Work Text:
("Have you ever fell in love, Clea?")
The hand which held the paintbrush paused. After a moment, it went back to painting the sculpture in front of her.
After a moment, Alicia tried again, rasps of burnt vocal cords yet being comprehended, in some divine miracle. ("Clea?")
"I heard you the first time, sister dear." finally did the oldest of the Dessendre children answer. Clea's expression was as unreadable as ever. "And no, I have not."
("But--?")
"If you ask about Simon, I swear to God." Clea immediately retorted, her strokes with her brush getting slightly more violent. "That man was of concern only to my Painted self. Evidently, a certain someone wished for me to be happy. Unfortunately for her, our views on love are quite different from one another."
A pause, a single eye wavering. Then, Alicia asked a new question. Or rather, the same question, but in a different way.
("...Will you ever fall in love?")
Clea stopped, placing her paintbrush, and nodding at her finished product. One that expertly moved so that her sister could not see.
Clea let out a laugh. "When the day comes where a regular girl shall become a monstrous beast, from a human to an infected, living legend, it is then, and only then, will I ever even consider falling in love."
Alicia gave a small nod.
Well, that is something, at least.