[The deal is set and Verso takes a moment to reflect on how easy it all feels. On the surface, they're asking each other for simple things, but he doesn't find himself falling back on that or plotting ways to downplay whatever might be revealed in the cards or the notes. And it would be easy enough, asking inconsequential questions, playing music with optimism and bravado. It wouldn't even be beneath him, adept as he is at his two-steps-forward, one-step-back dance of letting people in.
Maybe he'll still chicken out at the eleventh hour, but for now the questions he thinks to ask are revelatory in their own right, and the music he composes in his mind embraces melancholy, and he gives a little bit of his hand away when he purses his lips before dragging out his next declaration:]
You ready for this? Three... [Just fucking say it already.] Tens.
[At least it's a set, he tells himself as he contemplates Sciel's question. All the bars and brasseries that first come to mind are from better times and a different city, spread out around Old Lumiere's conservatory like arms of starlight. That's probably not what she's asking, though – and waxing poetic on Old Lumiere doesn't feel like the move – so he narrows his focus to the Lumiere she knows, scrambling and fledgling as it was when he still felt at home beneath its Dome.]
There was a place by the harbour, Bar Pompette. Served the best absinthe I've ever tasted and was always packed with people. The Conservatory got left behind in Old Lumiere and the Opera House was out of commission, so a lot of the students would head over there, trade a performance for some drinks. There were nights when the music lasted until dawn.
[Does this man sound enraptured by his own memories? Yes, yes he does. It will probably always hurt him to think about the many homes he's lost along the way, but it would hurt more to lose sight of the joy they'd brought him, too, and so he lets himself get carried away for a moment. His return to reality comes quickly enough, anyway, as it always does.]
[ As they play -- and as he's noticed -- Sciel watches him. Not overtly, not pointedly, but in a way that has her eyes flitting up every once in a while to note what it looks like when he's thinking, to take in the little quirks of his lips and shift of his gaze. It's part of tarot, it's part of playing cards, and it's...part of getting to know someone, whatever your motive may be.
The histrionic declaration makes her laugh a little, and she quirks a challenging brow in return, matching a bit of his drama. ]
Three queens. [ She looks the appropriate amount of pleased at this, but is more interested in his recollection of the Lumiére of the past: of the places he'd loved decades prior, and whether or not they might still exist. If she'd been to them, walking in his footsteps. If he might be able to return to them someday.
The first name twinges her smile with something like wistfulness, and she replies, reluctantly: ] ...I don't think that one's survived the years, sadly. It sounds amazing.
[ There are still some lively spots around, but she knows things aren't like they were back then. There are far less people, for one thing. A lot less hope now, too, she imagines. ]
There aren't enough workers to keep the lights on everywhere. They've had to...consolidate. [ Not to mention the Council has made sure to impress their priorities on the remaining workforce, and keeping a plethora of bars and restaurants in business isn't top of the list.
But, why focus on the sad bits? They're playing a game, after all. They're here to have fun. To relax, as much as they're able. ]
...Absinthe, though! Somehow, that both is and isn't a surprise. [ The grin returns. In spite of his generally-put-together persona that she's come to know, it's...strangely easy to imagine him at Bar Pompette. Laughing, drinking, maybe even dancing. The idea makes her genuinely happy. It's...a goal. It's part of why they're doing all this. Right? To return to a world where some of your worst concerns were nasty hangovers and off-key bar songs. ]
[Even with his little slips, he still wants to maintain some semblance of a poker face – a prospect that's ever challenged whenever he looks up from his cards and catches Sciel's subtle glances and his eyes take on a little extra light. So, he tries a softer expression, no less serious, no less focused, but a little easier to maintain as the competitive side of him concedes some ground to the parts of him that simply needs more moments like this.
A gentle nod when she grazes the topic of Lumiere's ever-dwindling population. There really is no point dwelling on that, but it's still important to address, so:]
Even if that weren't the case, I wouldn't be surprised. A lot of places like that started losing steam after Expedition Zero.
[And he's sure that only got worse when Search & Rescue never came back at all. That's going to go without saying, though; he doesn't know that he'll ever be ready to share what had happened to them.]
But a lot more of them were gaining momentum. It almost felt patriotic, you know, us against the world, we'd take back what was ours, that kind of thing.
[More details are left out, like how us against the world was starting to shift towards us against the survivors, and how back then they believed in different outcomes than the ones that drive the Lumierans now. It doesn't show in his tone, though, which remains light and nostalgic, or in the crooked smile he quirks now.]
That's what I appreciate about you guys. You have the same spirit.
[Maybe not the same motivations for being out here. Maybe not the same blind hope or the specific drive to reclaim Old Lumiere and rebuild it into something better than before. The specifics hardly matter, though. It reminds him of home all the same, and in fond ways rather than ones that leave him feeling mournful and lost.
Humming in contemplation, he focuses back on his cards as he tallies his score so far.]
Four points.
[And he places an Ace of Hearts.
There's something about how Sciel responds to his fondness for absinthe that has him particularly curious, though, something that finds him wondering how good of a read she has on him even without the guidance of her cards, so he adds:]
[ Expedition Zero. She knows the basic history of it, of course, and not only because she's an Expeditioner and a teacher. It's one of the most important bits of their city's past and it holds some key information that's helped shape their current Expedition. While she doesn't have the same intense hunger for knowledge as Lune, Sciel is a naturally-curious person. She looks at him for a moment, considering, and then asks: ]
What were they like? The people back then, I mean.
[ Whether she means Lumierans in general or specifically those with Zero isn't made clear. She does add, though: ] There's still some of that spirit. But most just seem...tired.
[ Worn down by time and failure and loss. There are only a special few, like Lune and Gustave and some of the others, who manage to be confident and hopeful, at least externally. ]
Three points. [ She reports. There's a pointed look at the Ace, a pause, and then a King of Spades laid nearby.
Damn Hearts. ]
"What I mean?" ...Oh. [ There's a little laugh as she straightens up a bit, pushing her shoulders back briefly to crack her upper spine. ] Well...it's just a feeling, not really based in anything. But I can just picture you...I dunno, letting loose a bit. Really being able to enjoy the city in its heyday. [ That green, assessing gaze finds him again and she thinks on it more, nodding vaguely. ] I think, given the chance, you'd be more of a people person. Not a recluse.
[ He's obviously out here by necessity, but there's also something about him that suggest he thrives on connection in a way that goes beyond just a man starved of it because of his circumstances. It's early in their friendship, though, and so she shrugs and returns her focus to the game. ]
Could be wrong, of course. [ Her lip again twitches at amusement. ] ...But, also: I don't think just anyone orders absinthe.
[A soft exhalation when she asks about those olden days. It doesn't bother him – he's well-versed in the differences between prying and conversational curiosity – but it is still difficult to talk about, both for the lingering pains and for how easy it would be for her to inadvertently guide the conversations down paths that could call him into question. Backing out would breed greater doubts, though, so he answers her question in earnest.]
Determined. Incredibly stubborn. And they were tired too, in their own way. Nobody knew about the Nevrons until we came back, so that was a pretty heavy blow. Especially because they wanted to believe there were survivors. A lot of them worked themselves to exhaustion, but, I mean, what else were they going to do? It was all hands on deck and even then, we didn't always have enough manpower.
[The number on the Monolith didn't mean anything yet; their days were differently numbered, counted down in terms of how many resources they had available and how well they could sustain the city in the middle of an island with little land and difficult access to the Continent. These things, he doesn't need to share, though; problems like being stuck in a shitty location aren't really fixable, just temporarily manageable. As Lumiere's dwindling population no doubt proves today.]
Most people ended up getting stuck in the past and taking the future for granted, so things felt nostalgic. There was a lot of talk about all the things they wanted to see and do again. Checking in on the Gestrals and the Grandis, going skiing or visiting the amusement parks, taking trains from one side of the Continent to the other. Sometimes, those memories felt like the only things keeping everyone going. I think it'd surprise them how much history you've lost.
[It certainly surprises him; the first time he revealed his name to an Expedition, he was anxiously awaiting recognition. But none came and none has ever come. And that hurts, too, knowing that all those people are already forgotten – that the loses they suffered in Old Lumiere are often seen as myths rather than realities. Such is the nature of the world, though; the past only matters when the future is guaranteed.
When he frowns, it's not because of the thoughts rolling through his mind, but rather because of the card he has to play in response to Sciel's: a paltry Eight of Spades. The frown doesn't last long, either, as she reads him like a fucking book and he finds himself smiling in spite of himself.]
You're not wrong. I used to drive my parents crazy. They were prominent artists and had a reputation to uphold and I... well, I had my own reputation. Nothing bad, just not what they wanted for their only son.
[ They're so preoccupied with those who would come after, she thinks, that they often neglect those who came before. The other 33s have it right: there's obvious value in learning about the early days and the path that was laid for them. But...very few can do what Verso does and offer insights to these people in real ways that not only sketch them, but fill in the outlines. Add color, add character.
Sciel listens with her head cocked, smiling softly. ]
It's easy to understand why. [ Why they were tired, why they got stuck in the past. Sciel herself tries to live by a 'tomorrow isn't promised' mindset, but she's certainly been guilty of tethering herself too tightly to memory. And of allowing herself to shut her eyes to the possibilities of the future.
There's a small, steadying breath through the nose: in, out. She takes the trick silently and lays down her next card. ...Somehow, the not-too-distant sound of water against rock is especially distracting.
Fortunately, his family stories coax her out of that nagging discomfort, and her expression eases up again. ]
It can be difficult, grappling with those expectations. [ Though that wasn't at all her experience, well...she's friends with Lune. Sciel's seen it firsthand. ] So, they were artists -- what kind? And they wanted you to follow in their footsteps, but you-... Hmm. Was it music? Or an 'academic' interest in being the life of the party?
[ Her lips come together in an grin and she quirks a teasing brow.
(In the future, once his connection to the man called Renoir is discovered, she'll remember this conversation...and think, troubled, that it isn't so hard to imagine that an artist might also be a murderer.) ]
[There's a moment where Verso notices how some part of Sciel drifts away towards seemingly unpleasant places; he cocks his head in soft concern, leaving it angled even as she returns to form and his own expression shifts back into a gentle smile. All Lumierans have been subject to intense amounts of grief so it's not the reaction itself that takes him aback. Something about it just lingers with him, something that feels different from what he's used to, though he can hardly put his finger on why.
Rather than pressing her now, he slots this moment into his memories for safekeeping, just in case it comes up again. In the meantime, he plays his own card – on-suit but still a low number as he thins out the shitty parts of his hand – laughing at her tease before responding.]
My mother was a painter. My father was too, but he dabbled in other things. Drawing, architecture, engineering. She was in it for perfection and he was all about control, which are, you know, great reasons to create art. Great ways to burn your kids out on it, too. They didn't like having to explain why I didn't have any pieces on display in their gallery, but that's their own fault for talking me up like I was going to take over the family empire one day.
[This just grazes the surface of the pressures his parents put on him, of course, so he's able to maintain a casual, self-sure air as he shares his story. Even so, there's a bit of a bitterness to his tone, and a frustration that's not entirely on his own behalf. His siblings suffered, too; they suffered worse than him.]
I was good at painting, but it always felt lonely to me. Performing made me feel alive. Like I was... on a journey with the audience. That's where we butted heads. Not the music specifically, but... I wanted to be like everyone else, and they were more about being exceptional. Whatever that means.
[You are a Dessendre are words he can bring to mind in both his parents' voices, in all manner of tones. Except he isn't, he's Verso No-Last-Name like all the other Lumierans, even if that, too, is a falsehood.
A pause while he considers a question. He could go simple and ask about her family or her rebellions or things of that nature, but instead he circles back to how this branch of the conversation started and asks instead:]
So, that's what the absinthe says about me. Now it's your turn. What's your drink of choice?
[ Again she takes the trick, noting the low number, mentally keeping track of what she probably has to expect from him coming up as she finishes out the suit.
He's sharing a lot, she thinks. Surprisingly so, if only because talking about your parents -- particularly about their personalities -- can often have revealing implications for their children. A mother who expected perfection, a father who expected control. He says "kids," plural. Sciel picks up on the little twinges of frustration in his voice, or the microexpressions that suggest the same, and uses all of these things to fill out the picture of the man in her mind.
She seems less analytical and more endeared when he starts talking about music, though. Her inquisitive expression brightens, her lips pressed together in a growing display of fondness. It's nice hearing Verso talk about himself, but it's really nice when he brings up something like this and his shoulder seem to sag a little less as he comes to life. ]
You are exceptional. [ Sciel states, and it's matter-of-fact in the way that she is with most things. Her attention returns to the game as she speaks, as if to take some of the heat off him. ] But it's not because you followed the path they laid for you.
[ He's accomplished a lot, obviously, and he's immortal to boot, but it's more particular than that. He's done so much for their group alone, to say nothing of all the Expeditions before. That aside, she's finding him more and more to be an extraordinarily interesting person, and someone with a lot to offer. Whether he realizes it or not is another story; it's to be expected that the pressure his parents put on him would impact his self-worth to some degree.
To his question, she offers a thoughtful hum. Wine is too common and expected an answer, and it isn't long before her serene smile becomes a little more of a in impish grin. ]
Have you ever tried a Champs-Élysées? Not everyone carries Chartreuse, but when you find some... [ Sciel sighs wistfully, gazing skyward, as if lost in the memory. ] Got my hands on a bottle once. Didn't last as long as I'd like.
[ It occurs to her that this is also a green drink and she chuckles, turning back to Verso. ]
Would you say the absinthe's your "drink of choice?" Or was that special for Bar Pompette?
[There are things he doesn't take issue with sharing and masks that he's long learned the folly of wearing. Telling the wrong lies and concealing the wrong truths has horrifically backfired on him in the past, and besides, he doesn't mind being seen so much as he does being seen through. Which is why he receives Sciel's comment on the chin, even if it catches him off guard enough that all he does at first is let out a scoff of a breath.]
Exceptionally old, maybe.
[So, yes, his self-worth isn't exactly stellar, but his ability to bat that aside with breezy humour as if he's capable of receiving such praises without them surfacing new doubts. Like how if he's exceptional at anything, then it's lying, and how he has a knack for making people believe he's worth something when he's just a tired man whose existence only makes things worse.
It's moments like these, though, when he can quiet those voices, at least a little. He's not lying. He isn't making things worse. Sciel reaches out to him with confidence and with comfort and he finds himself wanting to reach back a little, even if he isn't sure how quite yet. Another thing to set aside for later, he supposes; something to look forward to when it's his turn – and when he has the courage – to try and catch her off guard, too.]
And good at cards.
[Which is all bravado; he puts down his highest card of the same suit, but is still aware that the score doesn't favour him even if she can't take this trick.
That wistful sigh of hers, and the way she looks up into the sky after sharing her favourite drink, eases him a little more, and he laughs lightly. Boy does he know the feeling of a too-quickly dwindling bottle. He knows the drink, too, which means that he's back to pointing his finger as if something important is afoot.]
Ooh, yeah, that's a good one. Knew a guy who'd make it with a vanilla syrup and some kind of spice. Now, that was a drink that could get you into some trouble. As for the absinthe... I didn't really have a go-to before Bar Pompette, and thanks to them I started associating it with music, so. Wrote some of my best songs when I was half a drink in.
[But he had asked her about her drink of choice for a reason, and so he circles back.]
Anyway, I'd say your drink tells me you like to treat yourself and enjoy things, but I got that impression already. So... why don't you just tell me something surprising about yourself?
Sorry, isn't that what I said? [ "Exceptionally old?" Her smile goes sideways and she reaches out with a foot to bump playfully against his leg. ] With age comes wisdom, and...loads of other things, I'm sure.
[ Skill at piquet, probably. She thinks it before he says it, and when he does, her smile grows. Again she takes the trick, but feels there's a storm coming in which she won't fare well. ]
That absolutely sounds dangerous. [ Sciel chuckles, imagining the already-delicious drink with the timeless sweetness of vanilla and the warmth of added spices. It sounds like the kind of thing that's too close to a dessert to employ good moderation, and the kind of thing that leaves you with a monstrous headache the next day.
Worth it, though.
There's another warmth as she continues to listen, picturing a happily-drunk Verso at a piano, humming to himself and plunking away with an imagined peace that she's yet to get to see on the man. ...It'd be nice to be able to get back to something like that, someday. For all of them.
The feeling funnels out as if circling a drain at his question, though she keeps the fresh chill from her face (she hopes). Because-...how do you reply to that when you can't use the answers that're at the top of the list, and which are all horribly and inextricably linked?
There's a long pause. Sciel's expression turns contemplative as she digs down for something else, sifting through options that are either...not what she wants to share with him with now, or not interesting enough. ]
...Right. I...can play the piano. [ There's a much briefer pause before she's flashing her teeth in a lightly-guilty smile. ] Well, I can play one song. Which, if you'd like to hear it, would have to come before you play for me. You might be intimidated by my skill, but I hope it'll just inspire you to great, new heights.
[ This is, of course, a joke, the nature of which he'll probably see for himself at some point. ]
I'd ask you the same question, but I want to be fair, and you've shared a lot more than I was expecting already...
[My mind must have been somewhere else is right there on the tip of his tongue, but he is still not a brave enough man to escalate his flirting to that level of directness, even as she bumps his leg and brightens her smile and makes him feel exceptionally ordinary. So, he opts for the dumb joke at first:]
Hearing loss must be one of those things. [And then, with the courage born of vagueness:] Fortunately, I make up for it in other areas.
[There's an impulse, however fleeting, to try to pull back on the potential implications and ground those other areas somewhere else, like acrobatic Nevron defeats, or knowing how to make the various edible mushrooms and weeds on the Continent actually taste like something other than dirt and grass, or having taught a gaggle of crows how to sing along as he plays the piano for them. But he leaves it open-ended, casual, focusing instead on placing down an ace of a different suit.
Clearly, though, knowing the difference between the right thing and the wrong thing to say remains one of the areas of his life that has only worsened with age. Light shines so brightly in Sciel's eyes and through her smile that even the slightest glimpse of its fading over his question is enough to have him worrying about where her mind might have wandered off to. When she mentions the piano, though, it's his turn to brighten up like a star; the only thing she could have said to make him transform into more of a nerd would be that she collects model train sets.
He is going to be so sad when he finds out it's a joke, Sciel!!!]
What song? No, wait, surprise me with that, too.
[He almost wants to lose, now; it's been too long since he's had anyone to play music with, and he doesn't yet know about Lune. Lune, who would probably wouldn't have backed away from asking him even more questions the way that Sciel does now – a thought which makes him appreciate Sciel's company all the more. So, he laughs and shrugs and he teases.]
And here I was about to tell you about the carousel. Oh well.
[ Whether because it's still early enough in their relationship or because of the friendly competition or because of the brief, dark reminiscing she'd been compelled to do, Sciel actually doesn't consider the implications for which he so kindly leaves room. At the moment, her interpretation of it is completely innocent: that, yes, it's to be expected that Verso might have an array of talents that she doesn't yet know about. Though she's glad to be learning about them, to hear and see firsthand what the newest 33 is like as a person, and not just a blade or a guide.
The ace appears. There's a small, breathy chuckle as she considers her options...but of course, there aren't many. Out comes a lesser card, which she sets down with a small snap. ]
I bet that play felt good. [ She says pointedly, considering all the tricks she'd just taken from him. But her smile is still mostly genial and only a touch teasing. ...Though it shifts again as his does, reflecting his brightness in turn as she finds herself energized again by his own displays of enthusiasm. ]
It'll be a surprise. [ Sciel confirms, already feeling a little bad imagining the disappointment he'll certainly feel. Hopefully he'll find at least some humor in it. Still smiling, but chewing briefly on her lip, she quickly adds: ] But I'd be happy to learn more, you know, if there's ever time.
[ And a piano, which she doesn't yet realize he'll simply summon from chroma the way they do their weapons. ]
Oh, unfair! [ There's a genuine, surprised laugh as she shakes her head at him in mock disappointment. ] Now you've got to tell me. What carousel?
[And so it goes that Verso assumes that Sciel has no interest in being anything other than friendly, which is fine, but which also means that when she does express interest he will embarrass himself in the opposite direction. Being Verso is pain.
The lack of any indication of reciprocity is not a problem, though; with one ambiguity presumably clarified, he can wonder less and be a little more sure in the steps he takes as he continues to navigate one of the most earnest conversations he's had in far longer than he cares to quantify. So, he laughs at her commentary, twirling his next card between his fingers – a slightly less lesser card than hers – and places it down, taking that trick, too.]
Not as good as that one did.
[It's a lie; they both felt pretty great to his competitive ass. At least the talk of music isn't triggering that same spirit. He can count on one hand the number of times he has felt the urge to win at music, and even that was more about the challenge of pushing each other to the limits of their abilities than actually emerging victorious. Thinking about teaching her play also feels pretty great, though largely because it's been decades since he's taught anyone anything aside from how to kill better and stave off death longer. It's a bit of a fantasy, of course – as she says, they really don't have the luxury of that much time – but out here, he grasps onto what he can, so:]
Hey, if you ever do want a lesson, just ask.
[Briefly, he plays at leaving his part of the conversation there, ignoring how she's asked about the carousel and shifting into a slightly more comfortable posture with both legs tucked underneath him now. The leg he'd had extended groans in objection, and he thinks to himself that there really ought to be more perks to immortality.]
There's one just north of Monoco's Station that still works. Music and everything. The horses are fine, but the real magic is climbing up to the roof, lying back, and looking up at the stars. If you close your eyes and get used to the movement, when you open them again it's like the sky is spinning. I composed a lot of songs there, too.
Getting a bit cocky, are we? [ But it only makes her grin all the more, mirroring him in twirling cards between her fingers, even when he's the one taking the tricks and therefore the points. This continues on for a while and she's forced to accept that it isn't looking good for actually getting to hear him play... This time, anyway. ]
Really? [ If it sounds a little dubious, she can't be judged too harshly: they both know how improbable it is they'll have time for something like that, though...the idea is nice. Sitting side by side on a piano bench, watching his hands move across the keys, him reaching over to position her own just so... Sciel isn't a musician, but his passion -- already peeking through just in their scant conversations on the subject -- is infectious. ] ...I'd like that, Verso. If we can.
[ Even if it just turns out to be a handful of minutes here and there, it's...something to look forward to. Like their flight above the Continent on Esquie's back, or the skiing...
Gently, she tucks it away in a corner of her heart for safekeeping. ]
Really? [ Comes the echo, her eyes alight with almost childlike wonder, lips parting in a more broad smile. ] That sounds...wonderful. I've never ridden one, just... [ Sigh. ] Maybe they had one once in Lumiére; I'm not sure. But I'd love to see it. [ Looking up at the stars, eh? Her lips come together again in a tight, earnest smile. ] Sounds like a great place for a lot of things.
[ Thinking, composing music, talking to the stars... ]
...It also sounds cold. [ She adds, laughing lightly. ]
[A shrug of his hands – careful not to reveal his cards – before he looks down for a moment, still stricken by the gleam of her smile enough that taking too much of it in feels a little dangerous, like looking into the sun on a particularly clear day when the sky is a just-right shade of blue.
Talk of piano is something he always meets head-on, though, so it's a momentary lapse, even as Sciel's tone veers towards doubt. If anything, it's comforting in a way, understanding that they're both aware they could be speaking in dreams and fantasies. It gives them both something to hope for without the pressure of promises and certainties. And if it doesn't come to pass, then Verso alone will have to sit in the disappointment, which is more than fair all things considered.
But which is also beside the point. So, he throws in another tease.]
You won't even have to win it from me. [And then shifts serious.] Consider it a thank you.
[For what, he doesn't say. Making me feel human seems like entirely too much to reveal, and he needs to maintain some level of mystery else he be considered a forthcoming stranger, which simply doesn't have the same ring to it. Besides, he'd rather go into greater detail on the carousel, especially knowing that it's landed so well.]
It is – [Cold, he means.] – but it's not so bad. The gears are right beneath the roof and they warm up fast. All you need is a warm blanket, some gloves, and a flask of hot tea.
[How many nights has he spent just like that when he and Monoco still lived up in Frozen Hearts? How many times has he been back since they'd parted ways and Verso needed the companionship of the ghosts of his memories? He sighs after speaking, fond and reminiscent, tired in the way he always seems. The next card he plays is another low one, easily beaten.]
[ It's strange. Yes, they're both realists -- they know better than to make plans and promises that might never come to pass -- but in this moment, it...almost feels like impossible things are more within reach than ever. Sitting around with him, chatting, playing their game: it could be a moment from another life. Like there aren't Nevrons lurking just out of sight who'd jump at the chance to rip one of them in half, or like the Paintress' hunched form doesn't loom over the horizon.
It isn't impossible that that could become the reality, someday. It also isn't likely, but...maybe it isn't so bad to imagine this same scene playing out in a café back home. At the table in her apartment, even. ]
"A thank you?" [ Again, he manages to surprise her, further fueling the brightness of her expression, but she doesn't question him beyond that. After all, she'd offered a freebie of her own, last time. And so she continues playing, looking pleased as she chews on this development...and as she takes the trick. ]
Mm, well, I don't mind. I can handle the cold. [ And the snow!! There'll be so much snow!! ] Besides, it also sounds...cozy, in a way. And-...beautiful.
[ Slowly spinning on the warm roof of an old carousel, looking up at the sky. It genuinely sounds so relaxing that she draws a deep inhale, exhale in the present moment, letting the possibility of that diversion wash over her in a soothing wave. ]
Every time I think you can't come up with a better story about some corner of the Continent or another, you manage it anyway. [ Sciel lays her next card out: a six. ] Well done. But know that my expectations are high!
[ Her tone is lilting. Joking. If she's going to be disappointed, it'd be in much more substantive things than this. As it is, she's just glad for the opportunity to see so many incredible places and features of this hostile world that they'd either only read about back in Lumiére or hadn't even dreamed of. The truth is, without Verso...it would've been a very different experience.
She looks up, glancing over him with a smaller, more thoughtful smile. ]
...It must get lonely out here, I'd think. Even with Esquie and everyone else.
[A halved smile is all she'll get in response to her not-question about his gratitude; he may never find the words to explain why he enjoys her company the way that he does, which feels like it's for the best anyway. Let her think that he's not as torn up about life on the Continent as he's become; let him spare her from the burdens of a man whose existence already places an unbearable weight on everyone's shoulders.
As she speaks about the carousel, he nods along lightly in unnecessary yet almost enthusiastic emphasis. There aren't many places on the Continent that give off those impressions, and sharing them with others always feels good, like he has more to offer than the peace of oblivion, even if that is his anticipated outcome.
The Continent really is a beautiful place when one looks past the Nevrons and the shards in the sky and the dead that exist frozen in time and space. Which is necessary for moving on; Verso has seen too many Expeditioners waste away from the bleakness of it all. Sometimes, he wonders how much more perseverant they might have been had he given them things to look forward to besides facing off against the Paintress. And so he doesn't downplay the anticipation even after Sciel jokingly comments on having high expectations. It's still better than the alternative.]
As they should be. I'm something of a connoisseur of the Continent, you know.
[A lapse into dark humour that only he'll understand, which softens the mischievousness in his eyes and makes his smile veer a little more crooked – a look he maintains as he plays one of his 10s over her six. And a look that falters when she brings up his loneliness. It's isn't like it's an unobvious thing; of course a man who's only had two reasonably consistent companions over the course of sixty-seven years would be lonely. Talking about it is hard, though, at least in the context of a proper conversation.
At first, he just sighs. It takes another breath before he puts his feelings to words.]
You get used to it after a while.
[It's a half truth. The loneliness runs a similar course to grief in that it remains the same size, but the space around it grows so that it's not always as oppressive. When it asserts its presence, though...
He tries to come up with more to say but these are the parts of himself that he doesn't like to share with others, and so nothing strikes him as feeling particularly right. At least until he digs a bit deeper into the choices he's made that have brought him to this point, and he plucks up something that both seems okay to mention and belies how negatively it affects him.]
You're something of a connoisseur of a lot of things, I'm learning. [ There's a light chuckle as she shifts her weight, adjusting her position where she sits on the grass. Verso has turned out to have a more diverse array of talents than she'd have guessed, but each new development is still something that manages to make sense. As if she can see the whole outline of him, and these revelations slot in neatly to space she's already carved out. ...No, Sciel doesn't think that she knows him well, but she feels the shape of this strange, lonely immortal is accurately sketched within her own mind.
It becomes hazier in moments like this: when the smile seems to sadden and she knows (or assumes she knows) that he's drifted into painful memory, whether by choice or no. Sciel looks at her cards without seeing then, thumbing across her remaining hand, focused entirely on his demeanor and his words. ]
...I obviously can't say I know what you're going through, but...if it ever helps, you can tell me. However much you want, or don't want.
[ Remembering the game, Sciel indicates the cards in her hand a bit, offering a soft, sympathetic smile. ]
...Or, we find enough distractions that you don't have to think about it. Your choice.
[ Sometimes these things -- the painful memories and barbed thoughts -- are best met head-on. Sometimes, though, it's like staring directly into the sun, and a more indirect approach is required. ]
After the beach, I thought I was alone. [ She adds after a pause, glancing in the direction where Lune and Maelle are spending their evening. ] And...yeah, I guess it was freeing, in a way. I knew I couldn't complete the mission, so I'd sort of resigned myself to living in the village. Fighting as much as I could, knowing that'd probably be how I spent the rest of my life. [ Her short, short, short life. ] And it was...nice. Not having to go on anymore.
[ Very different from the first time she'd faced the end. Both times it'd seemed like there was no other choice, but back then, she'd felt...despair. In the Gestral Village, it'd come with a strange sort of calm.
Again there's a pause, and then she reaches over to briefly grasp whatever's closest: a folded knee, his forearm, the tip of his boot. ]
For the record, I'm glad neither of us are on our own anymore.
[But, the slowness of his tone says, I probably won't be taking you up on that. The talking, anyway; Verso is a man of endless distractions, in near-constant pursuit of anything that will spare him from having to quietly endure whichever clusterfuck is battering against the edge of his thoughts, threatening to break through and drag him back down to despair's darkest depths.
His pride won't let him admit how badly he needs distracting, though, even if that's probably obvious from how the bulk of what he's been sharing are the various ways through which he's sought an escape from his circumstances. Instead he focuses on what Sciel shares, her moments of loneliness and freedom, her distraction and her escape. It takes a lot of strength, he thinks, to at once give up and keep going, to transition from being someone who might one day champion their people to the champion of a gaggle of doglike painter mannequins. He both relates and doesn't, covering up the latter to emphasise the former.]
Yeah. Yeah, exactly.
[It's surprisingly easy to relate to her, he thinks, though he could also be getting ahead of himself, especially considering how the turn of the conversation has made his own loneliness into something more prominent, something that now colours most of what he thinks and says and does. And right now, those colours veer a little brighter. There's more than one kind of loneliness – the loneliness of isolation and the loneliness of being the centre of attention yet never truly being seen – and he's as used to the one as he is to the other. Through his own fault of course, but still. He's just a man.]
You can follow the wind without worrying so much about where it takes you. And the world gets bigger or smaller depending on where you look, and you get to decide the shape of it.
[A pause, sheepish. Then:]
Or maybe that's just me.
[Another faltering happens when she reaches for his knee, though; the gesture kind, the feelings shared, his heart tired of holding itself aloft alone. But because his familiar strength is donning masks with weight and heft, he smiles it off as if it never happened, nodding his head once in commiseration.]
Agreed. How did you meet back up with everyone, anyway?
Edited (the question bothered me!!!) 2025-10-15 05:31 (UTC)
[ She has no expectations. That comes as part of her personality, but also because of the nature of their mission. So his response only elicits a knowing nod before she thinks little more of it.
It'd be out of character, honestly, if he suddenly spilled his guts to her. After all, it's been like pulling teeth trying to get the man to share his dark and moody stories, though...she's encouraged by the progress. No, she wouldn't claim to know Verso, but when he does things like agrees to spending evenings like this, she counts it as a win.
His assessment of the benefits of loneliness are interesting. They put a kind of spin on the feeling: a spin that she herself might echo, were she in his position. So Sciel smiles at him in a crooked sort of way, picturing some of his mentioned escapades around the Continent: soaring over its heights, skiing its slopes, spending evenings in its cafes.
A sentimental person might say it's heartwarming to think about. And so it is, for her. ]
No, I...think I understand. [ Not to presume she can imagine being in his shoes exactly, but the spirit of what he's trying to communicate does resonate. ] Maybe you didn't find yourself in that situation by choice, but it sounds like you've managed to make the most of it. Not everyone could find a silver lining.
[ Sometimes, though, you have to find the good. Strap it to your chest so you never forget. Otherwise, you die.
...Speaking of, sort of. ]
They found me in the arena. Dunno how long it'd been since the beach. [ She shrugs, rolling her head back to look skyward, thinking back. ] For fun, we sparred for the title of champion. [ When she again fixes him with her attention, she's sporting another devilish grin. ] I won. Had to defend my reputation with the Gestrals, after all.
It's... one of the first things I learned after the Fracture. That you can't take everything for the worst.
[There will always be a part of his mind that's trapped in the place where Julie and the rest of Search & Rescue died; he will never stop trying to learn from what happened then. Even as he keeps repeating many of the same mistakes, he does so with a greater attention to detail, a stronger awareness of what to clarify and what to obfuscate.
Masked up, he doesn't let the impact of his own words show. It comes across as acceptance more than anything, a sense of peace towards something that has wrought an excess of chaos. Which makes his masks silver linings in their own right, he supposes, for how they make it easier for him to live up to the man he presents himself as being, lighthearted and whole, an optimistic realist who isn't running on paint fumes.
It helps that I don't have a choice, he almost thinks to joke. But that's a bit dark and it's entirely too personal, so he shifts position once more, bringing both of his knees up so he can rest his elbows on them. Internally self-soothing, externally casual.]
Especially when you're living out here. [A breath of a laugh.] It's not much, but it's still home.
[Which itself is a fraught concept, but Verso doesn't feel particularly inclined towards that kind of wallowing right now, so he lets it occupy the space between them with a sense of peace that's more real than the one he'd presented earlier.
Idly, as Sciel shares her story, Verso thinks back to how she had called him extraordinary earlier, and he wonders if she realises how much better suited she is for that title. Not everybody would have challenged the Gestrals after surviving what she had; fewer still would meet the discovery that they aren't alone with a sparring match. The look he fixes her with as he mulls over these thoughts is appraising in an admiring way before he catches himself and it falls a bit shy.
Which means it's time to pretend that he has confidence to spare.]
I used to be the reigning champion, you know. Took years before Gestrals stopped hunting me down to prove themselves, so, hey, you also have that to look forward to. Just don't let them rope you into a game of volleyball.
[That's not the point of what Sciel shared, though, so he adds:]
Hmm. [ Sciel hums, nodding thoughtfully. ] Easier said than done, I'm sure, after something like that. I doubt most people were able to hold on to that perspective.
[ And understandably so. It'd been a time of immense chaos, she knows. ...But what she 'knows' is from a straightforward, academic perspective: it's history that's been passed down, but not lived. Until Verso. ]
...Well. I'm glad that's what you took out of it, anyway. [ Immortality is so often depicted in fairy tales as a gift. She thinks, not for the first time, that's a bit of a miracle he hasn't lost his mind completely. ] And that you've found somewhere else to call home.
[ It isn't difficult to imagine finding that kind of peace out here, really. Sciel hasn't spent terribly long on the Continent, but as he's saying, there's enough beauty and wonder to be found to make it a place worth thinking of as more than just a lethal wasteland. That's just the way of the natural, untamed world, isn't it? It calls for caution and respect first, but after that, you can appreciate it. Become a part of it, in some cases.
His advice about the Gestrals earns a laugh, and then a histrionic sigh. ]
Woe to the Gestrals who try and chase me down. [ She says cryptically. Then her expression softens as she shifts her posture again, tucking her legs beneath. ] Well, I hope there's no hard feelings in my having stolen your title. If you were champion of their little volleyball game, too, then you're welcome to keep that one.
[ The parkour challenge had been...more than enough beach games for their group to handle. ]
It was. [ She confirms, warmth always intrinsic in her voice when it comes to the rest of the 33s. ] I was...so glad to see them. I can't even tell you-... [ There's a pause, then another sigh. ] ...But I wasn't surprised. Even after what happened, and...even if I wasn't sure anyone'd made it, seeing those three just made sense.
[ We can do it, she'd thought. We're enough to make it all the time.
Does she still believe that with complete confidence? The feeling is...complicated. ]
[At first, Verso smiles through what Sciel says. The sentiments are nice and he appreciates them, but he is also prone to melancholy and doesn't want to sink too deep into them else they be drowned out by guilt and regrets and a sense of self-worth too inadequate to hold back the worst of the deluge. He'll offer a slight, acknowledging cant of his head at the end, though, and a shrug that says what are you gonna do, as if he's simply got caught in a downpour of rain.
And if there had been rain, he thinks that Sciel's latest laugh would be l'arc-en-ciel, a splash of colour against a still-gloomy sky. A stronger man might have reminded himself to keep himself from growing too attached, but to do so would stand so stark to his very nature that he dismisses the thought. It's fine. He can handle himself. They're having a good time. If the doubts won't leave him be, then he'll let them exhaust themselves. Et cetera.]
No, no, it's all yours.
[The thought occurs to him to challenge her to a duel for the title. Not that he expects to follow through, but because it feels like it could be a fun idea to play around with. Duels are best for turning one's mind off from one's circumstances, though, and more and more he's finding that he enjoys existing with Sciel within those circumstances, even if they sometimes veer too close to home and he remains evasive about the things that actually matter. So, he abandons that idea before it can be something more.]
And it's probably for the best that their idea of volleyball doesn't have any champions. Trust me. It involves cannons.
[Which, in hindsight, is probably a given considering the Sakapatates, but details. It hardly matters anymore once she gives him a little peek into the camaraderie between the 33s – something Verso still has only observed from afar and in the guilt-laced context of their grief over losing Gustave – and he feels his curiosity swell. A bit of nosiness, too, but they've been plenty inquisitive about him so he feels like he can ask a little question of his own.]
Huh. There any particular reason why it made sense?
I'm not sure I want to get involved with their games. [ She says back, already looking sort of wearily amused at the thought. ] ...More than we already have, anyway. How many of those beaches have they taken over?
[ It feels possible that the Continent could have...maybe a dozen spots like that, co-opted by the Gestrals for their insane games with bizarre prizes.
...She kind of loves it, though. There's something so silly, so freeing, about putting so much effort into something so low stakes. Particularly when the rest of their time and energy is spent funneled into-...well. ]
Cannons? ...Ah. Makes sense. [ Just as he's thinking: she recalls quickly the firepower mounted on the arms of the Sakapatates. ] You know, it's actually sounding more fun as we're talking about it. I might've come 'round on this.
[ Her often-seen impish smile doesn't do much to clarify whether or not she's kidding. ]
It's...not very concrete a feeling. [ Sciel replies, when the subject returns to her friends' reappearances in the village. ] All of the 33s had their strengths. They were all cut out for the job. But... [ How to put it? ] ...You know Lune and Maelle now, so you've seen...how they are. Both incredibly capable, no matter what they're up against. Stubborn -- and I mean that with love. It just feels as if they could reason or brave their way through anything, so...in the fact of that, their survival was almost a given.
[ As for their engineer... ]
Gustave... [ Sciel pulls in an inhale and holds it, briefly savoring the light burning in her lungs that means she's alive. ] He managed some impossible things. You know about the converter, of course, but I don't just mean his inventions. He had...this warmth, this spirit. Made you feel hopeful when you'd swear there was no way you could. [ Here she looks at Verso, but she's still seeing those moments with her late friend. All the memories, the times he'd lifted her back up. ] I'm not explaining it very well, but...he was kind of impossible. In the best way. So it made sense he'd done just that and made it off the beach.
[ Sciel knows, of course, that it almost hadn't happened. That he'd almost given in to his own despair. But it doesn't color her story, nor her opinions of him. Nothing ever could. ]
Too many. [Is the quick and simple part of his answer regarding the Gestral beaches. Then:] And not enough. There used to be a lot more. Could even beat most of them without being left wondering what you're doing with your life.
[The heavy sigh that follows suggests he is speaking from experience, as does the way he tosses his hands up in the air at the more enthused talk of volleyball. Briefly, he considers telling her what the Gestrals use as balls but decides to err on the side of caution – that particular tidbit has always been a bit hit-or-miss with the Expeditioners. Instead, he absolves himself of any decision she may or may not make in the future.]
Don't say I didn't warn you.
[Verso knew what he was asking, so as Sciel shifts into talking about the 33s, he braces himself for the inevitable mention of Gustave. Nodding along as she confirms what he's seen from the girls, then biting back guilt as she adds more depth to the man who Verso had deemed expendable. A light in the darkness. Maelle's father-brother, better at being Alicia's family than he's ever been. Brilliant and stubborn and increasingly sounding like exactly the kind of person Verso would have got along well with once upon a time.
His fingers flit to where his armband – the new one, the gift from Maelle, 33 set in gold against black – would be if he was wearing his jacket. In its remembered absence, he scratches at his arm as if that had been his intention all along.]
He really does sound like a good guy.
[In hindsight, he wishes he'd have met him. It's an awful thing, letting a man die out of an impulsive fear of failure, and he thinks that maybe if he knew better – maybe if he had known his warmth and discovered his spirit and felt the hope Sciel speaks of now – he would have made a different choice, a better one. Or maybe that's a byproduct the guilt, too, his subconscious working itself into knots trying to make him feel like there are still parts of him that can be redeemed.
He falls silent for a moment. Most of what he can say just feels shitty. I'm sorry for your loss that I could have prevented. I'm sorry that I made sure I didn't get there in time. I wish he were here but it might be better that he's not. So, he reaches for someone else's words, smiling softly as he offers them to Sciel.]
He made quite the impression on Esquie, too. What'd he call him... Right, the super nice one.
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tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
no subject
Maybe he'll still chicken out at the eleventh hour, but for now the questions he thinks to ask are revelatory in their own right, and the music he composes in his mind embraces melancholy, and he gives a little bit of his hand away when he purses his lips before dragging out his next declaration:]
You ready for this? Three... [Just fucking say it already.] Tens.
[At least it's a set, he tells himself as he contemplates Sciel's question. All the bars and brasseries that first come to mind are from better times and a different city, spread out around Old Lumiere's conservatory like arms of starlight. That's probably not what she's asking, though – and waxing poetic on Old Lumiere doesn't feel like the move – so he narrows his focus to the Lumiere she knows, scrambling and fledgling as it was when he still felt at home beneath its Dome.]
There was a place by the harbour, Bar Pompette. Served the best absinthe I've ever tasted and was always packed with people. The Conservatory got left behind in Old Lumiere and the Opera House was out of commission, so a lot of the students would head over there, trade a performance for some drinks. There were nights when the music lasted until dawn.
[Does this man sound enraptured by his own memories? Yes, yes he does. It will probably always hurt him to think about the many homes he's lost along the way, but it would hurt more to lose sight of the joy they'd brought him, too, and so he lets himself get carried away for a moment. His return to reality comes quickly enough, anyway, as it always does.]
Things are probably different now, yeah?
no subject
The histrionic declaration makes her laugh a little, and she quirks a challenging brow in return, matching a bit of his drama. ]
Three queens. [ She looks the appropriate amount of pleased at this, but is more interested in his recollection of the Lumiére of the past: of the places he'd loved decades prior, and whether or not they might still exist. If she'd been to them, walking in his footsteps. If he might be able to return to them someday.
The first name twinges her smile with something like wistfulness, and she replies, reluctantly: ] ...I don't think that one's survived the years, sadly. It sounds amazing.
[ There are still some lively spots around, but she knows things aren't like they were back then. There are far less people, for one thing. A lot less hope now, too, she imagines. ]
There aren't enough workers to keep the lights on everywhere. They've had to...consolidate. [ Not to mention the Council has made sure to impress their priorities on the remaining workforce, and keeping a plethora of bars and restaurants in business isn't top of the list.
But, why focus on the sad bits? They're playing a game, after all. They're here to have fun. To relax, as much as they're able. ]
...Absinthe, though! Somehow, that both is and isn't a surprise. [ The grin returns. In spite of his generally-put-together persona that she's come to know, it's...strangely easy to imagine him at Bar Pompette. Laughing, drinking, maybe even dancing. The idea makes her genuinely happy. It's...a goal. It's part of why they're doing all this. Right? To return to a world where some of your worst concerns were nasty hangovers and off-key bar songs. ]
no subject
A gentle nod when she grazes the topic of Lumiere's ever-dwindling population. There really is no point dwelling on that, but it's still important to address, so:]
Even if that weren't the case, I wouldn't be surprised. A lot of places like that started losing steam after Expedition Zero.
[And he's sure that only got worse when Search & Rescue never came back at all. That's going to go without saying, though; he doesn't know that he'll ever be ready to share what had happened to them.]
But a lot more of them were gaining momentum. It almost felt patriotic, you know, us against the world, we'd take back what was ours, that kind of thing.
[More details are left out, like how us against the world was starting to shift towards us against the survivors, and how back then they believed in different outcomes than the ones that drive the Lumierans now. It doesn't show in his tone, though, which remains light and nostalgic, or in the crooked smile he quirks now.]
That's what I appreciate about you guys. You have the same spirit.
[Maybe not the same motivations for being out here. Maybe not the same blind hope or the specific drive to reclaim Old Lumiere and rebuild it into something better than before. The specifics hardly matter, though. It reminds him of home all the same, and in fond ways rather than ones that leave him feeling mournful and lost.
Humming in contemplation, he focuses back on his cards as he tallies his score so far.]
Four points.
[And he places an Ace of Hearts.
There's something about how Sciel responds to his fondness for absinthe that has him particularly curious, though, something that finds him wondering how good of a read she has on him even without the guidance of her cards, so he adds:]
Dare I ask what you mean?
no subject
What were they like? The people back then, I mean.
[ Whether she means Lumierans in general or specifically those with Zero isn't made clear. She does add, though: ] There's still some of that spirit. But most just seem...tired.
[ Worn down by time and failure and loss. There are only a special few, like Lune and Gustave and some of the others, who manage to be confident and hopeful, at least externally. ]
Three points. [ She reports. There's a pointed look at the Ace, a pause, and then a King of Spades laid nearby.
Damn Hearts. ]
"What I mean?" ...Oh. [ There's a little laugh as she straightens up a bit, pushing her shoulders back briefly to crack her upper spine. ] Well...it's just a feeling, not really based in anything. But I can just picture you...I dunno, letting loose a bit. Really being able to enjoy the city in its heyday. [ That green, assessing gaze finds him again and she thinks on it more, nodding vaguely. ] I think, given the chance, you'd be more of a people person. Not a recluse.
[ He's obviously out here by necessity, but there's also something about him that suggest he thrives on connection in a way that goes beyond just a man starved of it because of his circumstances. It's early in their friendship, though, and so she shrugs and returns her focus to the game. ]
Could be wrong, of course. [ Her lip again twitches at amusement. ] ...But, also: I don't think just anyone orders absinthe.
no subject
Determined. Incredibly stubborn. And they were tired too, in their own way. Nobody knew about the Nevrons until we came back, so that was a pretty heavy blow. Especially because they wanted to believe there were survivors. A lot of them worked themselves to exhaustion, but, I mean, what else were they going to do? It was all hands on deck and even then, we didn't always have enough manpower.
[The number on the Monolith didn't mean anything yet; their days were differently numbered, counted down in terms of how many resources they had available and how well they could sustain the city in the middle of an island with little land and difficult access to the Continent. These things, he doesn't need to share, though; problems like being stuck in a shitty location aren't really fixable, just temporarily manageable. As Lumiere's dwindling population no doubt proves today.]
Most people ended up getting stuck in the past and taking the future for granted, so things felt nostalgic. There was a lot of talk about all the things they wanted to see and do again. Checking in on the Gestrals and the Grandis, going skiing or visiting the amusement parks, taking trains from one side of the Continent to the other. Sometimes, those memories felt like the only things keeping everyone going. I think it'd surprise them how much history you've lost.
[It certainly surprises him; the first time he revealed his name to an Expedition, he was anxiously awaiting recognition. But none came and none has ever come. And that hurts, too, knowing that all those people are already forgotten – that the loses they suffered in Old Lumiere are often seen as myths rather than realities. Such is the nature of the world, though; the past only matters when the future is guaranteed.
When he frowns, it's not because of the thoughts rolling through his mind, but rather because of the card he has to play in response to Sciel's: a paltry Eight of Spades. The frown doesn't last long, either, as she reads him like a fucking book and he finds himself smiling in spite of himself.]
You're not wrong. I used to drive my parents crazy. They were prominent artists and had a reputation to uphold and I... well, I had my own reputation. Nothing bad, just not what they wanted for their only son.
no subject
Sciel listens with her head cocked, smiling softly. ]
It's easy to understand why. [ Why they were tired, why they got stuck in the past. Sciel herself tries to live by a 'tomorrow isn't promised' mindset, but she's certainly been guilty of tethering herself too tightly to memory. And of allowing herself to shut her eyes to the possibilities of the future.
There's a small, steadying breath through the nose: in, out. She takes the trick silently and lays down her next card. ...Somehow, the not-too-distant sound of water against rock is especially distracting.
Fortunately, his family stories coax her out of that nagging discomfort, and her expression eases up again. ]
It can be difficult, grappling with those expectations. [ Though that wasn't at all her experience, well...she's friends with Lune. Sciel's seen it firsthand. ] So, they were artists -- what kind? And they wanted you to follow in their footsteps, but you-... Hmm. Was it music? Or an 'academic' interest in being the life of the party?
[ Her lips come together in an grin and she quirks a teasing brow.
(In the future, once his connection to the man called Renoir is discovered, she'll remember this conversation...and think, troubled, that it isn't so hard to imagine that an artist might also be a murderer.) ]
no subject
Rather than pressing her now, he slots this moment into his memories for safekeeping, just in case it comes up again. In the meantime, he plays his own card – on-suit but still a low number as he thins out the shitty parts of his hand – laughing at her tease before responding.]
My mother was a painter. My father was too, but he dabbled in other things. Drawing, architecture, engineering. She was in it for perfection and he was all about control, which are, you know, great reasons to create art. Great ways to burn your kids out on it, too. They didn't like having to explain why I didn't have any pieces on display in their gallery, but that's their own fault for talking me up like I was going to take over the family empire one day.
[This just grazes the surface of the pressures his parents put on him, of course, so he's able to maintain a casual, self-sure air as he shares his story. Even so, there's a bit of a bitterness to his tone, and a frustration that's not entirely on his own behalf. His siblings suffered, too; they suffered worse than him.]
I was good at painting, but it always felt lonely to me. Performing made me feel alive. Like I was... on a journey with the audience. That's where we butted heads. Not the music specifically, but... I wanted to be like everyone else, and they were more about being exceptional. Whatever that means.
[You are a Dessendre are words he can bring to mind in both his parents' voices, in all manner of tones. Except he isn't, he's Verso No-Last-Name like all the other Lumierans, even if that, too, is a falsehood.
A pause while he considers a question. He could go simple and ask about her family or her rebellions or things of that nature, but instead he circles back to how this branch of the conversation started and asks instead:]
So, that's what the absinthe says about me. Now it's your turn. What's your drink of choice?
no subject
He's sharing a lot, she thinks. Surprisingly so, if only because talking about your parents -- particularly about their personalities -- can often have revealing implications for their children. A mother who expected perfection, a father who expected control. He says "kids," plural. Sciel picks up on the little twinges of frustration in his voice, or the microexpressions that suggest the same, and uses all of these things to fill out the picture of the man in her mind.
She seems less analytical and more endeared when he starts talking about music, though. Her inquisitive expression brightens, her lips pressed together in a growing display of fondness. It's nice hearing Verso talk about himself, but it's really nice when he brings up something like this and his shoulder seem to sag a little less as he comes to life. ]
You are exceptional. [ Sciel states, and it's matter-of-fact in the way that she is with most things. Her attention returns to the game as she speaks, as if to take some of the heat off him. ] But it's not because you followed the path they laid for you.
[ He's accomplished a lot, obviously, and he's immortal to boot, but it's more particular than that. He's done so much for their group alone, to say nothing of all the Expeditions before. That aside, she's finding him more and more to be an extraordinarily interesting person, and someone with a lot to offer. Whether he realizes it or not is another story; it's to be expected that the pressure his parents put on him would impact his self-worth to some degree.
To his question, she offers a thoughtful hum. Wine is too common and expected an answer, and it isn't long before her serene smile becomes a little more of a in impish grin. ]
Have you ever tried a Champs-Élysées? Not everyone carries Chartreuse, but when you find some... [ Sciel sighs wistfully, gazing skyward, as if lost in the memory. ] Got my hands on a bottle once. Didn't last as long as I'd like.
[ It occurs to her that this is also a green drink and she chuckles, turning back to Verso. ]
Would you say the absinthe's your "drink of choice?" Or was that special for Bar Pompette?
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Exceptionally old, maybe.
[So, yes, his self-worth isn't exactly stellar, but his ability to bat that aside with breezy humour as if he's capable of receiving such praises without them surfacing new doubts. Like how if he's exceptional at anything, then it's lying, and how he has a knack for making people believe he's worth something when he's just a tired man whose existence only makes things worse.
It's moments like these, though, when he can quiet those voices, at least a little. He's not lying. He isn't making things worse. Sciel reaches out to him with confidence and with comfort and he finds himself wanting to reach back a little, even if he isn't sure how quite yet. Another thing to set aside for later, he supposes; something to look forward to when it's his turn – and when he has the courage – to try and catch her off guard, too.]
And good at cards.
[Which is all bravado; he puts down his highest card of the same suit, but is still aware that the score doesn't favour him even if she can't take this trick.
That wistful sigh of hers, and the way she looks up into the sky after sharing her favourite drink, eases him a little more, and he laughs lightly. Boy does he know the feeling of a too-quickly dwindling bottle. He knows the drink, too, which means that he's back to pointing his finger as if something important is afoot.]
Ooh, yeah, that's a good one. Knew a guy who'd make it with a vanilla syrup and some kind of spice. Now, that was a drink that could get you into some trouble. As for the absinthe... I didn't really have a go-to before Bar Pompette, and thanks to them I started associating it with music, so. Wrote some of my best songs when I was half a drink in.
[But he had asked her about her drink of choice for a reason, and so he circles back.]
Anyway, I'd say your drink tells me you like to treat yourself and enjoy things, but I got that impression already. So... why don't you just tell me something surprising about yourself?
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[ Skill at piquet, probably. She thinks it before he says it, and when he does, her smile grows. Again she takes the trick, but feels there's a storm coming in which she won't fare well. ]
That absolutely sounds dangerous. [ Sciel chuckles, imagining the already-delicious drink with the timeless sweetness of vanilla and the warmth of added spices. It sounds like the kind of thing that's too close to a dessert to employ good moderation, and the kind of thing that leaves you with a monstrous headache the next day.
Worth it, though.
There's another warmth as she continues to listen, picturing a happily-drunk Verso at a piano, humming to himself and plunking away with an imagined peace that she's yet to get to see on the man. ...It'd be nice to be able to get back to something like that, someday. For all of them.
The feeling funnels out as if circling a drain at his question, though she keeps the fresh chill from her face (she hopes). Because-...how do you reply to that when you can't use the answers that're at the top of the list, and which are all horribly and inextricably linked?
There's a long pause. Sciel's expression turns contemplative as she digs down for something else, sifting through options that are either...not what she wants to share with him with now, or not interesting enough. ]
...Right. I...can play the piano. [ There's a much briefer pause before she's flashing her teeth in a lightly-guilty smile. ] Well, I can play one song. Which, if you'd like to hear it, would have to come before you play for me. You might be intimidated by my skill, but I hope it'll just inspire you to great, new heights.
[ This is, of course, a joke, the nature of which he'll probably see for himself at some point. ]
I'd ask you the same question, but I want to be fair, and you've shared a lot more than I was expecting already...
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[My mind must have been somewhere else is right there on the tip of his tongue, but he is still not a brave enough man to escalate his flirting to that level of directness, even as she bumps his leg and brightens her smile and makes him feel exceptionally ordinary. So, he opts for the dumb joke at first:]
Hearing loss must be one of those things. [And then, with the courage born of vagueness:] Fortunately, I make up for it in other areas.
[There's an impulse, however fleeting, to try to pull back on the potential implications and ground those other areas somewhere else, like acrobatic Nevron defeats, or knowing how to make the various edible mushrooms and weeds on the Continent actually taste like something other than dirt and grass, or having taught a gaggle of crows how to sing along as he plays the piano for them. But he leaves it open-ended, casual, focusing instead on placing down an ace of a different suit.
Clearly, though, knowing the difference between the right thing and the wrong thing to say remains one of the areas of his life that has only worsened with age. Light shines so brightly in Sciel's eyes and through her smile that even the slightest glimpse of its fading over his question is enough to have him worrying about where her mind might have wandered off to. When she mentions the piano, though, it's his turn to brighten up like a star; the only thing she could have said to make him transform into more of a nerd would be that she collects model train sets.
He is going to be so sad when he finds out it's a joke, Sciel!!!]
What song? No, wait, surprise me with that, too.
[He almost wants to lose, now; it's been too long since he's had anyone to play music with, and he doesn't yet know about Lune. Lune, who would probably wouldn't have backed away from asking him even more questions the way that Sciel does now – a thought which makes him appreciate Sciel's company all the more. So, he laughs and shrugs and he teases.]
And here I was about to tell you about the carousel. Oh well.
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The ace appears. There's a small, breathy chuckle as she considers her options...but of course, there aren't many. Out comes a lesser card, which she sets down with a small snap. ]
I bet that play felt good. [ She says pointedly, considering all the tricks she'd just taken from him. But her smile is still mostly genial and only a touch teasing. ...Though it shifts again as his does, reflecting his brightness in turn as she finds herself energized again by his own displays of enthusiasm. ]
It'll be a surprise. [ Sciel confirms, already feeling a little bad imagining the disappointment he'll certainly feel. Hopefully he'll find at least some humor in it. Still smiling, but chewing briefly on her lip, she quickly adds: ] But I'd be happy to learn more, you know, if there's ever time.
[ And a piano, which she doesn't yet realize he'll simply summon from chroma the way they do their weapons. ]
Oh, unfair! [ There's a genuine, surprised laugh as she shakes her head at him in mock disappointment. ] Now you've got to tell me. What carousel?
[ So much for letting him off the hook. ]
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The lack of any indication of reciprocity is not a problem, though; with one ambiguity presumably clarified, he can wonder less and be a little more sure in the steps he takes as he continues to navigate one of the most earnest conversations he's had in far longer than he cares to quantify. So, he laughs at her commentary, twirling his next card between his fingers – a slightly less lesser card than hers – and places it down, taking that trick, too.]
Not as good as that one did.
[It's a lie; they both felt pretty great to his competitive ass. At least the talk of music isn't triggering that same spirit. He can count on one hand the number of times he has felt the urge to win at music, and even that was more about the challenge of pushing each other to the limits of their abilities than actually emerging victorious. Thinking about teaching her play also feels pretty great, though largely because it's been decades since he's taught anyone anything aside from how to kill better and stave off death longer. It's a bit of a fantasy, of course – as she says, they really don't have the luxury of that much time – but out here, he grasps onto what he can, so:]
Hey, if you ever do want a lesson, just ask.
[Briefly, he plays at leaving his part of the conversation there, ignoring how she's asked about the carousel and shifting into a slightly more comfortable posture with both legs tucked underneath him now. The leg he'd had extended groans in objection, and he thinks to himself that there really ought to be more perks to immortality.]
There's one just north of Monoco's Station that still works. Music and everything. The horses are fine, but the real magic is climbing up to the roof, lying back, and looking up at the stars. If you close your eyes and get used to the movement, when you open them again it's like the sky is spinning. I composed a lot of songs there, too.
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Really? [ If it sounds a little dubious, she can't be judged too harshly: they both know how improbable it is they'll have time for something like that, though...the idea is nice. Sitting side by side on a piano bench, watching his hands move across the keys, him reaching over to position her own just so... Sciel isn't a musician, but his passion -- already peeking through just in their scant conversations on the subject -- is infectious. ] ...I'd like that, Verso. If we can.
[ Even if it just turns out to be a handful of minutes here and there, it's...something to look forward to. Like their flight above the Continent on Esquie's back, or the skiing...
Gently, she tucks it away in a corner of her heart for safekeeping. ]
Really? [ Comes the echo, her eyes alight with almost childlike wonder, lips parting in a more broad smile. ] That sounds...wonderful. I've never ridden one, just... [ Sigh. ] Maybe they had one once in Lumiére; I'm not sure. But I'd love to see it. [ Looking up at the stars, eh? Her lips come together again in a tight, earnest smile. ] Sounds like a great place for a lot of things.
[ Thinking, composing music, talking to the stars... ]
...It also sounds cold. [ She adds, laughing lightly. ]
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[A shrug of his hands – careful not to reveal his cards – before he looks down for a moment, still stricken by the gleam of her smile enough that taking too much of it in feels a little dangerous, like looking into the sun on a particularly clear day when the sky is a just-right shade of blue.
Talk of piano is something he always meets head-on, though, so it's a momentary lapse, even as Sciel's tone veers towards doubt. If anything, it's comforting in a way, understanding that they're both aware they could be speaking in dreams and fantasies. It gives them both something to hope for without the pressure of promises and certainties. And if it doesn't come to pass, then Verso alone will have to sit in the disappointment, which is more than fair all things considered.
But which is also beside the point. So, he throws in another tease.]
You won't even have to win it from me. [And then shifts serious.] Consider it a thank you.
[For what, he doesn't say. Making me feel human seems like entirely too much to reveal, and he needs to maintain some level of mystery else he be considered a forthcoming stranger, which simply doesn't have the same ring to it. Besides, he'd rather go into greater detail on the carousel, especially knowing that it's landed so well.]
It is – [Cold, he means.] – but it's not so bad. The gears are right beneath the roof and they warm up fast. All you need is a warm blanket, some gloves, and a flask of hot tea.
[How many nights has he spent just like that when he and Monoco still lived up in Frozen Hearts? How many times has he been back since they'd parted ways and Verso needed the companionship of the ghosts of his memories? He sighs after speaking, fond and reminiscent, tired in the way he always seems. The next card he plays is another low one, easily beaten.]
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It isn't impossible that that could become the reality, someday. It also isn't likely, but...maybe it isn't so bad to imagine this same scene playing out in a café back home. At the table in her apartment, even. ]
"A thank you?" [ Again, he manages to surprise her, further fueling the brightness of her expression, but she doesn't question him beyond that. After all, she'd offered a freebie of her own, last time. And so she continues playing, looking pleased as she chews on this development...and as she takes the trick. ]
Mm, well, I don't mind. I can handle the cold. [ And the snow!! There'll be so much snow!! ] Besides, it also sounds...cozy, in a way. And-...beautiful.
[ Slowly spinning on the warm roof of an old carousel, looking up at the sky. It genuinely sounds so relaxing that she draws a deep inhale, exhale in the present moment, letting the possibility of that diversion wash over her in a soothing wave. ]
Every time I think you can't come up with a better story about some corner of the Continent or another, you manage it anyway. [ Sciel lays her next card out: a six. ] Well done. But know that my expectations are high!
[ Her tone is lilting. Joking. If she's going to be disappointed, it'd be in much more substantive things than this. As it is, she's just glad for the opportunity to see so many incredible places and features of this hostile world that they'd either only read about back in Lumiére or hadn't even dreamed of. The truth is, without Verso...it would've been a very different experience.
She looks up, glancing over him with a smaller, more thoughtful smile. ]
...It must get lonely out here, I'd think. Even with Esquie and everyone else.
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As she speaks about the carousel, he nods along lightly in unnecessary yet almost enthusiastic emphasis. There aren't many places on the Continent that give off those impressions, and sharing them with others always feels good, like he has more to offer than the peace of oblivion, even if that is his anticipated outcome.
The Continent really is a beautiful place when one looks past the Nevrons and the shards in the sky and the dead that exist frozen in time and space. Which is necessary for moving on; Verso has seen too many Expeditioners waste away from the bleakness of it all. Sometimes, he wonders how much more perseverant they might have been had he given them things to look forward to besides facing off against the Paintress. And so he doesn't downplay the anticipation even after Sciel jokingly comments on having high expectations. It's still better than the alternative.]
As they should be. I'm something of a connoisseur of the Continent, you know.
[A lapse into dark humour that only he'll understand, which softens the mischievousness in his eyes and makes his smile veer a little more crooked – a look he maintains as he plays one of his 10s over her six. And a look that falters when she brings up his loneliness. It's isn't like it's an unobvious thing; of course a man who's only had two reasonably consistent companions over the course of sixty-seven years would be lonely. Talking about it is hard, though, at least in the context of a proper conversation.
At first, he just sighs. It takes another breath before he puts his feelings to words.]
You get used to it after a while.
[It's a half truth. The loneliness runs a similar course to grief in that it remains the same size, but the space around it grows so that it's not always as oppressive. When it asserts its presence, though...
He tries to come up with more to say but these are the parts of himself that he doesn't like to share with others, and so nothing strikes him as feeling particularly right. At least until he digs a bit deeper into the choices he's made that have brought him to this point, and he plucks up something that both seems okay to mention and belies how negatively it affects him.]
It... can be freeing.
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It becomes hazier in moments like this: when the smile seems to sadden and she knows (or assumes she knows) that he's drifted into painful memory, whether by choice or no. Sciel looks at her cards without seeing then, thumbing across her remaining hand, focused entirely on his demeanor and his words. ]
...I obviously can't say I know what you're going through, but...if it ever helps, you can tell me. However much you want, or don't want.
[ Remembering the game, Sciel indicates the cards in her hand a bit, offering a soft, sympathetic smile. ]
...Or, we find enough distractions that you don't have to think about it. Your choice.
[ Sometimes these things -- the painful memories and barbed thoughts -- are best met head-on. Sometimes, though, it's like staring directly into the sun, and a more indirect approach is required. ]
After the beach, I thought I was alone. [ She adds after a pause, glancing in the direction where Lune and Maelle are spending their evening. ] And...yeah, I guess it was freeing, in a way. I knew I couldn't complete the mission, so I'd sort of resigned myself to living in the village. Fighting as much as I could, knowing that'd probably be how I spent the rest of my life. [ Her short, short, short life. ] And it was...nice. Not having to go on anymore.
[ Very different from the first time she'd faced the end. Both times it'd seemed like there was no other choice, but back then, she'd felt...despair. In the Gestral Village, it'd come with a strange sort of calm.
Again there's a pause, and then she reaches over to briefly grasp whatever's closest: a folded knee, his forearm, the tip of his boot. ]
For the record, I'm glad neither of us are on our own anymore.
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[But, the slowness of his tone says, I probably won't be taking you up on that. The talking, anyway; Verso is a man of endless distractions, in near-constant pursuit of anything that will spare him from having to quietly endure whichever clusterfuck is battering against the edge of his thoughts, threatening to break through and drag him back down to despair's darkest depths.
His pride won't let him admit how badly he needs distracting, though, even if that's probably obvious from how the bulk of what he's been sharing are the various ways through which he's sought an escape from his circumstances. Instead he focuses on what Sciel shares, her moments of loneliness and freedom, her distraction and her escape. It takes a lot of strength, he thinks, to at once give up and keep going, to transition from being someone who might one day champion their people to the champion of a gaggle of doglike painter mannequins. He both relates and doesn't, covering up the latter to emphasise the former.]
Yeah. Yeah, exactly.
[It's surprisingly easy to relate to her, he thinks, though he could also be getting ahead of himself, especially considering how the turn of the conversation has made his own loneliness into something more prominent, something that now colours most of what he thinks and says and does. And right now, those colours veer a little brighter. There's more than one kind of loneliness – the loneliness of isolation and the loneliness of being the centre of attention yet never truly being seen – and he's as used to the one as he is to the other. Through his own fault of course, but still. He's just a man.]
You can follow the wind without worrying so much about where it takes you. And the world gets bigger or smaller depending on where you look, and you get to decide the shape of it.
[A pause, sheepish. Then:]
Or maybe that's just me.
[Another faltering happens when she reaches for his knee, though; the gesture kind, the feelings shared, his heart tired of holding itself aloft alone. But because his familiar strength is donning masks with weight and heft, he smiles it off as if it never happened, nodding his head once in commiseration.]
Agreed. How did you meet back up with everyone, anyway?
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It'd be out of character, honestly, if he suddenly spilled his guts to her. After all, it's been like pulling teeth trying to get the man to share his dark and moody stories, though...she's encouraged by the progress. No, she wouldn't claim to know Verso, but when he does things like agrees to spending evenings like this, she counts it as a win.
His assessment of the benefits of loneliness are interesting. They put a kind of spin on the feeling: a spin that she herself might echo, were she in his position. So Sciel smiles at him in a crooked sort of way, picturing some of his mentioned escapades around the Continent: soaring over its heights, skiing its slopes, spending evenings in its cafes.
A sentimental person might say it's heartwarming to think about. And so it is, for her. ]
No, I...think I understand. [ Not to presume she can imagine being in his shoes exactly, but the spirit of what he's trying to communicate does resonate. ] Maybe you didn't find yourself in that situation by choice, but it sounds like you've managed to make the most of it. Not everyone could find a silver lining.
[ Sometimes, though, you have to find the good. Strap it to your chest so you never forget. Otherwise, you die.
...Speaking of, sort of. ]
They found me in the arena. Dunno how long it'd been since the beach. [ She shrugs, rolling her head back to look skyward, thinking back. ] For fun, we sparred for the title of champion. [ When she again fixes him with her attention, she's sporting another devilish grin. ] I won. Had to defend my reputation with the Gestrals, after all.
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[There will always be a part of his mind that's trapped in the place where Julie and the rest of Search & Rescue died; he will never stop trying to learn from what happened then. Even as he keeps repeating many of the same mistakes, he does so with a greater attention to detail, a stronger awareness of what to clarify and what to obfuscate.
Masked up, he doesn't let the impact of his own words show. It comes across as acceptance more than anything, a sense of peace towards something that has wrought an excess of chaos. Which makes his masks silver linings in their own right, he supposes, for how they make it easier for him to live up to the man he presents himself as being, lighthearted and whole, an optimistic realist who isn't running on paint fumes.
It helps that I don't have a choice, he almost thinks to joke. But that's a bit dark and it's entirely too personal, so he shifts position once more, bringing both of his knees up so he can rest his elbows on them. Internally self-soothing, externally casual.]
Especially when you're living out here. [A breath of a laugh.] It's not much, but it's still home.
[Which itself is a fraught concept, but Verso doesn't feel particularly inclined towards that kind of wallowing right now, so he lets it occupy the space between them with a sense of peace that's more real than the one he'd presented earlier.
Idly, as Sciel shares her story, Verso thinks back to how she had called him extraordinary earlier, and he wonders if she realises how much better suited she is for that title. Not everybody would have challenged the Gestrals after surviving what she had; fewer still would meet the discovery that they aren't alone with a sparring match. The look he fixes her with as he mulls over these thoughts is appraising in an admiring way before he catches himself and it falls a bit shy.
Which means it's time to pretend that he has confidence to spare.]
I used to be the reigning champion, you know. Took years before Gestrals stopped hunting me down to prove themselves, so, hey, you also have that to look forward to. Just don't let them rope you into a game of volleyball.
[That's not the point of what Sciel shared, though, so he adds:]
No, seriously, that sounds like a good reunion.
goty clarify obfuscate: expedition 33
[ And understandably so. It'd been a time of immense chaos, she knows. ...But what she 'knows' is from a straightforward, academic perspective: it's history that's been passed down, but not lived. Until Verso. ]
...Well. I'm glad that's what you took out of it, anyway. [ Immortality is so often depicted in fairy tales as a gift. She thinks, not for the first time, that's a bit of a miracle he hasn't lost his mind completely. ] And that you've found somewhere else to call home.
[ It isn't difficult to imagine finding that kind of peace out here, really. Sciel hasn't spent terribly long on the Continent, but as he's saying, there's enough beauty and wonder to be found to make it a place worth thinking of as more than just a lethal wasteland. That's just the way of the natural, untamed world, isn't it? It calls for caution and respect first, but after that, you can appreciate it. Become a part of it, in some cases.
His advice about the Gestrals earns a laugh, and then a histrionic sigh. ]
Woe to the Gestrals who try and chase me down. [ She says cryptically. Then her expression softens as she shifts her posture again, tucking her legs beneath. ] Well, I hope there's no hard feelings in my having stolen your title. If you were champion of their little volleyball game, too, then you're welcome to keep that one.
[ The parkour challenge had been...more than enough beach games for their group to handle. ]
It was. [ She confirms, warmth always intrinsic in her voice when it comes to the rest of the 33s. ] I was...so glad to see them. I can't even tell you-... [ There's a pause, then another sigh. ] ...But I wasn't surprised. Even after what happened, and...even if I wasn't sure anyone'd made it, seeing those three just made sense.
[ We can do it, she'd thought. We're enough to make it all the time.
Does she still believe that with complete confidence? The feeling is...complicated. ]
lmfao i did not see what i did there
And if there had been rain, he thinks that Sciel's latest laugh would be l'arc-en-ciel, a splash of colour against a still-gloomy sky. A stronger man might have reminded himself to keep himself from growing too attached, but to do so would stand so stark to his very nature that he dismisses the thought. It's fine. He can handle himself. They're having a good time. If the doubts won't leave him be, then he'll let them exhaust themselves. Et cetera.]
No, no, it's all yours.
[The thought occurs to him to challenge her to a duel for the title. Not that he expects to follow through, but because it feels like it could be a fun idea to play around with. Duels are best for turning one's mind off from one's circumstances, though, and more and more he's finding that he enjoys existing with Sciel within those circumstances, even if they sometimes veer too close to home and he remains evasive about the things that actually matter. So, he abandons that idea before it can be something more.]
And it's probably for the best that their idea of volleyball doesn't have any champions. Trust me. It involves cannons.
[Which, in hindsight, is probably a given considering the Sakapatates, but details. It hardly matters anymore once she gives him a little peek into the camaraderie between the 33s – something Verso still has only observed from afar and in the guilt-laced context of their grief over losing Gustave – and he feels his curiosity swell. A bit of nosiness, too, but they've been plenty inquisitive about him so he feels like he can ask a little question of his own.]
Huh. There any particular reason why it made sense?
♥♥♥
[ It feels possible that the Continent could have...maybe a dozen spots like that, co-opted by the Gestrals for their insane games with bizarre prizes.
...She kind of loves it, though. There's something so silly, so freeing, about putting so much effort into something so low stakes. Particularly when the rest of their time and energy is spent funneled into-...well. ]
Cannons? ...Ah. Makes sense. [ Just as he's thinking: she recalls quickly the firepower mounted on the arms of the Sakapatates. ] You know, it's actually sounding more fun as we're talking about it. I might've come 'round on this.
[ Her often-seen impish smile doesn't do much to clarify whether or not she's kidding. ]
It's...not very concrete a feeling. [ Sciel replies, when the subject returns to her friends' reappearances in the village. ] All of the 33s had their strengths. They were all cut out for the job. But... [ How to put it? ] ...You know Lune and Maelle now, so you've seen...how they are. Both incredibly capable, no matter what they're up against. Stubborn -- and I mean that with love. It just feels as if they could reason or brave their way through anything, so...in the fact of that, their survival was almost a given.
[ As for their engineer... ]
Gustave... [ Sciel pulls in an inhale and holds it, briefly savoring the light burning in her lungs that means she's alive. ] He managed some impossible things. You know about the converter, of course, but I don't just mean his inventions. He had...this warmth, this spirit. Made you feel hopeful when you'd swear there was no way you could. [ Here she looks at Verso, but she's still seeing those moments with her late friend. All the memories, the times he'd lifted her back up. ] I'm not explaining it very well, but...he was kind of impossible. In the best way. So it made sense he'd done just that and made it off the beach.
[ Sciel knows, of course, that it almost hadn't happened. That he'd almost given in to his own despair. But it doesn't color her story, nor her opinions of him. Nothing ever could. ]
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[The heavy sigh that follows suggests he is speaking from experience, as does the way he tosses his hands up in the air at the more enthused talk of volleyball. Briefly, he considers telling her what the Gestrals use as balls but decides to err on the side of caution – that particular tidbit has always been a bit hit-or-miss with the Expeditioners. Instead, he absolves himself of any decision she may or may not make in the future.]
Don't say I didn't warn you.
[Verso knew what he was asking, so as Sciel shifts into talking about the 33s, he braces himself for the inevitable mention of Gustave. Nodding along as she confirms what he's seen from the girls, then biting back guilt as she adds more depth to the man who Verso had deemed expendable. A light in the darkness. Maelle's father-brother, better at being Alicia's family than he's ever been. Brilliant and stubborn and increasingly sounding like exactly the kind of person Verso would have got along well with once upon a time.
His fingers flit to where his armband – the new one, the gift from Maelle, 33 set in gold against black – would be if he was wearing his jacket. In its remembered absence, he scratches at his arm as if that had been his intention all along.]
He really does sound like a good guy.
[In hindsight, he wishes he'd have met him. It's an awful thing, letting a man die out of an impulsive fear of failure, and he thinks that maybe if he knew better – maybe if he had known his warmth and discovered his spirit and felt the hope Sciel speaks of now – he would have made a different choice, a better one. Or maybe that's a byproduct the guilt, too, his subconscious working itself into knots trying to make him feel like there are still parts of him that can be redeemed.
He falls silent for a moment. Most of what he can say just feels shitty. I'm sorry for your loss
that I could have prevented. I'm sorry thatI made sureI didn't get there in time. I wish he were herebut it might be better that he's not.So, he reaches for someone else's words, smiling softly as he offers them to Sciel.]He made quite the impression on Esquie, too. What'd he call him... Right, the super nice one.
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literally rng'd this card again lmao
the fool will be HEARD
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