flamebrand: sousaphone. (64.)
ᴄʟɪᴠᴇ ʀᴏꜱꜰɪᴇʟᴅ. ([personal profile] flamebrand) wrote 2025-10-13 04:25 am (UTC)

[ Genuinely (and sadly), being with Expedition 33 is probably the most fulfillment Clive has ever felt outside of interactions with his younger brother or his now-dead mentor (Expedition 44). His mistakes are embarrassing, and he reminds himself never to repeat them again, but he'll hold this night to his heart regardless as something that made him feel something aside from the weight of having to rebel against the inevitable.

The curse of sentiment. Clive really does love everyone out here.
]

It'll be our secret.

[ Ballet, and the melody of wind between swaying trees. Pinpoints of warmth to fuel Clive as he channels his chroma again, outwards this time instead of inwards. He extends an arm, covered in coal-sharp scales that end in serrated claws where fingers should be; the blast of fire that coils out of that monster-like appendage blows bits of broken rock and debris outwards, scattering it out into the one corridor that leads back out into open air.

For a moment, Clive winces. His breath stills, wondering if undoing that cave-in will just cause another, worse one. But the foundations of their surroundings hold, and fresh air filters back into the gloom, filling him with oxygen and relief.
]

Ah. That went well.

[ And, with that, he falls facefirst onto the ground. ]

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