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The end of my three part essay series on this game. Excerpt:
In my prior essays, I related themes woven through Clair Obscur to show how it can parallel real world complexities and oppression.
For the character of Alicia and Gustave (and even Lune if we accept my assertion of her as neurodivergent), disability cords through the story and asks questions the game may not have intended. I explored in that essay how Disability was a class constructed by capitalism to control labor and those unable to labor, and through that I showed how disability has been used to denote evil and bad throughout American history. But Clair Obscur twists those tropes on their head and refuses to villianize the disabled within the game. Instead, Alicia, Gustave, and others are given complex journeys and heralded as heroes in a way. Yet, by the end, the final ending choice between Verso and Maelle felt as if the player was the judge determining the fate of the disabled person for them. I wrote:
Will we be given the care and support we need to thrive? Will we be given agency to choose our own fate and route to healing?
Clair Obscur offers that choice to the player, thus placing the fate of a disabled person in their hands. In a way, the player acts as the judge who determines the fate of a disabled person, to determine whether they ever access the care and benefits they need. It is a replica of how our real world works, and it forces a painful glimpse into the struggles of disabled people.
This essay led me to my next where I explored the nature of the Canvas people and whether they are real. I examined how this paralleled dehumanizing narratives that subjugate and destroy unique cultures. I laid down a map of the shifting temporal realities the game presents through the different main characters of each act: Gustave (Lumierian reality), Verso (immortal painted Dessendre reality), and Maelle (both Dessendre reality and Lumierian reality). How weaving these different realities forces us to contend with the nature of what is real and who is allowed to exist within that reality.
The conclusion I came to, which perhaps will not surprise anyone reading my writings, is that I chose the ending that gave agency to people and saved the most lives. I could not accept that the unique lives of those in the Canvas were less than the Dessendre family. Nor could I accept anyone deciding for a disabled person how they must exist and heal.
By exploring these darker aspects of Clair Obscur, I undoubtedly focused on the more abusive and manipulative aspects of the Dessendre family to show how unsupportive they've been to Alicia/Maelle. The evidence painted within the game left me uneasy about the Dessendre family, partly informed by my own traumas as a queer nonbinary disabled person. Yes, they do love each other but love does not mean abuse cannot happen or exist, which I argued in my essay on Disability. That darkness echoed trauma and pain that destroying the Canvas cannot truly heal. A cycle of violence doesn't heal through the use of more violence, but only when the cycle is stopped.
One could argue that Verso sought to stop the cycle of grief, and isn't that stopping the cycle of violence? But that negates the temporal reality of the Canvas people, who endured countless oppressive actions and outright genocide. Sacrificing a population of people in an effort to 'heal' one family only continues the cycle of violence, and it doesn't solve the lack of support in the Dessendre world, which Verso's ending never truly reconciles. Alicia is still isolated, still without a voice, still disabled in a world that has done little to meet any of her needs.
So then, do we ever exit the cycle of violence? And what would it look like to attempt such a thing?
Some thoughts on the conclusion of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, class, humanism and personal experience.
Before I say anything else, I want to say that my thoughts and feelings on this topic are not any more "right" or justified than anyone else's and that I deeply appreciate however each person has experienced this story.
Heavy spoiler warning for everything I am going to say, and a warning for heavy themes relating to both the game and the real world.
The game begins with us getting to know the people of Lumiere, a civilization of orphans trying to farm and survive for a little while longer in the bombed ruins of their home town.
We see death and devastation, but we also see solidarity and hope shining through.
Our main characters are farmer, a farmer-researcher, another researcher, and an orphaned child working as a courier. Our main characters are facing despair, disadvantaged by their situation, coping with physical disability as well as emotional turmoil. We also see the support and the healing a collective can offer.
While we, the players, are not people of Lumiere, we can empathize with their plight.
We, too, must live with uncertainty and fear, often under forces uncontrollable to us that shape our daily lives, be that illness, war, oppression or poverty.
We toil and oppose the despair everyday, not just for our own gain but for the well-being of our families and communities, our friends, environment and the future. For those who come after.
When we get deeper into the world, we meet two more benign peoples facing devastation and genocide. We also learn they have their own beautiful cultures, their unique beliefs and a will to survive. We are united in the struggle for survival and grow an ever larger understanding of the collective we are fighting for.
Even our most common opponent, the Nevrons, don't appear as an oppressor as much as a people enslaved to fight a war that does not serve their own interest.
On occassion, we meet a Nevron who's broken these chains and pursued another meaning, and none of these Nevrons exhibit unprompted aggression, instead seeking connection and fullfillment.
Later on, we are joined by a single father and his son, Noco, who in the process of the story is lost, not even as an active participant but as a bystander, collateral damage. Renoir, who fails to even take proper notice of the loss he has caused, sees no significance in the life of a child to whom personhood does not in his view apply.
To us, the players, Noco was as real as all the people in the story, though. We saw him with his family, we saw his hopes and dreams, in many ways Noco was more of a person to us than the blurred out images children in the news as their lifeless bodies are carried out from the ruins of their bombed out homes.
At no point in the story is there a clear distinction between who is "really real" in a way we could tell. Both the people of the canvas and the Dessendres are shown to have their motivations and this is carried out all the way to the end where Verso clearly has the ability to defy the "creators" of his world. It might even be interpreted from the text of the story that the "writers" responsible for Verso's death and Alicia's disability are in fact the writers of the game, making the life of the Dessendres in par with the peoples of the canvas even within the context of the story.
... and then some time later we find out about the Dessendre family, their loss and struggles and that they are high class mansion owners. The complex feelings of this dysfunctional family of four are the determining factor that drives the destructive, genocidal events in a world scale.
To the Dessendres, though, this is not a question of genocide or planetary destruction. The peoples of the Canvas world are not real people like them, with real feelings and real motivations.
They are but a cog in a machine that has stopped serving the interests of the Dessendres, an item that can be discarded.
This would not be anywhere near so disheartening if this was not the exact reasoning that has allowed so much war, oppression and genocide in our world. Who is human enough, worthy of whole personhood, is twisted and molded depending on the needs of the powerful.
The people of the canvas are spontaneous, living in the moment, people farming the land and living in huts and having crass, at times brutal, simple lives. They dance and they have sex, they love, they play, they lose, they imagine and hope. No people in the canvas own mansions, though. They do not go to the university. They are not eloquent in their speech and highly trained in their art. They do not have the luxury to remain home to grieve or to recover. Once they become disabled, orphaned, widowed, once death looms right ahead, they adapt and drag themselves right back to work because they must, for their families and communities. For the vast majority of people of our world too, this is the reality of life, and for this, our lives are considered worth less and our humanity minimized.
I'm sorry to say this, but at this point in the game I became so much less invested with the whole story.
Suddenly I am asked to empathize with a couple of mansion owners and conclude that there are two equally bad and bittersweet options: either four people's lives must be inconvenienced so that a world with it's civilizations can survive and rebuild OR that it is an acceptable trade-off to destroy a world to make four really wealthy people feel better and deal with their maladaptive coping strategies.
As much as I have enjoyed Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 and as much as I love the characters, the story and the heart put into all of it, the ending can not stop bothering me, and NOT because it was bittersweet or dark, but because it felt a little too much like how the people in power in my world must see my life and the life of my family, my friends, my community, and millions of people and communities just like mine around the world:
I've had to flee persecution and endure hunger and systemic violence. I've lost friends and family members to illness and despair. I've fed my child queuing in the bread line, I've begged for medicine from the church, I've done things you would not like to even imagine to keep a roof above my family's head. Insurance denied and disability benefits withheld, I go to work and face physical violence on a constant basis. It is my daily wish for my family and friends to stay fed and sheltered and that we would not face war or persecution. I have more in common with the peoples of the canvas than I will ever have in common with the Dessendre family, and this applies to a lot of people, maybe you too.
There is no brilliant way to end this ramble. It is overly personal, it is biased, and maybe it is taking a role-playing game intended for refreshment way too seriously.
In the event that this resonated with you, though, or you have something to share in the spirit of a friendly exchange, please feel free to do so.
It is my most sincere intent to keep this positive.
Let us play, create and share. Let us cry together. Let us hope and believe in a better future.
No matter how Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 ends, that is not how we end.
Let's go forward together, for us, and for all those who come after.
Please take care of yourself and others and know you are precious.
There’s a theory that early Europeans started saying “brown one” or “honey-eater” instead of “bear” to avoid summoning them, and similarly my friend has started calling Alexa “the faceless woman” because saying her true name awakens her from her slumber
English has an avoidance register used in the presence of certain respected animals, which sounds fancy until you realize it’s spelling out w-a-l-k and t-r-e-a-t in front of the dog.
Iceland does! They are the illhveli, literally “evil whales”, and they live to kill you. They love nothing more than killing and eating humans and sinking their ships. Their greatest enemy is the steypireydur (that’s blue whale to you), which is the greatest of the good whales and the protector of sailors.
All evil whales are, well, evil. So evil that if you speak their name at sea, they will hear it and home in on you. So instead you use all sorts of euphemisms for their names. Also if you try to cook their meat it literally disappears from the pot. That’s right, they’re so evil, you can’t even eat them.
They include such types as the hrosshvalur (horsewhale), with big eyes and a red mane and tail. This is probably the best known and most feared of the lot.
The raudkembingur (redcomb) is especially cruel and bloodthirsty even by illhveli standards. If you manage to escape it, it will die of frustration.
Good luck escaping the mushveli (mousewhale) though, it has legs! And will clamber onto the beach in pursuit!
Or what about death from above? The stökkull (jumper) leaps high into the air and pile-drives boats to pieces.
Meanwhile the skeljungur (shellwhale) sits in the path of boats and lets them get wrecked on its shelly hide…
… while the sverdhvalur (swordwhale) slices through boats with its dorsal fin.
The katthveli (catwhale) is relatively harmless though. It meows.
The same can’t be said of the lyngbakur (heatherback), a classic island fish that lets sailors get on its back and then dives, taking them to a watery grave.
The nauthveli (oxwhale) on the other hand specially targets cattle, attracting them into the sea with its bellow before tearing them apart.
How can you avoid all these murderous whales, like the taumafiskur (bridlefish) here? Any of a number of ways, including getting a steypireydur to help. There are substances, ranging from angelica to sheep dung and chopped fox testicles, that they find abhorrent. And you can distract them with loud noises and barrels.
For more, I assure you this link will answer all your questions.
Regarding Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, but also outside of it, I have an important message to share:
If you are lonely, if you struggle to leave home, if you struggle to communicate or connect, if you feel alienated by your situation or feel like there is nothing out there for you...
I'm really sorry you feel like that. No-one should feel like that.
No-one is truly alone.
There is a whole world out there for you, and for all the friends you have not met yet.
Everyone in this world has a way to learn to communicate and connect with others.
Your imagination and kindness are a light that shine from within you. There are worlds and stories waiting to be discovered.
Every single human deserves happiness and community.
And that definitely includes you.
Somewhere out there, maybe not too far, there is another lonely youth in a café, another disabled painter in a park, another grieving human hugging a stuffed toy, another scared adventurer waiting for a party to join.
You can be someone's miracle today, and if that someone is you, that is just as good.
So open your window, go outside, reach out to someone, go on an adventure, do your annoying physical therapy routine, check out the library, feed a bird.
You have to excuse me, friends, I am still trying to learn how Tumblr posts work. Here is the complete first part of our delightful little story, please enjoy - or don't, it is up to you.
Fandom: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33
Rating: very yes, all the rating, very explicit
Pairing: Monoco / Verso
Warnings: Verso's alcoholism and alcohol use and discussion of bodily functions such as urination (no on-screen urination)
Summary: Years into their special friendship, Monoco and Verso finally sit down to define some important boundaries. Smut might ensue.
A Very Special Foot
”Lying bastard.”
”What was that, Monoco?”
”Lying. Bastard.”
The gestral dropped from the branch of an ancient tree with the grace of a stalking predator.
”You. Are the liar and the coward.”
He stepped closer to the man, and then closer still.
”What exactly have I done now? Were we not okay a couple of hours ago?”
”We were. And then you lied, Verso.
’I don’t want to fence right now, Monoco. I have other plans.’
And then you fenced anyway, with the expeditioner.”
”That wasn’t… I did not...”
”He was an easier challenger, huh. You should have told me you wanted me to go easy on you.”
”Would you go easy on me if I asked?”
”No.”
The hurt in the gestral’s voice was beginning to melt away, but his posture remained stern.
”You are still a lying liar, Verso. You wouldn’t fence with me but fenced with the expeditioner anyway. I saw.”
”You… Oh… That was not fencing, Monoco.”
”Lies, lies, lies. You polished his foot and you fenced and you made him piss himself, but that’s just because he was a weak opponent. I would have offered a much harder challenge.”
”For the love of… I did not lie. That’s not fencing, Monoco.” Verso’s voice was trembling, a mixture of humiliation, laughter and utter disbelief.
”How about you take your ’that’s not fencing, Monoco’ and your puny foot collection of one and spoon with your stupid expeditioner for the night while I polish my superior foot collection.”
”Monoco, love… Are you jealous?” Verso reached out to pet the fur of the gestral’s arm, and despite the spite, he leaned in to the caress.
”Yes. You said you did not want to fence and then you fenced behind my back.”
”Okay, okay. It still was not fencing, but I hear you. Does it bother you I spend time with the expeditioners, Monoco?”
”No. It was a fun match to watch too, but you have to be honest, Verso.”
”I...” Verso took the longest breath in decades, wiped his face with his palm and sighed. ”That kind of a match is called sex, Monoco. It’s something humans do with their special feet and… other parts. It’s really not nice to watch us doing it without permission.”
”Okay. Can I watch next time you do it, Verso?”
”I… Why on Earth would you want to… I don’t have enough wine in my system for this conversation right now, Monoco.”
”Ah. Okay. I will get right back to the sex when you have had more wine. Come here, I don’t want us to stay mad.” Monoco wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him into a rib-crushing hug.
A gestral’s attention span was 120 seconds long at most. Except when it wasn’t.
”Have you had enough wine now, Verso?”
”No, I’m literally frying an omelette right now.”
”Oh, okay. Tell me when you have.”
”You are already male, right? Do you have to keep doing the sex so you don’t lose your special foot, Verso?”
”Monoco, I am sleeping. Was sleeping. Shush.”
”Fine.”
”Verso…?”
”Not. Now. Get me out of this goddamn bourgeon’s mouth right now!”
”Verso?”
”Monoco, I am pissing.”
”Yes, I can see. With your special foot.”
”That is the problem, Monoco. You are watching me piss.”
”I watch you do everything. Why was it not a problem when you watched the expeditioner piss?”
”Stop! Your stare is burning a hole in my prick here!”
”Watching is out of the question but you’d polish his foot when he does it?!”
”Monoco, we are not… Look… Okay. Okay. Give me a minute, then we talk about it.”
”So… you humans spar for pleasure and not victory? Is it not important to you which one wins?”
Monoco’s wooden fingers combed lazily through Verso’s hair, detangling knots and massaging his scalp. Verso chuckled, leaning back against his friend’s chest.
”That’s the fun part, both parties can win. Sometimes multiple times. It’s… kind of a team sport.”
”How do you win it then?”
”That’s… that’s a good question, Monoco. Sometimes you win when you come, other times when the other guy comes, or when both do.”
”I thought both of you had to already be there?”
”Oh, no, it’s…”
The man raised a bottle to his lips and took an indulgent sip.
”When you spill, or… An orgasm. The feeling when you win and your mind goes blank and you feel only victorious joy.”
”Verso, that is winning. So… you win, by winning?”
”Well… yes. You find just the right pattern and rhythm and then you win.”
”This sounds suspiciously like fencing still. How does the pissing factor in?”
”For the last time, that’s not pissing. When we piss we just remove excess water, okay? We we have sex, that’s a different fluid.”
”Sure, Verso. It’s a different, magical kind of water. Keep your little wet secrets.”
”Monoco, love, I’m not pulling your leg here.”
”But you pull your own special leg when you are alone, pissing.”
Verso’s expression froze.
”I wouldn’t mind, Verso. I polish my feet when we sit together by the fire. We could both polish our feet together.”
”You don’t know what you are asking.”
”And you do?”
Verso sat quietly for a long time, looking into the fire. Monoco leaned against his shoulder, arms wrapping around the man.
”It’s okay, Verso. I know I fence much better than you. Losing must get boring to you.”
”That… is not it even a little bit. You know what? Fine. Fuck it. I will finish this bottle and...”
”Then we will snuggle and sleep. You do silly things when you drink this much, Verso.” The gestral’s voice was a warm, low rumble in the man’s ear.
”Come here, let me hold you. You don’t need more wine.”
The sunlight filtering through the leaves had warmed the air and even the water in the zink tub comfortably. Verso awoke from his slumber when the tip of his nose sank beneath the surface, startling. Monoco had stayed suspiciously quiet, quiet enough to let him float into sleep in the tub.
”You still there?”
”Uh huh.”
”Are you okay, Monoco?”
”Yes.”
”Are you mad at me or something?”
”No.”
The last time Monoco had been this quiet for this long, he had lovingly taken apart the record player and arranged each part onto the table. It was still disassembled, neither of them knowing how to put it back together like it had been. Monoco was good at that, taking things apart like that.
Verso rose from the water and grabbed his coarse linen towel, wrapping it around his hips to look behind the woven partition, water still dripping down his body and from the unruly tangle of his hair.
True to his word, Monoco was working, carefully sanding a delicately carved piece of wood. His full attention was captured by the rowan he’d used to make a fine bow for Verso earlier.
”What’s that?” Verso leaned closer to admire the flawless handiwork.
”A new foot.”
”Isn’t that a little short?”
”This is a special foot. Do you like it?”
The man considered, head tilted.
”It’s beautifully made, Monoco. Didn’t know you cared this much about the fine details. What are you planning to do with it?”
”You.”
”Oh.”
”That’s what you said to your expeditioner friend too. Does that mean it’s good?”
”I… uh...”
Verso took a long, deliberate breath, then carefully took the artifact to his hand. It was heavy and solid, sanded and polished to perfection. Swirls of raised carvings decorated the surface. It was, without a doubt, Monoco’s best craftsmanship so far.
”It’s a really well made piece, wow.”
”Verso. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel like it. We don’t have to fence.”
His palm was on Verso’s naked shoulder and despite the mask, Verso could feel the gestral’s smile radiating towards him.
”I love you just the same. You’re my favourite person.”
Verso blinked and with some effort, shrugged the stunned silence off.
”It’s not that, it’s just, wow… I did not know you were so serious about it. I would have prepared some kind of a celebration for the launch or something. Shit. It’s a really nice cock, Monoco. Congratulations on your new member?”
It was a really nice cock.
In the shade of their shelter, resting atop an oil-soaked rag and absorbing linseed oil, Monoco’s new cock was almost glistening.
The gestral had gone out to look for mushrooms and wild beetroot, while Verso, still nursing a hangover, had promised to gather firewood, make a good fire for the day’s meal, and brew tea.
While gestrals didn’t eat, Monoco loved the rich aroma of tea and herbal drinks and often carefully tinted his wood darker with it to keep the scent lingering around for longer.
Opening a worn and well-loved sachet of dried tea leaves, orange peels and flowers, Verso furrowed his brow. Monoco did not have a nose. None of the gestrals he had seen had one.
Taking a long, savouring breath, Verso poured some of the tea mixture into their trusty copper tea pot. The scent reminded him of long winter nights and dark days in the mountains, when he did not feel like getting up at all and Monoco held him in their shared bed. Who had the perfume been for?
”I found goatweed and nettles and raspberries too!”
The joy beaming from the gestral’s form illuminated the whole shelter. He had grossly overdone it, as usual, and could certainly feed four or five Versos with the day’s foraging, a woven basket overflowing with foraged goods.
”You have slain your botanical enemies!” Verso announced.
While the food was obviously too much, so was everything else Monoco did. Always too much and it was always just right.
”And brought their carcasses to be a burnt offering!”
”Hm, perhaps a well caramellized offering?”
”It has been foretold. The scent of their caramellized flesh pleases the spirits!”
”Monoco, do you have a sense of smell?”
The gestral almost dropped the basket, leaning closer to study his friend’s face.
”Verso, have you been drinking again? So early in the day. I thought we’d go on a hike later.”
”No? Why?”
”Are you allright?”
”I am, I swear. I just need to know if you can sense smells.”
”Well rest assured I can, I have not burnt your noxious socks for nothing. Their pungent malodour has made me wonder if you surely have a sense of smell.”
”Huh. That’s… Cool. Please stop burning my socks, Monoco, they can be washed.”
”No, they can not. They are an insult, Verso.”
With some difficulty, the gestral sat down next to Verso on the too narrow tree stump next to the fire. The perfume of aromatic tea greeted him from the pot before he even lifted the lid to check.
”And… you don’t have ears, do you?”
”Verso, you know every inch of me. No, I don’t have ears.”
”That is… huh. That is interesting. Hey, one more.”
”Is this some kind of a game? How do I win?”
”This is more of a team sport, okay? Just stay with me. Do you remember when you lost a finger while battling that huge crab thing and I made a new one for you?”
”Verso, I could not forget, you literally wrote your name on it.”
The gestral brushed Verso’s hair off his face with the infamous finger.
”Do you want to go fight the crab thing again, Verso?”
”No, or well, maybe, we have leveled up some after that but… Wait, we’re getting distracted here. Does that finger work normally?”
”Well… yes? It moves, it bends, I can feel it just fine, if only some jackass did not sign it like a newly awoken patate signs his first wooden sword.”
”Huh. That’s… You know what? I think your new special foot might be pretty cool, Monoco.”
To be continued, friends. Thank you for your patience as I familiarize myself with Tumblr.
Fandom: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33
Rating: very yes, all the rating, very explicit
Pairing: Monoco / Verso
Summary: Years into their special friendship, Monoco and Verso finally sit down to define some important boundaries. Smut might ensue.
Imagine a title right here
”Lying bastard.”
”What was that, Monoco?”
”Lying. Bastard.”
The gestral dropped from the branch of an ancient tree with the grace of a stalking predator.
”You. Are the liar and the coward.”
He stepped closer to the man, and then closer still.
”What exactly have I done now? Were we not okay a couple of hours ago?”
”We were. And then you lied, Verso.
’I don’t want to fence right now, Monoco. I have other plans.’
And then you fenced anyway, with the expeditioner.”
”That wasn’t… I did not...”
”He was an easier challenger, huh. You should have told me you wanted me to go easy on you.”
”Would you go easy on me if I asked?”
”No.”
The hurt in the gestral’s voice was beginning to melt away, but his posture remained stern.
”You are still a lying liar, Verso. You wouldn’t fence with me but fenced with the expeditioner anyway. I saw.”
”You… Oh… That was not fencing, Monoco.”
”Lies, lies, lies. You polished his foot and you fenced and you made him piss himself, but that’s just because he was a weak opponent. I would have offered a much harder challenge.”
”For the love of… I did not lie. That’s not fencing, Monoco.”
Verso’s voice was trembling, a mixture of humiliation, laughter and utter disbelief.
”How about you take your ’that’s not fencing, Monoco’ and your puny foot collection of one and spoon with your stupid expeditioner for the night while I polish my superior foot collection.”
”Monoco, love… Are you jealous?”
Verso reached out to pet the fur of the gestral’s arm, and despite the spite, he leaned in to the caress.
”Yes. You said you did not want to fence and then you fenced behind my back.”
”Okay, okay. It still was not fencing, but I hear you. Does it bother you I spend time with the expeditioners, Monoco?”
”No. It was a fun match to watch too, but you have to be honest, Verso.”
”I...”
Verso took the longest breath in decades, wiped his face with his palm and sighed.
”That kind of a match is called sex, Monoco. It’s something humans do with their special feet and… other parts. It’s really not nice to watch us doing it without permission.”
”Okay. Can I watch next time you do it, Verso?”
”I… Why on Earth would you want to… I don’t have enough wine in my system for this conversation right now, Monoco.”
”Ah. Okay. I will get right back to the sex when you have had more wine. Come here, I don’t want us to stay mad.” Monoco wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him into a rib-crushing hug.
A gestral’s attention span was 120 seconds long at most. Except when it wasn’t.
”Have you had enough wine now, Verso?”
”No, I’m literally frying an omelette right now.”
”Oh, okay. Tell me when you have.”
”You are already male, right? Do you have to keep doing the sex so you don’t lose your special foot, Verso?”
”Monoco, I am sleeping. Was sleeping. Shush.”
”Fine.”
”Verso…?”
”Not. Now. Get me out of this goddamn bourgeon’s mouth right now!”
”Verso?”
”Monoco, I am pissing.”
”Yes, I can see. With your special foot.”
”That is the problem, Monoco. You are watching me piss.”
”I watch you do everything. Why was it not a problem when you watched the expeditioner piss?”
”Stop! Your stare is burning a hole in my prick here!”
”Watching is out of the question but you’d polish his foot when he does it?!”
”Monoco, we are not… Look… Okay. Okay. Give me a minute, then we talk about it.”
Oh, it will be a fanfiction, friends.
And before we get into the fun, I'd like to give two warnings:
- Urinating and other bodily functions are discussed and
- Verso's alcoholism is heavily implied
”So… you humans spar for pleasure and not victory?
Is it not important to you which one wins?”
Monoco’s wooden fingers combed lazily through Verso’s hair, detangling knots and massaging his scalp.
Verso chuckled, leaning back against his friend’s chest.
”That’s the fun part, both parties can win. Sometimes multiple times. It’s… kind of a team sport.”
”How do you win it then?”
”That’s… that’s a good question, Monoco. Sometimes you win when you come, other times when the other guy comes, or when both do.”
”I thought both of you had to already be there?”
”Oh, no, it’s…”
The man raised a bottle to his lips and took an indulgent sip.
”When you spill, or… An orgasm. The feeling when you win and your mind goes blank and you feel only victorious joy.”
”Verso, that is winning. So… you win, by winning?”
”Well… yes. You find just the right pattern and rhythm and then you win.”
”This sounds suspiciously like fencing still. How does the pissing factor in?”
”For the last time, that’s not pissing. When we piss we just remove excess water, okay? We we have sex, that’s a different fluid.”
”Sure, Verso. It’s a different, magical kind of water. Keep your little wet secrets.”
”Monoco, love, I’m not pulling your leg here.”
”But you pull your own special leg when you are alone, pissing.”
Verso’s expression froze.
”I wouldn’t mind, Verso. I polish my feet when we sit together by the fire. We could both polish our feet together.”
”You don’t know what you are asking.”
”And you do?”
Verso sat quietly for a long time, looking into the fire. Monoco leaned against his shoulder, arms wrapping around the man.
”It’s okay, Verso. I know I fence much better than you. Losing must get boring to you.”
”That… is not it even a little bit. You know what? Fine. Fuck it. I will finish this bottle and...”
”Then we will snuggle and sleep. You do silly things when you drink this much, Verso.”
The gestral’s voice was a warm, low rumble in the man’s ear.
”Come here, let me hold you. You don’t need more wine.”
The sunlight filtering through the leaves had warmed the air and even the water in the zink tub comfortably.
Verso awoke from his slumber when the tip of his nose sank beneath the surface, startling. Monoco had stayed suspiciously quiet, quiet enough to let him float into sleep in the tub.
”You still there?”
”Uh huh.”
”Are you okay, Monoco?”
”Yes.”
”Are you mad at me or something?”
”No.”
The last time Monoco had been this quiet for this long, he had lovingly taken apart the record player and arranged each part onto the table.
It was still disassembled, neither of them knowing how to put it back together like it had been.
Monoco was good at that, taking things apart like that.
Verso rose from the water and grabbed his coarse linen towel, wrapping it around his hips to look behind the wowen partition, water still dripping down his body and from the unruly tangle of his hair.
True to his word, Monoco was working, carefully sanding a delicately carved piece of wood. His full attention was captured by the rowan he’d used to make a fine bow for Verso earlier.
”What’s that?”
Verso leaned closer to admire the flawless handiwork.
”A new foot.”
”Isn’t that a little short?”
”This is a special foot. Do you like it?”
The man considered, head tilted.
”It’s beautifully made, Monoco. Didn’t know you cared this much about the fine details. What are you planning to do with it?”
”You.”
”Oh.”
”That’s what you said to your expeditioner friend too. Does that mean it’s good?”
”I… uh...”
Verso took a long, deliberate breath, then carefully took the artifact to his hand. It was heavy and solid, sanded and polished to perfection. Swirls of raised carvings decorated the surface. It was, without a doubt, Monoco’s best craftmaship so far.
”It’s a really well made piece, wow.”
”Verso. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel like it. We don’t have to fence.”
His palm was on Verso’s naked shoulder and despite the mask, Verso could feel the gestral’s smile radiating towards him.
”I love you just the same. You’re my favourite person.”
Verso blinked and with some effort, shrugged the stunned silence off.
”It’s not that, it’s just, wow…
I did not know you were so serious about it.
I would have prepared some kind of a celebration for the launch or something.
Shit.
It’s a really nice cock, Monoco.
Congratulations on your new member?”
It was a really nice cock.
In the shade of their shelter, resting atop an oil-soaked rag and absorbing linseed oil, Monoco’s new cock was almost glistening.
The gestral had gone out to look for mushrooms and wild beetroot, while Verso, still nursing a hangover, had promised to gather firewood, make a good fire for the day’s meal, and brew tea.
While gestrals didn’t eat, Monoco loved the rich aroma of tea and herbal drinks and often carefully tinted his wood darker with it to keep the scent lingering around for longer.
Opening a worn and well-loved sachet of dried tea leaves, orange peels and flowers, Verso furrowed his brow. Monoco did not have a nose. None of the gestrals he had seen had one.
Taking a long, savouring breath, Verso poured some of the tea mixture into their trusty copper tea pot. The scent reminded him of long winter nights and dark days in the mountains, when he did not feel like getting up at all and Monoco held him in their shared bed. Who had the perfume been for?
”I found goatweed and nettles and raspberries too!”
The joy beaming from the gestral’s form illuminated the whole shelter.
He had grossly overdone it, as usual, and could certainly feed four or five Versos with the day’s foraging, a woven basket overflowing with foraged goods.
”You have slain your botanical enemies!” Verso announced.
While the food was obviously too much, so was everything else Monoco did. Always too much and it was always just right.
”And brought their carcasses to be a burnt offering!”
”Hm, perhaps a well caramellized offering?”
”It has been foretold. The scent of their caramellized flesh pleases the spirits!”
”Monoco, do you have a sense of smell?”
The gestral almost dropped the basket, leaning closer to study his friend’s face.
”Verso, have you been drinking again? So early in the day. I thought we’d go on a hike later.”
”No? Why?”
”Are you allright?”
”I am, I swear. I just need to know if you can sense smells.”
”Well rest assured I can, I have not burnt your noxious socks for nothing. Their pungent malodour has made me wonder if you surely have a sense of smell.”
”Huh. That’s… Cool. Please stop burning my socks, Monoco, they can be washed.”
”No, they can not. They are an insult, Verso.”
With some difficulty, the gestral sat down next to Verso on the too narrow tree stump next to the fire. The perfume of aromatic tea greeted him from the pot before he even lifted the lid to check.
”And… you don’t have ears, do you?”
”Verso, you know every inch of me. No, I don’t have ears.”
”That is… huh. That is interesting. Hey, one more.”
”Is this some kind of a game? How do I win?”
”This is more of a team sport, okay? Just stay with me. Do you remember when you lost a finger while battling that huge crab thing and I made a new one for you?”
”Verso, I could not forget, you literally wrote your name on it.”
The gestral brushed Verso’s hair off his face with the infamous finger.
”Do you want to go fight the crab thing again, Verso?”
”No, or well, maybe, we have leveled up some after that but… Wait, we’re getting distracted here. Does that finger work normally?”
”Well… yes? It moves, it bends, I can feel it just fine, if only some jackass did not sign it like a newly awoken patate signs his first wooden sword.”
”Huh. That’s… You know what? I think your new special foot might be pretty cool, Monoco.”
Fandom: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33
Rating: very yes, all the rating, very explicit
Pairing: Monoco / Verso
Summary: Years into their special friendship, Monoco and Verso finally sit down to define some important boundaries. Smut might ensue.
Imagine a title right here
”Lying bastard.”
”What was that, Monoco?”
”Lying. Bastard.”
The gestral dropped from the branch of an ancient tree with the grace of a stalking predator.
”You. Are the liar and the coward.”
He stepped closer to the man, and then closer still.
”What exactly have I done now? Were we not okay a couple of hours ago?”
”We were. And then you lied, Verso.
’I don’t want to fence right now, Monoco. I have other plans.’
And then you fenced anyway, with the expeditioner.”
”That wasn’t… I did not...”
”He was an easier challenger, huh. You should have told me you wanted me to go easy on you.”
”Would you go easy on me if I asked?”
”No.”
The hurt in the gestral’s voice was beginning to melt away, but his posture remained stern.
”You are still a lying liar, Verso. You wouldn’t fence with me but fenced with the expeditioner anyway. I saw.”
”You… Oh… That was not fencing, Monoco.”
”Lies, lies, lies. You polished his foot and you fenced and you made him piss himself, but that’s just because he was a weak opponent. I would have offered a much harder challenge.”
”For the love of… I did not lie. That’s not fencing, Monoco.”
Verso’s voice was trembling, a mixture of humiliation, laughter and utter disbelief.
”How about you take your ’that’s not fencing, Monoco’ and your puny foot collection of one and spoon with your stupid expeditioner for the night while I polish my superior foot collection.”
”Monoco, love… Are you jealous?”
Verso reached out to pet the fur of the gestral’s arm, and despite the spite, he leaned in to the caress.
”Yes. You said you did not want to fence and then you fenced behind my back.”
”Okay, okay. It still was not fencing, but I hear you. Does it bother you I spend time with the expeditioners, Monoco?”
”No. It was a fun match to watch too, but you have to be honest, Verso.”
”I...”
Verso took the longest breath in decades, wiped his face with his palm and sighed.
”That kind of a match is called sex, Monoco. It’s something humans do with their special feet and… other parts. It’s really not nice to watch us doing it without permission.”
”Okay. Can I watch next time you do it, Verso?”
”I… Why on Earth would you want to… I don’t have enough wine in my system for this conversation right now, Monoco.”
”Ah. Okay. I will get right back to the sex when you have had more wine. Come here, I don’t want us to stay mad.” Monoco wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him into a rib-crushing hug.
A gestral’s attention span was 120 seconds long at most. Except when it wasn’t.
”Have you had enough wine now, Verso?”
”No, I’m literally frying an omelette right now.”
”Oh, okay. Tell me when you have.”
”You are already male, right? Do you have to keep doing the sex so you don’t lose your special foot, Verso?”
”Monoco, I am sleeping. Was sleeping. Shush.”
”Fine.”
”Verso…?”
”Not. Now. Get me out of this goddamn bourgeon’s mouth right now!”
”Verso?”
”Monoco, I am pissing.”
”Yes, I can see. With your special foot.”
”That is the problem, Monoco. You are watching me piss.”
”I watch you do everything. Why was it not a problem when you watched the expeditioner piss?”
”Stop! Your stare is burning a hole in my prick here!”
”Watching is out of the question but you’d polish his foot when he does it?!”
”Monoco, we are not… Look… Okay. Okay. Give me a minute, then we talk about it.”
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