[For a few moments, he focuses on playing. Music always helps.] Any time, mon petit chaton. Say the word. [He's indebted to him, and Verso can't bring himself to mind in the slightest. Not for this.]
I have you. Few others. [He flashes Vanitas a smile, indulgent, fond — adoring.] Mostly you.
[The offer brings a smile to Vanitas' face, as the music brings back memories of his own, both good and bad, but mostly positive. Coupled with being here alongside Verso, he can't help the welling of happiness within himself.] Maybe I could try to teach you one I know, too. [He's not the most musically inclined, but he did learn a little from the band of players that he and his father traveled with.]
Verso... [Here, his mood falters somewhat as guilt becomes the dominant emotion.] About that... I know you've been trying to drive me off for a while now. As much as I enjoy what we have, it can't continue.
[He's silent a moment before hurrying to add:] But we can still be friends.
What? No--! [The look of hurt on his face is clear; he certainly hadn't intended for it to be a bribe. ...had he? ...maybe he had.] I--
[With those telltale wings looming over him, he hunches his shoulders, sulking.] ...no. I want to keep what we have, but... I promised Vince. He didn't even want me being around you. This was our compromise.
[The wings are a bummer — expose all those little untruths that keep niceties in place.]
A compromise. [Verso starts again on the keys. A light tune, delicate, the opposite of his feelings.] Mon petit chaton... That man is a monster. [Like sees like. His wings show it as the truth — at least to Verso.] What do you think he would have gained, if you had not argued — found this compromise?
[At least the truth-telling goes both ways. Despite trusting Verso, it helps to have tangible proof that he isn't lying, or at least hiding anything when he says that, even if it is only his opinion.]
Yeah. That's what any relationship requires. [He guesses. He doesn't have the most experience with them.] ...he's really not that bad. [Though he can understand why Verso would think such, especially after the incident at the Valentia.] Gained? [Puzzled, he frowns.] I don't think he would've gained anything. In fact, he would've lost me, had we not reached an agreement.
Then, if he wouldn't have gained anything, why did he try to demand it of you? [Verso's playing continues.] What was his reason?
[All Verso can see is Vanitas — kind, and unable to see that kindness in himself — with someone who thinks taking a blade to the man he believes he loves did not harm him.]
[At that, he bites his lip, glancing aside.] Because his feelings are hurt by a lack of faithfulness. He's surprisingly sensitive in that regard. He's... jealous, yes, but also values loyalty.
[With all that's transpired, he can't say Verso is entirely wrong, but he also can't help feeling he's not privy to the whole story. To all there is to Vincent.]
We're a lot alike, me and him. We crave the same things. [Meaning that deep down, Vanitas does want to be loved, despite believing he doesn't deserve it.]
Because he was jealous, because his feelings were hurt — [Verso keeps his tone light, but Vanitas knows him well enough by now that he might see through this mask, to the frustration and anger, and then deeper, behind the next mask and the next, to the fear. Not at Vanitas leaving him alone. Verso is used to being alone — planned on it, even. But fear for him.
All the Augmented are immortal. Some arrived — or near enough — that way, but they don't know what it means. Even those taken in October can't understand what it's like, being forced to continue, even when living itself is an agony.] — Vincent requested that you never see me again.
[The melody he picks out on the piano grows more ornate, improvised, but with an overarching pattern, building on itself. A form of distraction for Verso's agitation.]
Mon petit chaton, you are strong-willed. But imagine, Vincent's lover was someone else. Of someone who feared losing their lover's affections, more than they desired the support of the others who love them. Or someone easily lead astray. Imagine... [Ah, perhaps...] imagine he asked that of Noé, and the one who brought forth Vincent's jealousy was you.
He's entitled to feel too, you know. [His tone is equally careful, trying not to accuse or blame while Vanitas digs through the layers upon layers behind those simple words. To the feelings behind them. He thinks he understands what Verso is getting at. Knows that he cares for him, deeply.
Which is why he abruptly stands and snatches up the bottle of wine he brought, uncorking it and pouring them both a drink before returning to sit beside Verso. His voice drops a bit with the admittance.] He did. I told him that wasn't fair. Because we're friends and you're important to me.
[A rare admission of both friendship and feelings combined, but Verso's earned it. Though Vanitas can sense the frustration behind the complex notes.]
...what does-- [He starts to speak, but stops at the mention of Noé, at the reframing of the situation in terms that make it more starkly clear.] ...I'd be pissed. Angry that he'd try to leverage Noé's feelings against me. [He grows quiet, thinking.] I get what you're saying, Verso, I really do. And I'm not happy Vincent tried to demand such a thing. That's why I insisted that we could behave and simply be friends. I want to prove that I'm better than I have been. Because... Vince is special to me. I need him...
[At that, Verso finishes playing. He ends in a flourish, a bow as neat as can be on the tune.
He closes the cover on the keys.]
Vanitas. Rather than yourself, consider what that would mean for Noé, or one like him. Consider what position it would leave the one receiving what Vincent claims is love, if they did not argue, if they did not threaten to walk away.
If they simply agreed, because they valued Vincent's feelings above their own.
[Brow furrowing, he tries to separate his own situation from this hypothetical one. Even though he has a fairly good idea what Verso's driving at, and he's not exactly pleased by it.]
...you're trying to say he'd be controlling them through fear, aren't you. That they wouldn't have the strength of will to oppose Vincent's demands. He'd be isolating them. I get that.
But I'm not Noé. You don't need to worry about me... I never go against what I want. [At least, that's how it used to be. He realizes belatedly that's exactly what he's doing now, and hastily downs the entire glass of wine in one gulp.]
[That simple gesture makes him wilt somewhat, or perhaps it's Verso's words which have his shoulders sagging.]
You think I deserve better. [That much seems obvious now. Yet still he shakes his head] ...I do, though. We're both a pair of miserable fools. Better we have each other than inflict ourselves on someone else.
[He rubs his thumbs over Vanitas' hand, a gentle reminder that he is here.]
I think? [His mouth twitches up, a mix of humour and fondness lifting it.] Couldn't manage it. Old brain, doesn't work right. [His nose wrinkles.] Thinking.
[He relaxes once again, tone turning kind.] You threatened to leave him, if he refused to let you see me. Why? [Verso has a point, but it works better to lead Vanitas there — to let him see that he himself knows there are those better off for the affliction of Vanitas.]
[Unable to help himself, he grasps Verso's hand tight in his.]
Pfft. Don't be facetious. [Still, he can't help a faint smile himself, and it takes a great deal of willpower to remain in his seat and not kiss him.]
Because, you were one of the first people to extend a hand to me here. I'll always treasure that fact. And... I care for you. [Just how much he doesn't dare say. He's doing his damnedest to do right by Vincent this time.] We're friends. [Possibly the first time he's admitted to even having any.]
We are. [That an admission of friendship is said like a closely guarded secret, that Vincent would even think to take it from Vanitas... It fills Verso with sadness.]
And I love you, mon amour. [The exact nature of that love... well, love is complicated. But his wings are black. His love is true.] I won't ask you to stop seeing him, but, if you weren't as strong as you are, Vincent would have taken that love from you.
[Hearing that Verso cares for him that much... it brings forth a great mix of feelings, from gratitude to guilt, because Vanitas himself still believes he's incapable of "love" such as it is. All the same, he opens up the piano, removes his gloves to reveal a ring on his left hand, and starts playing his own tune, slowly at first. Like he hasn't done in ages.]
I adore you too, you know... And I'm aware Vince likes to jealously guard me from those he dislikes. He thinks you're going to take me away from him. He's never had much, and he's lost a lot. I can't fault him for wanting to keep me close.
[Sat to Vanitas' right, Verso picks up an accompaniment to the melody as Vanitas finds the flow of the music. Verso's high notes dance between Vanitas', never overwhelming, simply accentuating what's there. If Vanitas couldn't tell before, Verso's skill with the instrument is unmistakable now.]
No fault for that, [he flashes a smile, nudges Vanitas' shoulder with his own,] I want you just as close. [He gave Vanitas a key. Vincent gave him a ring.] But... would he let you fly? [Vanitas is... special. Precious. He will survive, no matter what — a cat that always lands on his feet — but surviving... that isn't what life is about.] Or would he wrap you in chains? [Verso's right hand continues with his accompaniment, his left rises from the keys, and he taps a finger to that ring.] You deserve the freedom to choose him, mon amour.
[Even from the outset, Vanitas could see the skill with which Verso plays, but it's reached new heights with him joining in, not overwhelming his own playing, but merely adding to the beauty. A fact that only cements his determination to come by often to hear him play.]
Verso... [There's an unmistakable blush to his cheeks now, though he keeps his eyes focused on the instrument to make sure he hits the right notes.] ...maybe not. Not like I want, anyway. [He still craves Verso in the worst way imaginable. In ways he shouldn't, not when he's promised himself to Vincent. It makes him bite his lip. Or rather, the chain comment does.] I mean, we kinda... got married.
[There's a pause while he struggles to explain, and it comes out in a rush of apologetic laughter.] We thought it'd be funny to see the expression on everybody's faces. So we went out one night got hitched. For a laugh. But now I... wonder if he doesn't want it to be for real.
[Verso's playing doesn't falter, and his tone remains light, though his heart sinks.]
Wonder? Mon amour, no need for lies between us. You know. [They both do.
His playing continues, as he considers how to approach this, how to make his point. He settles on:]
Click for Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 spoilersDo you know my family name? [A non sequitur, but as always, it's a question that leads somewhere. Vanitas knows he has family, knows he isn't an orphan like Vanitas. He knows, too, that Verso is from Paris, and his time or thereabouts.] It should be Dessendre. But Verso Dessendre... [His mouth twitches, a wry smile.] He died. I get pieces, time to time. Things that feel like they're him, not me.
He burned to death. His mother — my mother, more or less — Aline Dessendre is a great Painter. Couldn't bear it. Blamed his sister — Alicia. [Not Verso's sister.] Wasn't her fault. Maman, she Painted the world she wanted to live in. World with me. Used his soul. I didn't know it, not for years, not until... [He'll get to that. But not yet.] She Painted my memories. Built me a life — Verso Dessendre's life. A life from her view, how she imagined it would be in Lumiére. [His fingers keep playing.] She made me immortal. The rest of my family, too. Father, sisters. The family she wanted. One that could never leave. [Not even through death.]
He [Verso Dessendre] was her favourite. But my sisters...
Alicia Dessendre, she was caught in the fire. Lost an eye, her voice. Maman Painted my sister that way. She suffers. Burn scars, they heal, but... [There's always pain.] Maman's ideal family... [An ideal that had him waking in the middle of the night to his sister screaming in a thin rasp, no voice left to carry.]
Chains can be made from love, mon amour. Love... hardest to break.
[A testament to Verso's skill that he continues on unabated while Vanitas' fingers hit a few wrong notes.]
...I suppose so. [A pointless question on his part, really.]
No. [He dares to glance at Verso at the question. He doesn't know, naturally, so he's naturally curious. He always is to know more about his friend and paramour. He longs to watch Verso's expression, to know what he's feeling, but he has to keep his eyes on the piano to continue playing.] ...Verso... [More missed notes as his emotions get the better of him.]
.....shit. [Burning alive is a horrific way to go, for anyone. Especially if they were as kind and compassionate as Verso is.] That's-- I can... I can understand the desire to keep the ones you care for close, to try saving them, in some form or another, even if it means transforming them into something they're not. [He glances at his now exposed mark of possession. He knows.] Yet that doesn't make it right.
[He knows where this is going, and it does indeed lead there, gradually, building on the hurt that Verso must be experiencing every moment of his life.] You all shouldn't have had to be subjected to such an existence. It's not fair to you.
[Sighing, he finishes the piece and lets his hand come to rest in his lap, silent for a time before speaking.]
Isn't all love chains, really? Shackles that bind us to another? How is what Vince and I have any different? Aren't I doing the same to you now? Making you suffer because of my foolishness? [He bangs on the keys, creating a discordant cacophony.] ...what am I supposed to do, then? I need him, Verso. I don't think I could manage without him anymore.
[Verso wraps an arm around Vanitas' shoulders, and presses a kiss to his temple.] Mon petit chaton, why are you here with me, bringing with you an extravagant gift? [He thinks he knows the answer, but, Vanitas should know it himself, put it to words.]
Because I... [Isn't it obvious? It feels like it should be. Yet when Verso holds him close, kisses him, he can't help shivering from the chill that has nothing to do with his recent demise.] Because care for you. I wanted you to know that, to know how much I fought to continue seeing you, even as friends.
[Turning slightly, he gazes into Verso's eyes.] That's how you wanted it anyway, right? I practically strong-armed you into being intimate with me. [Bullied him like an unruly cat.]
[Verso tilts his head from side to side.] Non. Dig deeper, mon petit chaton. [Ah, well, he can give a hint. He sets his hands back on the keys, a smile playing over his lips. Perhaps it's hard for Vanitas to see. The piece he plays is moody, but rises into a delicate lightness, that speaks to hope, and — his hint — joy.]
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I have you. Few others. [He flashes Vanitas a smile, indulgent, fond — adoring.] Mostly you.
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Verso... [Here, his mood falters somewhat as guilt becomes the dominant emotion.] About that... I know you've been trying to drive me off for a while now. As much as I enjoy what we have, it can't continue.
[He's silent a moment before hurrying to add:] But we can still be friends.
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He sighs.] You want that? [His wings ruffle — a reminder.]
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[With those telltale wings looming over him, he hunches his shoulders, sulking.] ...no. I want to keep what we have, but... I promised Vince. He didn't even want me being around you. This was our compromise.
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A compromise. [Verso starts again on the keys. A light tune, delicate, the opposite of his feelings.] Mon petit chaton... That man is a monster. [Like sees like. His wings show it as the truth — at least to Verso.] What do you think he would have gained, if you had not argued — found this compromise?
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Yeah. That's what any relationship requires. [He guesses. He doesn't have the most experience with them.] ...he's really not that bad. [Though he can understand why Verso would think such, especially after the incident at the Valentia.] Gained? [Puzzled, he frowns.] I don't think he would've gained anything. In fact, he would've lost me, had we not reached an agreement.
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[All Verso can see is Vanitas — kind, and unable to see that kindness in himself — with someone who thinks taking a blade to the man he believes he loves did not harm him.]
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[With all that's transpired, he can't say Verso is entirely wrong, but he also can't help feeling he's not privy to the whole story. To all there is to Vincent.]
We're a lot alike, me and him. We crave the same things. [Meaning that deep down, Vanitas does want to be loved, despite believing he doesn't deserve it.]
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All the Augmented are immortal. Some arrived — or near enough — that way, but they don't know what it means. Even those taken in October can't understand what it's like, being forced to continue, even when living itself is an agony.] — Vincent requested that you never see me again.
[The melody he picks out on the piano grows more ornate, improvised, but with an overarching pattern, building on itself. A form of distraction for Verso's agitation.]
Mon petit chaton, you are strong-willed. But imagine, Vincent's lover was someone else. Of someone who feared losing their lover's affections, more than they desired the support of the others who love them. Or someone easily lead astray. Imagine... [Ah, perhaps...] imagine he asked that of Noé, and the one who brought forth Vincent's jealousy was you.
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Which is why he abruptly stands and snatches up the bottle of wine he brought, uncorking it and pouring them both a drink before returning to sit beside Verso. His voice drops a bit with the admittance.] He did. I told him that wasn't fair. Because we're friends and you're important to me.
[A rare admission of both friendship and feelings combined, but Verso's earned it. Though Vanitas can sense the frustration behind the complex notes.]
...what does-- [He starts to speak, but stops at the mention of Noé, at the reframing of the situation in terms that make it more starkly clear.] ...I'd be pissed. Angry that he'd try to leverage Noé's feelings against me. [He grows quiet, thinking.] I get what you're saying, Verso, I really do. And I'm not happy Vincent tried to demand such a thing. That's why I insisted that we could behave and simply be friends. I want to prove that I'm better than I have been. Because... Vince is special to me. I need him...
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He closes the cover on the keys.]
Vanitas. Rather than yourself, consider what that would mean for Noé, or one like him. Consider what position it would leave the one receiving what Vincent claims is love, if they did not argue, if they did not threaten to walk away.
If they simply agreed, because they valued Vincent's feelings above their own.
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...you're trying to say he'd be controlling them through fear, aren't you. That they wouldn't have the strength of will to oppose Vincent's demands. He'd be isolating them. I get that.
But I'm not Noé. You don't need to worry about me... I never go against what I want. [At least, that's how it used to be. He realizes belatedly that's exactly what he's doing now, and hastily downs the entire glass of wine in one gulp.]
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Vanitas. I don't worry that he will isolate you. I worry you believe you deserve to be with the man who would try.
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You think I deserve better. [That much seems obvious now. Yet still he shakes his head] ...I do, though. We're both a pair of miserable fools. Better we have each other than inflict ourselves on someone else.
Besides, I-- I really do adore him...
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I think? [His mouth twitches up, a mix of humour and fondness lifting it.] Couldn't manage it. Old brain, doesn't work right. [His nose wrinkles.] Thinking.
[He relaxes once again, tone turning kind.] You threatened to leave him, if he refused to let you see me. Why? [Verso has a point, but it works better to lead Vanitas there — to let him see that he himself knows there are those better off for the affliction of Vanitas.]
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Pfft. Don't be facetious. [Still, he can't help a faint smile himself, and it takes a great deal of willpower to remain in his seat and not kiss him.]
Because, you were one of the first people to extend a hand to me here. I'll always treasure that fact. And... I care for you. [Just how much he doesn't dare say. He's doing his damnedest to do right by Vincent this time.] We're friends. [Possibly the first time he's admitted to even having any.]
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And I love you, mon amour. [The exact nature of that love... well, love is complicated. But his wings are black. His love is true.] I won't ask you to stop seeing him, but, if you weren't as strong as you are, Vincent would have taken that love from you.
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I adore you too, you know... And I'm aware Vince likes to jealously guard me from those he dislikes. He thinks you're going to take me away from him. He's never had much, and he's lost a lot. I can't fault him for wanting to keep me close.
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No fault for that, [he flashes a smile, nudges Vanitas' shoulder with his own,] I want you just as close. [He gave Vanitas a key. Vincent gave him a ring.] But... would he let you fly? [Vanitas is... special. Precious. He will survive, no matter what — a cat that always lands on his feet — but surviving... that isn't what life is about.] Or would he wrap you in chains? [Verso's right hand continues with his accompaniment, his left rises from the keys, and he taps a finger to that ring.] You deserve the freedom to choose him, mon amour.
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Verso... [There's an unmistakable blush to his cheeks now, though he keeps his eyes focused on the instrument to make sure he hits the right notes.] ...maybe not. Not like I want, anyway. [He still craves Verso in the worst way imaginable. In ways he shouldn't, not when he's promised himself to Vincent. It makes him bite his lip. Or rather, the chain comment does.] I mean, we kinda... got married.
[There's a pause while he struggles to explain, and it comes out in a rush of apologetic laughter.] We thought it'd be funny to see the expression on everybody's faces. So we went out one night got hitched. For a laugh. But now I... wonder if he doesn't want it to be for real.
clair obscur: expedition 33 spoilers like whoa
Wonder? Mon amour, no need for lies between us. You know. [They both do.
His playing continues, as he considers how to approach this, how to make his point. He settles on:]
Click for Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 spoilers
Do you know my family name? [A non sequitur, but as always, it's a question that leads somewhere. Vanitas knows he has family, knows he isn't an orphan like Vanitas. He knows, too, that Verso is from Paris, and his time or thereabouts.] It should be Dessendre. But Verso Dessendre... [His mouth twitches, a wry smile.] He died. I get pieces, time to time. Things that feel like they're him, not me.He burned to death. His mother — my mother, more or less — Aline Dessendre is a great Painter. Couldn't bear it. Blamed his sister — Alicia. [Not Verso's sister.] Wasn't her fault. Maman, she Painted the world she wanted to live in. World with me. Used his soul. I didn't know it, not for years, not until... [He'll get to that. But not yet.] She Painted my memories. Built me a life — Verso Dessendre's life. A life from her view, how she imagined it would be in Lumiére. [His fingers keep playing.] She made me immortal. The rest of my family, too. Father, sisters. The family she wanted. One that could never leave. [Not even through death.]
He [Verso Dessendre] was her favourite. But my sisters...
Alicia Dessendre, she was caught in the fire. Lost an eye, her voice. Maman Painted my sister that way. She suffers. Burn scars, they heal, but... [There's always pain.] Maman's ideal family... [An ideal that had him waking in the middle of the night to his sister screaming in a thin rasp, no voice left to carry.]
Chains can be made from love, mon amour. Love... hardest to break.
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...I suppose so. [A pointless question on his part, really.]
No. [He dares to glance at Verso at the question. He doesn't know, naturally, so he's naturally curious. He always is to know more about his friend and paramour. He longs to watch Verso's expression, to know what he's feeling, but he has to keep his eyes on the piano to continue playing.] ...Verso... [More missed notes as his emotions get the better of him.]
.....shit. [Burning alive is a horrific way to go, for anyone. Especially if they were as kind and compassionate as Verso is.] That's-- I can... I can understand the desire to keep the ones you care for close, to try saving them, in some form or another, even if it means transforming them into something they're not. [He glances at his now exposed mark of possession. He knows.] Yet that doesn't make it right.
[He knows where this is going, and it does indeed lead there, gradually, building on the hurt that Verso must be experiencing every moment of his life.] You all shouldn't have had to be subjected to such an existence. It's not fair to you.
[Sighing, he finishes the piece and lets his hand come to rest in his lap, silent for a time before speaking.]
Isn't all love chains, really? Shackles that bind us to another? How is what Vince and I have any different? Aren't I doing the same to you now? Making you suffer because of my foolishness? [He bangs on the keys, creating a discordant cacophony.] ...what am I supposed to do, then? I need him, Verso. I don't think I could manage without him anymore.
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[Turning slightly, he gazes into Verso's eyes.] That's how you wanted it anyway, right? I practically strong-armed you into being intimate with me. [Bullied him like an unruly cat.]
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