[ Clive is fine, in the way he always has been. Life is a process full of pain, defined by trial and error and loss, but his love will always supplant the need to buckle under pressure. If he has nothing else, he wants that love to be the sum of his parts: the courage he received from his father, the humanity he learned from his uncle, the purpose he inherited from Cid. The everything-s from Joshua. And finally, the heart he's left in Verso's hands, to hold and keep outside of his own body.
Footprints, in the vast landscape of this world (this Canvas). Little acts of rebellion in the form of connection, to say that they were here, that they existed. A grand, beautiful thing, only marred by the possibility that there is no gentle conclusion to all of it.
But still, they persist. They have to, else he prove that love means nothing in the face of all this tragedy. And Clive can't accept that, not even if it's the truth that consistently tries to keep reinforcing itself.
So. He doesn't despair at Verso's backtrack into humor. It's the sort of thing that he's come to like about Verso, anyway: the ability to say this sort of shit when the world seems to be falling down, because Clive certainly isn't charming enough. It seems less an avoidance now and more a sweet sort of awkwardness of a man who spent decades socializing himself among a bunch of Gestrals. ]
Founder, not Frère Jacques.
[ Hasn't he suffered enough tonight!!! (Not really, in the grand scheme of things.) This time, the Clive smiles, it's on steadier foundations. ]
Threat received. I'll sleep, as you say.
[ He leans in, and presses a warm kiss to Verso's mouth. He's fine, he's here. ]
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flamebrand) wrote2024-09-08 02:07 pm
no subject
Footprints, in the vast landscape of this world (this Canvas). Little acts of rebellion in the form of connection, to say that they were here, that they existed. A grand, beautiful thing, only marred by the possibility that there is no gentle conclusion to all of it.
But still, they persist. They have to, else he prove that love means nothing in the face of all this tragedy. And Clive can't accept that, not even if it's the truth that consistently tries to keep reinforcing itself.
So. He doesn't despair at Verso's backtrack into humor. It's the sort of thing that he's come to like about Verso, anyway: the ability to say this sort of shit when the world seems to be falling down, because Clive certainly isn't charming enough. It seems less an avoidance now and more a sweet sort of awkwardness of a man who spent decades socializing himself among a bunch of Gestrals. ]
Founder, not Frère Jacques.
[ Hasn't he suffered enough tonight!!! (Not really, in the grand scheme of things.) This time, the Clive smiles, it's on steadier foundations. ]
Threat received. I'll sleep, as you say.
[ He leans in, and presses a warm kiss to Verso's mouth. He's fine, he's here. ]