[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.]
Deeper? [Ugh... Something he hates doing. Thinking about his feelings, allowing himself to experience what he's really feeling beneath the surface mask he wears all the time, not just to save face, but to survive.] ....because it... makes me happy. I like being with you. It's fun.
[He glances at those wonderful hands, just watching them play for a time before his gaze drifts back to Verso's face.] Right?
[Verso nods.] Makes me happy, too. I can be... [he pauses.] Doesn't happen often. [He nudges Vanitas' shoulder with his own, unwilling to stop playing.] Me, happy. [And that happiness should be all too apparent from the moment Verso put his fingers to the keys — happiness that not even this conversation has entirely erased.]
You love me, Vanitas. Might love him, too. But you came to me to be happy — to be safe. You will always be safe here.
You deserve to be happier than you are, Verso. I wish I could make that happen. This was my way of trying to do so. [And perhaps he was trying to bribe him into allowing him to stay in his life. Gently, he bumps up against Verso as well, head falling onto his shoulder.]
I... Thank you. [It comes out as a whisper, as the realization sets in. He did - does - come to Verso for the sense of security he provides.] I don't know what I feel, honestly. For you or Vince. Maybe it is love... I'm just-- [Terrified of calling it that. Of being so deeply bound to anyone, even someone as kind as Verso.]
Love me or not, mon amour, I will play for you. [He weaves the end of his melody into the start of the tune Vanitas played. Rather than removing the handful of mistakes from Vanitas' rendition, Verso works with them, brings them into the piece, as if they were intentional all along.
While he said I will play for you, his tone, his gentleness, gives his words another meaning: I will love you.
...why. [It's asked softly, because he already knows the answer. Especially with the way Verso manages to capture his mistakes and elevate them into part of the art itself, like he's making him less of a mistake.
He can't help the sting in his eyes as the melody goes on, and Verso utters those simple words that make his heart clench and soar at the same time. Just as quietly, he murmurs against Verso's shoulder, face half buried against him.]
You're making this so much harder than it should be... When you say things like that, I want to be with you even more...
[And not just in a room together sense. He longs for Verso's touch, yet he knows it's not his to have anymore.]
[Verso chuckles, and finishes the piece so he can pull Vanitas close. He tucks him under his chin and smooths down his hair, rubbing around the base of his ears.] You have me, Vanitas. I am yours. [Which is also his answer to "why".]
[Unable to resist the warmth and comfort those strong arms provide, especially with the gentle caresses to his ears, Vanitas sighs softly. His tail hooks around Verso's leg, as if to hug him discreetly.] I don't deserve you or your kindness... [He at least doesn't need the reason explained to him. That much is obvious.
Though he has to laugh somewhat scornfully.] Bet this kind of behavior would piss Vince off still... You'll have to keep your hands to yourself when you visit the cafe.
[Verso takes a moment, continuing to support him, to hold him, to keep him close. And to try and coax a purr.]
I don't know... explain we're French again. Maybe he'll understand. [He tilts Vanitas' chin up, presses his lips to Vanitas'. He keeps the kiss brief, chaste, nothing like so many they've shared.] Not at the café. [They're French. Kissing is fine. He won't lead him further than that.]
[If it's a purr he wants, a purr he gets, slow though it is to start up. He still feels faintly on edge being so close like this, despite loving how it feels. Like he's worried Vincent might jump out of the closet or something.]
Hah... That might work. I'll have to try that. [There's that noise Verso craves: a rumble from deep within Vanitas' throat as he he trails after Verso's lips, trying to keep contact as he pulls away. He knows he shouldn't, but the temptation is strong.
He tries, though, sitting back with a shaky breath and eyes screwed shut as he clutches at Verso's shirt.] Sometimes I wish you weren't so damn kind and considerate towards me... It makes me so happy that you are, though.
[Still wrapped up from being outside, how Verso's body has changed isn't visible for those who don't know about that particular part of his corruption, but with Vanitas' hands in his shirt, his breasts are as noticeable as when Vanitas joins him in bed, and he's too close to sleep to shape-shift them away. They've become... large.]
I'll stop — be mean. [His wings flare, the feathers change colour.] Maybe not.
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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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[He glances at those wonderful hands, just watching them play for a time before his gaze drifts back to Verso's face.] Right?
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You love me, Vanitas. Might love him, too. But you came to me to be happy — to be safe. You will always be safe here.
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I... Thank you. [It comes out as a whisper, as the realization sets in. He did - does - come to Verso for the sense of security he provides.] I don't know what I feel, honestly. For you or Vince. Maybe it is love... I'm just-- [Terrified of calling it that. Of being so deeply bound to anyone, even someone as kind as Verso.]
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While he said I will play for you, his tone, his gentleness, gives his words another meaning: I will love you.
Quietly, he says,]
I want to see you fly.
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He can't help the sting in his eyes as the melody goes on, and Verso utters those simple words that make his heart clench and soar at the same time. Just as quietly, he murmurs against Verso's shoulder, face half buried against him.]
You're making this so much harder than it should be... When you say things like that, I want to be with you even more...
[And not just in a room together sense. He longs for Verso's touch, yet he knows it's not his to have anymore.]
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Though he has to laugh somewhat scornfully.] Bet this kind of behavior would piss Vince off still... You'll have to keep your hands to yourself when you visit the cafe.
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I don't know... explain we're French again. Maybe he'll understand. [He tilts Vanitas' chin up, presses his lips to Vanitas'. He keeps the kiss brief, chaste, nothing like so many they've shared.] Not at the café. [They're French. Kissing is fine. He won't lead him further than that.]
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Hah... That might work. I'll have to try that. [There's that noise Verso craves: a rumble from deep within Vanitas' throat as he he trails after Verso's lips, trying to keep contact as he pulls away. He knows he shouldn't, but the temptation is strong.
He tries, though, sitting back with a shaky breath and eyes screwed shut as he clutches at Verso's shirt.] Sometimes I wish you weren't so damn kind and considerate towards me... It makes me so happy that you are, though.
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I'll stop — be mean. [His wings flare, the feathers change colour.] Maybe not.
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