Une vie à peindre

Gustave chuckled. As much as he wished that would have been the end of it, he had to admit it was nice to be able to take some time to relax. At least pretend they weren't on a suicide mission. "Never have I ever been cut in half."

He considered what he knew of Gustave (which admittedly wasn't much). The few times that he'd been to Lumiere to check on Maelle, her guardian hadn't really been what he'd focused on. "Let's see... Never have I ever been engaged?"

• How long has it been since you've seen another person? • You need to eat. I don't care if you're not hungry. • That's the last of the clean water. We have maybe three days. • Don't go out there. Not after dark. • I heard gunshots about two miles west. We need to move. • You're burning through supplies like we have somewhere to restock. • I can't remember what coffee tastes like anymore. • Show me your arm. • The radio's been silent for six days now. • I found a Polaroid in that house. Look—people used to smile like this. • We're not taking them with us. We barely have enough for ourselves. • You've been coughing for three days. Don't lie to me. • I think I saw smoke on the horizon. Could be a settlement. Could be a trap. • This is the fourth body we've found this week. • You want to talk about what happened back there? Or are we just going to pretend? • I'm not leaving you behind. I don't care what you say. • The fence has a breach. Something got through last night. • When was the last time you slept? And I mean actually slept. • You're rationing your own food to feed me, aren't you? • I can still hear the sirens sometimes. Even though they stopped months ago. • We can't stay here. This place is compromised. • I found batteries. Three AAs and a nine-volt. • You never told me what you did before all this. • That's a gunshot wound. Who shot you? • I haven't seen the sun in four days. This ash won't clear. • We're down to eleven bullets. Make them count. • I know what day it is. It's your birthday. • The last time I trusted someone, they stole half our supplies and disappeared. • You're running a fever. Sit down before you collapse. • I can't do this anymore. I can't keep watching people die. • We have to go back. I left something—someone—behind. • You've been talking in your sleep. About before. • I found a working generator. We could have power for a week, maybe two. • You're the only person left who knows my real name. • That smell means the bodies are close. Cover your mouth. • I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm asking you to survive. • The coordinates led us here. There's nothing. It was all a lie. • How many people have you killed since this started? Don't lie. • We used to have rules. Remember that? • You took the last dose of antibiotics. That was for the kid. • I saw your hand shake when you raised that gun. You're not okay. • This is it. This is all that's left of the world. • I can't remember their face anymore. Isn't that terrible? • You're planning to leave, aren't you? I can tell. • We found a car with half a tank. That's a goddamn miracle. • You didn't have to kill them. They would have left. • I'm trying to remember what music sounded like. • This is the third night you've taken watch. You're going to get us killed. • The map stops here. Everything past this point is unmapped territory.

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CLAIR OBSCUR: EXPEDITION 33

I had intended for this to go with a oneshot where Verso takes his own advice and imagines the things people of the past would say, talking to them one last time in camp before taking on the Monolith in act 2, but I never got around to finishing it... so you get the art!

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The awakening of King Lear by the kiss of Cordelia, 1850, Charles West Cope