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@hellsmusing said: 'you wanna make me say it?' from lune

- sinners || accepting -

. "Yes, absolutely." His grin is a bright thing, sharp but not unkind. It was a reasonable curiosity, the barrier looked like the shield dome, it could've been a mirage (some older Expeditioners had been assured of that), there could've been a hundred things.

Frankly, if anyone was going to find their own way past the barrier, it would've been Lune. Sharp of mind and strong in chroma, he was certain that given enough time, she would've landed on the right answer on her own after reading that journal entry. All he wanted for the moment was a little 'you were right, Verso' after the barrier had repelled Lune.

"I don't get to be smarter than you very often. Let me have this one."

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I love all the dialogues with Verso in the game, but this one phrase to Maelicia is probably my personal favorite. It's...relatable.

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the love was there. it didn't change anything. it didn't save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there.

independent sophie from clair obscur: expedition 33. by mak / kai.

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Indie rp blog for Gustave from Clair Obscur Expedition 33. Written by Crescent 30+ (he/they/she) Not Spoiler free. Read rules before interacting, but very welcoming to new friends!

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@hiiddenstar

Indie selective RP blog for Maelle (Alicia Dessendre) from Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 created by Sandfall Interactive, written by Foxx (she/her). Mun is 25+ but muse is NOT please read rules before interacting. (This blog will not be spoiler free, you have been warned)

Promo created by the wonderful: @jjcre8

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. He failed to hide a wince when Gustave called them mere creations. They had a right to exist, Verso thought as much at one time, still did in some fashion. It was simply that he couldn't put their right to exist above the suffering of Verso's soul (selfishly, above his own bone-deep weariness). None of this suffering would stop so long as the Canvas thrived, only settled onto someone else's shoulders.

"Maybe." Maybe it would spare at least one the truth, to spare anyone the insanity that'd plagued him since Clea Dessendre had come and torn his world down. Maybe it would've made things worse, turned Maelle cold and angry and cruel- maybe it would've made her eager to escape the confines of the Canvas again. "I've been wrong before about too many things," he replied, voice hollow as he stared out with dead eyes at the blank monolith.

"But your lives do matter. To Maelle, most of all." His arms crossed, leaning back against the tree behind him. Maybe Maelle was right to oppose her father, maybe she was just delaying the inevitable. He didn't know. "If I had truly seen another way..."

Gustave closed his eyes as he felt a headache coming, trying not to think so much of what just happened. It would be easier to be simply dead, because he wouldn't have to suffer with the loss of his city, but he could understand Maelle's action of bringing him back. He did think of summoning his gun and shooting himself just like that horrendous day in Spring Meadows... so he could spare himself of that torment. Just take me back to my city, as he imagined. But, Gustave couldn't even do it. He wouldn't do such thing to Maelle, she didn't deserve it. He still had to be strong for her, to protect her from anything, even himself.

That was when Verso broke the silence once again, and Gustave thought he had already left him to rot in that corner. His eyelids fluttered emotionlessly, a blank stare turning to the other man as he parted his lips.

"Why would I fight you?" He asked honestly, a hint of confusion in his tone. Could he blame Verso for saving his mother? No. It was either her or Lumière, and he prioritised his mother. It was fair in his eyes, because they were just creatures made of ink, right? They technically didn't exist.

"You did what's right to you. We're just mere creations anyway. Our lives don't matter much..." A pause as he inhaled some air through his teeth, shaking his head slowly. "You should have left me to die back at the cliffs..."

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HELLSMUSING is an independent 21+ MUTI-MUSE BLOG featuring Clair Obscur: Expedition 33's Lune and Esquie, Hazbin Hotel's Lilith, and Critical Role: The Mighty Nein's Jester. not spoiler-free written by dream, 37, she/they, gmt-5. <3

Please be sure to read my rules before following.

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. There was a worry that Monoco wouldn't reply, and there was a part of him that wanted to prod and ask more directly. He wasn't used to not having that easy back and forth going near constantly. Eyes flicked to Monoco as they walked, trying to gauge the gestral's body language.

"Moves faster than it should." He'd only caught glimpses of it, retreating through inked shadows with a swift grace reserved for something half its size. And then the way it melded in and out of shadow, smart enough to avoid the eye. He wondered if Clea had returned to the Canvas to craft something new- when she might've. "Hides in shadows, liked prowling around on all fours from what little I'd seen of it."

The fact that Monoco's tone hadn't picked up told Verso that he would struggle to find equilibrium- possibly until they were in the heat of battle. The follow-up warmed him some, how much Monoco was trying to keep himself up despite how much ache must've nestled in his heart. What else could he do to soothe, he wondered. Verso slowed his pace to match step with the gestral, flashing a cheeky grin and hand clapping Monoco on the shoulder. "You need something to lift your spirits, I plan to do that; how's that?"

Verso's voice was a comfort, more than he could ever come to know. He couldn't explain it; the warmth he felt just from a bit of their usual banter brought about a familiarity that he craved. He had wanted nothing more than to isolate, to be alone with Noco through this upsetting time. But to even just dip his toe into normality, into something they both enjoyed again... perhaps it wasn't so bad.

Even still, there was a guilt that came along with it all. His head was elsewhere, he really didn't have anything else to say back. Nothing past a hum in acknowledgement, gaze focusing on the back of Verso's head as he was led further down the unlaid path.

Whatever this was that Verso had come across, they'd have to tread carefully. It'd be fun, to figure it out and to (hopefully) defeat it, but there was a level of unrest he couldn't quite rationalize to himself. Or, he supposed, he didn't want to rationalize to himself. He'd be fine. They would be fine.

"What can you tell me about it so far? I'd ask if have a plan, but I guarantee you don't." Another attempt. It fell flat, and Monoco almost immediately realized his tone was sharper than he'd intended. "...We do better with improvising, anyway."

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Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 | 17 of ?

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"I don't want this life"

Verso under the shroud, he made his decision long ago.

For those who paint. It’s time to stop coming after. haha

Digital art by me

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FOR THOSE WHO COME AFTER. — @forthosewhocomeaftr

independent multimuse for clair obscur: expedition 33 currently featuring gustave, verso, and esquie. oc friendly + multiverse, crossover friendly. spoilers from the last cutscene of act 1 onwards are tagged "story spoilers", but there will be untagged spoilers before that point.

Please do not reblog this post if you aren't a roleplay blog.

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. How did you reliably explain that you were immortal without implicating the Paintress? She was the most powerful being any Lumièran had ever known, what else could grant such a tainted boon?

"It's not always my head that gets severed," he replied, that lightness still trying to diffuse her clear unease. She wasn't panicking anymore but he knew that could change. "But this would be easier if my body could find us."

He could only move his eyes down, pupils reaching to see the steep climb Faye was going to attempt.

"You could drop my head first. Climbing one-handed seems a recipe for disaster. I'll regenerate by the time you get down there." Spoken with confidence, looking out over the landscape and seeing the signs of nevrons moving far in the distance. "If not, prefer to look out. Rock's boring to see up close."

Faye was acutely aware of the subtle twitches in his face. Had he a body attached to his head, she may not have felt so perturbed by the whole thing. As much as she wanted to bitch and complain about it, she at least had her body intact and momentarily considered how vulnerable Verso must have been feeling.

She scrunched up her face at the idea of his body moving around on its own. At least with his head in her hands, he could explain. Had she been stuck with his flailing body, she would have undoubtedly left it where it twitched and convulsed.

"What I'm hearin' is you have either lost your head enough times to want to practice movin' your body or you two have some macabre hobbies," she paused when she came to the ledge of a cliff. It dropped abruptly to the next platform. If she jumped down while still holding his head, she would likely roll her ankle on the uneven ground if she didn't completely blow her knees. The ground was slightly obscured by overgrown bushes, their shifting shadows making it difficult to judge just how far down it actually was and going back to find another way was out of the question.

"Welp...looks like we both may end up with lame bodies," Faye said, sitting down on the ledge. Still not wanting to zip him up in her jacket, she mentally prepared herself to climb down one-handed. "Do you wanna face toward the wall or would ya prefer to look out?"

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@unhirsch said: If Renoir had had any intentions of concealing what he had set out to do, the puppy's audible whining would have all but ruined any sense of suspense. Still young & winding excitedly in his arms, making it impossible to ascend the steps quietly. Or in a straight line. It is why he barely has to act surprised when he hears a set of feet hastily approaching. "Don't run by the stairs, Verso," is a gentle scold that comes to him automatically. "& remember what you promised," Renoir adds when he sets the small dog down on the floor. He does a little confused turn around himself at the newfound freedom before starting a careful strut up to the smaller person that he hasn't thoroughly sniffed out yet. "Sunshine & rain, this little one is your responsibility."

. The young boy hadn't made a particularly good case when he brought it up to Clea. She'd mentioned how much work it would be, only slightly interested (and offering her notes for how to improve his argument). She hadn't dissuaded him, either, though, and to his young mind that was her whole-hearted support.

The initial pitch was a stammering recital of Clea's points (that he would feed the pooch and walk it and care for it no matter the weather), followed by a healthy dose of pleading with big wet eyes. Concerns were stubbornly shot down with the confidence of a boy rarely told 'no', determined to show how much he needed a puppy, that he, Clea and their new baby sister deserved it, of course.

Days of waiting on their answer had filled his little heart with sorrow, sure that their answer was going to be 'no'.

The first of the pup's whines had banished every shadow from Verso's heart, eyes wide like saucers. He sprinted full-tilt down the hallway, only stopped by Renoir's warning (how could he have heard Verso running!?). He was just barely still walking by the time he got to his father and the wriggling puppy.

His excitement had turned palpable again as he immediately crouched down with a smile that could light the whole of Paris. The pooch sniffed at him, Verso giggling as the pup absorbed the energy flooding off him. Soon, the pup was bouncing, letting out a sharp yapping bark. When Verso got up, he nearly tripped in his rush to throw his arms round his father, laughing excitedly.

"Papa, thank you!" He was good enough to not sprint at the top of the stairs, but as soon as there was some distance, he ran for his room, urging the pup with him. "C'mon, Monoco!" Because of course he still had the name he'd picked out in mind. There was a peal of laughter from the open door a moment later, followed by excitable yapping.

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Expedition 33

It is always within sight. The Paintress.

My PS5 photo edited shot.

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. How long before his love of music was taken from him, too? He'd given in to it once, now, that desire to be on stage performing again. But every performance rang hollow in his head, jaw flexing despite how carefully he kept his emotions together around her. He didn't fear retaliation- he doubted she could do worse to him she had. There was an irrational part of him that couldn't raise a hand or voice to her again. What good would it do? Their battle had ended with his sound defeat and he doubted he could goad her into another. Without a Painter to get him back to that soul in the center of the Canvas, sending Maelle out would do nothing. She could re-enter at her leisure, repaint him and everyone else a hundred times if she wanted.

It would waste her chroma, and that could accelerate her eventual descent into madness. He needed time.

"Of course, Alicia." It was a minute rebellion, rare in its employment because Verso had no desire to conflate his sister and Maelle. It was simply a needle, meant to take a cheap shot at her perfect life. And still, followed quickly by, "Maelle," as though it was simply an error.

"Well, then." He moved soon after she did, feet carrying him to his piano and away from her side. His sister should be at his side, but with her presence came discomfort. "What would you like to hear?"

She wrenched him back from the dead. Her father said to hold on to each other. She was holding on to a man that wasn't her brother. But he was real. He was there. He might not be her Verso, but he was Verso. Maelle clamored, her iron grip tightening around him. She can't lose him. She can't lose this canvas with this life. This is how she should be. She shouldn't be in that shell of a body where every breath was painful.

The smile doesn't quite reach but she's blinded. She cannot see, built walls to keep her grief at bay. She runs from reality and descends into a web of illusions of her own making. She lost too much.

Maelle cast the name Alicia aside. She preferred her life here with Gustave and everyone else. She was loved here. She could live here.

❝ Not necessarily, but I won't say no to one. ❞ She responds, smile painted across her face. She moved to stand next to him. �� Everyone in Lumiere loved your last performance. It's what you always dreamed of, yeah? I'll make sure every performance is filled with people. You can throw yourself into your love of music. ❞

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. She was dying and he could do nothing about it. Flecks of chroma clung to her cheeks at certain lights; nightmares of sunken eyes and a face eroded by power and grief. She was no longer Alicia, she was no longer Maelle. She was merely the remnants of a crying god clinging to what was killing her.

Renoir's voice froze him in place, fingers hovering over the keys of the grand piano he'd been slowly poking at. Eyes trailed to look at the man- not quite meeting his eyes. Guilt was a tidal wave, it was his fault. He couldn't overcome the power surging within her, dooming the Canvas and Maelle to a slow death.

"A little more of her is gone each day." Murmured to the half-written sheet music on the stand. Renoir was here again- he must have a reason, he must have a plan to save Alicia. "Some days I barely recognize her."

A part of him refused to give into the hope that his not-father's presence brought. Years had passed, and Verso's attempts to fight back had done nothing to fix, nothing to send her home, nothing to stop her from embracing her godhood and the madness that came with it. He flexed his fingers, feeling the aching joints.

Renoir's offer made him sag, hunched and jaw trembling before he clamped it shut, the thought of oblivion like a siren's call. His head turned minutely to look at the older man out of the corner of his eye. Renoir was strong, but they'd defeated him before, and that was when he had control of the Canvas' chroma. Would they be enough? Had he regained enough strength?

"I tried before." Mumbled now, feeling his back ache from sitting sullenly like child. "Promise me you will give Verso's soul his rest, too." Promise me you will erase this world.

He waited. He waited, but she never came home. She never left that painting. Days turned into weeks. Life ticked on but her body and health declined. He knew she would decline. He'd said as much. She lied and he believed it.

He wanted to believe it.

Alicia was right that he wanted to save her. He needed to save her. As he watched the life drain from her body. She was soon to become a corpse if he didn't do something.

Clea was of the mind to let her stay there. he'd already foolishly helped Aline. Anger that he knew was misplaced. Clea was grieving through her solitary war while he chased after Aline. He understood all too well why she was angry. However, it was well known that Alicia was his hidden star ------ the favorite. Which is exactly why he entered the canvas for what he hoped was a the last time.

He needed to help her while she couldn't help herself.

The familiar scenery of Lumiere filled his gaze. Except this time he was not as the mysterious curator. The familiar chroma flowing through him once again. But this time he did not seek her out or her friends.

No, he was seeking someone who he knew might help.

Perhaps its fate that they'd meet again with the hopes of saving Alicia.

❝ I knew I'd find you here. ❞ Renoir's voice carries certainty. The clang of his cane heavy as he walked forward. ❝ How is she? Is Alicia still herself or has she followed the path all painters do at some point ------ losing themselves. ❞

He knew the answer because he saw her health fading, but something in him wanted it confirmed. Or, maybe he was foolishly hoping that Alicia would keep her promise.

A moment. He takes a breath. ❝ I am sorry to once again involve you in the plight of my family ------- but, I must selfishly ask you to help me. I cannot leave my daughter here to die even if it is what brings her happiness. ❞

Life keeps forcing cruel choices.

❝ In exchange, I will grant you what you want ------ rest. ❞

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Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 (dev. Sandfall Interactive)

↳ Approaching The Monolith