@maskedvisages Continued from here
As an artisan, Clea knows how to study different subjects and objects, to see life and other living indicators within them so she might channel them into her paintings. It's why her creations retain a plausible realism about them, however fantastical the shape or texture or terrain. It's not to say she cannot make unplausible things—Serpenphare's shadow over the remains of Lumiere displays that quite well, a form with no reason to be organic and manmade at the same time, nor a need to fly. Funny to think it was made in one lazy afternoon on a dare, and now she turns it to destruction instead of idyllic wandering.
That facsimile tries, but Clea knows it isn't Verso. His drawn blades and pleading for his family's safety makes for a pathetic sight, an attestation to the suffering of a grieving mother. Clea might've excused it, if Aline only made Verso. That creature in the mansion though... Clea tries to silence the doubtful voices in her mind, but she cannot look past its existence. Aline went too far doctoring a perfect family—one incapable of performing their Art, apparently.
"Unfortunately, Renoir will take too long without my help." Clea steps forward and at the same time, chromatic petals begin to manifest and fall behind her like a funeral veil, its concentration centered around her palm. The once bright aquamarine has faded to light gray petals, with some occasionally blackened. "Tacky as it is to Paint the dead, I see why you exist. That thing on the other hand, I refuse to ignore."
Clea has yet to see why it exists beyond completing Aline's pretend family. As much as she loathes Painted Clea, there's a nagging feeling in her that wants to see what Aline made, and observe how truthful or false it is. Part of their doctrine is never to Paint the living—because it is madness to see yourself through the lens of another, especially being so lifelike from a master's hand.
Serpenphare circles once over the mansion, settling into a lazy drift. There's more Nevrons in the city Clea can call upon, but perhaps Verso might be flawed—perhaps not care enough about his sisters, when faced with such a threat—and back down.
"I'll offer this only once: leave. I won't hesitate to break each bone and muscle in your body." Her gaze flicks upward to the flying Nevron for a brief moment. "Is death a possibility for you? Or will my creations grow bored harming you?"
