Work Text:
The following is a one-shot short story centered around Clea Dessendre in her early teenagehood.
It contains major spoilers for Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, but nothing past the beginning of act 3.
This is also meant to stand on its own as a sci-fi short story for people who do not know the game. They should probably still play it.
It’s around 3500 words long and should take a bit less than 20 minutes to read.
─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─
“She wasn't scared of death itself. She was sad because there are more works of art than she'd ever be able to see in her lifetime. All the beauty in the world she'd never get to experience. That saddened her.”
─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─
Clea’s fingers fiddled absentmindedly with the cold silver brooch. Her gaze drifted over the endless flow of horse carriages and pedestrians on the other side of the jeweler’s window. The thin layer of glass barely muffled the loud rumbling of the vehicles on the cobblestones. But this was not what was drawing her attention away.
She wanted… no, she needed tonight to be perfect. She had pictured this moment many times before and weighed her options carefully. The lightly colored enamel freesia flower adorning the silver would be the ideal memento. But what if she was wrong?
She was pulled out of her reverie by the voice she almost forgot existed.
“Mademoiselle, I do hate to hasten you, but we really ought to move or else we might not be on time.”
She composed herself before replying.
“Yes, of course, sorry. I appreciate it. This one will do.”
While the adults were finalizing the transaction, Clea took a moment to scrutinize her appearance in a nearby gold-framed wall mirror. She felt overdressed in her lavender evening gown. It had less embroidery and lace than would be deemed fashionable, but this was still too much for her taste. At least her velvet cloak served a practical purpose. But the essential thing was that not one hair was out of place. She was picture-perfect for Romain. It was the least she could do.
“You will wear it out, I assume?” asked the governess.
Without waiting for an answer, she pinned the brooch to the girl’s bodice. She retrieved their hats from the rack and hurried her young mistress out with as much deference as their lateness allowed.
The Cafe de la Paix was only a few steps away, but they still took out their perfumed handkerchiefs to protect their noses from the omnipresent blend of coal smoke and manure.
The governess couldn't help but sigh when Clea stopped to admire the flickering lights of the arc lamps turning on by themselves, coating the Place de l’Opera in a diffuse aura. This was an old trick for the adults who had seen it hundreds of times. But Clea still remembered, although faintly, the ballet of the Allumeurs, and the clumsy race of the invisible machines still filled her burgeoning mind with wonder.
“Mademoiselle, please…” the governess whimpered.
They trod carefully across the busy street balancing safety and speed, before arriving at an already packed cafe. Fortunately they didn’t have to wait long under the glances of the crowd commenting joyfully on every outfit before the Maitre D’Hotel came to greet them with theatrical pomp.
“Your table is ready, Mademoiselle Dessendre.”
The governess sighed with the relief of knowing that they had made it on time. They left hats and cloaks to the care of the vestiaire attendant. Clea made sure to keep her purse, though. She would need it later.
Another waiter guided them through the tumultuous sea of operagoers. The high ceilings and massive rooms made the Cafe feel much more spacious than any onlooker would have guessed, but they also echoed the lively conversations into a constant rumbling. Fortunately, their table in an alcove of the glass-roofed courtyard provided a relative respite from the social clamor.
She barely had a chance to adjust her posture on the cushioned chair before her chaperone started to remind her of her manners:
“This time, I beg you, do try to not act so improper. Keep in mind that gentlemen favor modesty, so temper this impudent tongue of yours, and learn to listen. If you…”
Her voice trailed off. Clea followed her gaze to find Romain and his brother crossing an archway and walking towards them. Her betrothed was opening the march, donning a confident smile that seemed to make the whole room brighter. She carefully made a mental note of every detail of his almost-fashionable evening suit, oil-combed chestnut hair and boyish freckles. This was how she wanted to remember him forever.
“Bonsoir, messieurs.” said the governess standing up to greet them.
“Bonsoir, mademoiselle. Madame.” replied Marius while his younger brother bowed.
As they took place and started conversing, Clea couldn’t bring herself to pay attention to the platitudes exchanged. Her mind kept going over the details of her plan. It wasn’t complicated and not much was likely to go wrong, but focusing on what she could control helped calm her uncertainty about the bigger questions. Was it really the right thing to do? Was there any alternative she was missing?
It was too late to back off now. She took advantage of an especially spirited tirade from Marius about their parents’ bookstore to discreetly slip across the table the piece of paper she had prepared. She prayed that nobody noticed Romain’s eyes widening with shock and his cheeks flushing red while he was reading the words:
“Excuse yourself to the lavatories right after I do.”
Of course she knew how he’d react to a lady being so forward, so she made her best to display a comforting smile and a face hinting that this was nothing but her usual mischief. The gentlemen's room wasn't even on the same floor as the ladies’. Which is why the initial surprise melted in a deep puzzlement much easier to hide. It gave him the air of a lost puppy that made Clea’s heart flutter.
The waiter took their orders, then came back with cider and consommé. Time was running short, but Clea wanted to wait just enough for the restaurant to enter its busiest hour. She gulped down everything as fast as would not be suspicious, and finally declared:
“Please excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
She called a waiter and followed him out of the courtyard. Young ladies had to be escorted, but getting rid of him was a breeze. The staff never questioned a patron, and Clea was skilled at lying. She walked confidently around a corridor, then sneaked into a nook in the wall. She only had a few minutes to wait before hearing Romain’s hesitant footsteps. When he was close, she stepped out of her hiding spot carefully so as not to spook him too much. He still jumped, startled.
“Clea. What is going on? Are you insane?” he asked in a whisper.
The fear in his eyes briefly made her chest tighten. Taking a deep breath, she said the words she had rehearsed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll explain. For now, trust me, that’s all I ask. We need to leave, right now.”
Romain was so confused that he didn’t know which question to start from. She took advantage of this by slipping out through a side exit on the Boulevard des Capucines. All he could do was to follow along her rushed pace, restraining his emotions to avoid drawing even more attention than the occasional puzzled glance already did.
Clea hurried on, oblivious to everything around her. She only slowed down when approaching a tiny park where they could talk without standing out.
“What the devil has gotten into you? Let’s go back to our table and call for a doctor.”
She could feel his worry come through his distressed tone.
“We’re not going back. We’re not going to the Opera. I want to do something different.”
The concern in his hazel gaze morphed into bewilderment, fright, and a hint of anger.
“Is that what this is? Have you lost all reason? You might get away with scandalous behavior, but things are different for me. If anyone finds out about this, my life is finished. Diable, my whole family is finished! Come on, it’s not too late to go back.”
She grabbed his hands to calm him down and looked him in the eyes.
“Don’t worry about it. I took care of everything. It’s only one evening.”
The lie left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it was the best way to reassure him. She would tell him the truth, of course. But she wanted to enjoy every possible minute before the unavoidable. There would be no coming back after. By tomorrow, all problems would be solved.
“Sure you have. You always think of everything, don’t you? Have you ever considered that I might not want to be part of this, whatever it is? We don’t all have the backing of an aristocratic family, you know. What’s your big plan anyway?”
“I want to go to Luna Park.”
The answer was so unexpected that it took Romain a few moments to recover.
“You want to… You expect me to throw my life away so you can go to Luna Park?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, I told you I arranged everything.”
“I don’t understand, I thought you were not interested in this kind of debauchery…”
“Well, I am. A little bit at least. I keep hearing how beautiful it is.”
“Then let’s go ask your governess. I’m sure we can organize a proper and decent outing.”
For the first time, the confidence that was so natural to Clea seemed to show its cracks. In a trembling voice, she answered.
“I want to go… just with you.”
These words were like a tsunami that washed away any resistance in the boy. He had never heard her so forward, and his mind was caught in a maelstrom of conflicting passions. He relented but suggested they buy new hats and accessories to make themselves less conspicuous.
To his dismay, Clea insisted on riding the omnibus instead of calling for a private cab. Fortunately it was a busy time for the line. People were too focused on keeping their balance in the crowded wagon to pay much attention to the young couple. Despite their age, Clea and Romain fitted right in. In fact, other couples and friend groups seemed headed for the same destination and were already in a merry mood. Clea watched, curious but discreet, as an omnibusarde gave enticing smiles to every gentleman in search of one who could pay her bus fare and, later, join her in a nearby brothel.
They exited the carriage at the same time as everybody else, and got dragged by the lively crowd through the massive marble archway separating the boulevard from the marvelous land of technological entertainment. They barely had any time to think as they swarmed towards the bright and noisy interior. The vapors of absinthe and the loud tangle of voices and music were further clouding their senses. Romain stepped closer to Clea.
“So…” he finally teased. “What do you think? Was it worth destroying my life over?”
“Absolutely, you silly dope! Have you ever seen such a thing?”
Inside, there were more lights than anywhere she’d been. It was even brighter than daytime. Towering above the park were mountains of wood and metal reaching heights that she’d only seen in the Iron Tower. Except these ones weaved in intricate patterns and carried passengers on a wondrous journey on their man-made slopes. She couldn’t wait to get a closer look at this marvel of ingenuity. How could her family find this vulgar?
“I… I guess it’s pretty interesting.” Romain couldn’t help but concede. “So, what do you want to do? Do you want to check out the Grande Roue?”
Clea’s face darkened for a brief moment at the mention of the Ferris wheel, but she quickly regained composure, pushing unpleasant thoughts away from her mind.
“No, not yet. I want to save it for last. Let’s explore first, I want to see everything!”
The park was an intriguing mix of party and thrill rides. A glasshouse dance-hall spread its music and alcohol scent through the whole domain, and it wasn’t rare to see couples dancing or drinking in every corner of the place. But Clea was mostly interested in the machines, music was her brother’s thing. She was more attuned to the creaking of the wood and the rumblings of the metallic wheels.
The young couple set out to try everything. They rode a wooden chariot through the metal slopes of the aptly named “Pic Pique”. A bouncy contraption called “Chatouilleur” did tickle their insides, but not pleasantly. The “Zoo Humain” reminded them that people in distant regions of the world came in all sorts of shapes and sizes. The “Roues du Diable” shook their bodies and questioned their morals with its pagan decorum.
It was a paradise for Clea’s inquisitive mind. Cutting-edge technology mingled with laughter and merriment. Water rides were closed for the cold season, but they did get to explore the “rivière souterraine” under the artificial mountain. The obscurity of the calm boat tour offered a moment of intimacy they both cherished. They caught a glimpse of a couple kissing in the dark, and by the time they exited their boat both of their faces were bright red.
As the number of places they hadn’t been began to dwindle, Clea’s anguish started to grow. She knew she couldn’t put off the fateful moment forever, but exploring the mechanical contraptions with her beloved was so much fun that she didn’t want this evening to end.
“Time for the big finish?” finally suggested Romain with a beaming smile.
She nodded, trying to conceal her apprehension. It shouldn’t be so hard. She had practiced a lot. But it was one of the things that didn’t seem to get easier with repetition.
The Grande Roue rose above the metal mountain, gently hoisting wooden baskets hundreds of feet in the air where they provided an unparalleled view of the city of lights. The young couple waited patiently in line before making their way to a simple bench in their cradle. They chose to sit on the same side, which made their vessel swing a bit under their weight, but was surely the best decision considering how cold the air would be up there.
As the ascent began and the park was extending before their eyes, Romain mistook the uncharacteristic quietness of Clea for shyness and opted to break the silence:
“You know, I’ve been here before. But it was a couple of years ago, before the park opened. It used to be a music garden, with lots of circus shows. It’s crazy that they were able to build all this so fast…”
Clea nodded absentmindedly. As they rose, the tumultuous noise from the park faded. The boy continued, teasing:
“So, I take it this is the part where you finally tell me your big plan so that I can point out how delusional you are? Tomorrow will come, you can’t put it off forever. I’ve trusted you so far, but I’d really like to know how you’re going to save me from becoming a pariah."
“Tomorrow…” she repeated softly.
They were high enough now that they could see the whole of the capital. Most of the land was covered by a thick shroud of darkness, but patches of light here and there shone brightly in the night.
Her gaze wandered over the pulsating hearts of the city. The Opera, where they should have been watching a play right now. The Champs-Élysées and its luxurious restaurants, where the crowds were starting to leave. The Halles district, where the party would continue all night.
To her elevated eye, the people seemed insignificant, no bigger than ants. And yet with the right guidance their work had fought away the relentless obscurity of nature itself. Soon, surely, the brightness would engulf all. Everything would be known and conquered. She was truly blessed to be part of such an exciting undertaking. She longed to paint this canvas of infinite black with light and color. But it required growing up, and making sacrifices. There was no escaping the flow of time.
In the south, the massive figure of the Iron Tower beamed like an angelic giant above the dark city. At this distance, she couldn’t see the people dining in the elevated restaurant at its top, but she knew they were the only ones sharing her breathtaking view above the masses right now.
She remembered fondly her last visit there. It was then that she decided to come to Luna Park. It was also the last time she had this conversation.
She shivered and cuddled closer to her beloved. She wished she could stay forever in the comfort of his warmth. She wished she could continue to look at his cute face, his innocent eyes, his childish smile… But her father was right and she knew it, it was time to grow up.
“Listen. Our time together has been wonderful.”
All joy faded away from the boyish face instantly, and his complexion turned pale.
“Are you… breaking off our engagement?” he asked in a trembling voice. “Is that why you don’t care about what will happen to me?”
“No, not at all.” she said, trying to be as comforting as she could. “It’s just that… there’s a lot you don’t know.”
She took a deep breath and started to recite her speech. She had chosen simple words to convey her difficult message.
“You’re very dear to me, and you will always be, and that’s why I want to tell you the truth. It won’t be easy to hear. But it will only hurt for a moment.”
Romain listened silently, slightly scared but mostly puzzled and confused.
“The reason I wasn’t worried about tomorrow is because there won’t be a tomorrow. This world is not real. You’re not real. All of this…” she gestured at the sleeping city in front of them. “All of this is a painting that I’ve brought to life using some sort of magic. It’s a bit hard to explain, but look...”
To demonstrate, she summoned a purple freesia flower out of thin air in a swirl of colorful light. She gave the shimmering flower tenderly to the stunned boy.
“You could say it was my playground. But I’m not a child anymore. I can’t keep coming to imaginary worlds to play make-belief. I need to focus on the real world.”
“The real world?” He put emphasis on the adjective. “I’m… not real?”
She nodded. The Ferris wheel creaked.
“But I feel real!”
“Yes, I made you that way.”
“You made me?”
“And everything else in this universe.”
The cold wind rocked their basket slowly. It was hard to come to grips with. She could almost see the existential crisis he was going through in his shimmering jade eyes. She really hated this part.
“Look beyond the suburbs, you can see it from here. There is nothing but darkness. The world ends there.”
“What… How… What does that mean for me? Are you telling me I’m dying now?”
“Not now! There’s still plenty we can do together. We could go wherever you want! I can paint anywhere in the world for you!”
“But I’m dying soon…”
“The magic cannot work if I’m not there. I’m sorry, I have to return to my world. I have to leave.”
There was a pause in the conversation, then he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.
“You know, I’ve always struggled with you coming from a different world. You’re an aristocrat, I’m just a bourgeois… I never thought it would be so… literal. Or that it would cause my end.”
“It doesn’t cause your end any more than your beginning…”
“Still, this feels cruel.”
“I was just a child! Would you rather have not lived?”
Another moment of silence took hold. She watched tears run down his face and wiped them slowly with her handkerchief. In the distance, the city lights flickered.
“So… What happens now?” he finally asked in a broken voice between quiet sobs.
“I was wondering the same thing. What do you want to do for our last date?”
Hearing it spoken so clearly and bluntly made the reality of it all sink deep in his soul. The time he had left was measured in hours.
He looked at the girl beside him. But it was not the girl he knew and loved. It was an otherworldly godlike monster, and he was nothing but her glorified toy.
“I… I don’t think I want to be with you any more.” he managed to let out.
“Yeah, I know.”
Her assured tone carried the weight of more realizations that burrowed him further down his existential spiral. He reluctantly probed:
“This is not our first… last date, is it?”
“No, it is not.”
He was smart for what he was. It was one of the reasons she fell for him. He took a long time to sort out his thoughts. She waited patiently. She knew only too well what went on in his head. She had gone through this dozens of times. Soon, she would stop. But she could afford a couple more dates before the final adieu. They both deserved so.
They had almost finished their spin on the wheel when he offered in a shaky voice:
“Have we ever been to the sea?”
“No, do you want to go?”
“I think I’d like that.”
“Now?”
He nodded. There was no use prolonging his agony. There was no use being angry. Everything had already been done. There was no other way, and they were both understood it. It was tragic, but it made things easier.
Silently, they exchanged yet another last and first kiss.
“I love you,” the Paintress whispered.
And she started to erase this world and paint a new one.
─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─
I’m relatively new at this. I do hope you leave all kinds of feedback in comments so I can improve. Just please don't confuse me with the characters and narrators I wrote :)
This will remain a one-shot (admittedly longer than I anticipated) but I do have lots of ideas around the Writers that I could develop in a longer form fanfic (after the game events but including the events of this fic) if there is interest.
─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─═◈═─
I had a lot of fun doing historical research for this, I knew very little about Belle Epoque before. I tried my best to capture the spirit of the time. If you’re interested:
◈ In real life, chaperones escort their “teens” to the bathroom, not waiters.
◈ Real Paris’ Luna Park was opened in 1909 and didn’t have a ferris wheel until much later. In its place before that was Columbia, a giant theater that turned briefly into a music garden.
◈ There was a lot of English in the branding of the rides, it seemed cool back then. I had to do the opposite transformation (“Pic Pique” is based on “Pikes Peak”, “Roues du diables” on “Diabolic Wheel”). The “Chatouilleur” was a real name.
◈ Oh and I don’t think it was brighter than day, I just wanted to make a Baudrillard reference.