Yes, [she says sarcastically.] He's deathly afraid of paintbrushes.
[In truth, her roommate hasn't really been around. She's not sure why or where he spends his time, but she's hardly going to complain about having more privacy and more space.
The room itself is bare; she hasn't bothered to put up any decorations or add a single personal touch in the months she's been here. The only sign that it's inhabited at all are the mussed bedsheets – she does, on rare occasions, sleep – and the painting tools laid neatly on the table and the handful of canvases leaned against the wall. There's one canvas in particular set aside from the rest, with a sheet draped over it to hide it.
Clea steps further into the room to let him in, and waves at him to shut the door behind him.]
I don't know what you know or who you've spoken to, but in case you weren't aware: your father is here, as is your copy of Alicia, and the real Alicia. The real one is still painted over, somehow. That shouldn't be possible, but then, you shouldn't be able to exist at all outside a Canvas. I've tried to undo it, but nothing's worked. [She speaks crisply, direct and to the point. Her own feelings on all of this don't really matter, they won't change anything, so she keeps them buried beneath a layer of tightly-controlled aloofness.] I plan to escape this place and take her with me. But, in the meantime, your father is sniffing around her, probably trying to convince her that Aline should be left undisturbed.
[Your mother, he'd said. Not my mother, not our mother. She hasn't forgotten, and she's still chewing over what, if anything, that means for his feelings on the Canvas and what to do about it.]
I suspect he told her that I'm responsible for creating the nevrons, because he knew it would anger her. [Not that Clea was trying to hide it. And she's still a little surprised by just how angry it had made Maelle.] In his place, I'd want to sway a Painter to my side, so I can't exactly blame him. But he'll need to be... contended with.
[Though she doesn't know whether it's true, she speaks to him as though they still share an ultimate goal, as though they're still on the same side, because she wants it to be true. She doesn't need it to be true, she tells herself, but she has so few allies and so little power in this world that one known quantity that she can count on would be a boon.
And, in spite herself, the memory of his arms wrapped around her keeps intruding into her mind. It had felt too much like a brother's embrace. It had been too gentle. She can't even remember the last time anyone at all touched her gently.]
Despite the fact that you can exist here, there's no chroma in this world that I can control. [She has no magic, no real way of fighting or defending herself, beyond what the fae have given her – and she doesn't trust anything from the fae.] So contending with an immortal who can wield chroma presents a challenge.
Edited (i remembered the clea knows that verso knows some of this already) 2026-01-31 17:28 (UTC)
[Bare, save for painting supplies. From what little he knows of this Clea, that sounds about right. He'd be surprised if it was more decorate.
She starts getting into it and Verso just leans back on his heels slightly, letting her practically lecture him. He knows a fair amount of it -- though he pointedly frowns when Clea calls Alicia a copy -- and again when she explains her plans.
Alright. A lot to process.]
Nevrons are a bitch to deal with. Anyone would be angry. [It's light and teasing, to lead into all of this.] Especially that damn flying snake.
I know they're here. I've spoken to them all, at one point or another. [Some of those conversations went... better than others.]
I'm surprised you'd admit to being on the back foot, though. Better brush up on your fencing lessons, hm? Maelle could teach you a thing or two. That girl is kind of terrifying.
[Speaking of. Maelle. Renoir. He considers for a long, slow moment. He wants Aline -- his mother, though he'd feared Clea's wrath if he'd called her as much -- out of the Canvas, but...
Another option, Maelle had said. It's staring them right in the face.]
"My" Renoir is fixated on keeping his family safe. As long as Alicia is safe her, he'll likely focus on that. And, [He pauses, considering again. Clea is someone he has to tread even more carefully with, even if he finds himself being truthful,]
Well, [How does he put it.]
...Does Maelle want to leave with you? [It's something he's been chewing on.] Maybe this place is better for her. For the lot of us, too, not that you'd care about that part.
[She gives him a cool look when he brings up Serpenphare. She likes her snake; it's one of her earlier creations, along with Sprong, and one of her favourites.
As he continues to speak, she only grows colder. Maelle doesn't want anything to do with her, outside of working together to escape Faerie. She's made that clear, and the words are still seared into Clea's mind: it'd be better if you think of your sister as gone, too. Renoir's doppelganger is, and always has been, an enemy. Verso's doppelganger is speaking as though he might not even want to work with her to escape. With every passing day, she feels more alone, still surrounded by the ghosts of her family but if she were to reach out to any of them for support, for comfort, for anything, none would reach back...
He'd wrapped his arms around her just like Verso would have...]
This place may feel like something out of a fairytale, but it's a prison, [she snaps.] Stay yourself, if that's what you prefer. You're right that I don't care. But Maelle can't know what she really wants until she remembers the full truth. She deserves that much.
[Verso doesn't care how much she likes that snake, it's not as fun when you're on the inside of it.
He expected her to take that badly, so he's hardly surprised when he can practically feel the air grow chill around them. If they'd been in the Canvas, it might've been literal. But, blessedly, they are not.]
I'm well aware it's a cage, [He shoots back with a half-glare] But so's the Canvas. Can you blame anyone for choosing the cozier one?
[Ugh. He exhales through his teeth, trying to gesture vaguely as if that'll diffuse things.]
I've hurt Maelle more than enough. The least I can do is follow her wishes in this world. [The Canvas is... another matter.] Once she remembers, if she wants to leave, then I'll help you both. You have my word.
[Honestly, he'll help Clea leave regardless. But he can't force Maelle into that fate, after everything.]
...Just leave Alicia out of it, won't you? She deserves this second chance more than any of us. And it's not like she's going to interfere with your plans.
She's agreed to help me find a way out. That's good enough for now, isn't it? Besides, I don't know that her memories will ever come back in this world. Once we're back in ours, I can fix everything, but here...
[Clea doesn't understand how chroma works here. Something else she hates about this place.
As for the painted Alicia... Clea doubts the girl is any sort of threat herself; in fact, when she's interacted with her here, the girl's been nothing but kind. Helpful. Uncomfortably so. But she's the one potential bargaining chip Clea has to deal with the painted Renoir. The only possible way to threaten him.]
Fine, [she says after a moment.] I won't harm her. But don't ask me to promise the same for your father.
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no subject
[In truth, her roommate hasn't really been around. She's not sure why or where he spends his time, but she's hardly going to complain about having more privacy and more space.
The room itself is bare; she hasn't bothered to put up any decorations or add a single personal touch in the months she's been here. The only sign that it's inhabited at all are the mussed bedsheets – she does, on rare occasions, sleep – and the painting tools laid neatly on the table and the handful of canvases leaned against the wall. There's one canvas in particular set aside from the rest, with a sheet draped over it to hide it.
Clea steps further into the room to let him in, and waves at him to shut the door behind him.]
I don't know what you know or who you've spoken to, but in case you weren't aware: your father is here, as is your copy of Alicia, and the real Alicia. The real one is still painted over, somehow. That shouldn't be possible, but then, you shouldn't be able to exist at all outside a Canvas. I've tried to undo it, but nothing's worked. [She speaks crisply, direct and to the point. Her own feelings on all of this don't really matter, they won't change anything, so she keeps them buried beneath a layer of tightly-controlled aloofness.] I plan to escape this place and take her with me. But, in the meantime, your father is sniffing around her, probably trying to convince her that Aline should be left undisturbed.
[Your mother, he'd said. Not my mother, not our mother. She hasn't forgotten, and she's still chewing over what, if anything, that means for his feelings on the Canvas and what to do about it.]
I suspect he told her that I'm responsible for creating the nevrons, because he knew it would anger her. [Not that Clea was trying to hide it. And she's still a little surprised by just how angry it had made Maelle.] In his place, I'd want to sway a Painter to my side, so I can't exactly blame him. But he'll need to be... contended with.
[Though she doesn't know whether it's true, she speaks to him as though they still share an ultimate goal, as though they're still on the same side, because she wants it to be true. She doesn't need it to be true, she tells herself, but she has so few allies and so little power in this world that one known quantity that she can count on would be a boon.
And, in spite herself, the memory of his arms wrapped around her keeps intruding into her mind. It had felt too much like a brother's embrace. It had been too gentle. She can't even remember the last time anyone at all touched her gently.]
Despite the fact that you can exist here, there's no chroma in this world that I can control. [She has no magic, no real way of fighting or defending herself, beyond what the fae have given her – and she doesn't trust anything from the fae.] So contending with an immortal who can wield chroma presents a challenge.
no subject
She starts getting into it and Verso just leans back on his heels slightly, letting her practically lecture him. He knows a fair amount of it -- though he pointedly frowns when Clea calls Alicia a copy -- and again when she explains her plans.
Alright. A lot to process.]
Nevrons are a bitch to deal with. Anyone would be angry. [It's light and teasing, to lead into all of this.] Especially that damn flying snake.
I know they're here. I've spoken to them all, at one point or another. [Some of those conversations went... better than others.]
I'm surprised you'd admit to being on the back foot, though. Better brush up on your fencing lessons, hm? Maelle could teach you a thing or two. That girl is kind of terrifying.
[Speaking of. Maelle. Renoir. He considers for a long, slow moment. He wants Aline -- his mother, though he'd feared Clea's wrath if he'd called her as much -- out of the Canvas, but...
Another option, Maelle had said. It's staring them right in the face.]
"My" Renoir is fixated on keeping his family safe. As long as Alicia is safe her, he'll likely focus on that. And, [He pauses, considering again. Clea is someone he has to tread even more carefully with, even if he finds himself being truthful,]
Well, [How does he put it.]
...Does Maelle want to leave with you? [It's something he's been chewing on.] Maybe this place is better for her. For the lot of us, too, not that you'd care about that part.
no subject
As he continues to speak, she only grows colder. Maelle doesn't want anything to do with her, outside of working together to escape Faerie. She's made that clear, and the words are still seared into Clea's mind: it'd be better if you think of your sister as gone, too. Renoir's doppelganger is, and always has been, an enemy. Verso's doppelganger is speaking as though he might not even want to work with her to escape. With every passing day, she feels more alone, still surrounded by the ghosts of her family but if she were to reach out to any of them for support, for comfort, for anything, none would reach back...
He'd wrapped his arms around her just like Verso would have...]
This place may feel like something out of a fairytale, but it's a prison, [she snaps.] Stay yourself, if that's what you prefer. You're right that I don't care. But Maelle can't know what she really wants until she remembers the full truth. She deserves that much.
no subject
He expected her to take that badly, so he's hardly surprised when he can practically feel the air grow chill around them. If they'd been in the Canvas, it might've been literal. But, blessedly, they are not.]
I'm well aware it's a cage, [He shoots back with a half-glare] But so's the Canvas. Can you blame anyone for choosing the cozier one?
[Ugh. He exhales through his teeth, trying to gesture vaguely as if that'll diffuse things.]
I've hurt Maelle more than enough. The least I can do is follow her wishes in this world. [The Canvas is... another matter.] Once she remembers, if she wants to leave, then I'll help you both. You have my word.
[Honestly, he'll help Clea leave regardless. But he can't force Maelle into that fate, after everything.]
...Just leave Alicia out of it, won't you? She deserves this second chance more than any of us. And it's not like she's going to interfere with your plans.
no subject
[Clea doesn't understand how chroma works here. Something else she hates about this place.
As for the painted Alicia... Clea doubts the girl is any sort of threat herself; in fact, when she's interacted with her here, the girl's been nothing but kind. Helpful. Uncomfortably so. But she's the one potential bargaining chip Clea has to deal with the painted Renoir. The only possible way to threaten him.]
Fine, [she says after a moment.] I won't harm her. But don't ask me to promise the same for your father.