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Instead of engaging further with Expeditions or grand schemes, Verso let his exhaustion take him. He slid away from the world and decided it better to hide in some corner of the painted world. A modest hut that was set up on an island -- far from Nevrons, Gestrals, and Grandis. He felt it'd be best to just kill his emotions and let the conflict resolve itself without him.
However, his voluntary solitary confinement was interrupted by an unexpected guest -- Clea. The real Clea. She stepped through the threshold of the doorway like the space was hers; her bare feet barely making any sound as she walked.
He didn't even humor it was his Clea. He knew she was already gone.
"I'm surprised you're here." He didn't rise off the makeshift bed he was sitting on. She stood before him with one hand on her hip, looking put out to even be near him. Her dismissive stare looked through him and he tried not to let that hurt.
"As am I." She tilted her head away but maintained eye contact. "I'm back here--" Her arms open wide, gesturing to everything. "--messing with this nonsense instead of what needs to be done in the real world."
"Does that mean you're going to stop them?" Verso couldn't stop the hope that creeped into his voice.
"No. I'm here to enlist your help, actually." She flicks her finger in his direction. "I'm not getting myself any further involved than I need to with their argument."
"My help? No--" His eyebrows furrowed together before he abruptly stood. Taking two steps toward her, he reached out to take her hands. She already was slapping at the air to keep him from touching her, however. Verso swallowed the hurt and pressed forward. "--you can unpaint me. That would--"
"Absolutely not." Her sharp tone cut him off before he could continue. He felt his words turn to ash in his mouth. "What did I just say about getting involved? And the ramifications to my life outside this make-believe game they're playing?"
His mouth hung open but he soon found his balance. "You took my sister." She already was involved. He tried to use his height to intimidate, to coerce her into listening to him.
Her eyes shined with malicious amusement, however; her voice equally cold. "Your sister? Do you actually think you're family?"
Verso swallowed, pain and anger mingling. His teeth snapped together as his eyes hurt from tears starting to gather. Breathing was starting to become difficult; each breath he took in felt like glass shattering in his chest. Reverberating agony that had no relief, because --
Clea reached her hand up, traced her fingers along his jawline. It stopped any further thoughts. "She certainly captured Verso's hurt expressions well." Her mouth curved into a secretive, pleased smile. "Well-done, Aline."
Since she was already touching him, he reached up to take her wrist in his hand. He squeezed it with meaning. "Please. Please, unpaint me. Please... help me end this."
"Although, Verso would never sound so pathetic." She gripped his chin hard, squeezing his face between thumb and index finger. Her tone is that of an art connoisseur, far outside of the conversation and not acknowledging the subject within. "I'm starting to think you're going to be quite useless to my plans."
"Please, I'll do whatever you want just--" His other hand rested on her small shoulder. He had not let go of her wrist. Her distant, dismissive gaze suddenly fixed on his face; he realized he made a mistake as soon as he got her full attention.
"Whatever I want?" Her eyes drifted to the hand on her shoulder. His fingers involuntarily curl around the curve of her arm and he had to use all his self-control to not try to pull away. "... truly?"
"You don't see me as your brother." Verso hoped he sounded sure and confident of himself. Sick boiled in his stomach, but he had no cards to play with her.
Her tongue slipped out, gently rolled along her top lip in thought. "... did you have sex with that painted abomination of me?"
"No." He almost violently tugged his hands back to his body. Taking steps back, he shook his head in revulsion at what she was implying. Of course, he was offering to fuck her as way of payment to be unmade.
"Did you want to?"
The stone in his stomach dropped further. He wasn't sure what expression he had; he couldn't look at her. Old guilt threatened to strangle him. Verso was so relieved when his Clea found Simon; he thought it would make living so close to her easier.
"Is it the same with all the other painted caricatures?"
She took a step forward; he took a step back.
Clea breathed out an appreciative laugh. "I see. She really wanted to tie you unbearably close to her little imaginary family, to keep you from straying to anyone else in her little fantasy world. The amount of shame and guilt you'd choke on daily, but be unable to stay away because of your love."
"I loved someone else." He held onto that truth like a lifeline. Swallowing, he couldn't make eye contact with her. "I did."
"I'm starting to think she wanted to punish Verso for dying most of all." Her distant commentary had returned; she no longer cared for his excuses and arguments.
His legs gave out from underneath him. She's right -- Verso wouldn't be as pathetic as he was. What he felt for Julie was honest and sincere love; what he felt for his family was all-encompassing adoration and devotion. It was mind-numbing when he was near them; he couldn't do anything but want them to be happy. Regardless of what shape that happiness took.
"I wonder who she made you lust after first. It probably was gradual. If it happened all at once, it wouldn't be quite as torturous."
"Stop this." His gaze was directed at the ground; his head shaking weakly side-to-side.
"Then it must have just spread like an infection within you."
"Stop! This isn't some game--" Finally, he raised his voice, raised his eyes.
"Of course, it is." Verso started to argue, but she continued as though he wasn't saying anything. "Do you think your feelings are real? Your guilt? Your lust? Your perversions? They're all what has been given to you. You're nothing but a toy that's being wound up and playing out a sequence of colors and designs."
"Then unmake me!" He roared and reached out to grasp onto the hem of her skirt. His fingers twist and tightly grip onto the material until his knuckles turn white.
"No."
"Why?" Louder. "Why!?"
"Because I also hate Verso for dying." Clea didn't attempt to pull her skirt back; it probably would have ripped if she tried, anyway. "And Verso wanted to give everything of himself to his family. He got his wish through you. Monkey's paw, I suppose." She smiled, distantly amused.
The fight was being drained out of him with every word. "Get out." It was all he could say; it was all the power that he had. His hands dropped from her dress as they had from her person before.
"Don't you want to beg me to kill you some more?"
Verso had nothing to say; he felt a sob well up inside him. He couldn't even think of Aline as cruel for what she had done to him. He wasn't made to think that way about her; he could only feel sympathy and pity for what her grief had forced her to do. There was a disconnect in his thoughts and feelings; he knew he should be furious but every time he tried to hold onto that emotion, it would slip through his fingers.
"You really are useless." She deliberately stepped around him; her skirt lightly brushing against his arm as she passed. Sitting down on the bed, she let out a small exasperated sigh. "But I also don't have time for any fun these days."
"How unfortunate for you." Dull, tired.
"Watch your tone." Clea refused to let an echo have the last word. "Come here." She scratched the side of her nose; her tone was nonchalant as she started to undo the two buttons on the front of her skirt. It helped loosen the belt so she could slide the suspenders off her shoulders.
"... what?"
"A little break won't kill me." She caught the way that he looks at her -- lost, confused, angry. But that latter emotion was already starting to fade. "You're not my brother. You're not even a man to me. You're just a thing that thinks it can think."
"Such seduction."
"If you do a good enough job, I'll humor unpainting you." That was enough to get him scrambling to her side. She turned her head to breathe out a laugh. Her nimble fingers rested on either side of his face; she took in his broken expression and stared deeper into his existence. "I really can't tell if Aline loves or hates Verso anymore."
"She loves him." A softly-spoken retort.
"Loves him enough to not have you lust after her, too." She allowed Verso to move onto the mattress as she stood. The skirt falling from her body, leaving only her shirt and undergarments. "No, she'd just want to make sure you suffer, wanting everyone else. It'd feel too perverse if she was part of the mix."
His mouth twisted into a grimace, but his reactions were of little concern to Clea.
Lying on her back, she stretched her arms above her head. She seemed almost bored despite being the one who initiated things. "I don't want you in me." His face involuntarily flushed with shame. "I'll take your mouth, however."
"Fine." If this last act was all he needed to do to save his family then he could do it.
Verso settled between her spread legs. He felt a rush of desire spike through his stomach, traveling between his own legs. His eyes shut in embarrassment and horror; he wondered if everything Clea said had been true. With trembling hands, he undid the buttons of her shirt. Her eyebrows lifted in mild interest, but since he wasn't undoing any of his clothes, she left him be.
His eyes darted to the wall of the room; he hadn't thought she wouldn't be wearing anything underneath her shirt. Her head tilted as she watched his reaction, actually taking this one into consideration. It seemed she only was interested when he was exhibiting signs of humiliation and mortification.
Dipping his head down, he opens his mouth -- he hesitated once, twice, before he forced his tongue out to flick playfully against her nipple. Verso pursed his lips soon after, feeling a dizzying sensation at having just tasted that much of her.
His mouth descended soon after; leaving hot, wanting kisses against her breast. His left hand gently reached out to caress and tease her other. It seemed to please as her fingers found their way into his hair, twisting and holding his head down. He first rested his other hand on her knee before sliding it up her leg, letting her feel the fingers gloss along the inside her thigh. Verso drifted his hand further; he didn't yet remove the last piece of material separating them from each other.
He pressed his fingers against her clothed sex; the cloth separating them was relatively thin and he could already feel her excitement against his fingertips. Upset crawled up his throat; he choked it back down as he started to rub and tease. Her breathing shifted from slow, even breaths to softer sounds of pleasure. He had to remind himself to breathe and swallow in turn.
"Whatever you're feeling isn't real." Her voice was hitched and excited. He closed his eyes to block out her cruelty. "He never wanted us like this." His mouth opened to playfully nip at her skin, trying to keep himself busy while she talked.
"But you don't get to know anything definitive about the real Verso."
Verso felt disconnected from what he was doing. His hands gently sliding her undergarments down as soon as he felt it was ready; he could feel her hot and wet through the material. His pulse quickened and he could almost hear his heartbeat in his ears. Yet despite these feelings, he could only despair as she carried on. He pressed fevered kisses down her chest, close to her bellybutton, before dropping his head between her legs.
Her hands remained in his hair, tugging and twisting her fingers as she saw fit. "I'm sure you think you have his memories, but you only have what Aline believed."
He didn't think that she'd want him to kiss her; she didn't see him as anything but a toy to pleasure her, anyway. He leaned in, kissing her sex, letting the slick slide against his lips to taste. His mouth opened to drag his tongue against her; it's then that her knees bent and she adjusted herself -- her legs over his shoulders so he'd have better access.
Clea turned her head to the side; her words started to get broken up with long pauses and harsh breathing. "I can't even call you an echo."
Soon, she wasn't able to say anything -- he felt a rush of relief so astounding that his entire body trembled. His tongue slipped inside her; he felt like he was going insane from the wet, inviting heat coupled with her words. She started to thrust and rub herself against his mouth; he moved in time with her, tilted his head to make sure she got everything she wanted.
Clea didn't let herself make any more noise than necessary. Verso can't help but wonder how she can control herself so much when he could feel her unraveling under his touch. Yet she finished against his mouth; she held his head where it was. He realized what she wanted and used his tongue to clean the mess. It was only when she was satisfied with that did she let him go.
His own breathing was loud and harsh to his ears; he could feel his arousal straining against his pants. His face red from exertion and humiliation. She truly didn't see him as anything; he's no more than a means to "have fun", as she said, than anything real or even a person. His shaking hand rose to wipe his mouth.
"All right." She finally spoke; it sounded final. She rested her hand on his shoulder to give him a shove -- he moved away so she could start redressing herself. He watched anxiously as she adjusted her shirt, her suspenders, her skirt. She didn't put her underwear back on; instead those were tossed on the floor. He stared at the offending piece, wondering her intentions but unable to voice them.
"Well, I'll be going."
"What?" The air was knocked out of his lungs.
"I said if you did well, I'd humor your request." She stood, brushing off her skirt. "I humored it, but I still don't want to."
"Then, what was all this?"
Her hand rested on her hip. "You pleading your case and me deciding it still isn't worth my effort." Sweat was running down her neck; dipping down around the curve of her breasts now partially hidden by the shirt. He watched the trail mesmerized but didn't know what else he should or could be doing.
"Stay in this hut, if you like. It isn't like you're doing any good out there, anyway. I must be really at the end of my rope with them to think you could do anything." Clea spoke more like she was the one being put out; she was the one that had to deal with a little squabble or mild turmoil in the family. Her family.
"Please--"
"Well, then, try to make it to the Monolith sometime before Renoir wastes all his energy, hm?" Her eyes drifted down to the front of his pants; she already was standing and headed back to the exit.
Like during the Fracture, she arrives and leaves like a hurricane.
Leaving him weaker and more disgusted with his existence each time.