[ 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. ]
[ Clive does look very cool. Verso rarely feels the urge to paint these days, but as he watches flecks of fire dance on those dark scales, he finds himself wondering how one might recreate such a thing with oil paint. He'd always preferred creating fantastical images over pure recreations of reality, but this is a little bit of both—something that shouldn't be possible and yet is. ]
Yeah, you—
[ And then he feels Clive's shifting weight, lurching forward, and he isn't quick enough to do more than scramble after the fact, crouching down to nudge at Clive's shoulder. Afraid to be too rough with him after what he's already been through, but afraid to be too gentle and fail to rouse him if he's fallen unconscious, too. ]
Hey, mon ami, [ he says, because it sounds gentler than "FUCKING CLIVE!!!" Even though that may or may not be on refrain in his mind at the moment. He turns Clive over, slowly— ] Ah.
[ "FUCKING CLIVE!" is actually the appropriate response!!!!! Clive blinks when he's rolled onto his back, clearly having blacked out for the few seconds he'd spent faceplanted on the ground; disorientation winds through him, but he's still in the cave (familiar) and Verso still looks like he has no idea what the fuck to do with him (also familiar), so he eases his tension through his shoulders, and touches his hand to his aching face. ]
Oh, [ he notes, when his fingers come back bloody. ] Fuck.
[ A poignant summation of everything that's happened this night. "Oh, fuck." ]
...Maybe you could go get me a tint.
[ Labrador retriever ears droop... he's sorry, he promises. ]
[ 'Fucking Clive' is lucky that Verso is a dog person. It's not that he's angry, it's just— his entire purpose here is to babysit these Expeditioners, and Clive is turning out to be a lot like a toddler who keeps running into the street. To keep the labrador analogy going, Verso has a brief fantasy of leashing him and forcibly yanking him away from whatever danger he tries to throw himself into next. ]
I'll have to borrow one from the girls.
[ He doesn't keep any for himself. No need to. But they'll no doubt be willing to share if they know it's for Clive, although he has the distinct idea that he'll be interrogated on what he let happen to Clive. ]
I'll tell them you got injured singlehandedly taking down three Nevrons while I stood there and watched.
[ Or something like that. He helps Clive back to a somewhat upright position before he stands, regarding Clive with a long-suffering expression that suggests he thinks this might actually be a concern: ]
Try not to heroically sacrifice yourself again before I get back.
[ Verso comes up with that bullshit excuse for how Clive got hurt, and Clive thinks to say "you could also just tell them the truth". Then again, he has no leg to stand on (almost literally) when it comes to preaching to Verso about anything in his current condition, so he concedes the point, and accepts that appended warning. ]
I'll lay here and hope that the Stalact doesn't have any cousins.
[ In short: he'll be on his best behavior, promise. A lot of that is attributable to the fact that he can't actually move very well, but a promise is a promise.
The silver lining, though, is that the others know enough about Clive to anticipate that he might get his dumb ass hurt doing something trivial. Clive's mentor'd been infamous in the Academy for doing unconventional things for the sake of "learning and growing", and so, the others expect the same from Clive. Lune says as much, when approached for a tint. ]
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no subject
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. ]
no subject
Yeah, you—
[ And then he feels Clive's shifting weight, lurching forward, and he isn't quick enough to do more than scramble after the fact, crouching down to nudge at Clive's shoulder. Afraid to be too rough with him after what he's already been through, but afraid to be too gentle and fail to rouse him if he's fallen unconscious, too. ]
Hey, mon ami, [ he says, because it sounds gentler than "FUCKING CLIVE!!!" Even though that may or may not be on refrain in his mind at the moment. He turns Clive over, slowly— ] Ah.
[ There's blood running from Clive's nose. ]
no subject
Oh, [ he notes, when his fingers come back bloody. ] Fuck.
[ A poignant summation of everything that's happened this night. "Oh, fuck." ]
...Maybe you could go get me a tint.
[ Labrador retriever ears droop... he's sorry, he promises. ]
no subject
I'll have to borrow one from the girls.
[ He doesn't keep any for himself. No need to. But they'll no doubt be willing to share if they know it's for Clive, although he has the distinct idea that he'll be interrogated on what he let happen to Clive. ]
I'll tell them you got injured singlehandedly taking down three Nevrons while I stood there and watched.
[ Or something like that. He helps Clive back to a somewhat upright position before he stands, regarding Clive with a long-suffering expression that suggests he thinks this might actually be a concern: ]
Try not to heroically sacrifice yourself again before I get back.
[ HONESTLY... ]
no subject
I'll lay here and hope that the Stalact doesn't have any cousins.
[ In short: he'll be on his best behavior, promise. A lot of that is attributable to the fact that he can't actually move very well, but a promise is a promise.
The silver lining, though, is that the others know enough about Clive to anticipate that he might get his dumb ass hurt doing something trivial. Clive's mentor'd been infamous in the Academy for doing unconventional things for the sake of "learning and growing", and so, the others expect the same from Clive. Lune says as much, when approached for a tint. ]