[ "Don't worry about it" is something that Verso usually says when there is, in fact, something to worry about; like pressing fingers into a red, burn-raw palm. That said, they're both grown men, and nothing good comes of coddling someone who should have some say in how he navigates the fucked-up world he's been unwillingly brought into. It's a process, but Clive can trust Verso to know where his limits lie.
Besides, there seems to be an upside. Flying. Right on the heels of talking about Esquie and the rock that Verso has been withholding from him. Clive softens at the mention of it. ]
Disbanding our shadowy league of rogues so soon?
[ They had a nice little secret going on! For all of thirty minutes, but. You know. Clive says so as if he was attached to the idea at all (he wasn't), and as if Esquie wouldn't have been able to nudge the truth out of him if Esquie ever seemed Super Sad about not having his rock.
For the best, really, that they fly now before Clive accidentally gives it all away. ]
If that's what you want. [ Without sarcasm or deference. Sincerely, Clive is happiest when Verso is exercising his autonomy. ] Let's fly.
[Ah, the shadowy league of rogues. Verso laughs to commemorate what may be the shortest-lived league in the history of the Canvas, then shrugs a hand.]
Shifting focuses. You never know when we'll need to arrange a heist.
[Probably never, honestly, considering how the worst of Verso's worries about Esquie flying people around aren't likely to become factors with Clive. And also how shitty it would be to steal the rock; Verso's convinced himself that withholding it is a different beast, and that's a line he's not willing to cross, barring a set of circumstances so extreme that he can't even picture them himself.
Anyway, that's besides the point. Reaching out, he runs a hand through Clive's hair as if to preview what the wind might look like through it, then gives him a peck that reads like a see you soon before nodding first towards Alicia's room, then towards the front door.]
Go let Joshua know. I'll head off and call Esquie over, so meet me outside the cave?
[Which should still be clear of Nevrons. He hopes. If not, well, he's dealt with worse. As long as he can get them cleared up before Clive makes his way out, it's fine.]
[ Alright, is Clive's easy concession before they untangle and get ready for what Clive presumes is a short trip, though he hasn't any real idea about the details. Which is what he tells Joshua when he makes his way to the borrowed bedroom, where his brother is nested on the bed with two different books open and his journal on his lap.
"Short on specifics as usual, Clive," Joshua smiles. He looks a little pale, which is concerning; Clive finds his worry brushed aside with ease and a promise that everything is fine (a running theme when it comes to the people Clive cares most about in the world, this insistence that all is well), followed by an apologetic addendum when he presumably notes the vague signs of distress creeping into Clive's expression. "I would hardly have thought to insinuate myself into an outing meant for the two of you, but even if I'd felt inclined, I don't think today would be the best day for it. I'll rest, so you go enjoy yourself. Please."
Please is strategic－ Clive can deny his brother very little. He relents, but not without a promise to eventually share with Joshua whatever paints they procure in the future.
His brother's boyish delight at the suggestion is enough. Clive leaves without his edges feeling too frayed, dips into Verso's room to change into proper traveling gear, demolishes a bit more of the charcuterie board, then heads out into the biting cold of Frozen Hearts to brave his way through the dim, ice-painted cave.
(Traces of their encounter with Clea have been lost to new snow and Nevron trails; Clive moves quickly past where he remembers the painted cage to have sat, oppressive and immovable in the gloom.)
He's sure Esquie must have reunited with his rock by the time he reaches the cave's exit. He sees the shadow of the big friendly giant before he sees the rounded curves of the creature himself, and sheathes Invictus before approaching the two figures waiting for him in the near distance. ]
Sorry to keep you two waiting. [ A nod to Esquie, and Clive raises one hand in greeting. ] Esquie.
[ "Mon ami! You came just in time for us to share the good news!" A full-bodied wiggle on Esquie's part, as he shifts towards Verso. "Oh, tell him the good news, Verso!" ]
[Verso feels like an awful person. This has been the case to varying degrees over the decades, but Esquie's excitement is a unique salt to a self-inflicted wound, and he'd groan at himself if he could. Alas, he'll have to settle on a heavy slump of his shoulders and a glance in Clive's direction that speaks of nothing besides guilt.]
I, uh, I found Soarrie. [Said to the tune of hooray, though there is very little hoo and even less ray happening right now.] Esquie'll be able to take us to the canvas after all.
[Esquie whole-body bounces in response. He claps his hands together. Verso continues smiling like an idiot.
"Now you'll be able to FLY, too," he adds with a flourish to his voice. "Verso says we can't go all the way to SPACE, but that's okay. We'll still go really, really high, alllllll the way up. Everyone will be specks! Even your brother. Oh, but don't worry. He won't really be a speck."]
He gets it, you big goofball.
[Verso interrupts after a moment, gesturing him lower, then stepping aside so Clive can hop abord.]
Apres vous, mon feu.
["Ooooooh, a nickname. He likes you," Esquie helpfully supplies. And though Verso knows this, and Clive knows this, and there's no real secret to expose therein, Verso still flusters a little at the call-out.]
[ There's something uniquely charming about how Verso approaches Esquie. Brotherly, though it's hard to tell who would be the elder of the two: they seem to switch and meander with every other statement or word. Poor Verso vacillates between the sheepishness of an older sibling who doesn't have the heart to speak the truth, then shyly hurries Clive forward like a younger brother who doesn't want to let their sibling scrutinize his new relationship.
It's sweet. Clive is inclined to say something along the lines of "I like him too," but decides to keep it to himself to let Verso compose himself again. ]
Merci, mon étoile.
[ ...Okay, maybe that's not entirely keeping his sentiments to himself, but it's near-automatic by this point to respond to 'mon feu' with the echoing moniker. Clive doesn't stick around long enough to catch Esquie's reaction, as he hops onto that broad (squishy) (bouncy!) back, and looks around for a good handhold; if swim-swim taught him anything, it's that the road can get bumpy and that Esquie moves fast.
He assumes that Esquie has already been briefed on where they're going; the canvas, Verso had supplied, and it seems a place well-known between the two of them. Esquie seems to know most everything about Verso, which tracks nicely with what the children back in Lumiere say about Esquie the Great: all-knowing, all-powerful. The guardian of the world, and its last bastion of whimsy.
Gesturing for Verso to join him next to his perch (assuming that Esquie doesn't have eyes on the back of his head): ] Has it been a while since you two have gone on an adventure?
[ Because swimming them across the ocean to the Battlefield doesn't count as an adventure. That was just ferrying. Also, Clive has no idea if he can continue conversing once Esquie starts speeding along; it might have been unwise to start, but here he is anyway. ]
[Esquie, to his credit, only chuckles when Clive volleys Verso's nickname towards him, and so it goes that Verso is spared twice over. Once Clive's settled into place, he hops up to join him, but doesn't follow suit on latching himself onto anything, familiar enough with how Esquie moves through the sky that there's no question whether he'll be able to keep his balance. So, he sits beside Clive like they're on a picnic basket, then ]
Mm, a couple years, give or take. Right, buddy?
[Esquie make a sound that's half hum, half tsk-tsk, then unwittingly contributes to Verso's guilt with a softly corrective, "Verso. It's been four years, two months, and sixty-three days."]
What about that time we went to visit Francois? Doesn't that count? [Another soft correction: "He's my neighbour." And another soft rebuttal from Verso:] Your neighbour who tried to encase me in ice.
["Oh, yes, you made him very angry when you insulted his newest rock."]
I didn't insult it, I... you know what, I'll settle it with Francois. That'll be our next adventure. And I promise it won't take one year, two months, and four days this time, okay?
[Esquie affirms the okay-ness of the arrangement – and, by extension, the rightness of Verso's timekeeping – with a whoop and a warningless leap into the sky. Graceful as ever but still a giant stuffed toy going skyward with no small amount of abandon.]
Uh. Brace yourself. [Verso says to Clive as if the necessity of such hasn't made itself all the more apparent.] And maybe don't loosen your grip until we're on solid ground. He gets excited when he sees our target.
["Mm-hm," Esquie confirms, "My record speed is 3333 kilometres per hour! Oh, Clive, can I show you?"]
[ The incredibly accurate (or so Clive assumes, from the specificity of it) timekeeping is a bit of a blindside, but not as much as the sudden jolt forward and the heretofore unknown, alien feeling of defying gravity. Over the past few weeks, Clive has experienced many upendings of his reality－ skin-burning transformations, gut-churning unmakings, silver and scarlet chroma humming between his ribs－ but this, this is just as novel. Just as surprising.
His stomach sinks; the rest of him floats. He can feel the parts of him that aren't braced against Esquie's soft form start to lift, and he does his best to grapple himself back downwards as they shoot through the sky, the snow and ice under him quickly blurring and growing distant, just a sheet of silver with jagged lines of black and grey and lava-red.
It's disorienting. It feels a little like magic, really. ]
Fuck, [ is a rather crude thing to say in front of Esquie, a very sweet giant who would never curse. Clive will apologize for it later, after he finishes swallowing his heart back down into his chest. ] －Merde, Esquie, not at top speed, please.
[ He'd both like to appreciate the view, and also be able to see at all, actually!!! His wild, crow-black bangs have plastered to his face, obscuring blue eyes; he can't let go of Esquie to fix them. He is actually rather concerned that his journey might end with him plummeting to his untimely demise. ]
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flamebrand) wrote2024-09-08 02:07 pm
no subject
Besides, there seems to be an upside. Flying. Right on the heels of talking about Esquie and the rock that Verso has been withholding from him. Clive softens at the mention of it. ]
Disbanding our shadowy league of rogues so soon?
[ They had a nice little secret going on! For all of thirty minutes, but. You know. Clive says so as if he was attached to the idea at all (he wasn't), and as if Esquie wouldn't have been able to nudge the truth out of him if Esquie ever seemed Super Sad about not having his rock.
For the best, really, that they fly now before Clive accidentally gives it all away. ]
If that's what you want. [ Without sarcasm or deference. Sincerely, Clive is happiest when Verso is exercising his autonomy. ] Let's fly.
no subject
Shifting focuses. You never know when we'll need to arrange a heist.
[Probably never, honestly, considering how the worst of Verso's worries about Esquie flying people around aren't likely to become factors with Clive. And also how shitty it would be to steal the rock; Verso's convinced himself that withholding it is a different beast, and that's a line he's not willing to cross, barring a set of circumstances so extreme that he can't even picture them himself.
Anyway, that's besides the point. Reaching out, he runs a hand through Clive's hair as if to preview what the wind might look like through it, then gives him a peck that reads like a see you soon before nodding first towards Alicia's room, then towards the front door.]
Go let Joshua know. I'll head off and call Esquie over, so meet me outside the cave?
[Which should still be clear of Nevrons. He hopes. If not, well, he's dealt with worse. As long as he can get them cleared up before Clive makes his way out, it's fine.]
no subject
"Short on specifics as usual, Clive," Joshua smiles. He looks a little pale, which is concerning; Clive finds his worry brushed aside with ease and a promise that everything is fine (a running theme when it comes to the people Clive cares most about in the world, this insistence that all is well), followed by an apologetic addendum when he presumably notes the vague signs of distress creeping into Clive's expression. "I would hardly have thought to insinuate myself into an outing meant for the two of you, but even if I'd felt inclined, I don't think today would be the best day for it. I'll rest, so you go enjoy yourself. Please."
Please is strategic－ Clive can deny his brother very little. He relents, but not without a promise to eventually share with Joshua whatever paints they procure in the future.
His brother's boyish delight at the suggestion is enough. Clive leaves without his edges feeling too frayed, dips into Verso's room to change into proper traveling gear, demolishes a bit more of the charcuterie board, then heads out into the biting cold of Frozen Hearts to brave his way through the dim, ice-painted cave.
(Traces of their encounter with Clea have been lost to new snow and Nevron trails; Clive moves quickly past where he remembers the painted cage to have sat, oppressive and immovable in the gloom.)
He's sure Esquie must have reunited with his rock by the time he reaches the cave's exit. He sees the shadow of the big friendly giant before he sees the rounded curves of the creature himself, and sheathes Invictus before approaching the two figures waiting for him in the near distance. ]
Sorry to keep you two waiting. [ A nod to Esquie, and Clive raises one hand in greeting. ] Esquie.
[ "Mon ami! You came just in time for us to share the good news!" A full-bodied wiggle on Esquie's part, as he shifts towards Verso. "Oh, tell him the good news, Verso!" ]
no subject
I, uh, I found Soarrie. [Said to the tune of hooray, though there is very little hoo and even less ray happening right now.] Esquie'll be able to take us to the canvas after all.
[Esquie whole-body bounces in response. He claps his hands together. Verso continues smiling like an idiot.
"Now you'll be able to FLY, too," he adds with a flourish to his voice. "Verso says we can't go all the way to SPACE, but that's okay. We'll still go really, really high, alllllll the way up. Everyone will be specks! Even your brother. Oh, but don't worry. He won't really be a speck."]
He gets it, you big goofball.
[Verso interrupts after a moment, gesturing him lower, then stepping aside so Clive can hop abord.]
Apres vous, mon feu.
["Ooooooh, a nickname. He likes you," Esquie helpfully supplies. And though Verso knows this, and Clive knows this, and there's no real secret to expose therein, Verso still flusters a little at the call-out.]
All right. Let's, yeah, let's go.
no subject
It's sweet. Clive is inclined to say something along the lines of "I like him too," but decides to keep it to himself to let Verso compose himself again. ]
Merci, mon étoile.
[ ...Okay, maybe that's not entirely keeping his sentiments to himself, but it's near-automatic by this point to respond to 'mon feu' with the echoing moniker. Clive doesn't stick around long enough to catch Esquie's reaction, as he hops onto that broad (squishy) (bouncy!) back, and looks around for a good handhold; if swim-swim taught him anything, it's that the road can get bumpy and that Esquie moves fast.
He assumes that Esquie has already been briefed on where they're going; the canvas, Verso had supplied, and it seems a place well-known between the two of them. Esquie seems to know most everything about Verso, which tracks nicely with what the children back in Lumiere say about Esquie the Great: all-knowing, all-powerful. The guardian of the world, and its last bastion of whimsy.
Gesturing for Verso to join him next to his perch (assuming that Esquie doesn't have eyes on the back of his head): ] Has it been a while since you two have gone on an adventure?
[ Because swimming them across the ocean to the Battlefield doesn't count as an adventure. That was just ferrying. Also, Clive has no idea if he can continue conversing once Esquie starts speeding along; it might have been unwise to start, but here he is anyway. ]
no subject
Mm, a couple years, give or take. Right, buddy?
[Esquie make a sound that's half hum, half tsk-tsk, then unwittingly contributes to Verso's guilt with a softly corrective, "Verso. It's been four years, two months, and sixty-three days."]
What about that time we went to visit Francois? Doesn't that count? [Another soft correction: "He's my neighbour." And another soft rebuttal from Verso:] Your neighbour who tried to encase me in ice.
["Oh, yes, you made him very angry when you insulted his newest rock."]
I didn't insult it, I... you know what, I'll settle it with Francois. That'll be our next adventure. And I promise it won't take one year, two months, and four days this time, okay?
[Esquie affirms the okay-ness of the arrangement – and, by extension, the rightness of Verso's timekeeping – with a whoop and a warningless leap into the sky. Graceful as ever but still a giant stuffed toy going skyward with no small amount of abandon.]
Uh. Brace yourself. [Verso says to Clive as if the necessity of such hasn't made itself all the more apparent.] And maybe don't loosen your grip until we're on solid ground. He gets excited when he sees our target.
["Mm-hm," Esquie confirms, "My record speed is 3333 kilometres per hour! Oh, Clive, can I show you?"]
no subject
His stomach sinks; the rest of him floats. He can feel the parts of him that aren't braced against Esquie's soft form start to lift, and he does his best to grapple himself back downwards as they shoot through the sky, the snow and ice under him quickly blurring and growing distant, just a sheet of silver with jagged lines of black and grey and lava-red.
It's disorienting. It feels a little like magic, really. ]
Fuck, [ is a rather crude thing to say in front of Esquie, a very sweet giant who would never curse. Clive will apologize for it later, after he finishes swallowing his heart back down into his chest. ] －Merde, Esquie, not at top speed, please.
[ He'd both like to appreciate the view, and also be able to see at all, actually!!! His wild, crow-black bangs have plastered to his face, obscuring blue eyes; he can't let go of Esquie to fix them. He is actually rather concerned that his journey might end with him plummeting to his untimely demise. ]