them have that much before the end, it was taken out of their hands. In the case of Alicia, he didn't want her to go through that once more. She wouldn't be ready. He gave what he could to let her take a small step, but forcing her to say goodbye a second time when she was there at the end? Too cruel.
But Clea's different; Renoir should have known she was different. ]
I don't think you'd want to be in my afterlife. [ A very faint smile. ] So let's assume we're both alive. There's too much of me for someone else to recreate.
[ He decides to put it that way than explain the state that Aline was at the top of the Monolith. A slow blink as his chin drops; the faint smile fades but he does finally draw his gaze back to look at her.
It's another blink as he does what he hadn't before -- he studies her expression, her posture, everything. His shoulders drop as he breathes out slowly. He doesn't think that he'll ever escape from wanting to be erased, but --
-- he smiles. ]
She cares about you more than you think. [ It's what he says. Grief can be a selfish thing at times. But Aline gave him enough to see Clea. If she didn't, perhaps, he would've responded differently. ]
That said... it seems you're stuck with me. [ His smile widens as he shifts the mood with tone and posture. He knows better than to comfort her with memories that aren't his. Verso might've made a joke about how painful it is that Papa's favorite thinks he isn't as fond of her as he is. But he can't; he won't. ]
I'll try not to be too much of a burden. [ In the big ways. In the little ways. In the ways that hurt so quietly and painfully neither one of them are sure what to do. ] But I can't promise much, I'm afraid.
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[ Aline and Renoir had taken a representation of her and Verso's joy and smashed it as surely as Alicia had smashed one of Clea's sculptures as a small child, carelessly and with a staggering amount of selfishness. Because of course Clea could not have been allowed something of her own. Aline and Renoir could have created with Verso themselves. Alicia had been invited to their games and had declined.
Childish as it is, something deep in Clea screams out each time she thinks of it. Her soul screams 'MINE' in a fashion so primal it can barely be placed into words.
And, as childish as it is, it feels good to hear someone admit that she should have been given that courtesy. Not that she would acknowledge such a thing. Instead, Clea crosses her arms and smiles.]
I wasn't assuming this afterlife was my choice.
[ Clea is too clear-eyed to assume that she's going to Heaven. Perhaps he is there specifically to torture him. Or they're there to torture each other, as he'd prefer his Clea and she would prefer her Verso. Instead, they are reminders of pain. ]
You're correct - nobody could remake you. If we tried, we'd end up with a false image. None of us know of the experiences you've had after Aline created you. At best, you'd be reset to before the Fracture. It would not be you.
[ In the same way he is not Verso. None of them could paint him as he actually is, with the ways he's grown more and more to differ from Verso. Any attempt would be offensive in the way her own representation had been. That's why the Gestrals never came back the same way: They could preserve their essence, but the Gestrals live their lives and she and Verso were not there to recreate their memories.]
Do you think I should hide my Canvases from her?
[ If Aline cares. Clea will not allow her mother's love to strangle her work should she befall a similar fate to Verso. Aline cannot be allowed access to Clea's work. Their time of sharing their art together may need to draw to a close. Is there nothing they are not determined to take from her?
When the tone shifts, Clea rolls her eyes, though the gesture has affection behind it. She sees what you're doing, Verso. One thing both the real Verso and this representation had in common is their need to control a conversation. To determine what was said and not said and to manage how everyone felt. Either to get what they wanted or to try to keep them happy.
She gives not her little brother what he wants.]
Babysitting is precisely how I wanted to spend my afterlife. Alas, you are already a burden, I fear. That hairstyle is a burden on my eyes.
[At least temporarily. She can't let him control things completely.]
You never were a burden. You are helpful.
[The words are simple, but more than she could say for the others. He's wrong, an abomination that was borne of her mother's delusions, but he is not the origin of the problem: He is a manifestation of it.
Clea needed help and while he is not her brother, this man is the only one who helped her.
Don't make her say it again.]
Though you are losing points every second you look like such a ruffian. I know the Canvas has hairdressers, Verso. If you burn my eyes out I will be forced to reconsider my assessment.
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[ Verso decides to voice the thought he had earlier. It doesn't excuse what has happened, but he accepts it for what it is. Certainly, it isn't that he can't resent or hate another person, but he's been painted with far too much love to poison himself with such emotions. ]
Well, I can't imagine you dying.
[ It's a casual joke, but it is how he thinks Verso felt as well. She was always there even before he was born. A bedrock that he could rely and believe in. The two of them would go on adventures and learned how to navigate a Canvas without becoming enthralled. Aline's teachings. Renoir's warnings. But he probably felt they were able due to having each other. Would it make her happy to hear?
No. It wouldn't.
What he knows and what he knew are different.
And he nods along when she shares that same sentiment. It would not be him if he was remade. He isn't him, either.
He crosses his arms and rather than waste her time by asking if she's asking his opinion, he decides to take the question at face value. Clea, as he's come to know her, is someone who speaks in her absolutes. She doesn't ask questions unless she wants an answer, not because she wants to be humored. ]
No. It's not because she doesn't ... care as much, but his Canvas is gone. They'll be able to have the conversation that they couldn't. I think that will spare you some ... troubles.
[ With each pause, he tilts his head one way or the other; he presses his lips together in thought before continuing.
But his eyebrows lift when she comments on babysitting. His mouth forms into a little smile even as he closes his eyes and mutely chuckles at his hairstyle being a burden.
He opens his eyes and blinks at being told he wasn't a burden and is helpful. His smile twists to something far more sardonic. He sees the gift that he is given and doesn't get in the way of the sentiment. But he knows what he is. ]
The Gestrals are hairdressers and I am not good at keeping appointments, but -- [ He gestures to his hair. ] -- I think looks quite distinct and good. [ A smile. ] Could look worse, anyway. So, I may have to accept a low rating.
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How complicated are his emotions allowed to be? Can he look at Alicia and somehow simultaneously be so worried for her future that it makes his stomach roil but also resent her for the cost her foolishness has had? Could he understand Renoir's decisions and simultaneously hate him for abandonment? When he thinks of Aline, does he only worry without also being angry that she spent their lives teaching them lessons she abandoned when the pain reached her?
Can he resent Clea for being the daughter their parents said they wanted while somehow still always being there when she'd needed it?
She doesn't know.
Clea snorts at his retort. ]
You're right. I left out part of the truth: I'm actually an immortal vampire. We're all vampires. Aline is self-conscious about the fangs; that's why you do not have them. And why there are almost no mirrors in the Canvas outside of Lumiere.
[Not at all because she'd found mirrors too difficult to Paint at the time, so she and Verso had shrugged and decided they weren't that important.
It's good that he gave her an honest answer. Well. She can't know that. He is based on Verso. But he doesn't patronize her, or reassure her that everything will be okay. Still, though, there's a naivety to his answer that unsettles her. A conversation? It will take much more than a conversation to begin to repair what has happened.]
The Gestrals barely have a concept of time and you still can't make it?
[She eyes him up and down again with a practiced, judging eye.]
Distinct and good are two entirely different concepts, Verso. Though I agree: You could look worse. You could be completely bald.
no subject
[ A casual reply in response with a small smile tossed back in return.
He opens his mouth like he might explain more -- why he feels like she would live forever. But those are complicated thoughts tangled in complicated feelings. Not all those feelings are even his.
But he often feels much of what he feels isn't him. It is as he told Renoir before: he's trapped in the shadow of a dead man. However, that is not her fault; that's not his fault. So why make it theirs to correct?
It's already been corrected and he simply needs to keep protecting the world Clea lives. Then he'll be allowed to returned to oblivion. Perhaps, that is the greatest reward that awaits him. Perhaps...
He bounces his shoulders in a shrug at how he can't make appointments. ]
Time's hard.
[ It is his joke back --
-- but he pauses and looks at her. ]
You don't have to call me that, Clea. [ She doesn't have to refer to him as "Verso." It's what he decides he should say first before they return to lightly joking with one another. ]
Although, I do intend to go by that name... you don't have to call me that...
[ But his tone shifts to its playful tone once more; he's said his peace and hopefully given her a sense of it as well: ] And if it makes you feel better, I did almost go bald once. That Gestral assistant just wasn't that good with hair products, but thankfully, you know... being able to control one's healing is quite useful at times.
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. ]
no subject
His head tilts to the side at the question if he has another name. He's used the same name for decades. He could've changed it. No one from Lumiere would know; no expeditioner would. If he asked, he thinks that the Gestrals, Monoco, and even Esquie would agree to his request.
He breathes out a little laugh through his nose. ]
You can call me "Alvaret," if you like. [ It probably would be easier than calling him "Verso" when she knows it isn't true. ] Still, I don't have another name but that ... [ No matter what he can't give it up.
In the end, he can't forsake his name. He can only forsake his existence yet never find it in him to blame anyone. One day ... others might end up calling Aline cruel for having made him, but he can't; he can't when he feels all the love and care she put into his monstrous existence.
As much as he hate himself, he loves those that love him so much more. ]
I'm afraid I'm nothing but stupid.
[ He finally smiles at her, soft and warm. She can stay close to him as long as it doesn't hurt. When it does, she can leave him. That much is fair and right. A dead man shouldn't shackle or command the living; he is on borrowed time and doesn't know how much he has left. Should he live it being unkind to someone who has been grieving without relief? ]
I don't know how much time I have left in this world, Clea, but... I won't hold you to what life I have, either. [ She deserves to find joy for herself. Perhaps, that is something Verso wanted to say to her? It's unclear. He is unsure, but -- ] I'm not him.
[ Something she knows; something they know, but -- ]
But still, since I don't know how long I have... would you like to say goodbye? Just in case?
[ Offer her what Renoir took out of her hands. A chance to say goodbye to him. He isn't asking to be Gommage but asking to take some of her burden; to take some of her pain; to be an imaginary friend to say her peace to with no one else to take those words away. ]
no subject
[ She is not going to steal the man's name from him. If he'd had one for himself, that would have been different, but it isn't her place to steal anything from him. Of course it's going to hurt - everything about him does. That doesn't mean she isn't going to do it. Watching Alicia struggle with her injuries hurt: The worry made her sick. Watching her parents' unmoving bodies hurts - dusting them like they are furniture in the manor. Seeing Monoco and Noco try to find Verso and only find her hurts.
It all hurts.
It's all necessary.]
Do you know how many Pierres there are in Paris? Two people can have the same name.
If you're so stupid, I suppose I have to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't break yourself. Or someone else doesn't break you.
[ Everything hurts. That smile hurts. She feels as though her Dualliste has stabbed her between the ribs. It's his smile, and the last time she'd seen in, Clea hadn't known to hang on to it, to memorize what it looks like so she can hold it forever and maybe, sometime in the future, Paint that feeling. Not as the man in front of her was Painted, but a Painting so others can see that light. A tribute, not a mockery.
She isn't sure if he wants her around.
Is he telling her to say goodbye because he wants her to leave?
Selfishly, Clea decides she doesn't care. He's stupid and needs to be watched so Maman's creation isn't taken apart by anyone except them. But he's right. They don't know where they are or how long he can be here. Maybe it's only her brother's soul keeping him alive, and that's the part of him that wants to rest.
Sometimes, she imagines the piece of his soul like Verso when he'd barely learned to walk, toddling around the manor and crying when he would be lost in the dark at night looking for Maman. She'd hear him and go out to guide him back to bed.
She can guide him back to bed.
Clea steps forward and wraps her arms around the man who isn't her brother. If this is the last time she sees him, there are things she can say. Who is he going to tell that she's this weak?]
Thank you. Thank you for helping Maman. Thank you for looking after Alicia, and for trying to help me. I'm sorry you were made. Thank you for being a friend to Monoco, Esquie, and Francois.
[ She stays still for a moment, remembering what it feels like to hug him. She hadn't hugged Verso enough. ]
It isn't going to hurt. I know Maman made you able to feel pain, but the Gommage won't hurt.
[ Finally, she steps away, blinking a couple of times in quick succession to remove the tears that threaten to ruin the moment. ]
You'd better die soon so nobody knows I said those things.
[ The Versos may be the best, but they are not the only ones who wear masks. ]
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He understands his existence is a drug to the Dessendres. It is why he can't stand to be in front of the real Renoir. He doesn't know how much he can see through the projection of the Curator. The fact the man lost his voice and could only speak in single, fragmented words. It hurt to see him in that state, but how much did it hurt Renoir to see him?
However, Clea has not been allowed to grief like the others. She has had to shove her pain away to move forward, but Verso would want her to take time for herself. He hears what she says and smiles in a soft, sad way.
He'll know before she does when she's gone too far. They can have that talk, then, if it ever were to happen. A painful, sad talk if she ever stops seeing him and sees a dead man in his place.
When she steps forward, he tilts his head in mild confusion. He waits to hear what she might stay but surprised when she embraces him. His shoulders drop as he lightly wraps one arm around her frame, lightly rests his hand on the back of her head.
He hears how she thanks him but doesn't quite believe it is for him. All but the part of how she's sorry how he was made. Yes, he's sorry about how he was made, too. A ball-jointed doll that is too fragile to be able to move without shattering all his pieces.
He loosens and lets his arms fall away when she steps back. He pretends not to see her tears and keeps his same, sad smile. ]
I know.
[ The Gommage has already happened. He's already dead. He's an echo of an echo. Even though he is himself; even though he was taken just before he vanished from the Canvas; he is still an afterimage of someone already gone. ]
No one will know what you've said to me, Clea.
[ A small sigh. ] You can share whatever you like... you deserve that much for yourself. [ Consider him just an imaginary friend. ]
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Good. Ordinarily, I would threaten to murder you if you told anyone, but I want to discourage that behavior. You're so difficult; everything has to be different and special for you, doesn't it?
[ In truth, Clea isn't sure what she wants to share. Her sincerity seems to make a part of him uncomfortable. Or so she assumes, but she can never be sure if her assumptions are accurate when it comes to this Verso. If he were her Verso, it would obvious: That too breezy stance, the way he contorts himself to be what he thinks others need like a liquid being poured into a mold.
But this one, she cannot be sure. Aline is used to the world bending to her will. Does she see Verso doing so? Or does she assume that's his true self?
She doesn't know what to say. Does she talk about her anger? How she wants Renoir out of the Canvas and also wants to slap him across the face? Does she talk about wondering what would have happened if she had died or burned, about wondering why she is the one spared the permanent pains? About how she worries about Alicia but also sometimes despises her? She'd told the girl over and over not to be so credulous, had pushed her to understand the world. She'd continually refused and her actions had cost them all.
There is one thing.
Something she would not have told her Verso, but can voice to this one. An errant thought that sometimes assaults her like a pickpocket during the most mundane of tasks. ]
I don't know if I can stay.
[ It feels like giving voice to something forbidden. Clea's life had been shaped around her parents' expectations and needs, but now that mask is broken. She doesn't know if she can put it back together. ]
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[ To threaten to kill him, but he only smiles. He understands how difficult that this must all be for her. Verso doesn't know if things have to be that way for him, but everyone he knows is different and special to him.
Even her.
His eyes close as he tilts his head away; his shoulders lift and lower in a small shrug. ]
Perhaps.
[ But he does feel the shift in energy, in the room. It seems like she does have something that she wants to tell him. His posture shifts and he focuses on her; all of his attention as he waits for her to speak.
"I don't know if I can stay."
Verso wonders if she means in the manor or around him. He can't imagine how difficult it is for everyone else to be allowed to mourn while she has to carry on everything herself. Of course, he would say that she could grieve, but grief itself is selfish.
It is what he told her and believes she has the right for that selfishness. Although, perhaps, that is simply how he is made. Because while his existence will hurt her, it at least won't be the cause of her death. It may be a cause for some other hidden wound in her heart, but he believes she will find the way forward.
He has hope in those he loves and as complicated as their relationship is, he does love her, too. Perhaps, that is some cognitive dissonance that the memories cause in him, but -- ]
You don't have to if it's too painful.
[ It is what he says finally. ]
You have your own life, too, and you can experience some of it now.
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[ Of course. That's who she is, isn't it? Especially for him. Maman... he tries so much to be his own person, but he can't, can he? None of them can.
They exist as a mirage to bring Aline succor, and part of that mirage, that fantasy, is that everything can return to how it had once been, and that none of them could hold grudges against one another. That they all would be perfectly content no matter the circumstance. Verso should have attacked her when she'd come to him the second time. Refused to listen. Or run. Those would all have been normal reactions to the end of 'Expedition Zero'. If that had been real.
And yet he did not, because he does not have his own soul, and the soul inside of him loves and cares for her. Because he knows the truth of the things she tells him, and because Verso's soul still loves them. What he should feel for her is hatred. For the mistakes she's made, for the fact that the situation had degraded as it had. For the fact that she couldn't stop it, for the fact that she's the one alive and whole.
The soul of a child in the body of a man. How torturous that must be. What a conflict between heart and mind that must engender.
Hearing the words is a relief and Clea releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, closing her eyes and exhaling. Allowing herself to relax, even if only for seconds, her shoulders drooping.
Only for a moment, however. Then she draws in a breath and squares her shoulders back, posture returning to its usual impenetrable perfection. ]
Should I take Alicia?
[ She wants his opinion. He has seen her the most recently. Would it be more harmful for Alicia to be left with Aline and Renoir, who might abandon her, or to be stuck with only Clea for comfort? Who is a poor option indeed.
What would harm her less? ]
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[ He breathes out a little laugh through his nose.
But the conversation has turned to something more serious. He can't rely on easing it with jokes. It wouldn't be sincere or honest. The most that he can offer is a little honesty.
The corner of his lips lift into a sad smile when she breathes. He sees the moment of vulnerability, but keeps his eyes on her rather than look away this time. Someone should see this much of her; someone should know she felt this way. Even if he is going to fade to nothing, someone should've have seen this much so she knows that she is not alone.
His chin lifts slightly before she asks him a difficult question. ]
That will have be to be up to her.
[ He can't make that decision for her; he's already made one for her. It was a decision that Alicia didn't even know existed. He doesn't believe he has the right to make any more.
But does Clea have that right? His eyes search hers for a second before smiling; she has always been the one to advocate Alicia make her own choices. Or at least, that is what his memories has told him. His gaze shifts to something melancholy, but he blinks and it is gone. ]
She might choose something different than what any of us are thinking.
[ His fingers twitch at his side; he curls his hand into a lightly held fist. Alicia, what will you paint? ]
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For making him look at her that way. She's done something wrong.
Alicia is an easier topic.
He's right. It needs to be her decision. Clea 'hmms' in a neutral tone, shifting her weight as she considers his words. ]
You're right. I'll leave her.
[ It should be Alicia's decision and while her sister is young and naive, she isn't stupid. Clea knows what choice she will make. Why would she leave her home and her parents, useless though they may be at the moment? They've had a taste of what Alicia's life is like with only Clea for support, and it is woefully lacking. Could she have done a better job looking after Alicia after the fire?
It's her fault. What 'it' is, Clea does not know, but she knows it happened because she had not been good enough. Skilled enough. Aware enough. The fire? Verso? Alicia's injuries? Yes. ]
I hope that she does. We deserve the surprise and she deserves the freedom. I would welcome it.
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[ With each little talk, each little step, he believes she'll be able to live without him. He believes in that more than anything. He hopes for that future that he'll never see for himself. Is that how he was made?
Of course, he ended up forsaking his own sister in the process. His chin dips as he thinks of his Alicia vanishing with no one at her side. Even though she says she has come to accept whatever will happen, he still feels he should have been there to say something to her, to say goodbye, to see the end of everything with her.
But he knows if he saw her, he would be unable to carry through with everything he planned and sacrificed. He fears he would have given it all up for her.
Inhaling slowly, he tips his chin back up as he gives a faint smile. ]
Anyway -- [ Verso doesn't have any forgiveness for himself. Living with the guilt and pain of what he's done until he returns to nothing suits him. ] -- if ever you need someone to talk to, I'll be willing to listen.
[ A beat. ] I won't use your secrets to hurt you. [ He promises and it feels true. There are so many secrets that he knows, but he intends to hold onto them to protect those around him. He Who Guards Truth With Lies.
His mouth quirks a little more into a wider smile. Perhaps, he is really becoming Verso. ]
But if there's nothing else... [ He tips his head as he feels he needs a walk. ]
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[ Clea nods her head and steps to the side, watching him depart with her hands folded elegantly in front of her. Neither of them know what is happening, and spending more time together will not get them any closer to understanding.
A lot can be acknowledged in two words.
'If ever you need someone to talk to, I'll be willing to listen.' Of course he cannot help himself. That he would listen. Clea feels a sudden and strange surge of awareness. She should have said nothing. He had not truly wanted this conversation; he'd had no choice but to listen to her. To want to. She'll need to avoid him unless something of practical import arises.
'I won't use your secrets to hurt you.' Of course she knows the unspoken conditions. Hurt, no. Manipulate her? Inform his actions? There are so many things that can be done with secrets outside of hurt. Clea does not blame him.
Of course there's nothing else.
She needs a distraction. Something that prevents her from thinking about this encounter and how weak it makes her feel. How she feels like something is sloshing around inside of her and threatening to overflow. Like she wants to find someone private and scream. ]
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There's so much that is already broken that he can only smile at the concerned statement. He inhales; the air filling his lungs hurt but he does step back to head out the door.
His steps halt just before he crosses the threshold. ]
Still, try to have fun while you're here, Clea. [ A slight pause. ] You deserve that much for yourself. [ He points to the side. ] There even is an arena.
[ Like the Gauntlet.
His mouth twitches again into a sad, little smile before he finally walks through the threshold. He intends to walk through the casino, unsure where his steps will take him, but he feels a restlessness in him. ]