[ Sciel starts off in the direction he indicates without a word. She's decided to go, but hasn't yet landed on what she wants to say...when he starts up the conversation himself, unbidden.
She can't help but smile a little, even under the strained circumstances. ]
I was going to wait at least twenty minutes before saying anything... [ It's clear, though, that he's feeling...if not a compulsion from within, then an external push to justify his actions, even though he'd been so quick to decry his need to explain when they'd returned to camp. Sciel turns her eyes on him in her usual, scrutinizing way, though her expression is soft. Uneasy, maybe, but soft. ]
I believe you. [ She says, and mostly means it. If nothing else, it seems like he wants it to be true, so...maybe it is. ] But, Verso...you know what we've been through. What he's done. It can't be a surprise that we'd...struggle, learning you're related the way we did.
[ There's no need to beat a dead horse. Verso hadn't seen the slaughter at the beach or Gustave's murder, but she knows he's witnessed enough death and other nightmares across the Continent to imagine the scenes. The traumatic impact those events have had on the three survivors.
Sciel sighs, crossing her arms. ]
...Look. We've all got...things we haven't told each other. That's okay. Just...maybe find a way to share some of the ones that might become relevant?
[ It's hard to say, of course, what would've happened had he told them the news when they'd first met. Sciel can't, in complete honestly, tell herself they'd all have been able to overlook it when the wounds were so keen.
Still. She thinks of all the questions yet unanswered (some very pressing, like his referring to Maelle and the masked girl as Alicia). Of how the way he'd screamed in frustration after the manor disappeared had seemed some of the most genuine, raw emotion he'd displayed since meeting him.
Sciel continues to look at him, her face uncharacteristically unreadable. ]
I meant what I said, too. We need to trust each other. It's got to go both ways.
[Waiting would have meant losing control of the narrative – insofar as he's able to control it, at least – so when Sciel cracks her joke, relief guides Verso's laughter, a still-restrained chuckle that he mostly succeeds at stripping of anything that might give even more of himself away.
As for what follows, though...
He used to tell people. Obviously, since Sciel and Lune found out through the 58s' journal. But the word father started tasting bitter on his tongue and ringing sour in the expeditioners' ears, and, well. Maybe it's been nearly seventy years since learning a fragment of the truth inspired Search & Rescue to turn against him, but he can still feel the barbs of their words and their blades in his heart; he has not forgotten how their blood felt on his hands. Any risk on that front feels like too much of a risk to take.
It's probably not the best time to hop onto Esquie and head off someplace a little brighter, so Verso raises a finger to Esquie – one moment – before stopping and turning to face Sciel.]
I'm not surprised, I'm...
[Bullheadedly stubborn. Set in ways that have yet to get him anywhere. Afraid of future ghosts. A force of destruction.]
From a different world than you. The people of Lumiere, what did they believe about the Gestrals? The Grandis? How many of them bought into the true story of Old Lumiere, and how many more assumed it had to be something different? Your whole concept of history is built on people believing what makes the most sense to them and dismissing what doesn't.
[He shakes his head, shrugs his hands, looks up at the sky.]
I don't regret not saying anything, because it meant you didn't have to wait around for proof that I'm not on his side.
[Words that come with a pause, a play at a smile, a further softening of his tone even as that latest manipulation of the truth nearly overpowers him with a fresh wave of guilt and self-disgust.]
And in my experience? Seeing things for yourselves is what matters out here. Hearing them, eh, that's hit-and-miss.
[ He's a shade less of Verso tonight, she thinks. Or maybe a shade more. Quieter, more reflective, with a discomfort that's usually not present, or...is otherwise stuffed down deep. There's a brief chuckle from him, sure, but none of the usual quips or over-the-top gestures.
Sciel takes in all of these details: how he says with his body language what he doesn't with his mouth. In the end...it isn't as if she blames him, really, or that she doesn't see where he's coming from. Verso -- and his father -- have been around for decades. Seen more of the world, the Expeditions, and all of the good and bad that life has to offer than anyone.
She lets him speak without interruption, standing not far from him or Esquie. And though her arms are still crossed throughout, she moves them to her sides at the end, sighing. ]
Well...now we've "seen things for ourselves." [ Sciel says, eventually. ] And we've heard what you have to say, which...I do appreciate, by the way. I'm not saying there won't be more questions, [ particularly from Lune, if the pair of them are going to be playing "good Expeditioner, bad Expeditioner" with him ] but...for right now, I'll take your word for it. Okay?
[ It isn't possible or smart to take it all wholesale, but neither does she care to keep him at arm's length, or worse. For one thing, it'd probably make more difficult what Maelle's currently working through, and...for another, there will always be a part of her that has difficulty thinking too ill of someone who's not only helped them get this far, but also who's become one of them.
Her eyes fall on his gifted armband. ]
Do you trust us, Verso? [ Sciel asks finally, her attention moving back to him now. Her posture remains relaxed, but there is something lurking beneath the surface of the question, no matter the lightness of its tone. ] To...really step into this world of yours? With you?
[For right now isn't the most reassuring thing Verso's ever heard, but it could be far, far worse. So, another smile – more a quirk of one side of his mouth than anything – followed by a nod and an okay of his own. Thoughts to continue their journey begin to push to the fore, only to jolt back like startled horses when Sciel circles back to the matter of his trust in them.
Dark and personal it is, then.
Does he trust them? The fact that he has to stop and think – eyes narrowed, tongue pressed up against the back of his teeth – probably makes it clear that his answer is far from an emphatic yes, but it's far from being a no, too. He just needs a moment to figure out where to draw that line and how much to reveal in so doing.
Soon:]
Into the world, of course I trust you. It's your world, too. But into my personal life? That's different.
[Not that he strictly minds talking about his past, because he doesn't. Questions asked in earnest are questions he'll usually at least consider answering without finding them prying. Goodness knows he's followed through on his own bursts of curiosity and asked questions that, in hindsight, veered too personal to be comfortable. It's rather that there are also times when people feel entitled to his past. Times when they expect him to put his life on full display like a history professor lecturing them on someone else's tragedies. Et cetera.
Sciel hasn't yet triggered that defensiveness in him, though, so he doesn't tense up as much as he had earlier with Lune, doesn't let the frustration he feels surface in any perceivable way.]
No one wants to have their worst moments dissected and analysed. So, yeah, I'm a little wary of sharing.
[ That her question gives him pause is actually somehow reassuring, and his answer only serves to further drive that home. So she nods after, but there's also something like a faint smile there (even as her eyes continue to search his face, looking for traces of anything more). ]
Okay. We'll keep the personal questions to our little chats. [ Her tone is largely back to being good-natured, as what she means is that she'll continue ribbing him to earn more tidbits about himself, and what he does or doesn't divulge will be his to control. The matter of Renoir and anything else on that front...can be dealt with other ways. Ideally not as it's happening to them all, but.
"No one wants to have their worst moments dissected and analysed." Her face doesn't betray the unintentional punch to her gut she feels at that, though she does shift her weight from foot to foot, mentally banishing the usual, dark tide from her thoughts. ]
I don't think anybody'd disagree. [ She says lightly, and though she is, of course, some measure of curious about what he'd consider to be his own worst moment, it's from a place of piqued concern for him rather than whether it might come back to bite them in the ass. ] So...truce? We can set all this down for today, rather than bringing it with us?
[ On their excursion, that is. There will inevitably be a return to some or all of the subject when they're back, if only because she knows without a doubt that Lune has no intention of letting it go. ...And if not that, surely Maelle's got questions.
Sciel approaches Esquie and lays a hand on his side, patting affectionately. ]
[That's another reason why he feels so drawn to Sciel; she knows when to poke at him and when to let him exist, and transitions between both with an ease that suggests she'll always meet him where he stands instead of trying to yank him in one direction or another. And for once, he isn't considering these things in the context of his deceptions and his secrets, but rather as a man who has been through a great many extraordinary things and needs to lay them aside, sometimes, on his own terms.
Maybe they're in his world, now – maybe he has long since given up the notion of ever belonging to theirs again – but it's still nice to indulge in their brand of normalcy and pretend that he's just a man who cannot be killed, and not one of the centremost figures in the cycles that have long devastated them. Selfish though that may be and frustrating though it might prove.
So, it's with his own ease that he relaxes his posture, smile shifting into something a little more broad, radiating slightly more comfort. That'll probably revert back to some level of tension or another once they're back at camp, but this temporary reprieve should make it easier for him to navigate whatever will come.]
I appreciate it.
[Genuinely. And, yes, they shall head off. Onto Esquie's back they go, onward to the carousel and its distant ferris wheel. It's cold but a bit more temperate than usual, a small grace in a world that offers precious few. Once they've dismounted and Esquie heads off back to camp, Verso turns towards Sciel and begins walking backwards towards the carousel, arms stretched wide, head canted, most of his dwindled bravado restored.]
Looks like we'll need to get rid of some of that ice before we can ride it, but what do you think?
[The word ride in particular carries a certain excitement, boyish and nostalgic, even if he's only ever rode a carousel as an adult, and more for the entertainment of the kids than anything, though he still enjoyed himself. There was much more to do back then, is all. Things were easier to take for granted.
Anyway, at a distance, the carousel might not look like much, encased as it is in ice and shadowed by the encroaching night. Old cobblestones scatter from its base, and the remnants of other attractions, reduced to near indistinguishable rubble, mark the ground like headstones. Yet up close, the carousel reveals its charm. Capped by the black-and-gold starkness of much of the rest of the world, its two stories of horses are painted in bright colours that haven't lost their lustre to time, each meticulously painted in its own palette.]
Used to be that you'd come here and there'd be kids all over the place. And not only human ones, but Grandis, too. You can probably guess why the hotels were way out of the way.
[They'd taken the laughter of children for granted, too.]
[ He seems to relax a little and she does in turn, letting the tension of the day's events slough off (for now). There will be time enough for that -- it'd be impossible for them to continue on without anyone bringing it up again, considering the magnitude -- but...later. So Sciel follows him onto Esquie's back and onward until the temperature drops and they in turn are dropped off not far from the carousel, their large companion waving goodbye before departing again.
The sight, like the train, is immediately striking. A relic of the past surrounded by twinkling snow and ice, so strange in that it still exists at all. She imagines what it'd looked like, once: full of people (mostly children) laughing and shrieking with joy as they choose their favourite mount and the ride begins. ...Just as endearing is the way that Verso himself reacts, seemingly back to normal as he presents the carousel to her with aplomb. ]
I love it. [ Sciel replies, her usual earnestness clear. ] And we can clear it away, no problem. But...it still works? Really?
[ The train hadn't, of course, so she can be forgiven for any skepticism here. Even so, the hope pervades her expression in the way she sweeps her eyes over the two levels of creatures. The descending night makes it a little more difficult to make out what exactly each of the available seats is meant to be, but she finds herself feeling a little thrill of excitement at the opportunity to examine them all, to ask him about whatever little details she uncovers once she's up close and personal.
As they approach she links her hands behind her back, listening to him recount the ride's history, her smile at once fond and bittersweet. ]
The kids in Lumière would've loved this. [ She sighs, thinking not just of her own students, but of all the rest. They still have their own fun and games in the city, but everyone -- the youth included -- is burdened too soon with their harsh reality. Too many kids have to start their work early, leaving little time for...being kids.
This is what we're fighting for, she reminds herself. ]
Why here? [ She wonders aloud of the carousel, looking up to the top of it as they come to a stop before a particularly large block of ice. ] And...is it the only one?
[Said with a smile that beams into his voice, like the music itself is the appeal. And it is, in a way; while Verso could theoretically return to the carousel anytime he wanted to hear something besides his own music, the experience isn't quite the same when it's just him sat atop a cold metal horse, trying to convince himself that it's possible to enjoy it all alone. So, it's been years since he's heard it play.
Maybe one day, he almost says when she mentions the kids. The part of him that still wishes he could speak such sentiments with honesty would never let him get away with that, even if he's said similar things before. Maybe it's his understanding of how important they are to Sciel that makes it feel like sacrilege. Or the specificity; after all, he can pretend we'll make things right means something different than it does.
So, instead:]
Yeah. It's… unfair. How different their lives are.
[Which might be a bit dreary under the circumstances, but then the point of this excursion isn't to pretend like their circumstances aren't still dire, it's to find the beauty in the world in spite of its ugliness. And they can't do that by covering their eyes or shoving their fingers in their ears when that ugliness rears its head. Still, that doesn't mean they have to dwell. As Verso steadies his stance in front of the worst of the ice, he looks at Sciel over his shoulder with a wistful smile. In theory, her question should be easy to answer; in reality, he isn't sure whether Aline or the real Verso is responsible for the various amusement parks and attractions spread across the Continent, and so the best he can do is hazard a guess.]
It was close enough to Lumiere to make a day trip out of it. There used to be a couple ski resorts nearby, so that might have been part of it too. Send the kids off to play while the adults have their own fun. And the snow was a nice change of pace. We'd get some in Lumiere every now and again, but never like this.
[Again, he speaks with fondness and nostalgia. Of all the stops across the Continent, this one had always been his favourite. For the skiing, yes, but also for how he could warm up on the train ride home and get back in time to spend the night on the harbour, drunk and happy, dragging out those good times for as long as he was able.]
As for the others… they're gone. You might find fragments of them here and there, but most of them got as torn up by the Fracture as everything else. If I had to guess, I'd say the mountains protected this one.
[The details of the Fracture still don't make as much sense as he'd like, a thought which he follows up with a sigh before turning back to the ice encasing the carousel and summoning a pool of light in his hand, though the new gleam in his eye owes to a different source.]
Whoever clears the most ice gets to choose their horse first?
[ "Music and everything." There's a warm chuckle at that, and as she watches him detail the carousel's past...and, relatedly, the past of their wider world. Verso is a rarity by nature of being an immortal and of the vast expanse of knowledge that comes with being afforded so much time to live. And...though those are both extraordinary, Sciel finds the true rarity in him in moments like these, when something like his inner child shines through. There's a vibrancy to him that eludes even the children of Lumière, most of the time, as they're forced to grow up too soon in the shadow of the monolith. The fact that Verso exudes it every once in a while...almost feels like he can reach directly to that past and channel an energy that's otherwise been lost to their world.
It makes her heart stir in that old, dangerous way. This isn't something she's had to deal with...at all, really, since Pierre, but she's still able to gently package up the feeling and set it aside for her to deal with later, in privacy. For now, she merely nods as they express their respective grievances and wishes for the youth of the world today. For their missed opportunities like this and scores of others that had existed not long ago. Sciel looks hard at the carousel, taking in every detail, committing it to memory. ]
S'okay. I'll just have to tell them all about it. And then...we can bring them here. Call it a field trip.
[ Maybe she'd have to actually start making use of her own Expeditioner journal, if only to record all the stories and sights she'd want to share with her kids once they return.
Part of that will be telling them about how fun it all is, though, so she'd better start enjoying it and leave the melancholy at the proverbial door. ]
"While they adults have their own fun?" [ She repeats, freshly grinning. It's clear he means skiing, though, and she's only making brief use of the opportunity he provided to tease him, so she continues: ] Well, you already know how much I'm enjoying the snow. So...the ride is just an added bonus!
[ Briefly, unbidden, she catches a flash of movement on the carousel: phantom figures of a man lifting a little girl onto a horse. A scene that isn't really there, and which can never be. Her lips part in surprise, but she's quick to recover (she has to be), approaching one of the blocks of ice as Verso issues the challenge, drawing a similar burst of energy into her palm where it sizzles, awaiting the start of their game.
The ghosts are gone as quickly as they'd come. ]
You've got it. [ Sciel replies, smirking competitively as the heartache ebbs. ] Ready...allons-y!
[ And she's off like a shot, making use of her usual agility and flexibility to dance across the carousel, freeing it of as much ice as she can get to before Verso. ]
[Once upon a time, Sciel tried to tease Gustave about the Ferris wheel, and that man was having none of it. Now upon this time, Verso laughs as she holds that double meaning up to him, halving a shrug and casting his focus up the side of the the mountains, where he remembers there being a ski lift because if the people of Lumiere can have anachronistic airships, they can have anachronistic ski lifts, too. A laugh, then:]
Let's just say that the lifts took about 10, 15 minutes to get us up to the top. Sometimes longer if something was caught up in the gears. So...
[It wasn't unheard of for people to find their own added bonuses up there in the open sky. But those lifts are long gone, and Verso's distracted enough by the prospect of showing Sciel the carousel that there's no knocking him off course.
Well, almost, anyway; caught up in that slight parting of her lips and the soft curiosity it inspires, he lags behind as she shoots ahead. A disadvantage in those first few moments when he's still grappling with the inevitability of his loss, but not so much of one as he stands back and watches her move around the carousel, all light and grace and vitality, still a sight that knocks his fool-ass heart off course.
And gosh, how he could stay there and just watch until she's done, were it not for his equally pressing desire to avoid the impression that he set up the challenge to make her do all the work. So, he does catch up, mostly by clearing away the ice on the upper section, though he stops again once he notices she's down to the last clump, if only so he can be nearby to see how she reacts when the carousel springs to life.
Were he more sure of himself, he might have made a comment about how he still wins. Something spoken in a low and rumbling purr of contentment, something that says coming here has already proven more than worth it to him. Alas, he's a tangled mess of messiness, so he tries to be witty instead.]
Hold on, let me lure over a Stalact to freeze it back up. We'll make it a best two out of three.
[But then he's holding his hands up in a gesture of you win, quickly followed by a burst of light that he directs towards the control panel. That last bit of ice falls away and after a moment, the music starts to play, and the carousel starts to spin, and Verso can't hold back the dumb smile that stretches across his face.
He can't resist the opportunity for some bravado, either. One arm behind his back, opposite hand fluttering forward towards the carousel. A slight bow that he can't commit to because looking away from Sciel is out of the question.]
Votre carrousel est avance, mademoiselle.
[For now, the lights are still off, the movement still slow. Another shot of chroma to the control panel will fix that right up, but all in due time.]
[ Sciel, meanwhile, is a rocket of single-minded determination. She'd lost piquet to him, after all, and has every intention of evening the score with this most recent challenge. So the lithe Expeditioner shoots around the carousel as if it's just another battlefield, vaulting over the horses themselves when need be to aim and launch a chroma-infused card from between her fingers, or to merely burst the ice apart herself with a flash from her hand. By the time she can't spot any more of the disruptive masses, she's grinning broadly and straightening up with her breaths visible as little puffs in the frosty air. ]
So? [ She prompts good-naturedly, once she spots Verso again. He makes it clear, with his joke, that she'd won their little duel, and she brightens further (though she does also incline her head a little in admission of a contest well fought). ]
You can joke, but I could do this all day. [ It's earnest, of course: between the novelty of the scene, the thrill of the challenge, and the pleasure of his company, well...she's been put through much, much worse than continuing to compete with him for rite of first horse selection.
All thought of going another round melts away as the last of the ice does, with Verso's penultimate flash of chroma and the resulting movement of the carousel. Sciel is visibly surprised only briefly before it transforms wholesale into budding glee, her bright eyes now sweeping the options around them to select her prize. ]
Oh! I... [ Her heart, even, has begun to beat with more intensity as she glances around, spurred on by the slow movement and the building music. There's no real rush, but the child in Sciel herself doesn't want to miss a second of the ride once it really starts up, so she moves between the horses. There are so many to choose from, each unique and beautiful as if they'd all been real animals that'd simply come to rest here. She sweeps her gaze over them all with wonder, fingers trailing along some of the painted manes and saddles, eventually ascending to the second level to get eyes on all options.
As the cheerful music drones on and the horses slowly go 'round, she stops in front of one and lays a hand on its back, considering. The horse is white and brown -- a pinto colouration -- with one hoof raised before it. The adornments aren't the flashiest of all the carousel's options, trending almost practical by comparison as all it boasts are an emerald green saddle with a matching blanket beneath, a checkered scarf around its neck, and snowdrops threaded into its mane. Sciel looks up into its glassy face a moment before seeming to decide, swinging herself up and onto its back, wrapping an arm around the pole that stabilizes it while craning her neck to see out Verso. ]
I've got mine! [ She'll call down, if he hasn't moved. The assumption is, naturally, that he'll come up with her so she can take in more of that scarce joy he exudes in this place...and if he doesn't, she'll just pop down and compel him to join her. ]
[Again, Verso watches rather than acts, leaning up against one of the horses on the lower level as Sciel moves among the others, captivated by the wonder in her eyes, by the movements of her hands, by the way the music seems to move with her. Being at the carousel has never felt more dangerous; it's never brought him a greater sense of peace than this. Which says a lot in this moment, barely removed as is it from the tensions stretching all the way from camp to Old Lumiere, but which isn't surprising, either. Sciel has that effect on him, too.
Up the stairs she goes. He doesn't follow, if only because he won't be able to reach the control panel from up there, but he does move to the base of the stairs, hands resting on either end of the banister. The way she gravitates towards one of the more ordinary horses also catches his interest, how she looks it in the face before deciding, how she looks for him moments afterward.]
Perfect. Give me one second, and I'll join you.
[Or several seconds, anyway, as he ends up having to wait until the platform spins back to where the control panel sits on the central wall. Once it's close enough, he shoots a few targeted beams of chroma its way, rushing up the stairs as he does. The lights turn on one by one, each a different colour, and the music transitions into something brighter and snappier, matching the increasing pace of the horses. Verso doesn't bother putting any consideration into his own choice of horse; that decision was made for him when Sciel chose her own, and so he takes the one closest by her side, hopping onto it from behind like a cowboy mounting his galloping steed. Which isn't too far off the mark, considering the speeds the carousel is reaching.
He laughs a bit once he lands, letting the ride take centre focus for a couple of rotations before looking over to Sciel, eyes catching the light, smiling at her as if he isn't a man bearing the weight of decades worth of burdens.]
Great choice by the way. Look at that view.
[White mountains and snow-capped trees, fields of stars poking through the valleys between peaks. The light from the carousel spills colour across the ground, stretched out like a starburst, muted by the night and glittered by the snow.]
I'm curious, though. What was it about that horse that won you over?
[ The sound of a few shots of chroma rings out, and then...it begins. A gradual onset of lights, iridescent and flashing, and Sciel's heart rate immediately quickens with anticipation. It's like...not much else she's seen, really. Maybe most similar to some of the displays they put on back home, using pictos to shoot off bursts of light into the air, or otherwise whatever small fireworks displays they could muster up. But as the lights of the carousel illuminate the surrounding area, its music increasing in volume and speed, drowning out anything but the here and now...
The brilliant sweep of stars overhead makes her think of her dad, The vast expanse of glittering snow makes her think of Pierre. And Sciel knows, without a doubt, that this will be something etched into her soul forever: a moment that makes her feel the kind of hope often lost past childhood.
She glances back to the person who'd given her this gift, beaming. ]
It's... [ Indescribable, really. He'd have been hard-pressed to top the sight from the top of the mountain, when he'd brought them to the train, but he's managed it. Sciel turns back to look out, pressing her face to the metal of the pole as she watches the world spin by in a glowing blur. ] ...Thank you.
[ She feels weightless. That's what it is. And though she's already one of the more upbeat and unbothered members of the Disaster Expedition, they routinely see and experience things that would bring down even the most resilient of spirits. Riding this artifact from an age gone by in the midst of a stunningly beautiful part of the world that almost no one gets to see makes her feel, now more than ever, like all the tragedy has just...melted away. Like...it can really just be okay, genuinely.
Verso's question draws her out of her reverie and Sciel turns again, brows lifting. ]
Hmm? Oh... [ There's a thoughtful hum as she reaches out, running her hand over the carved mane, leaning forward to look again into its frozen face. ] I'm...not sure, really. Just a feeling. [ Is it the simple charm of its design? The fact that its spots almost make it look like a cow? Something in its expression? Eventually, having come up with no satisfying answer, the Expeditioner leans back again to meet his eyes and shrugs. ] Yeah. I know that's not very interesting, but...sometimes you do just have to go with your gut, right?
[ This is a thing she often does, for better or worse, but...in this case, it'd been harmless. ]
Did you have a favourite? [ Since she's assuming the one he'd chosen today had been due to its proximity, and not because she'd happened to select one near his preferred horse from the past by kismet. ]
[A pattern continues to emerge: the world offers something fun and spectacular and majestic, and Verso goes back on all that he's said about the beauty of the world and the importance of taking it all in, ignoring it all in favour of watching Sciel lose herself to the moment. The music rings loud and the lights shine brightly, but there's a quietude about it all, the kind of peace that can only exist when distractions collide just so, and the world shrinks down to a sequence of moments.
It has been a very, very long time since he's wanted tomorrow to come, but, fuck, the thought of it coming now breaks his heart in ways that it rarely does. Sciel deserves more than one night on a carousel. The 33s deserve more than to be marched to their erasures one way or another. The children of Lumiere deserve better than to be forced to start growing up at six. And the others shouldn't have to live to die, burdened by the knowledge that humanity's reaching its final generation.
So, he won't squander it by letting that darkness draw him back inside of himself. Instead, he quietly accepts that the mystery of the brown-and-white pinto will remain as such, another quirk of her seemingly effortless embrace of freedom, which makes for a better story, anyway.
One that he can't match with any mystery of his own. Craning himself over the horse he's currently riding – not dissimilar to Sciel's except that it's black and white and accented by a buttery yellow – he spots his favoured one just up ahead and gestures in its direction. The horse itself has the deep, variegated gray of unpainted metal, but its mane and its tail and its accessories have a sweetly soft palette, their patterns defined by pinwheels, their aesthetic a visual sugar rush. Imperfect. Uncontrolled. Rebellious, in a way, against the black-and-gold of the rest of the world.]
Over there. That's Sucrerie von Bonbon.
[Look at that stealth German. Verso has never really thought about where it came from, only that the word von occurred to him and he liked the way it sounded.
What he doesn't say is that it reminds him of Alicia. How she'd picked it out for him the first time they rode together – truly rode together as living, breathing people and not as a hodgepodge of painted-over memories that they never experienced. He'd moved out the year prior and often wondered how much of an effect it was having on his relationship with his ever-reclusive little sister, but things had felt okay in that moment, and they still do whenever he sits atop that ridiculous horse and thinks about the first time.
Instead:]
She... reminds me of a different time. I mean, they all do, but her more than the others.
[ He points out the other horse and she almost immediately slips off her own, moving between the other mounts as they rise and fall to the music until she's standing in front of Sucrerie von Bonbon. Sciel doesn't climb onto its back, though she does circle it, taking in all the little details and boasting an ever-expanding grin. ]
It suits you. [ She decides, once she's finished her visual inspection, returning to the pinto and hopping onto it again. It wouldn't make sense if you only had a surface-level impression of Verso, but...in his choice, she sees the bursts of whimsy he's let peek through on the train, and here. She sees the love of absinthe, of late nights full of music, of the way he fights with a reckless streak that puts himself in danger without concern.
That's her read, anyway. But the way he presents it conjures more questions, and Sciel tilts her head at him as she wraps an arm around the golden, braided pole of her horse. ]
Why more than the others? [ She asks curiously. It's easy enough to understand the first bit, considering the whole carousel is a relic of a past that will never exist again for as long as the Paintress breathes. ] Something about the...lost innocence of youth?
[ Her smile quirks sideways, half-joking. That seems a little too obvious to be the reason, and besides: there are a score of other horses of a similar-enough ilk, boasting candy and bright colours in their designs. ]
Does this one have a name? [ She adds before he can answer her first question, laying a hand on her own steed's painted head. Maybe he, or the children, had come up with names and stories for all of the horses in the past? ]
[There's definitely a pattern afoot: where Sciel moves, Verso observes, oddly fascinated by how she studies Sucrerie for how it causes his heart to roll about like a dumb, happy cat in a sunbeam, aware of its transience and yet convincing itself like it might still be there, keeping him warm and cosy, when it wakes however long later.
As they'd established earlier, he's used to people being interested in him. It's part and parcel of being a mysterious and immortal stranger. This softer kind of interest, though, where he gets to watch her take in the finer details of a carousel horse simply because he's named it as his favourite – that's different, and he knows it's not the cold that has him feeling chills when she returns to her horse to ask her questions.
Why indeed. Still torn on whether he should broach the subject of Alicia himself or wait for the likely inevitability of one of the 33s piecing together the clues, he searches his thoughts for an alternative, knowing better, at least, than to pretend it really is about lost innocence.]
Someone I cared about chose it for me. [Is the answer he settles on, in the end.] So, it makes me think of the time we spent together before everything went to hell.
[Before she knew the truth about the fire and the nature of her existence; before Verso and Renoir's lies had driven them, blood-stained, away from one Lumiere and into the skeleton of the other. A time when Verso loved her more than he hated himself and when the two of them didn't feed each other's guilt through the simple osmosis of nearness.
Fortunately, he has another question to answer instead of delving into those depths, and so he breathes some of the tension in his chest away as if it can be that easy, and takes his own moment to contemplate Sciel's horse, though it's not necessary.]
Nah, only Sucrerie does. [At least as far as he knows. If the children who once played here had named them, those names are as lost to time as the memories of them are.] Which means... You should give it one.
[ His answer is neither strange nor suspicious; after all, he's lived a long time and has had dozens of people move through the space of his life. So while she has no drive to press him about it, she does have a curiosity about it that is both natural to her and encouraged by the time she's spent in his company. ]
Would you tell me about them? [ Whoever they may be, who'd clearly known Verso well, she assumes, to have chosen a horse for him that seems so apt. ] However much you want, or don't want.
[ After all, it's already been a long day of people (herself included) trying to get answers and personal information out of him, so...if he isn't inclined to share, she won't pursue it.
In the meantime, she has a task. Though it really isn't long after he sets it for her that her lips part almost knowingly, eyes trailing from the horse beneath her out across the scintillating landscape that surrounds them. ]
Pierre. [ Sciel announces, and her voice holds the name like you would a kitten or an infant: with a gentle, inherent love. ] ...I told you my husband loved the idea of snow? I...really like the idea that he could...be here. To be surrounded by all this, to...get to see it every day. It makes me really happy, imagining it.
[ He's gone, but...who knows. Maybe bestowing his name upon the lovely, warm horse that had caught her eye could somehow -- in some mystical, unknowable way -- share this fragment of her life with him, even now. Her lips press together in a smile that twists only briefly in the reopening of her old wounds, but the moment is primarily, as she'd said, a happy one. This is...a way she can keep him alive.
Sciel turns back to look at Verso, head resting against the hands she has wrapped along the pole. ]
Part of me wishes we didn't have to move on so soon. I think I could spend a lot more time out here.
[ But they still have a mission: one more important than any whimsical inclinations. The Axons await, and as far as she knows, neither possible island is snowy like this.
Fortunately, at least, this night is far from over. The music carries on, the lights continue to flash, and she lets herself sink more fully into the moment, exhaling in another visible puff.
[That really is the question: would he? If he wants to be pragmatic, he probably should; making it through the Renoir-is-my-father reveal reasonably unscathed was a fortunate turn of events. It could have gone worse. It has gone worse. Maybe that isn't a fate he should stop tempting, at least when it comes to the other remaining survivor.
Besides, he can trust Sciel. Even if she doesn't like the implications, he can still believe that she'll hear him out. So:]
My little sister, Alicia. She... [A pause while he debates tense, then a sigh as he makes his decision.] She hasn't had the easiest life, so she can be quiet and withdrawn. Really liked to read and write so when I did manage to convince her to come out here with me, she usually spent a lot of time with her nose in a book. Not that I minded, it's just...
[It made him sad. The loss of her voice and they way she wore a mask. How she wore her hair to cover her missing eye. The utter silence of a voice he was always so happy to listen to, no matter the topic, even if she was telling him all the ways his poetry needed improvement. Sometimes especially then.]
When she did come out of her shell, those were some of my favourite moments.
[Distinctly, he remembers how it felt to hear that rasp of a laugh when he'd hopped on Sucrerie, quickly displaced by embarrassment once he started hamming it up. She'd written a poem for him afterwards that he still keeps on him, tucked safely into his pictos space where it'll always be there for him when he reaches for it.
It's not comparable to what Sciel has going on with the memory of her husband, he knows, but the way his heart both blooms and aches over his memories of Alicia isn't dissimilar to how it swells and twinges as Pierre is given his name and a restored presence in the world. He lets the thought exist in silence for a moment, not wanting to rush into his own words while Sciel's still hang in the air like welcomed ghosts. What a beautiful sentiment. What a perfect way to memorialise the lost.
Without too much of a delay, though:]
I like that. A lot.
[There is much more he can say, but he doesn't want to overstep by trying to be deep or insightful over something he's missing the most important details on. And while he could take this moment to ask her more, he holds off at least for now, following her spirit of not wanting to move on too soon by keeping them in place for at least a bit longer.]
But what's a teacher without their students, right? Did he have any favourites who can keep him company?
[ Alicia. Sciel thinks back, of course, to the last bits of the moment they'd caught in the heart of Old Lumiére: Renoir and the pair behind him standing just beyond the threshold of the manor.
There are a lot of questions she could ask, but what she gives voice to is: ] And...her coming to the carousel, picking out a horse for you...that was a win. [ No wonder it's special. Sciel is an only child, but that doesn't mean she can't understand those bonds. ] I'm sure she loved spending that time together.
[ Even if it might not be his sister's natural inclination, reserved as she allegedly is. Sciel has taught students like that, and there's no magic formula to get all of them to open up. Kids are individuals like anyone else, and finding those little niches that help them to flourish can be difficult, but so, so rewarding.
That's true of adults too, of course. ]
And she's obviously got great taste. [ Sciel adds, nodding toward Sucrerie.
The conversation then turns toward her own horse as she imbues the inanimate creature with her intentions for someone loved and lost. Sciel offers a little smile as he affirms the sentiment, but it's what he says next that snags that smile.
There's a long moment when she looks back at him with a largely inscrutable expression. Because...it's so goddamn sweet. Unexpectedly so: not because it'd come from him, but because it's just not something most people would think to suggest. It isn't a reaction of sympathy or discomfort, both of which she's learned to shrug away like water off a duck, but rather a follow-up that engages directly and unflinchingly with a difficult sentiment. And not just a difficult one, but...one that is more important to her than almost anything.
That stretch of silence hangs, with her looking back at Verso surprised, overwhelmed, and grateful. ...Eventually, she gently shakes herself free from the heart-swelling feeling and looks away, though it's still with a big smile that she's unable, unwilling, to dim. ]
Yeah. 'Course he did. [ She breathes, glancing around at the surrounding horses. ] Great idea, Verso.
[ And, naturally, she hops off her own mount again to wander the surrounding rows, albeit without moving out of eyeshot of her companion. Sciel again looks them up and down, peering into their faces, before returning to hop on the newly-dubbed Pierre's back. ]
Right. There were five I was always hearing about. [ At which point she leans in toward him so she can point out the ones she'd chosen. ] That one...three ahead of you, that's Jean. Two in front of mine's Germaine, and the one to her right is Louise. Then...right behind ours are René and Emile.
[ The horses she describes all vary in appearance and pose, ranging from white and pretty with a braided mane to speckled gray with a bubble-like design on its saddle to everything in between. The two she'd mentioned last rise and fall behind them, heads positioned in such a way that you could say are meant to appear as though they aren't eyeing the horses in front of them, though they absolutely are. ]
They're a pair of troublemakers, so watch your back. [ Sciel leans in farther to whisper conspiratorially. ]
[That it's a win, mainly; Verso would very much like to hope that she loved those short years they'd spent in blissful ignorance, but time has coloured his perception and understanding of his relationship with his sister, and the way she does things like going from helping him in one moment to making a show of how she's chosen their mother in the next doesn't only confuse their present and future. It leaves him wondering more than he'd like about the past as well, how he's coloured his memories, how she's shaded her own. So, he only offers Sciel a smile at the good taste comment before shifting his focus back to Sucrerie for a moment, giving her a mental scritch under her chin.
When he looks back amid a descending silence and meets Sciel's steady gaze, there's a part of him that wants to look away, a little worried that he's gone and engaged in his least favourite yet arguably most revisited hobby: inserting his foot squarely in his mouth. But the more she looks, the less possible that feels, and so his expression softens, and he relaxes against his horse, letting the loop of his arm around the pole keep him steady as he leans back a little, curious but patient.
Then, it's once again his turn – a turn no less gladly taken than the others – to watch her as she moves between the horses. It would have been easy for her to go with the practicality of proximity, but she views them with the same care with which she found herself choosing Pierre-the-Horse, and something about that intrigues and impresses and warms him. There's just so much life about her, an effortless compassion for things that others might consider inconsequential or irrelevant in the face of everything else, but that she makes the time for, every time.
He can't possibly know why she chose each horse for each child, but still he tries picturing it. Is the pretty white one for a budding fashionist? The bubbly one for a giggly child whose effervescence was contagious? It's been decades since he's been around children in any meaningful way, but he can almost feel their presence on the carousel, laughter mingling with the creaking gears and booming music, not like before but... today's children. Whoever little Jean and Germaine and Louise and Rene and Emile have become over the years, teenagers who may have otherwise outgrown such attractions, perhaps, and yet who might embrace it with the same whimsy and wonder as Sciel does.]
I'm pleased to make their acquaintances.
[Her last comment draws a laugh from him, and he lets his focus linger on those two mischievous horses for a moment before raising his hands and turning his back to them.]
Hey. Far be it from me to discourage troublemaking.
[The matter of which Axon to take down first aside, anyway.]
Speaking of... You ready to head on up and see the stars? Used to be a time-honoured tradition, you know. We'd sneak up there after the park closed and the night staff were off on the last train into Lumiere. Bring a few bottles of wine, tell our worst stories. Try to wake up before the morning staff arrived with, uh, varying degrees of success. Though that last one was only on the warmer nights. The frostbite would've given us away.
[ Those students had become her students, and Verso isn't far off the mark with his assessment of how the horses might relate back to their namesakes. Louise is a sweet thing with a propensity for the more traditionally-feminine, though also with a fierce attitude that might be unexpected if judging her on appearances alone. Germaine has a bubbly personality, true, but also a hyperfixation on the nautical (to his maîtresse's mild chagrin) that he'd gush about at any possible opportunity. Jean, the first she'd called out, is quiet and thoughtful, but beautifully imaginative: his horse is one of the more colourful ones, spattered with starbursts and clouds and things, and not too dissimilar from Verso's own favourite. ]
Right...guess that'd be a bit hypocritical. [ Considering Verso can be, as she might say if referring to one of her more troublesome students, a bit of a stinker. Or maybe it's because of his recklessness, or because of the past he's shared wherein he'd somewhat gone against familial expectations to do things like spend a night drinking absinthe in the city. He knows how to get himself into trouble, or better or worse.
A next natural thought: how has her understanding of those familial expectations changed with the knowledge that Renoir is his father? Sciel almost sighs but doesn't, though she is able to gently shunt the train of thought for another time.
Besides, they've got another item on the agenda. It won't surprise him to see the question spark fresh light in her eyes, knowing what he does about her inclination toward the stars. ]
Well, unless you've got a secret stash of wine, then all we've got are our worst stories. [ Verso may be relieved that she continues, though it's as much for the benefit of her secrets as his: ] ...But I think you've probably given your share of those today already.
[ The idea of spending the night here makes her shiver, because though the coats keep them from outright freezing, the temperature is still deeply, bone-chillingly low. ]
We also don't have the blanket and tea you mentioned before. [ She hums mournfully, slipping for a final time off horse-Pierre's back and waiting for Verso to lead the way to the roof. ] Think we can still get our fill of the sights without freezing?
[ It's teasing, but surprisingly not with any twinge of innuendo in spite of the low-hanging fruit available. Really, she just looks eager to get up there and see it, knowing that her experience stargazing in Lumiére and then even in their time on the Continent since then won't be able to compare to what's waiting for them just above. ]
[Alas; while he does have a secret stash of wine, he's more elusive about that than he is about himself, and so a soft laugh and an honest-ringing lie:]
Fresh out of wine stashes, unfortunately.
[And blankets and tea, but he can compensate for the former at least a little bit. A nod of thanks for the break she offers, and then he's leaping off the horse like a daredevil in a circus, landing with a ridiculous flourish as if he's dismounted something far more dangerous than a children's ride. Then, he throws his thumb over his shoulder and starts walking backwards towards the stairs.]
But there is something I can do to make things warmer. Just give me another second, yeah? Oh, and brace yourself. Ride's about to get bumpy.
[Down the stairs he goes, back to the control panel. This time, he uses his hands and not his chroma, wanting to fine-tune the controls. Music down to a murmur. Speed of the carousel slowed. Rise and fall of the horses at a higher frequency to compensate. The gears groan before obeying and slipping into a low murmur that fades behind what's left of the music, but Verso pays no mind to their complaints; chroma's always worked differently, often an imitation of industry rather than a precise replication of it, and he's sure that no ill will come of the carousel. He'd have left it alone, otherwise, finding it far too important to lose any part of.
Once upstairs again, he summons his blade and starts prodding at part of the roof.]
Almost ready.
[Eventually, the sound of a latch loosening gently clangs, followed by something a little more screeching as Verso lifts himself up to pull down an access ladder. Which he holds steady for Sciel to climb up, following afterwards.
There'd been near to no snow on the roof, so there's no meltwater – a small blessing considering that Verso was too scattered by the day's events to have brought anything to compensate for it. Instead, a warmth emanating from the main gears, the ambient temperature still a little cool but the metal roof panels are pleasantly warm. The slope is perfect for relaxing, the lip around the edge deceptively high. Safe. Almost comfortable. They'd have to try to fall off, even with the roof spinning.
[ Verso withdraws to operate the carousel in his mysterious ways and so Sciel waits, casting her eyes out across the frozen landscape while she still can. She still clasps the golden pole of her horse, bracing herself a bit at Verso's warning, but her attention is very much elsewhere. Even as the cheerful sound of the music dims, the overall speed of the ride diminishing as the horses themselves pick up the pace, Sciel just holds on and watches the world turn.
Unlike Lune and Maelle, and Gustave before them, Sciel hasn't been writing in her journal. It's almost certainly breaking some protocol, but every time she'd pulled it out it'd ended with the same suite of pristine pages. This had come after the incident at the beach, of course, and after she'd found herself in Gestral Village with no clear return path to their mission in sight. She'd never had aspirations to soldier on alone, to somehow represent the 33s in a successful one-woman war against the Paintress when all of her friends and fellows had been slaughtered. No: she'd put every waking moment either training or fighting, trying to keep her body occupied long enough for it to Gommage. And so...she certainly hadn't been journaling then.
After, when the others had found her and their journey was again a semi-realistic endeavor, was when she'd found herself staring down those empty lines. Whether she'd been surrounded by the scratch of the others' implements or in complete silence, whether they'd had a surprisingly unremarkable day or had seen no less than a dozen wonders of the Continent, none of it had managed to produce any written reflection. She hadn't really been sure why and didn't feel the need to examine it too closely on those occasions, but: right now, looking out at the rise and fall of mountains, the ethereal sweep of snow, the spectrum of lights strew across it all like gemstones...
Maybe I'll write about this one, she thinks, smiling out at it all.
Before long Verso gives her the heads up that his task is almost complete and so she turns, releasing Pierre and moving closer to the stairs in the middle, waiting. She doesn't have to stand idle much as he pulls down the ladder and gestures for her to ascend, which she does with a little 'merci' before climbing to reach the roof. ]
No, this is perfect. [ She assures him once she reaches the top, getting her bearings. Notably, though, Sciel avoids looking directly up, as if she's holding off. Instead, she casts her attention his way again, asking: ] Anywhere in particular we should go?
[As soon as Sciel asks where they should go, Verso is heading off in that direction, stopping about a quarter of the way around where the decor along the rim is less obtrusive, the panel and the air just a touch warmer.]
Yeah. Right here.
[This part of the roof is more worn than the rest, black paint missing in places, metal beneath it polished to a shine from use. There are chips and scrapes along the paint in places where buckles have banged up against them, or where someone might have placed a sword. Even a couple well-weathered corks are scattered near the rim, relics from a time when Verso still had what felt like an abundance of wine. Sheepishly, he kicks them off to the side before using his sleeve to wipe off one of the panels. There's barely anything there – the snow keeps things reasonably clean – but it feels like the proper thing to do, and some of his rich-boy-from-a-powerful-family instincts still overpower his forestman side every now and again. Particularly when the company is so pleasant that it restores him to something almost ordinary.
A look at his sleeve and a dusting off of both sleeves together before he steps aside and gestures for her to sit down and get comfortable.]
So.
[So. He knows what he wants to say, but needs a moment. There's something almost shy about him in the silence, written in the soft curve of his shoulders, in way his lips curl into a barely there smile that exists of its own volition. The way he crosses his arms over his chest is also more reflexive than intentional, but he remains in place otherwise, keeping a gentle focus on Sciel.]
I, uh, brought you something.
[And of course he's going to be mysterious about what, letting an impish gleam shine in his eyes as some of the shyness abates now that the relatively hard part's over with. Back before the Fracture, he'd always liked giving people gifts, little trinkets that reminded him of them, or pastries from the boulangerie that tasted particularly good, or songs he composed. Anything for a smile. That stopped a very, very long time ago – he never really got to know any of the Expeditioners well enough to understand what they might like, and he found it easier to try and lighten their spirits through other means, anyway – but now...
Well, now he thinks he might have an idea.]
Do you want it now, or would you like to spend some time with the stars first?
[ Sciel hardly seems to notice the panels or whatever bits of trash remain after decades of his making use of this space. Once she's up there, and as she continues to wait for any direction he has to offer, she's got her focus out on the snow that surrounds them again, breathing deep of air so cold it almost burns her nose. When he clears off a spot for her and indicates she should settle in, Sciel returns her attention, her little smile, to Verso and just does that: sitting down on the roof, immediately exhaling as she finds it surprisingly warm beneath her.
Speaking of surprises: ]
Do you? [ Sciel briefly considers the possible joke -- that it's a wonder he has any surprises left, after what had happened -- but immediately dismisses it. They've left the events of Old Lumiére behind in camp, after all.
It's probably not a good idea, letting herself think of these excursions as if they exist outside of the harshness of their reality. After all, she'd told Lune that part of this was going to be her trying to (gently!) get more information about what they'd learned today. But...she takes in the little cues of something like bashfulness in his bearing, and...well, she has absolutely no desire to rend that asunder. So: her lips come together in a tight, fond grin as she peers up at him and considers the order of things. ]
...Let's have it now. [ Sciel decides after a moment, still not having turned her eyes skyward to take in the main event. ] They'll still be there in a bit, yeah? And now that you've told me, I'm very curious.
[ It'd be a shame if her attention was divided during any part of the evening, right? Though of course, with no idea what he's prepared, it's hard to say the surprise won't still be on her mind when they finally do lie back and, as he'd said, "spend some time with the stars."
So she shifts, propping up a knee and searching his face with a gentle curiosity for anything that might give it away. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
no subject
She can't help but smile a little, even under the strained circumstances. ]
I was going to wait at least twenty minutes before saying anything... [ It's clear, though, that he's feeling...if not a compulsion from within, then an external push to justify his actions, even though he'd been so quick to decry his need to explain when they'd returned to camp. Sciel turns her eyes on him in her usual, scrutinizing way, though her expression is soft. Uneasy, maybe, but soft. ]
I believe you. [ She says, and mostly means it. If nothing else, it seems like he wants it to be true, so...maybe it is. ] But, Verso...you know what we've been through. What he's done. It can't be a surprise that we'd...struggle, learning you're related the way we did.
[ There's no need to beat a dead horse. Verso hadn't seen the slaughter at the beach or Gustave's murder, but she knows he's witnessed enough death and other nightmares across the Continent to imagine the scenes. The traumatic impact those events have had on the three survivors.
Sciel sighs, crossing her arms. ]
...Look. We've all got...things we haven't told each other. That's okay. Just...maybe find a way to share some of the ones that might become relevant?
[ It's hard to say, of course, what would've happened had he told them the news when they'd first met. Sciel can't, in complete honestly, tell herself they'd all have been able to overlook it when the wounds were so keen.
Still. She thinks of all the questions yet unanswered (some very pressing, like his referring to Maelle and the masked girl as Alicia). Of how the way he'd screamed in frustration after the manor disappeared had seemed some of the most genuine, raw emotion he'd displayed since meeting him.
Sciel continues to look at him, her face uncharacteristically unreadable. ]
I meant what I said, too. We need to trust each other. It's got to go both ways.
no subject
As for what follows, though...
He used to tell people. Obviously, since Sciel and Lune found out through the 58s' journal. But the word father started tasting bitter on his tongue and ringing sour in the expeditioners' ears, and, well. Maybe it's been nearly seventy years since learning a fragment of the truth inspired Search & Rescue to turn against him, but he can still feel the barbs of their words and their blades in his heart; he has not forgotten how their blood felt on his hands. Any risk on that front feels like too much of a risk to take.
It's probably not the best time to hop onto Esquie and head off someplace a little brighter, so Verso raises a finger to Esquie – one moment – before stopping and turning to face Sciel.]
I'm not surprised, I'm...
[Bullheadedly stubborn. Set in ways that have yet to get him anywhere. Afraid of future ghosts. A force of destruction.]
From a different world than you. The people of Lumiere, what did they believe about the Gestrals? The Grandis? How many of them bought into the true story of Old Lumiere, and how many more assumed it had to be something different? Your whole concept of history is built on people believing what makes the most sense to them and dismissing what doesn't.
[He shakes his head, shrugs his hands, looks up at the sky.]
I don't regret not saying anything, because it meant you didn't have to wait around for proof that I'm not on his side.
[Words that come with a pause, a play at a smile, a further softening of his tone even as that latest manipulation of the truth nearly overpowers him with a fresh wave of guilt and self-disgust.]
And in my experience? Seeing things for yourselves is what matters out here. Hearing them, eh, that's hit-and-miss.
no subject
Sciel takes in all of these details: how he says with his body language what he doesn't with his mouth. In the end...it isn't as if she blames him, really, or that she doesn't see where he's coming from. Verso -- and his father -- have been around for decades. Seen more of the world, the Expeditions, and all of the good and bad that life has to offer than anyone.
She lets him speak without interruption, standing not far from him or Esquie. And though her arms are still crossed throughout, she moves them to her sides at the end, sighing. ]
Well...now we've "seen things for ourselves." [ Sciel says, eventually. ] And we've heard what you have to say, which...I do appreciate, by the way. I'm not saying there won't be more questions, [ particularly from Lune, if the pair of them are going to be playing "good Expeditioner, bad Expeditioner" with him ] but...for right now, I'll take your word for it. Okay?
[ It isn't possible or smart to take it all wholesale, but neither does she care to keep him at arm's length, or worse. For one thing, it'd probably make more difficult what Maelle's currently working through, and...for another, there will always be a part of her that has difficulty thinking too ill of someone who's not only helped them get this far, but also who's become one of them.
Her eyes fall on his gifted armband. ]
Do you trust us, Verso? [ Sciel asks finally, her attention moving back to him now. Her posture remains relaxed, but there is something lurking beneath the surface of the question, no matter the lightness of its tone. ] To...really step into this world of yours? With you?
no subject
Dark and personal it is, then.
Does he trust them? The fact that he has to stop and think – eyes narrowed, tongue pressed up against the back of his teeth – probably makes it clear that his answer is far from an emphatic yes, but it's far from being a no, too. He just needs a moment to figure out where to draw that line and how much to reveal in so doing.
Soon:]
Into the world, of course I trust you. It's your world, too. But into my personal life? That's different.
[Not that he strictly minds talking about his past, because he doesn't. Questions asked in earnest are questions he'll usually at least consider answering without finding them prying. Goodness knows he's followed through on his own bursts of curiosity and asked questions that, in hindsight, veered too personal to be comfortable. It's rather that there are also times when people feel entitled to his past. Times when they expect him to put his life on full display like a history professor lecturing them on someone else's tragedies. Et cetera.
Sciel hasn't yet triggered that defensiveness in him, though, so he doesn't tense up as much as he had earlier with Lune, doesn't let the frustration he feels surface in any perceivable way.]
No one wants to have their worst moments dissected and analysed. So, yeah, I'm a little wary of sharing.
no subject
Okay. We'll keep the personal questions to our little chats. [ Her tone is largely back to being good-natured, as what she means is that she'll continue ribbing him to earn more tidbits about himself, and what he does or doesn't divulge will be his to control. The matter of Renoir and anything else on that front...can be dealt with other ways. Ideally not as it's happening to them all, but.
"No one wants to have their worst moments dissected and analysed." Her face doesn't betray the unintentional punch to her gut she feels at that, though she does shift her weight from foot to foot, mentally banishing the usual, dark tide from her thoughts. ]
I don't think anybody'd disagree. [ She says lightly, and though she is, of course, some measure of curious about what he'd consider to be his own worst moment, it's from a place of piqued concern for him rather than whether it might come back to bite them in the ass. ] So...truce? We can set all this down for today, rather than bringing it with us?
[ On their excursion, that is. There will inevitably be a return to some or all of the subject when they're back, if only because she knows without a doubt that Lune has no intention of letting it go. ...And if not that, surely Maelle's got questions.
Sciel approaches Esquie and lays a hand on his side, patting affectionately. ]
Once again: shall we?
no subject
Maybe they're in his world, now – maybe he has long since given up the notion of ever belonging to theirs again – but it's still nice to indulge in their brand of normalcy and pretend that he's just a man who cannot be killed, and not one of the centremost figures in the cycles that have long devastated them. Selfish though that may be and frustrating though it might prove.
So, it's with his own ease that he relaxes his posture, smile shifting into something a little more broad, radiating slightly more comfort. That'll probably revert back to some level of tension or another once they're back at camp, but this temporary reprieve should make it easier for him to navigate whatever will come.]
I appreciate it.
[Genuinely. And, yes, they shall head off. Onto Esquie's back they go, onward to the carousel and its distant ferris wheel. It's cold but a bit more temperate than usual, a small grace in a world that offers precious few. Once they've dismounted and Esquie heads off back to camp, Verso turns towards Sciel and begins walking backwards towards the carousel, arms stretched wide, head canted, most of his dwindled bravado restored.]
Looks like we'll need to get rid of some of that ice before we can ride it, but what do you think?
[The word ride in particular carries a certain excitement, boyish and nostalgic, even if he's only ever rode a carousel as an adult, and more for the entertainment of the kids than anything, though he still enjoyed himself. There was much more to do back then, is all. Things were easier to take for granted.
Anyway, at a distance, the carousel might not look like much, encased as it is in ice and shadowed by the encroaching night. Old cobblestones scatter from its base, and the remnants of other attractions, reduced to near indistinguishable rubble, mark the ground like headstones. Yet up close, the carousel reveals its charm. Capped by the black-and-gold starkness of much of the rest of the world, its two stories of horses are painted in bright colours that haven't lost their lustre to time, each meticulously painted in its own palette.]
Used to be that you'd come here and there'd be kids all over the place. And not only human ones, but Grandis, too. You can probably guess why the hotels were way out of the way.
[They'd taken the laughter of children for granted, too.]
no subject
The sight, like the train, is immediately striking. A relic of the past surrounded by twinkling snow and ice, so strange in that it still exists at all. She imagines what it'd looked like, once: full of people (mostly children) laughing and shrieking with joy as they choose their favourite mount and the ride begins. ...Just as endearing is the way that Verso himself reacts, seemingly back to normal as he presents the carousel to her with aplomb. ]
I love it. [ Sciel replies, her usual earnestness clear. ] And we can clear it away, no problem. But...it still works? Really?
[ The train hadn't, of course, so she can be forgiven for any skepticism here. Even so, the hope pervades her expression in the way she sweeps her eyes over the two levels of creatures. The descending night makes it a little more difficult to make out what exactly each of the available seats is meant to be, but she finds herself feeling a little thrill of excitement at the opportunity to examine them all, to ask him about whatever little details she uncovers once she's up close and personal.
As they approach she links her hands behind her back, listening to him recount the ride's history, her smile at once fond and bittersweet. ]
The kids in Lumière would've loved this. [ She sighs, thinking not just of her own students, but of all the rest. They still have their own fun and games in the city, but everyone -- the youth included -- is burdened too soon with their harsh reality. Too many kids have to start their work early, leaving little time for...being kids.
This is what we're fighting for, she reminds herself. ]
Why here? [ She wonders aloud of the carousel, looking up to the top of it as they come to a stop before a particularly large block of ice. ] And...is it the only one?
no subject
[Said with a smile that beams into his voice, like the music itself is the appeal. And it is, in a way; while Verso could theoretically return to the carousel anytime he wanted to hear something besides his own music, the experience isn't quite the same when it's just him sat atop a cold metal horse, trying to convince himself that it's possible to enjoy it all alone. So, it's been years since he's heard it play.
Maybe one day, he almost says when she mentions the kids. The part of him that still wishes he could speak such sentiments with honesty would never let him get away with that, even if he's said similar things before. Maybe it's his understanding of how important they are to Sciel that makes it feel like sacrilege. Or the specificity; after all, he can pretend we'll make things right means something different than it does.
So, instead:]
Yeah. It's… unfair. How different their lives are.
[Which might be a bit dreary under the circumstances, but then the point of this excursion isn't to pretend like their circumstances aren't still dire, it's to find the beauty in the world in spite of its ugliness. And they can't do that by covering their eyes or shoving their fingers in their ears when that ugliness rears its head. Still, that doesn't mean they have to dwell. As Verso steadies his stance in front of the worst of the ice, he looks at Sciel over his shoulder with a wistful smile. In theory, her question should be easy to answer; in reality, he isn't sure whether Aline or the real Verso is responsible for the various amusement parks and attractions spread across the Continent, and so the best he can do is hazard a guess.]
It was close enough to Lumiere to make a day trip out of it. There used to be a couple ski resorts nearby, so that might have been part of it too. Send the kids off to play while the adults have their own fun. And the snow was a nice change of pace. We'd get some in Lumiere every now and again, but never like this.
[Again, he speaks with fondness and nostalgia. Of all the stops across the Continent, this one had always been his favourite. For the skiing, yes, but also for how he could warm up on the train ride home and get back in time to spend the night on the harbour, drunk and happy, dragging out those good times for as long as he was able.]
As for the others… they're gone. You might find fragments of them here and there, but most of them got as torn up by the Fracture as everything else. If I had to guess, I'd say the mountains protected this one.
[The details of the Fracture still don't make as much sense as he'd like, a thought which he follows up with a sigh before turning back to the ice encasing the carousel and summoning a pool of light in his hand, though the new gleam in his eye owes to a different source.]
Whoever clears the most ice gets to choose their horse first?
no subject
It makes her heart stir in that old, dangerous way. This isn't something she's had to deal with...at all, really, since Pierre, but she's still able to gently package up the feeling and set it aside for her to deal with later, in privacy. For now, she merely nods as they express their respective grievances and wishes for the youth of the world today. For their missed opportunities like this and scores of others that had existed not long ago. Sciel looks hard at the carousel, taking in every detail, committing it to memory. ]
S'okay. I'll just have to tell them all about it. And then...we can bring them here. Call it a field trip.
[ Maybe she'd have to actually start making use of her own Expeditioner journal, if only to record all the stories and sights she'd want to share with her kids once they return.
Part of that will be telling them about how fun it all is, though, so she'd better start enjoying it and leave the melancholy at the proverbial door. ]
"While they adults have their own fun?" [ She repeats, freshly grinning. It's clear he means skiing, though, and she's only making brief use of the opportunity he provided to tease him, so she continues: ] Well, you already know how much I'm enjoying the snow. So...the ride is just an added bonus!
[ Briefly, unbidden, she catches a flash of movement on the carousel: phantom figures of a man lifting a little girl onto a horse. A scene that isn't really there, and which can never be. Her lips part in surprise, but she's quick to recover (she has to be), approaching one of the blocks of ice as Verso issues the challenge, drawing a similar burst of energy into her palm where it sizzles, awaiting the start of their game.
The ghosts are gone as quickly as they'd come. ]
You've got it. [ Sciel replies, smirking competitively as the heartache ebbs. ] Ready...allons-y!
[ And she's off like a shot, making use of her usual agility and flexibility to dance across the carousel, freeing it of as much ice as she can get to before Verso. ]
no subject
because if the people of Lumiere can have anachronistic airships, they can have anachronistic ski lifts, too. A laugh, then:]Let's just say that the lifts took about 10, 15 minutes to get us up to the top. Sometimes longer if something was caught up in the gears. So...
[It wasn't unheard of for people to find their own added bonuses up there in the open sky. But those lifts are long gone, and Verso's distracted enough by the prospect of showing Sciel the carousel that there's no knocking him off course.
Well, almost, anyway; caught up in that slight parting of her lips and the soft curiosity it inspires, he lags behind as she shoots ahead. A disadvantage in those first few moments when he's still grappling with the inevitability of his loss, but not so much of one as he stands back and watches her move around the carousel, all light and grace and vitality, still a sight that knocks his fool-ass heart off course.
And gosh, how he could stay there and just watch until she's done, were it not for his equally pressing desire to avoid the impression that he set up the challenge to make her do all the work. So, he does catch up, mostly by clearing away the ice on the upper section, though he stops again once he notices she's down to the last clump, if only so he can be nearby to see how she reacts when the carousel springs to life.
Were he more sure of himself, he might have made a comment about how he still wins. Something spoken in a low and rumbling purr of contentment, something that says coming here has already proven more than worth it to him. Alas, he's a tangled mess of messiness, so he tries to be witty instead.]
Hold on, let me lure over a Stalact to freeze it back up. We'll make it a best two out of three.
[But then he's holding his hands up in a gesture of you win, quickly followed by a burst of light that he directs towards the control panel. That last bit of ice falls away and after a moment, the music starts to play, and the carousel starts to spin, and Verso can't hold back the dumb smile that stretches across his face.
He can't resist the opportunity for some bravado, either. One arm behind his back, opposite hand fluttering forward towards the carousel. A slight bow that he can't commit to because looking away from Sciel is out of the question.]
Votre carrousel est avance, mademoiselle.
[For now, the lights are still off, the movement still slow. Another shot of chroma to the control panel will fix that right up, but all in due time.]
no subject
So? [ She prompts good-naturedly, once she spots Verso again. He makes it clear, with his joke, that she'd won their little duel, and she brightens further (though she does also incline her head a little in admission of a contest well fought). ]
You can joke, but I could do this all day. [ It's earnest, of course: between the novelty of the scene, the thrill of the challenge, and the pleasure of his company, well...she's been put through much, much worse than continuing to compete with him for rite of first horse selection.
All thought of going another round melts away as the last of the ice does, with Verso's penultimate flash of chroma and the resulting movement of the carousel. Sciel is visibly surprised only briefly before it transforms wholesale into budding glee, her bright eyes now sweeping the options around them to select her prize. ]
Oh! I... [ Her heart, even, has begun to beat with more intensity as she glances around, spurred on by the slow movement and the building music. There's no real rush, but the child in Sciel herself doesn't want to miss a second of the ride once it really starts up, so she moves between the horses. There are so many to choose from, each unique and beautiful as if they'd all been real animals that'd simply come to rest here. She sweeps her gaze over them all with wonder, fingers trailing along some of the painted manes and saddles, eventually ascending to the second level to get eyes on all options.
As the cheerful music drones on and the horses slowly go 'round, she stops in front of one and lays a hand on its back, considering. The horse is white and brown -- a pinto colouration -- with one hoof raised before it. The adornments aren't the flashiest of all the carousel's options, trending almost practical by comparison as all it boasts are an emerald green saddle with a matching blanket beneath, a checkered scarf around its neck, and snowdrops threaded into its mane. Sciel looks up into its glassy face a moment before seeming to decide, swinging herself up and onto its back, wrapping an arm around the pole that stabilizes it while craning her neck to see out Verso. ]
I've got mine! [ She'll call down, if he hasn't moved. The assumption is, naturally, that he'll come up with her so she can take in more of that scarce joy he exudes in this place...and if he doesn't, she'll just pop down and compel him to join her. ]
no subject
Up the stairs she goes. He doesn't follow, if only because he won't be able to reach the control panel from up there, but he does move to the base of the stairs, hands resting on either end of the banister. The way she gravitates towards one of the more ordinary horses also catches his interest, how she looks it in the face before deciding, how she looks for him moments afterward.]
Perfect. Give me one second, and I'll join you.
[Or several seconds, anyway, as he ends up having to wait until the platform spins back to where the control panel sits on the central wall. Once it's close enough, he shoots a few targeted beams of chroma its way, rushing up the stairs as he does. The lights turn on one by one, each a different colour, and the music transitions into something brighter and snappier, matching the increasing pace of the horses. Verso doesn't bother putting any consideration into his own choice of horse; that decision was made for him when Sciel chose her own, and so he takes the one closest by her side, hopping onto it from behind like a cowboy mounting his galloping steed. Which isn't too far off the mark, considering the speeds the carousel is reaching.
He laughs a bit once he lands, letting the ride take centre focus for a couple of rotations before looking over to Sciel, eyes catching the light, smiling at her as if he isn't a man bearing the weight of decades worth of burdens.]
Great choice by the way. Look at that view.
[White mountains and snow-capped trees, fields of stars poking through the valleys between peaks. The light from the carousel spills colour across the ground, stretched out like a starburst, muted by the night and glittered by the snow.]
I'm curious, though. What was it about that horse that won you over?
THE SLEDDING ICON fjsldig
The brilliant sweep of stars overhead makes her think of her dad, The vast expanse of glittering snow makes her think of Pierre. And Sciel knows, without a doubt, that this will be something etched into her soul forever: a moment that makes her feel the kind of hope often lost past childhood.
She glances back to the person who'd given her this gift, beaming. ]
It's... [ Indescribable, really. He'd have been hard-pressed to top the sight from the top of the mountain, when he'd brought them to the train, but he's managed it. Sciel turns back to look out, pressing her face to the metal of the pole as she watches the world spin by in a glowing blur. ] ...Thank you.
[ She feels weightless. That's what it is. And though she's already one of the more upbeat and unbothered members of the Disaster Expedition, they routinely see and experience things that would bring down even the most resilient of spirits. Riding this artifact from an age gone by in the midst of a stunningly beautiful part of the world that almost no one gets to see makes her feel, now more than ever, like all the tragedy has just...melted away. Like...it can really just be okay, genuinely.
Verso's question draws her out of her reverie and Sciel turns again, brows lifting. ]
Hmm? Oh... [ There's a thoughtful hum as she reaches out, running her hand over the carved mane, leaning forward to look again into its frozen face. ] I'm...not sure, really. Just a feeling. [ Is it the simple charm of its design? The fact that its spots almost make it look like a cow? Something in its expression? Eventually, having come up with no satisfying answer, the Expeditioner leans back again to meet his eyes and shrugs. ] Yeah. I know that's not very interesting, but...sometimes you do just have to go with your gut, right?
[ This is a thing she often does, for better or worse, but...in this case, it'd been harmless. ]
Did you have a favourite? [ Since she's assuming the one he'd chosen today had been due to its proximity, and not because she'd happened to select one near his preferred horse from the past by kismet. ]
it felt IMPORTANT and NECESSARY
It has been a very, very long time since he's wanted tomorrow to come, but, fuck, the thought of it coming now breaks his heart in ways that it rarely does. Sciel deserves more than one night on a carousel. The 33s deserve more than to be marched to their erasures one way or another. The children of Lumiere deserve better than to be forced to start growing up at six. And the others shouldn't have to live to die, burdened by the knowledge that humanity's reaching its final generation.
So, he won't squander it by letting that darkness draw him back inside of himself. Instead, he quietly accepts that the mystery of the brown-and-white pinto will remain as such, another quirk of her seemingly effortless embrace of freedom, which makes for a better story, anyway.
One that he can't match with any mystery of his own. Craning himself over the horse he's currently riding – not dissimilar to Sciel's except that it's black and white and accented by a buttery yellow – he spots his favoured one just up ahead and gestures in its direction. The horse itself has the deep, variegated gray of unpainted metal, but its mane and its tail and its accessories have a sweetly soft palette, their patterns defined by pinwheels, their aesthetic a visual sugar rush. Imperfect. Uncontrolled. Rebellious, in a way, against the black-and-gold of the rest of the world.]
Over there. That's Sucrerie von Bonbon.
[Look at that stealth German. Verso has never really thought about where it came from, only that the word von occurred to him and he liked the way it sounded.
What he doesn't say is that it reminds him of Alicia. How she'd picked it out for him the first time they rode together – truly rode together as living, breathing people and not as a hodgepodge of painted-over memories that they never experienced. He'd moved out the year prior and often wondered how much of an effect it was having on his relationship with his ever-reclusive little sister, but things had felt okay in that moment, and they still do whenever he sits atop that ridiculous horse and thinks about the first time.
Instead:]
She... reminds me of a different time. I mean, they all do, but her more than the others.
no subject
It suits you. [ She decides, once she's finished her visual inspection, returning to the pinto and hopping onto it again. It wouldn't make sense if you only had a surface-level impression of Verso, but...in his choice, she sees the bursts of whimsy he's let peek through on the train, and here. She sees the love of absinthe, of late nights full of music, of the way he fights with a reckless streak that puts himself in danger without concern.
That's her read, anyway. But the way he presents it conjures more questions, and Sciel tilts her head at him as she wraps an arm around the golden, braided pole of her horse. ]
Why more than the others? [ She asks curiously. It's easy enough to understand the first bit, considering the whole carousel is a relic of a past that will never exist again for as long as the Paintress breathes. ] Something about the...lost innocence of youth?
[ Her smile quirks sideways, half-joking. That seems a little too obvious to be the reason, and besides: there are a score of other horses of a similar-enough ilk, boasting candy and bright colours in their designs. ]
Does this one have a name? [ She adds before he can answer her first question, laying a hand on her own steed's painted head. Maybe he, or the children, had come up with names and stories for all of the horses in the past? ]
no subject
As they'd established earlier, he's used to people being interested in him. It's part and parcel of being a mysterious and immortal stranger. This softer kind of interest, though, where he gets to watch her take in the finer details of a carousel horse simply because he's named it as his favourite – that's different, and he knows it's not the cold that has him feeling chills when she returns to her horse to ask her questions.
Why indeed. Still torn on whether he should broach the subject of Alicia himself or wait for the likely inevitability of one of the 33s piecing together the clues, he searches his thoughts for an alternative, knowing better, at least, than to pretend it really is about lost innocence.]
Someone I cared about chose it for me. [Is the answer he settles on, in the end.] So, it makes me think of the time we spent together before everything went to hell.
[Before she knew the truth about the fire and the nature of her existence; before Verso and Renoir's lies had driven them, blood-stained, away from one Lumiere and into the skeleton of the other. A time when Verso loved her more than he hated himself and when the two of them didn't feed each other's guilt through the simple osmosis of nearness.
Fortunately, he has another question to answer instead of delving into those depths, and so he breathes some of the tension in his chest away as if it can be that easy, and takes his own moment to contemplate Sciel's horse, though it's not necessary.]
Nah, only Sucrerie does. [At least as far as he knows. If the children who once played here had named them, those names are as lost to time as the memories of them are.] Which means... You should give it one.
no subject
Would you tell me about them? [ Whoever they may be, who'd clearly known Verso well, she assumes, to have chosen a horse for him that seems so apt. ] However much you want, or don't want.
[ After all, it's already been a long day of people (herself included) trying to get answers and personal information out of him, so...if he isn't inclined to share, she won't pursue it.
In the meantime, she has a task. Though it really isn't long after he sets it for her that her lips part almost knowingly, eyes trailing from the horse beneath her out across the scintillating landscape that surrounds them. ]
Pierre. [ Sciel announces, and her voice holds the name like you would a kitten or an infant: with a gentle, inherent love. ] ...I told you my husband loved the idea of snow? I...really like the idea that he could...be here. To be surrounded by all this, to...get to see it every day. It makes me really happy, imagining it.
[ He's gone, but...who knows. Maybe bestowing his name upon the lovely, warm horse that had caught her eye could somehow -- in some mystical, unknowable way -- share this fragment of her life with him, even now. Her lips press together in a smile that twists only briefly in the reopening of her old wounds, but the moment is primarily, as she'd said, a happy one. This is...a way she can keep him alive.
Sciel turns back to look at Verso, head resting against the hands she has wrapped along the pole. ]
Part of me wishes we didn't have to move on so soon. I think I could spend a lot more time out here.
[ But they still have a mission: one more important than any whimsical inclinations. The Axons await, and as far as she knows, neither possible island is snowy like this.
Fortunately, at least, this night is far from over. The music carries on, the lights continue to flash, and she lets herself sink more fully into the moment, exhaling in another visible puff.
Tomorrow always comes, but...not yet. ]
no subject
Besides, he can trust Sciel. Even if she doesn't like the implications, he can still believe that she'll hear him out. So:]
My little sister, Alicia. She... [A pause while he debates tense, then a sigh as he makes his decision.] She hasn't had the easiest life, so she can be quiet and withdrawn. Really liked to read and write so when I did manage to convince her to come out here with me, she usually spent a lot of time with her nose in a book. Not that I minded, it's just...
[It made him sad. The loss of her voice and they way she wore a mask. How she wore her hair to cover her missing eye. The utter silence of a voice he was always so happy to listen to, no matter the topic, even if she was telling him all the ways his poetry needed improvement. Sometimes especially then.]
When she did come out of her shell, those were some of my favourite moments.
[Distinctly, he remembers how it felt to hear that rasp of a laugh when he'd hopped on Sucrerie, quickly displaced by embarrassment once he started hamming it up. She'd written a poem for him afterwards that he still keeps on him, tucked safely into his pictos space where it'll always be there for him when he reaches for it.
It's not comparable to what Sciel has going on with the memory of her husband, he knows, but the way his heart both blooms and aches over his memories of Alicia isn't dissimilar to how it swells and twinges as Pierre is given his name and a restored presence in the world. He lets the thought exist in silence for a moment, not wanting to rush into his own words while Sciel's still hang in the air like welcomed ghosts. What a beautiful sentiment. What a perfect way to memorialise the lost.
Without too much of a delay, though:]
I like that. A lot.
[There is much more he can say, but he doesn't want to overstep by trying to be deep or insightful over something he's missing the most important details on. And while he could take this moment to ask her more, he holds off at least for now, following her spirit of not wanting to move on too soon by keeping them in place for at least a bit longer.]
But what's a teacher without their students, right? Did he have any favourites who can keep him company?
no subject
There are a lot of questions she could ask, but what she gives voice to is: ] And...her coming to the carousel, picking out a horse for you...that was a win. [ No wonder it's special. Sciel is an only child, but that doesn't mean she can't understand those bonds. ] I'm sure she loved spending that time together.
[ Even if it might not be his sister's natural inclination, reserved as she allegedly is. Sciel has taught students like that, and there's no magic formula to get all of them to open up. Kids are individuals like anyone else, and finding those little niches that help them to flourish can be difficult, but so, so rewarding.
That's true of adults too, of course. ]
And she's obviously got great taste. [ Sciel adds, nodding toward Sucrerie.
The conversation then turns toward her own horse as she imbues the inanimate creature with her intentions for someone loved and lost. Sciel offers a little smile as he affirms the sentiment, but it's what he says next that snags that smile.
There's a long moment when she looks back at him with a largely inscrutable expression. Because...it's so goddamn sweet. Unexpectedly so: not because it'd come from him, but because it's just not something most people would think to suggest. It isn't a reaction of sympathy or discomfort, both of which she's learned to shrug away like water off a duck, but rather a follow-up that engages directly and unflinchingly with a difficult sentiment. And not just a difficult one, but...one that is more important to her than almost anything.
That stretch of silence hangs, with her looking back at Verso surprised, overwhelmed, and grateful. ...Eventually, she gently shakes herself free from the heart-swelling feeling and looks away, though it's still with a big smile that she's unable, unwilling, to dim. ]
Yeah. 'Course he did. [ She breathes, glancing around at the surrounding horses. ] Great idea, Verso.
[ And, naturally, she hops off her own mount again to wander the surrounding rows, albeit without moving out of eyeshot of her companion. Sciel again looks them up and down, peering into their faces, before returning to hop on the newly-dubbed Pierre's back. ]
Right. There were five I was always hearing about. [ At which point she leans in toward him so she can point out the ones she'd chosen. ] That one...three ahead of you, that's Jean. Two in front of mine's Germaine, and the one to her right is Louise. Then...right behind ours are René and Emile.
[ The horses she describes all vary in appearance and pose, ranging from white and pretty with a braided mane to speckled gray with a bubble-like design on its saddle to everything in between. The two she'd mentioned last rise and fall behind them, heads positioned in such a way that you could say are meant to appear as though they aren't eyeing the horses in front of them, though they absolutely are. ]
They're a pair of troublemakers, so watch your back. [ Sciel leans in farther to whisper conspiratorially. ]
no subject
[That it's a win, mainly; Verso would very much like to hope that she loved those short years they'd spent in blissful ignorance, but time has coloured his perception and understanding of his relationship with his sister, and the way she does things like going from helping him in one moment to making a show of how she's chosen their mother in the next doesn't only confuse their present and future. It leaves him wondering more than he'd like about the past as well, how he's coloured his memories, how she's shaded her own. So, he only offers Sciel a smile at the good taste comment before shifting his focus back to Sucrerie for a moment, giving her a mental scritch under her chin.
When he looks back amid a descending silence and meets Sciel's steady gaze, there's a part of him that wants to look away, a little worried that he's gone and engaged in his least favourite yet arguably most revisited hobby: inserting his foot squarely in his mouth. But the more she looks, the less possible that feels, and so his expression softens, and he relaxes against his horse, letting the loop of his arm around the pole keep him steady as he leans back a little, curious but patient.
Then, it's once again his turn – a turn no less gladly taken than the others – to watch her as she moves between the horses. It would have been easy for her to go with the practicality of proximity, but she views them with the same care with which she found herself choosing Pierre-the-Horse, and something about that intrigues and impresses and warms him. There's just so much life about her, an effortless compassion for things that others might consider inconsequential or irrelevant in the face of everything else, but that she makes the time for, every time.
He can't possibly know why she chose each horse for each child, but still he tries picturing it. Is the pretty white one for a budding fashionist? The bubbly one for a giggly child whose effervescence was contagious? It's been decades since he's been around children in any meaningful way, but he can almost feel their presence on the carousel, laughter mingling with the creaking gears and booming music, not like before but... today's children. Whoever little Jean and Germaine and Louise and Rene and Emile have become over the years, teenagers who may have otherwise outgrown such attractions, perhaps, and yet who might embrace it with the same whimsy and wonder as Sciel does.]
I'm pleased to make their acquaintances.
[Her last comment draws a laugh from him, and he lets his focus linger on those two mischievous horses for a moment before raising his hands and turning his back to them.]
Hey. Far be it from me to discourage troublemaking.
[The matter of which Axon to take down first aside, anyway.]
Speaking of... You ready to head on up and see the stars? Used to be a time-honoured tradition, you know. We'd sneak up there after the park closed and the night staff were off on the last train into Lumiere. Bring a few bottles of wine, tell our worst stories. Try to wake up before the morning staff arrived with, uh, varying degrees of success. Though that last one was only on the warmer nights. The frostbite would've given us away.
no subject
Right...guess that'd be a bit hypocritical. [ Considering Verso can be, as she might say if referring to one of her more troublesome students, a bit of a stinker. Or maybe it's because of his recklessness, or because of the past he's shared wherein he'd somewhat gone against familial expectations to do things like spend a night drinking absinthe in the city. He knows how to get himself into trouble, or better or worse.
A next natural thought: how has her understanding of those familial expectations changed with the knowledge that Renoir is his father? Sciel almost sighs but doesn't, though she is able to gently shunt the train of thought for another time.
Besides, they've got another item on the agenda. It won't surprise him to see the question spark fresh light in her eyes, knowing what he does about her inclination toward the stars. ]
Well, unless you've got a secret stash of wine, then all we've got are our worst stories. [ Verso may be relieved that she continues, though it's as much for the benefit of her secrets as his: ] ...But I think you've probably given your share of those today already.
[ The idea of spending the night here makes her shiver, because though the coats keep them from outright freezing, the temperature is still deeply, bone-chillingly low. ]
We also don't have the blanket and tea you mentioned before. [ She hums mournfully, slipping for a final time off horse-Pierre's back and waiting for Verso to lead the way to the roof. ] Think we can still get our fill of the sights without freezing?
[ It's teasing, but surprisingly not with any twinge of innuendo in spite of the low-hanging fruit available. Really, she just looks eager to get up there and see it, knowing that her experience stargazing in Lumiére and then even in their time on the Continent since then won't be able to compare to what's waiting for them just above. ]
no subject
Fresh out of wine stashes, unfortunately.
[And blankets and tea, but he can compensate for the former at least a little bit. A nod of thanks for the break she offers, and then he's leaping off the horse like a daredevil in a circus, landing with a ridiculous flourish as if he's dismounted something far more dangerous than a children's ride. Then, he throws his thumb over his shoulder and starts walking backwards towards the stairs.]
But there is something I can do to make things warmer. Just give me another second, yeah? Oh, and brace yourself. Ride's about to get bumpy.
[Down the stairs he goes, back to the control panel. This time, he uses his hands and not his chroma, wanting to fine-tune the controls. Music down to a murmur. Speed of the carousel slowed. Rise and fall of the horses at a higher frequency to compensate. The gears groan before obeying and slipping into a low murmur that fades behind what's left of the music, but Verso pays no mind to their complaints; chroma's always worked differently, often an imitation of industry rather than a precise replication of it, and he's sure that no ill will come of the carousel. He'd have left it alone, otherwise, finding it far too important to lose any part of.
Once upstairs again, he summons his blade and starts prodding at part of the roof.]
Almost ready.
[Eventually, the sound of a latch loosening gently clangs, followed by something a little more screeching as Verso lifts himself up to pull down an access ladder. Which he holds steady for Sciel to climb up, following afterwards.
There'd been near to no snow on the roof, so there's no meltwater – a small blessing considering that Verso was too scattered by the day's events to have brought anything to compensate for it. Instead, a warmth emanating from the main gears, the ambient temperature still a little cool but the metal roof panels are pleasantly warm. The slope is perfect for relaxing, the lip around the edge deceptively high. Safe. Almost comfortable. They'd have to try to fall off, even with the roof spinning.
Speaking of...]
I can slow it down more if this is too much.
[Getting motion sick is probably not ideal.]
no subject
Unlike Lune and Maelle, and Gustave before them, Sciel hasn't been writing in her journal. It's almost certainly breaking some protocol, but every time she'd pulled it out it'd ended with the same suite of pristine pages. This had come after the incident at the beach, of course, and after she'd found herself in Gestral Village with no clear return path to their mission in sight. She'd never had aspirations to soldier on alone, to somehow represent the 33s in a successful one-woman war against the Paintress when all of her friends and fellows had been slaughtered. No: she'd put every waking moment either training or fighting, trying to keep her body occupied long enough for it to Gommage. And so...she certainly hadn't been journaling then.
After, when the others had found her and their journey was again a semi-realistic endeavor, was when she'd found herself staring down those empty lines. Whether she'd been surrounded by the scratch of the others' implements or in complete silence, whether they'd had a surprisingly unremarkable day or had seen no less than a dozen wonders of the Continent, none of it had managed to produce any written reflection. She hadn't really been sure why and didn't feel the need to examine it too closely on those occasions, but: right now, looking out at the rise and fall of mountains, the ethereal sweep of snow, the spectrum of lights strew across it all like gemstones...
Maybe I'll write about this one, she thinks, smiling out at it all.
Before long Verso gives her the heads up that his task is almost complete and so she turns, releasing Pierre and moving closer to the stairs in the middle, waiting. She doesn't have to stand idle much as he pulls down the ladder and gestures for her to ascend, which she does with a little 'merci' before climbing to reach the roof. ]
No, this is perfect. [ She assures him once she reaches the top, getting her bearings. Notably, though, Sciel avoids looking directly up, as if she's holding off. Instead, she casts her attention his way again, asking: ] Anywhere in particular we should go?
no subject
Yeah. Right here.
[This part of the roof is more worn than the rest, black paint missing in places, metal beneath it polished to a shine from use. There are chips and scrapes along the paint in places where buckles have banged up against them, or where someone might have placed a sword. Even a couple well-weathered corks are scattered near the rim, relics from a time when Verso still had what felt like an abundance of wine. Sheepishly, he kicks them off to the side before using his sleeve to wipe off one of the panels. There's barely anything there – the snow keeps things reasonably clean – but it feels like the proper thing to do, and some of his rich-boy-from-a-powerful-family instincts still overpower his forestman side every now and again. Particularly when the company is so pleasant that it restores him to something almost ordinary.
A look at his sleeve and a dusting off of both sleeves together before he steps aside and gestures for her to sit down and get comfortable.]
So.
[So. He knows what he wants to say, but needs a moment. There's something almost shy about him in the silence, written in the soft curve of his shoulders, in way his lips curl into a barely there smile that exists of its own volition. The way he crosses his arms over his chest is also more reflexive than intentional, but he remains in place otherwise, keeping a gentle focus on Sciel.]
I, uh, brought you something.
[And of course he's going to be mysterious about what, letting an impish gleam shine in his eyes as some of the shyness abates now that the relatively hard part's over with. Back before the Fracture, he'd always liked giving people gifts, little trinkets that reminded him of them, or pastries from the boulangerie that tasted particularly good, or songs he composed. Anything for a smile. That stopped a very, very long time ago – he never really got to know any of the Expeditioners well enough to understand what they might like, and he found it easier to try and lighten their spirits through other means, anyway – but now...
Well, now he thinks he might have an idea.]
Do you want it now, or would you like to spend some time with the stars first?
[He knows what they mean to her, after all.]
no subject
Speaking of surprises: ]
Do you? [ Sciel briefly considers the possible joke -- that it's a wonder he has any surprises left, after what had happened -- but immediately dismisses it. They've left the events of Old Lumiére behind in camp, after all.
It's probably not a good idea, letting herself think of these excursions as if they exist outside of the harshness of their reality. After all, she'd told Lune that part of this was going to be her trying to (gently!) get more information about what they'd learned today. But...she takes in the little cues of something like bashfulness in his bearing, and...well, she has absolutely no desire to rend that asunder. So: her lips come together in a tight, fond grin as she peers up at him and considers the order of things. ]
...Let's have it now. [ Sciel decides after a moment, still not having turned her eyes skyward to take in the main event. ] They'll still be there in a bit, yeah? And now that you've told me, I'm very curious.
[ It'd be a shame if her attention was divided during any part of the evening, right? Though of course, with no idea what he's prepared, it's hard to say the surprise won't still be on her mind when they finally do lie back and, as he'd said, "spend some time with the stars."
So she shifts, propping up a knee and searching his face with a gentle curiosity for anything that might give it away. ]
(no subject)
[ relationship level increase ]
[ gradient feelings unlocked | verso: less doom ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
excuse me that song is RUDE