I always mean it. [ Sciel replies simply. Let it not be said she's ever anything less than completely earnest. And it's an incredibly easy thing to mean, here: if seeing him show off the train is any indication, the idea of him performing original music for her is-...
Maybe...a little dangerously romantic. But she isn't worried. After all, she'd have interest and enthusiasm for his music no matter their dynamic, and Sciel is confident that, should 'their dynamic' venture into ill-advised territory, she can have a frank conversation with him about it.
They're both adults, after all. Both have seen their fair share of death. He'll understand, she knows. ]
Ah, of course, grand-père. Wouldn't dream of denying you that. [ There's a little chuckle as she watches him rise and stretch, brows raised at the surprising 'a little more fun' that follows. Fortunately, it isn't long before her curiosity is sated, when he returns with the water, the washcloths, and the (probably a terrible) idea.
Sciel grins. ]
I like the sound of that. [ Of course, she'd say that about most challenges. Sciel, who'd only shifted enough that she's sitting with her legs hanging over the side of the table when he returns, takes his hand and gets to her feet, accepting the washcloth after. ] Have you done this before?
[ That won't change her answer, nor dim the obvious glint of reckless excitement in her eyes, but she wonders all the same.
In the meantime the expeditioner takes her own time to stretch, lifting her arms above her head and rising to her toes, rolling her neck, drawing a deep breath. There's a lot of evidence of him on her body: the messy rake of her hair, the pink blooms from her lips down her neck and further, the slick of her inner thighs. There is no self-consciousness as she stands and waits for the water to warm, glancing from the basin to Verso with a lopsided smile. ]
[That's part of what he appreciates about Sciel, her honesty and her ability to unapologetically be herself. He jokes and she clarifies, an easy back-and-forth that works its way just as well into his heart as laughter would have, he thinks, every bit the fool who should know better. Such is one of the many curses of Verso not-Dessendre, though, so he doesn't think twice about it – at least not now – as he spins the basin around to start evening out the heat.
Besides, the way she immediately buys into his dumb idea is distracting. Not many people are willing to humour the most frivolous of his exploits, so he appreciates the challenge, the sense of adventure, the confidence she meets him with in response.
Well, conditionally, anyway. He laughs in response to her distinction, cupping the middle side of the basin to test its warmth. Maybe a minute longer, so he steps towards her again, head cocked at a mischievous angle.]
It took a few [dozen] attempts, but yeah, it's fair to say I'm now the world's preeminent train track carter.
[On the technicality of being the world's only train track carter, but details are for people who aren't quite so inclined towards bravado and drama. Though he shifts into the opposite as he steals one final moment from the brutal reality awaiting them outside of the train to run the tip of a finger along one of the lines of Sciel's tattoo.]
By the way, I've been meaning to ask. Is there a story behind this?
[It's beautiful, he thinks, but he doesn't put that to words quite yet. Goodness knows he's stuck his feet squarely in his mouth enough times around her already. Surely he can resist the urge just this once.]
[ Safe assumption that there's no competition for the title he claims, but it doesn't diminish the amusement. She's easily able to picture Verso making the attempt over and over again, filling a fraction of those long, lonely decades-...
Though, maybe a little less lonely, if - ] Did Monoco ride with you?
[ His gestral friend had just joined their group, after all, and she's seen their dynamic. Even with the few interactions they've witnessed so far, it doesn't seem like a stretch at all to think that they might enable each other's reckless ideas.
Her piqued, mischievous interest evens out a bit as he traces the tattoo etched into her chest, and she cocks her head up at him as she explains: ]
Not really. Nothing interesting, anyway. When I decided to join the Expedition, I... [ Sciel pauses. How to phrase it? ] ...I'd been teaching, as you know, and farming before that. And though some of that...physicality has definitely been helpful, [ not to mention the scythe ] it didn't feel like enough.
[ It hadn't been that she'd doubted her own abilities, but rather than she'd seen the brutal reality. The Expeditions had smaller and smaller groups every year, both because of the dwindling population and the dwindling faith in their capabilities. And though nobody had said this, Sciel knew, somehow, that going in without having done absolutely everything possible to give them the best chance at success was...if not a waste, then ill-advised. ]
Lune already had some of her own. [ She continues, briefly lifting a few fingers to press over his before withdrawing, the tattoo giving off the faintest glow. ] That's where I got the idea.
[ Chroma tattoos aren't uncommon in Lumière (though there are some who decry them still), and it'd made sense to try and enhance her own natural abilities -- and develop new ones -- in something strong and permanent enough to see the Expedition through.
Sciel shrugs, one-shouldered. ] Hurt like hell, of course, but...worth it. And I'm very happy with how it turned out.
[ Best of both worlds: a cool design that also happens to let her manipulate light and shadow, using her cards as a focus. There are no alternatives, she thinks, when the deck is so terribly stacked against you. ]
Monoco, uh... [Tried at first. Valiantly, even. But apparently, hurtling down fractured train tracks at warp speed is not his flavour of adventure.] Cheered me on from the sidelines.
[Which was nice, too. Less, That was awful, you nearly got us killed, blah, blah, blah, and more, That was amazing, you nearly got yourself killed. And yes it was, and yes he did, but he wouldn't be offering to take Sciel carting on down if he wasn't confident he'd be able to keep her from getting hurt, so it's all good. Probably.
Regardless, he shoos the thoughts of Monoco from his mind and focuses instead on the story Sciel tells, on the light she casts across her skin. His fingers chase it like he's tracing the stars, marvelling at the symmetry, the shading, the implications of strength and power, and the way the artist worked contrast into the linework. The reluctant artist in him knows talent when he sees it, but the liar knows better than to give that away, so all he offers is a simple:]
It's beautiful.
[And she's beautiful, and the night is lovely, and it almost feels a shame to have to wash away how he's brought colour and sheen to her skin, but the realist always swings around to supersede the romantic eventually, and so he turns back to the water, first testing the outside of the basin, then dipping his finger into the melted snow. Close to perfect on the side of being too warm. Stepping away, he gestures her towards it in his usual over-the-top style.]
Honneur aux femmes.
[Not that they need to take turns on a practical level, but he is a seasoned forestman and sometimes gentleman, and so he'll let her wash herself clean and use what's left of the water for himself.]
Thanks, by the way. For tonight. It was fun.
[Even the parts when she and her cards bore into his soul like it wasn't barricaded behind a litany of masks.]
[ An idea so ill-advised that even his gestral best friend wouldn't join in. Hmm. This should probably be an obvious red flag, and it is, but...ah, well. It's some mix of the pleasant chemicals that so recently flooded her system combined with the fact that it does still sound fun that have her maintaining her easy grin, unbothered. ]
Well, I'm looking forward to joining the ranks of survivors. [ She chuckles. Really, the more unpleasant notion is going back out into the biting cold after all this, and she casts her discarded coat a momentarily look, sighing.
His comment on her tattoo, simple as it is, draws her back in. Sciel turns, lips pulling up again in a grateful smile. When Verso steps away to check the water, she follows the same path his finger had drawn with her own, thinking about the experience of having gotten the tattoo and first using the abilities that it afforded. It feels like...ages ago, though it really hasn't been very long, in the scheme of things.
Time's a funny thing, though, isn't it. The past stretches back an impossible distance one minute and feels incredibly recent the next. The difficult times drag on, the good ones disappear in a flash. And then, as always, tomorrow comes. ]
Merci. [ Sciel replies, hopping off the table to the basin. She dips her fingers in first -- not because she doesn't trust his judgment, but for the sheer, pleasant sensation of it -- before following with the washcloth, taking her time to wipe away the outward evidence of their tryst even as it lingers in her mind. ]
It was. [ She agrees, smile skewing sideways as she regards him. Neither of them has donned their uniforms again, of course, so she takes a moment to capture another mental snapshot as she dabs absently at her face. ] I really enjoyed myself, Verso. Glad you feel the same.
[ There's no way of knowing what the next day might bring, but this, at least, is good. A mote of warmth to hold on to when the nights are cold and the days are unkind.
And...if those nights or days produce another opportunity like this, she'll make sure to seize it. ]
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tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
no subject
Maybe...a little dangerously romantic. But she isn't worried. After all, she'd have interest and enthusiasm for his music no matter their dynamic, and Sciel is confident that, should 'their dynamic' venture into ill-advised territory, she can have a frank conversation with him about it.
They're both adults, after all. Both have seen their fair share of death. He'll understand, she knows. ]
Ah, of course, grand-père. Wouldn't dream of denying you that. [ There's a little chuckle as she watches him rise and stretch, brows raised at the surprising 'a little more fun' that follows. Fortunately, it isn't long before her curiosity is sated, when he returns with the water, the washcloths, and the (probably a terrible) idea.
Sciel grins. ]
I like the sound of that. [ Of course, she'd say that about most challenges. Sciel, who'd only shifted enough that she's sitting with her legs hanging over the side of the table when he returns, takes his hand and gets to her feet, accepting the washcloth after. ] Have you done this before?
[ That won't change her answer, nor dim the obvious glint of reckless excitement in her eyes, but she wonders all the same.
In the meantime the expeditioner takes her own time to stretch, lifting her arms above her head and rising to her toes, rolling her neck, drawing a deep breath. There's a lot of evidence of him on her body: the messy rake of her hair, the pink blooms from her lips down her neck and further, the slick of her inner thighs. There is no self-consciousness as she stands and waits for the water to warm, glancing from the basin to Verso with a lopsided smile. ]
Have you done this...successfully before?
[ Crucial distinction! ]
no subject
Besides, the way she immediately buys into his dumb idea is distracting. Not many people are willing to humour the most frivolous of his exploits, so he appreciates the challenge, the sense of adventure, the confidence she meets him with in response.
Well, conditionally, anyway. He laughs in response to her distinction, cupping the middle side of the basin to test its warmth. Maybe a minute longer, so he steps towards her again, head cocked at a mischievous angle.]
It took a few [dozen] attempts, but yeah, it's fair to say I'm now the world's preeminent train track carter.
[On the technicality of being the world's only train track carter, but details are for people who aren't quite so inclined towards bravado and drama. Though he shifts into the opposite as he steals one final moment from the brutal reality awaiting them outside of the train to run the tip of a finger along one of the lines of Sciel's tattoo.]
By the way, I've been meaning to ask. Is there a story behind this?
[It's beautiful, he thinks, but he doesn't put that to words quite yet. Goodness knows he's stuck his feet squarely in his mouth enough times around her already. Surely he can resist the urge just this once.]
no subject
Though, maybe a little less lonely, if - ] Did Monoco ride with you?
[ His gestral friend had just joined their group, after all, and she's seen their dynamic. Even with the few interactions they've witnessed so far, it doesn't seem like a stretch at all to think that they might enable each other's reckless ideas.
Her piqued, mischievous interest evens out a bit as he traces the tattoo etched into her chest, and she cocks her head up at him as she explains: ]
Not really. Nothing interesting, anyway. When I decided to join the Expedition, I... [ Sciel pauses. How to phrase it? ] ...I'd been teaching, as you know, and farming before that. And though some of that...physicality has definitely been helpful, [ not to mention the scythe ] it didn't feel like enough.
[ It hadn't been that she'd doubted her own abilities, but rather than she'd seen the brutal reality. The Expeditions had smaller and smaller groups every year, both because of the dwindling population and the dwindling faith in their capabilities. And though nobody had said this, Sciel knew, somehow, that going in without having done absolutely everything possible to give them the best chance at success was...if not a waste, then ill-advised. ]
Lune already had some of her own. [ She continues, briefly lifting a few fingers to press over his before withdrawing, the tattoo giving off the faintest glow. ] That's where I got the idea.
[ Chroma tattoos aren't uncommon in Lumière (though there are some who decry them still), and it'd made sense to try and enhance her own natural abilities -- and develop new ones -- in something strong and permanent enough to see the Expedition through.
Sciel shrugs, one-shouldered. ] Hurt like hell, of course, but...worth it. And I'm very happy with how it turned out.
[ Best of both worlds: a cool design that also happens to let her manipulate light and shadow, using her cards as a focus. There are no alternatives, she thinks, when the deck is so terribly stacked against you. ]
no subject
[Which was nice, too. Less, That was awful, you nearly got us killed, blah, blah, blah, and more, That was amazing, you nearly got yourself killed. And yes it was, and yes he did, but he wouldn't be offering to take Sciel carting on down if he wasn't confident he'd be able to keep her from getting hurt, so it's all good. Probably.
Regardless, he shoos the thoughts of Monoco from his mind and focuses instead on the story Sciel tells, on the light she casts across her skin. His fingers chase it like he's tracing the stars, marvelling at the symmetry, the shading, the implications of strength and power, and the way the artist worked contrast into the linework. The reluctant artist in him knows talent when he sees it, but the liar knows better than to give that away, so all he offers is a simple:]
It's beautiful.
[And she's beautiful, and the night is lovely, and it almost feels a shame to have to wash away how he's brought colour and sheen to her skin, but the realist always swings around to supersede the romantic eventually, and so he turns back to the water, first testing the outside of the basin, then dipping his finger into the melted snow. Close to perfect on the side of being too warm. Stepping away, he gestures her towards it in his usual over-the-top style.]
Honneur aux femmes.
[Not that they need to take turns on a practical level, but he is a seasoned forestman and sometimes gentleman, and so he'll let her wash herself clean and use what's left of the water for himself.]
Thanks, by the way. For tonight. It was fun.
[Even the parts when she and her cards bore into his soul like it wasn't barricaded behind a litany of masks.]
no subject
Well, I'm looking forward to joining the ranks of survivors. [ She chuckles. Really, the more unpleasant notion is going back out into the biting cold after all this, and she casts her discarded coat a momentarily look, sighing.
His comment on her tattoo, simple as it is, draws her back in. Sciel turns, lips pulling up again in a grateful smile. When Verso steps away to check the water, she follows the same path his finger had drawn with her own, thinking about the experience of having gotten the tattoo and first using the abilities that it afforded. It feels like...ages ago, though it really hasn't been very long, in the scheme of things.
Time's a funny thing, though, isn't it. The past stretches back an impossible distance one minute and feels incredibly recent the next. The difficult times drag on, the good ones disappear in a flash. And then, as always, tomorrow comes. ]
Merci. [ Sciel replies, hopping off the table to the basin. She dips her fingers in first -- not because she doesn't trust his judgment, but for the sheer, pleasant sensation of it -- before following with the washcloth, taking her time to wipe away the outward evidence of their tryst even as it lingers in her mind. ]
It was. [ She agrees, smile skewing sideways as she regards him. Neither of them has donned their uniforms again, of course, so she takes a moment to capture another mental snapshot as she dabs absently at her face. ] I really enjoyed myself, Verso. Glad you feel the same.
[ There's no way of knowing what the next day might bring, but this, at least, is good. A mote of warmth to hold on to when the nights are cold and the days are unkind.
And...if those nights or days produce another opportunity like this, she'll make sure to seize it. ]