@paintedinlight : ❛ What do you mean, what have I done? ❜ from Monoco
the last unicorn 𓇢𓆸 accepting ;;
The density of the chroma composing her body flickers, as if, just for a brief moment, she has lost her otherwise secure and firm grasp on her form — on the essence of ink and paint that now makes her whole. For his answer, those words verging on confusion — almost bothers her more than the supposed betrayal itself. Betrayal. If it can even be called as such. It’s so strange to see him — so different, leaning perhaps merely on the delusion of the memory of her brother, his very creator — the child who molded him to life itself inside that canvas, years and years ago.
❛ Don't try to play dumb with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about— ❜ she breathes out, the petals dancing lazily as her sides. Clea controls the majority of the chroma in the canvas by now - the priceless reward her pets grant her; even though some quite important bits of it still escape her control ( no matter, her mother shall someday run out of it, and that loss of control will determine her and her father's victory, the end of that endless conflict ) , there is no doubt her nevrons' continue shaping events and terrain both, allowing Clea to exercise control and power over almost everything.
At first, she had never planned to find an ally in him — or in any of children's creations for that matter, such as the grandis, the gestrals, François or even Esquie. Any attempt at recruitment would have been futile — or so she had thought at the beginning of it all. Though docility and, most importantly, loyalty were at the core of their very creation, it felt wrong to Clea. And so— to know now that Monoco, who had spent countless hours playing with her and her Verso throughout their childhood, has sided with the impostor, the doppelgänger, feels like a betrayal of sorts.
❛ What you're doing -- I meant, in helping him. I thought you neutral, disinterested at best. I know you, you must know what his plan entails. ❜
