[If they were a little closer, Verso might have made light of how he's not a Lumieran. But there's no way to broach the topic of how his heart is still in Old Lumiere after it was broken by the new one without laying too much of himself bare or putting his well-woven web of lies at risk of being untangled, so he holds up his hands in a gesture of concession instead. Besides, Sciel isn't wrong. The real Verso never played much piquet, so his own experience with it stems from those precious few years during which he was indeed Lumieran.]
Then, we'll have to come up with a good wager. Make it worth all that seriousness.
[It still won't be wine. Right now, he's thinking of mundane things like taking over guard duty or one camp chore or another. More stories, perhaps. Different questions. Maybe there's a residual part of himself at play that remembers how to flirt and mean it, too, but his current mindset is mostly that he's enjoying her company, her spirit, her light.
He thinks hard on how she describes the cards, too. She speaks so freely of using them for guidance and grounding, something she'd picked up as a girl and carries with her to this day, finding a different kind of strength in their presence. It's beautiful.]
I like that. You see the world in a really refreshing way. Just... don't ask me how to describe it, I don't know how to put it to words. Except that you're good company.
[What he doesn't say is how it almost feels like his relationship with music. How he's found his own guidance in the beauty of the notes and how the ways they flow into each other helps him make sense of the world, too. That's still a bit too personal for now. But he doesn't go without mentioning it entirely as his eyes take on a mischievous gleam and he points towards Sciel once more.]
Tell you what. The competition, that'll be lady's choice. As for the wager... I win, you give me a reading. You win, I'll play you a song.
[It's only now that he notices which card Sciel is holding; the art had caught his eye but not the writing. The Fool? He frowns a bit, though it's more contemplative than offended. Goodness knows he has a knack for putting his foot in his mouth, but he hasn't felt like that's happened overly much in this conversation, so he's not sure what there is to take personally about it. After a moment's pause, he adds:]
And your entry free will be telling me why you drew that card.
I'll come up with something worth betting, then. [ She's thinking of similarly mundane tradeoffs for now, more occupied with the genuinely uplifting idea of getting to play a game of cards with him at some point in the future. ] As long as you don't secretly have a set stashed away to get in some practice with Esquie when I'm not looking.
[ It's honestly doubtful that the demigod-like creature would or could play cards, but the idea is funny enough to picture that it's worth the tease. Whether or not Verso is hustling her and she'll end up with her foot in her mouth or she'll surprise him with a thorough thumping remains to be seen.
His assessment of her is...nice. It's straightforward and earnest, which is somehow a little unexpected after her initial impression of how forthright he's seemed (read: not at all). "You're good company," he says, and it softens her smile. ...A smile that spreads at what he says next.
Hmm. There's a lot going on under the surface, she thinks, but it's far from bad. ]
Deal. [ Genuinely, the wager makes her even more excited for their undefined competition than ever, because...well, either way, she feels she wins. It'd be undeniably interesting to read for him, because the participant's questions and responses are usually very telling. And then, of course, getting to hear him play music...will also be revealing, in its own way.
Noting his flicker of confusion at the card, she holds it out to him with an amused glint in her eyes. ]
I'll give you that now, then: a lesson about the cards. Most of them aren't what you think at first glance. [ Same as people, of course. ] One of The Fool's many possible meanings is "new beginnings." It's the first numbered card of the Major Arcana, and -- if pulled upright, as I have -- it represents...unlimited potential. The man seen on the card gazes up at the sky at the start of his journey. Though there are challenges ahead, he's not worried about them...yet, at least. Just fully present in the moment and readying himself to, ah -- get on with the expedition.
[ There's a knowing smile, and then the card is gone. ]
I'll tell you what. I won't practice with Esquie if you don't talk strategy with Lune.
[Maybe that's a bit unfair – Lune would actually be helpful – but it leaves both Maelle and Monoco open as options for both of them. Admittedly, he's curious about how fair Sciel plays, whether she's the type to seek out every advantage of challenge herself by sticking closer to the rules. Part of competing, after all, is understanding one's opponent.
And Verso has been growing more intrigued with Sciel by the moment.
Which he demonstrates by listening – genuinely listening – as she describes the meaning of the cards. He's not sure what he does or doesn't believe when it comes to tarot or divination or the kind of guidance one can only seek from unseeable forces, but he follows along all the same, oblivious to how she's applying its meaning to their circumstances until she mentions the expedition; then, he laughs to chase away the subsequent – and too-frequent – flare of guilt that follows.
Idly, he thinks about something Monoco has told him a few times in the past: that the real Verso valued new beginnings. And he wonders against his better judgment if that's somehow a factor in what Sciel's just said – if the cards can truly see through the paint and the masks and the lies of this world enough to pluck sentiments from his borrowed past.
At least these thoughts don't show, he supposes; the sole perk of having grown so accustomed to pretending he's only ever been the one Verso.]
Huh. You know, I can see it. You've got a good group.
[And he feels good about them. Like they're his one shot. He has to force himself not to look back at Maelle.]
But now you have me curious. What would it have meant if you pulled it the other way?
[Front, back. Recto, verso. He can't help but wonder if what the reverse would have to say.]
That's fair enough. Honestly though, I'm not sure how much Lune's actually played. The fact that you 'play' it is hint enough.
[ It isn't a productive activity, so there's a decent chance she hasn't had the time or inclination to learn it. Guitar may have been the only thing to make it through the purge that had been Lune's life growing up under the strict guidance of her parents.
Sciel realizes she hasn't asked that particular question of her friend, though, and makes a note to do so. ]
We do, don't we? [ Have a good group, that is. (She won't mention Gustave, who was the best of them.) ] And you're here with us, so all the better.
[ Maybe they could make him an armband, so it'd be official.
At the follow-up question, she chuckles. In the blink of an eye, the card is upside-down. ]
The Fool, reversed. In some cases, it could suggest the person has an idea for some new initiative, but they feel the timing's not right to begin, and they're still waiting for their moment. That could be born from a fear of the unknown, as many things are, or because of a perceived lack of control. Were that the case, some readers might advice the person to give it a shot anyway, to trust everything will work out as it should.
[ "As it should" and "as you want" are not the same things, of course. ]
Or...depending on the circumstances, it could be a warning against being reckless. Jumping in with both feet without thinking of the consequences for yourself or others. I'd say looking at the bigger picture before taking plunge is usually wise.
[ Just like that: The Fool is gone completely, and she rests her hands in her lap. ]
This isn't an official reading, remember. Just a general primer so you know the card wasn't a slight.
She's that much of a stickler for focusing on her work, huh?
[It probably shouldn't be surprising, considering what Verso has seen of Lune so far, but it's good to have that bit of confirmation to tuck away into the pockets of his mind for future keeping. The industrious ones are always the most curious; they're usually the ones who are the slowest to trust him, too, which is fair but something he's still not completely confident in contending with. If Lune is indeed that type, then he'll need to be more careful around her.
That's neither here nor there, though; he follows the question with a laugh and pretends to shrug off Sciel's all the better line like it's a modesty thing and not an honesty one.
He's more interested in what she has to say about the card, anyway, still curious as to whether it will have more resonance. It's not a reading, no, but he listens as if it might be one, making an earnest attempt at trying to understand what's drawn her to the cards in the first place. The first half doesn't feel like it suits him on the broad scale of his purpose, but his heart twitches as it bounds ahead of his mind, and his expression softens of its own volition, and he looks towards and then away from Sciel, feeling every part the lonely fool, flipped upside-down and gazing at the starlight reflecting off his boots, convincing himself towards and away from something he isn't sure he should seek: companionship.
The last half, well, that he's heard before. From Aline prior to the Fracture and from Renoir afterward. From Monoco, too, in his attempts to get him to step back and reconsider what he wants. And from Esquie in indirect ways whenever he gets into something particularly questionable.
Combined, the two interpretations of the card do paint a picture, though, and he offers it up to show that he's been paying attention.]
No slight taken. Sounds like the Fool is all of us. You know, we like to think that we know what we're doing, but how often is that actually true? Anyway, the point is, I'd rather accept being the fool than convince myself that I have all the answers.
[Which is a bit hypocritical, but he's speaking in the vague context of his family and all the ways their grief has burdened the Canvas, which blinds him to the self-surety of some of his own convictions. That said, he still isn't here to think about himself, so he takes a moment to study the empty space the Fool once occupied, contemplating whether to keep asking about the cards, which feels safe and easy, or to continue trying to get to know Sciel a little better, which feels like he's treading in unsure territory.
He decides to combine them, the former buoying the latter.]
One last question about the cards, I promise. You have a favourite one?
Oh, she's a stickler for a lot of things. ...But, yes. You'll learn soon enough.
[ He's likely already got an idea of that, considering he's made the time for everyone so far, getting to know each member of their group. Sciel has observed some of these conversations -- with Maelle, Lune, and Esquie -- noting the easy back and forth he seems to have with each of them. She's also watched him when he's on his own, eyes following his back as it disappears beyond the outskirts of camp, or as he sits awake while everyone else rests.
In some of those times and now, she thinks: he seems sad. And honestly, who isn't? There's a lot to be sad about. But since he's been working so hard to help them, to get to know them, she feels...an extra dose of empathy when she notices these minute flashes of what are surely the old wounds of an immortal man with countless buried friends.
So Sciel smiles. Reaches out to take his hand and presses a card into it: Strength. ]
This isn't a good answer, but...no, I don't, really. Because they're all important, they can all offer their own guidance. Even the 'scary' ones. [ There's a light chuckle, a shrug, and she withdraws a little, leaving the card in his hand. ] Besides, I think if I played favorites, the others might get jealous. I'm not looking to invite any of that kind of bad energy.
[ Whether she's serious or joking is up for debate, though her grin, at least, is playful. There's another brief silence as she moves to get to her feet, turning away from him to cast her gaze out and away, toward the Monolith. ]
...But: Death. [ Sciel doesn't turn back toward him as she offers a real answer, and the card in question doesn't make an appearance. ] A card of possibility.
[Immortal men, it turns out, are still prone to flustering. Sciel takes Verso's hand and the card she places in it feels immediately appropriate given how much of his strength it takes for him to maintain the ruse of the mysterious stranger, warm towards others yet distant when it comes to himself, experienced and calm and not at all struggling through the effects of his decades-long seclusions. At least the fluster isn't obvious, manifesting mostly as a tingle across his scalp, as a warmth to his cheeks that isn't enough to colour them, as an unsurety of what to do with his hand until Sciel pulls her own away. Then, he focuses on the picture on the card, how the infinity symbol hangs over the woman's head like a halo, how she bends to pet the lion by her side, how its tail is tucked between its legs. The soft huff of breath that follows is half amusement, half disbelief at how on-the-head the art is, even if he isn't sure how well strength applies to him.
When she can't give him an answer, he's ready to leave it at that. He's still not sure how much he buys into the thought of higher powers – the people of this world are made from paint and he understands too well what that implies – but then, Painting itself is something of a higher power, suggesting the kind of connectedness that may well communicate through cards and their readings. And it is interesting, and he likes how Sciel lights up when she talks about it, how it's given her hope.
But she gets up and he assumes that he's talked her ear off about those very cards, and that she's about to wish him a good night in the polite way of strangers who connected for a fleeting moment that's already passed. So, he rises to his feet, too, keeping awkward hold of the card, its woman and its lion still oblivious to how close they are to home, planning to hand it back to her when she actually gives him an answer.
What an answer, too. Death. He almost quips back with For some of us, anyway, but that feels entirely too morbid and in poor taste considering how oppressively death comes for the Lumierans. Not wanting to intrude on the distance she created, he takes a soft step back, holding Strength with a little more surety now.]
Let me guess.
[Said earnestly. If the Fool isn't so much a fool, and if Death means possibility, then maybe...]
It's kind of like rebirth, yeah? "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
[ That effortless little smile, so often present, grows. ]
Right. The end of a part of your life that's not serving you anymore. A door closing so a window can open, and all that. [ Death is not only her constant companion, but a close 'friend' of everyone in Lumiére. It's essential, she feels, to embrace that fact, lest you go insane.
Or swim out to sea with no intention of returning. ]
It can act as a warning: that holding on to the past may bring pain for yourself and others.
[ A more poignant sentiment for this world than she realizes.
Sciel finally looks back to Verso, who is again, seemingly, a bit lost in thought. After a brief stretch of silence, she offers: ]
You can hold onto that for now, if you like. Give it back when we get around to that official reading. [ And then, for clarification: ] Maybe you don't need it for yourself, but it can also help you to be there for the others.
[ Though she had intended it for him, she isn't about to overtly suggest that he might need more help than he's letting on. Verso has generally acted as an unflappable source of guidance for their group thus far, and while Sciel doesn't doubt he'll be able to continue that way, it certainly doesn't hurt to provide a reminder: you aren't the only one trying to keep the lights on. ]
And -- thanks. For checking on me. [ There's a renewed brightness in her face as she says it, crossing her arms over her chest. ] I really like talking to you.
okay but like secret smile does kinda have versciel vibes
[This last definition is what impacts Verso the most; the end of this life, a window opening so that he can take one final breath of fresh air, by his own will and into his own lungs, before everything goes dark and his past is freed from the talons of the Dessendres' grief.]
It's the present that matters. Even the future's impossible to live in, right?
[He agrees at the end. This, at least, his actions represent. The past hast turned him into something he can't live with, and the future will turn him into nothing at all, but the present is where and when he can live though smaller, quieter moments like this, stitching them together into the fabric of a life that might have been worth living had it not brought about such suffering to everyone else.
When she tells him to hold onto the card, his own smile shines through. Holding it up between his fingers, he motions it towards her like a soft salute, then tucks it inside of his jacket, between his vest and his shirt, tapping the place where it rests over his heart.]
And thanks. I'll keep it safe.
[Meaning he'll stash it somewhere better once he's back at the camp proper. As she thanks him in turn, he takes note of how brightly she shines before looking back up at the stars and thinking that they pale in comparison.]
Yeah, of course. [A smile of his own, not bright but soft, like the very edges of the starlight as they blur out into the night sky.] If you ever need anything, I'm here. Unless you want someone to take over when it's your turn to be the sentry, then you're on your own.
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tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
no subject
Then, we'll have to come up with a good wager. Make it worth all that seriousness.
[It still won't be wine. Right now, he's thinking of mundane things like taking over guard duty or one camp chore or another. More stories, perhaps. Different questions. Maybe there's a residual part of himself at play that remembers how to flirt and mean it, too, but his current mindset is mostly that he's enjoying her company, her spirit, her light.
He thinks hard on how she describes the cards, too. She speaks so freely of using them for guidance and grounding, something she'd picked up as a girl and carries with her to this day, finding a different kind of strength in their presence. It's beautiful.]
I like that. You see the world in a really refreshing way. Just... don't ask me how to describe it, I don't know how to put it to words. Except that you're good company.
[What he doesn't say is how it almost feels like his relationship with music. How he's found his own guidance in the beauty of the notes and how the ways they flow into each other helps him make sense of the world, too. That's still a bit too personal for now. But he doesn't go without mentioning it entirely as his eyes take on a mischievous gleam and he points towards Sciel once more.]
Tell you what. The competition, that'll be lady's choice. As for the wager... I win, you give me a reading. You win, I'll play you a song.
[It's only now that he notices which card Sciel is holding; the art had caught his eye but not the writing. The Fool? He frowns a bit, though it's more contemplative than offended. Goodness knows he has a knack for putting his foot in his mouth, but he hasn't felt like that's happened overly much in this conversation, so he's not sure what there is to take personally about it. After a moment's pause, he adds:]
And your entry free will be telling me why you drew that card.
no subject
[ It's honestly doubtful that the demigod-like creature would or could play cards, but the idea is funny enough to picture that it's worth the tease. Whether or not Verso is hustling her and she'll end up with her foot in her mouth or she'll surprise him with a thorough thumping remains to be seen.
His assessment of her is...nice. It's straightforward and earnest, which is somehow a little unexpected after her initial impression of how forthright he's seemed (read: not at all). "You're good company," he says, and it softens her smile. ...A smile that spreads at what he says next.
Hmm. There's a lot going on under the surface, she thinks, but it's far from bad. ]
Deal. [ Genuinely, the wager makes her even more excited for their undefined competition than ever, because...well, either way, she feels she wins. It'd be undeniably interesting to read for him, because the participant's questions and responses are usually very telling. And then, of course, getting to hear him play music...will also be revealing, in its own way.
Noting his flicker of confusion at the card, she holds it out to him with an amused glint in her eyes. ]
I'll give you that now, then: a lesson about the cards. Most of them aren't what you think at first glance. [ Same as people, of course. ] One of The Fool's many possible meanings is "new beginnings." It's the first numbered card of the Major Arcana, and -- if pulled upright, as I have -- it represents...unlimited potential. The man seen on the card gazes up at the sky at the start of his journey. Though there are challenges ahead, he's not worried about them...yet, at least. Just fully present in the moment and readying himself to, ah -- get on with the expedition.
[ There's a knowing smile, and then the card is gone. ]
Very appropriate, don't you think?
no subject
[Maybe that's a bit unfair – Lune would actually be helpful – but it leaves both Maelle and Monoco open as options for both of them. Admittedly, he's curious about how fair Sciel plays, whether she's the type to seek out every advantage of challenge herself by sticking closer to the rules. Part of competing, after all, is understanding one's opponent.
And Verso has been growing more intrigued with Sciel by the moment.
Which he demonstrates by listening – genuinely listening – as she describes the meaning of the cards. He's not sure what he does or doesn't believe when it comes to tarot or divination or the kind of guidance one can only seek from unseeable forces, but he follows along all the same, oblivious to how she's applying its meaning to their circumstances until she mentions the expedition; then, he laughs to chase away the subsequent – and too-frequent – flare of guilt that follows.
Idly, he thinks about something Monoco has told him a few times in the past: that the real Verso valued new beginnings. And he wonders against his better judgment if that's somehow a factor in what Sciel's just said – if the cards can truly see through the paint and the masks and the lies of this world enough to pluck sentiments from his borrowed past.
At least these thoughts don't show, he supposes; the sole perk of having grown so accustomed to pretending he's only ever been the one Verso.]
Huh. You know, I can see it. You've got a good group.
[And he feels good about them. Like they're his one shot. He has to force himself not to look back at Maelle.]
But now you have me curious. What would it have meant if you pulled it the other way?
[Front, back. Recto, verso. He can't help but wonder if what the reverse would have to say.]
no subject
[ It isn't a productive activity, so there's a decent chance she hasn't had the time or inclination to learn it. Guitar may have been the only thing to make it through the purge that had been Lune's life growing up under the strict guidance of her parents.
Sciel realizes she hasn't asked that particular question of her friend, though, and makes a note to do so. ]
We do, don't we? [ Have a good group, that is. (She won't mention Gustave, who was the best of them.) ] And you're here with us, so all the better.
[ Maybe they could make him an armband, so it'd be official.
At the follow-up question, she chuckles. In the blink of an eye, the card is upside-down. ]
The Fool, reversed. In some cases, it could suggest the person has an idea for some new initiative, but they feel the timing's not right to begin, and they're still waiting for their moment. That could be born from a fear of the unknown, as many things are, or because of a perceived lack of control. Were that the case, some readers might advice the person to give it a shot anyway, to trust everything will work out as it should.
[ "As it should" and "as you want" are not the same things, of course. ]
Or...depending on the circumstances, it could be a warning against being reckless. Jumping in with both feet without thinking of the consequences for yourself or others. I'd say looking at the bigger picture before taking plunge is usually wise.
[ Just like that: The Fool is gone completely, and she rests her hands in her lap. ]
This isn't an official reading, remember. Just a general primer so you know the card wasn't a slight.
no subject
[It probably shouldn't be surprising, considering what Verso has seen of Lune so far, but it's good to have that bit of confirmation to tuck away into the pockets of his mind for future keeping. The industrious ones are always the most curious; they're usually the ones who are the slowest to trust him, too, which is fair but something he's still not completely confident in contending with. If Lune is indeed that type, then he'll need to be more careful around her.
That's neither here nor there, though; he follows the question with a laugh and pretends to shrug off Sciel's all the better line like it's a modesty thing and not an honesty one.
He's more interested in what she has to say about the card, anyway, still curious as to whether it will have more resonance. It's not a reading, no, but he listens as if it might be one, making an earnest attempt at trying to understand what's drawn her to the cards in the first place. The first half doesn't feel like it suits him on the broad scale of his purpose, but his heart twitches as it bounds ahead of his mind, and his expression softens of its own volition, and he looks towards and then away from Sciel, feeling every part the lonely fool, flipped upside-down and gazing at the starlight reflecting off his boots, convincing himself towards and away from something he isn't sure he should seek: companionship.
The last half, well, that he's heard before. From Aline prior to the Fracture and from Renoir afterward. From Monoco, too, in his attempts to get him to step back and reconsider what he wants. And from Esquie in indirect ways whenever he gets into something particularly questionable.
Combined, the two interpretations of the card do paint a picture, though, and he offers it up to show that he's been paying attention.]
No slight taken. Sounds like the Fool is all of us. You know, we like to think that we know what we're doing, but how often is that actually true? Anyway, the point is, I'd rather accept being the fool than convince myself that I have all the answers.
[Which is a bit hypocritical, but he's speaking in the vague context of his family and all the ways their grief has burdened the Canvas, which blinds him to the self-surety of some of his own convictions. That said, he still isn't here to think about himself, so he takes a moment to study the empty space the Fool once occupied, contemplating whether to keep asking about the cards, which feels safe and easy, or to continue trying to get to know Sciel a little better, which feels like he's treading in unsure territory.
He decides to combine them, the former buoying the latter.]
One last question about the cards, I promise. You have a favourite one?
no subject
[ He's likely already got an idea of that, considering he's made the time for everyone so far, getting to know each member of their group. Sciel has observed some of these conversations -- with Maelle, Lune, and Esquie -- noting the easy back and forth he seems to have with each of them. She's also watched him when he's on his own, eyes following his back as it disappears beyond the outskirts of camp, or as he sits awake while everyone else rests.
In some of those times and now, she thinks: he seems sad. And honestly, who isn't? There's a lot to be sad about. But since he's been working so hard to help them, to get to know them, she feels...an extra dose of empathy when she notices these minute flashes of what are surely the old wounds of an immortal man with countless buried friends.
So Sciel smiles. Reaches out to take his hand and presses a card into it: Strength. ]
This isn't a good answer, but...no, I don't, really. Because they're all important, they can all offer their own guidance. Even the 'scary' ones. [ There's a light chuckle, a shrug, and she withdraws a little, leaving the card in his hand. ] Besides, I think if I played favorites, the others might get jealous. I'm not looking to invite any of that kind of bad energy.
[ Whether she's serious or joking is up for debate, though her grin, at least, is playful. There's another brief silence as she moves to get to her feet, turning away from him to cast her gaze out and away, toward the Monolith. ]
...But: Death. [ Sciel doesn't turn back toward him as she offers a real answer, and the card in question doesn't make an appearance. ] A card of possibility.
no subject
When she can't give him an answer, he's ready to leave it at that. He's still not sure how much he buys into the thought of higher powers – the people of this world are made from paint and he understands too well what that implies – but then, Painting itself is something of a higher power, suggesting the kind of connectedness that may well communicate through cards and their readings. And it is interesting, and he likes how Sciel lights up when she talks about it, how it's given her hope.
But she gets up and he assumes that he's talked her ear off about those very cards, and that she's about to wish him a good night in the polite way of strangers who connected for a fleeting moment that's already passed. So, he rises to his feet, too, keeping awkward hold of the card, its woman and its lion still oblivious to how close they are to home, planning to hand it back to her when she actually gives him an answer.
What an answer, too. Death. He almost quips back with For some of us, anyway, but that feels entirely too morbid and in poor taste considering how oppressively death comes for the Lumierans. Not wanting to intrude on the distance she created, he takes a soft step back, holding Strength with a little more surety now.]
Let me guess.
[Said earnestly. If the Fool isn't so much a fool, and if Death means possibility, then maybe...]
It's kind of like rebirth, yeah? "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
verso's a semisonic fan huh
Right. The end of a part of your life that's not serving you anymore. A door closing so a window can open, and all that. [ Death is not only her constant companion, but a close 'friend' of everyone in Lumiére. It's essential, she feels, to embrace that fact, lest you go insane.
Or swim out to sea with no intention of returning. ]
It can act as a warning: that holding on to the past may bring pain for yourself and others.
[ A more poignant sentiment for this world than she realizes.
Sciel finally looks back to Verso, who is again, seemingly, a bit lost in thought. After a brief stretch of silence, she offers: ]
You can hold onto that for now, if you like. Give it back when we get around to that official reading. [ And then, for clarification: ] Maybe you don't need it for yourself, but it can also help you to be there for the others.
[ Though she had intended it for him, she isn't about to overtly suggest that he might need more help than he's letting on. Verso has generally acted as an unflappable source of guidance for their group thus far, and while Sciel doesn't doubt he'll be able to continue that way, it certainly doesn't hurt to provide a reminder: you aren't the only one trying to keep the lights on. ]
And -- thanks. For checking on me. [ There's a renewed brightness in her face as she says it, crossing her arms over her chest. ] I really like talking to you.
okay but like secret smile does kinda have versciel vibes
It's the present that matters. Even the future's impossible to live in, right?
[He agrees at the end. This, at least, his actions represent. The past hast turned him into something he can't live with, and the future will turn him into nothing at all, but the present is where and when he can live though smaller, quieter moments like this, stitching them together into the fabric of a life that might have been worth living had it not brought about such suffering to everyone else.
When she tells him to hold onto the card, his own smile shines through. Holding it up between his fingers, he motions it towards her like a soft salute, then tucks it inside of his jacket, between his vest and his shirt, tapping the place where it rests over his heart.]
And thanks. I'll keep it safe.
[Meaning he'll stash it somewhere better once he's back at the camp proper. As she thanks him in turn, he takes note of how brightly she shines before looking back up at the stars and thinking that they pale in comparison.]
Yeah, of course. [A smile of his own, not bright but soft, like the very edges of the starlight as they blur out into the night sky.] If you ever need anything, I'm here. Unless you want someone to take over when it's your turn to be the sentry, then you're on your own.