[ 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.
[ Yet another change in the world over the years. Another beautiful little thing they'd lost. Sciel doesn't dwell, but she does note it as another detail in the world he's helping to flesh out for her, painting the history of the Canvas with a vibrant, beautiful brush.
His ominous warning makes her hum, amused, but she doesn't pursue it further. As with everything else -- like the piano lesson -- it's uncertain if they'll have opportunity for those moments of levity. Particularly if it isn't something that they stumble across on their path, like the first Gestral beach. Anything frivolous not easily done at camp will have to be treated as a possible reward for having saved the world, to be returned to if they manage a near-impossible feat. ]
He was. [ Nobody who had met Gustave could deny it. Sciel sighs, smiling ruefully now. ] He was also incredibly stubborn. A workaholic. And - [ Here the expression turns completely to amusement, and she ducks her chin, teeth flashing. ] sometimes a very silly person.
[ The infamous "GET OUT OF MY WAY" doesn't feel long ago at all.
Verso's relay of Esquie's assessment earns another laugh and she glances in the direction of camp, nodding slowly. ]
Mm, and that. [ There will surely be so many things and places she'll lament their inquisitive friend wasn't able to see, but she's grateful, at least, that he'd had the chance to meet Esquie.
(Even though, every time she looks at Esquie, a strange feeling hooks into her brain.) ] Esquie seems like a good judge of character.
[ There's a pause. Then: a breathy chuckle. ]
Ah. [ And she holds up her scant remaining cards. ] Right. Got a little distracted.
[If they were talking about anyone else, Verso might have continued to engage with Sciel on Gustave's work and his silliness, but there are things he cannot mask very well and conversations he probably shouldn't be having, anyway, all considered. Even so, it's still a bit of a battle. There's a part of him that wonders if Sciel – and the others, too – might benefit from being able to talk about Gustave with someone who hasn't suffered his loss.
The more he talks about him, though, the more he has to lie about something genuinely horrible. And despite his proficiency with dishonesty, he doesn't actually enjoy having to pretend. The only masks he comfortably wears are the ones that he can hide pieces of himself behind.
So, he picks back up with the Esquie tangent.]
Oh, Esquie's a good judge of a lot of things. Could stand to be a little more clear when sharing those judgments but then he wouldn't be himself.
[It's funny, Verso thinks, how a stuffed toy brought to life has probably been the biggest factor in his ability to retain his own humanity. Which the second biggest being a paintbrush-dog-mannequin hybrid. There's probably something to that but it would require deeper introspection than he cares for right now, so he shrugs it off as an idle thought.
When she draws his attention back to the cards, he sheepishly laughs. Whoops? He also isn't sure whose turn it is, so rather than admitting that, he pushes the pile aside and shrugs.]
Continent rules. When a game has paused for, uh, however long we paused this one, then we start a new trick. You want to go first, or...?
[And while she thinks it over:]
I always appreciated his nonsense. Esquie's. [A pause, then.] You know that he thinks he knows you?
[Which has been fairly easy for Verso to wave off as something meaningless, but which has also found him wondering a bit, given what he knows about Esquie.]
[ Sciel doesn't think anything of it when they move on from the subject of their recently-deceased engineer. Why would she? It isn't at all unusual that Verso, or anyone, might not have much to say on the subject. That it might make him in particular uncomfortable, considering how close he'd been to being able to intervene.
Not that she blames him for that. His arrival had surely saved Maelle, and maybe herself and Lune, too, if Renoir had then joined the lampmaster against them. That appraising, green gaze trains on his face briefly before melting away at the mention of Esquie's...peculiarities. ]
Mm, very true. A little clarity would be nice. But...if he were to become more like the rest of us, he wouldn't be Esquie. So it's okay if he's a little...odd.
[ Part of why he and the gestrals and the other strange creatures of the Continent are so special is because of their quirks. The eccentricities that make them so strikingly different from people. It just brings to mind all of the interactions she's had with these various mythical beings since their arrival and generates a little glow at the idea of telling her students about it all, someday.
They'll be...so excited. Who wouldn't be? ]
"Continent rules?" [ Sciel repeats, quirking a dubious brow in response. ] ...Fine, but I'm fairly certain that was going to be in your favor, so you should start.
[ She's competitive, yes, but fair.
As they return to the subject of their balloon-like friend, her expression shifts. It's thoughtful, if a little puzzled. ]
I know. [ She affirms, crossing her arms. ] It's...strange. I don't think he'd lie, but I also feel like I'd remember if we'd met before.
[ Of course, as they'd been saying: Esquie is a strange beast. Maybe he wasn't saying exactly what he'd meant, like...that they'd 'met' in a dream. Except...
"My terrible swimmer friend." He'd definitely greeted her, specifically, as if their meeting in his Nest hadn't been the first time. Had...seemed as if he knew her somehow.
It's just another question of many. She hasn't really let it trouble her, but Sciel does keep it tucked away to occasionally chew on. ]
[Verso still wants to try to tempt Sciel's queens into play, so he plops down another sacrificial low card as he mulls over what she says about Esquie. What he knows about Esquie, too, and his creation as someone who helps people when the darkness threatens to consume them. At the time, he'd thought Esquie had got something mixed up; after all, he had admitted that all humans seem the same to him, but some of the things Sciel has shared today have Verso thinking a bit differently.
It's not his place to intrude, though, so he stashes that thought away, too, and reverts back to his original thought to guide his approach.]
He can get faces confused, sometimes. Thinks we're all cousins. You know, uh, same same, but different. Could be that he met one of your relatives on an Expedition or something.
[An offer of information instead of a prying for some. There's a part of him that did want to ask, specifically, if her parents or perhaps any siblings were Expeditioners, but as curious as he is about Sciel's circumstances, he'd rather get to know her without them colouring things.]
I think out of everyone, you two would get along the most. He has this... way of seeing the world that's like something out of a storybook. It's like art. Confusing art, but really beautiful if you care enough to pay attention.
[Verso speaks it with a definite fondness. Esquie's perceptions have informed Verso's own view of the Continent and what it offers beyond death. They remain different, though, of course, one veering more towards the exceptional in the simplistic, the other preferring places where the beauty is easy to lose oneself in and not a challenge to find.]
[ He gets his wish, albeit because he's forced her hand. With only the queen left in the suit, she lays it down and takes the trick, starting fresh with a nine in spades. ]
Right. [ But it's less that she agrees with his conclusion and more that it's possible Esquie's mixed her up with someone else, because she continues: ] I don't have siblings, and both my parents were farmers. No other Expedition connections to speak of. So...yeah, must've just been that I look like someone else who passed through.
[ Not too strange, really. It isn't impossible that another woman bearing some resemblance might've been an Expeditioner and run into the creature.
...Someone who might know, though, is sitting nearby. ]
Anyone come to mind? [ Sciel questions. She doesn't expect Verso to remember each and every person he'd met over the years, particularly since some of them may have met Esquie without having met Verso, but...well, now she's curious.
The fondness in his voice when he talks about Esquie is another endearing brush stroke to his character. She hums in agreement, again glancing out in the direction of where the others were spending their evening. ]
You think so? I...guess he does remind me of some of my students, actually. [ There's a childlike quality to him that's both endearing and sometimes frustrating, in that way that kids can be. ] I'd like to spend more time talking to him. Or, trying to, depending on how much he's veered into "confusing art" at that moment.
[The immediate answer to Sciel's question is no – Verso may have met a great many people over the years, but he's sure he would remember someone who bore a resemblance to her. Already, he's found himself lost countless times in her pale green eyes, taking in the expanse of freckles beneath them, that scar across her nose and the mole on her cheek, the softness of her features. All extraordinary, all hers.
Still, he draws it out, tilting his head at an inquisitive angle, tongue just poking out from between his lips as he plays at deep concentration, confirming with each passing moment that he's never met anyone quite like her before.]
Mm, no, I can't say that anyone does.
[His voice bears a softness that might give his heart away. It's something he picks up on himself, so he distracts from it with a flourish of his wrist as he plays a same-suited 10 over her nine.]
At any rate, I think he'd really like hearing about your students. Esquie's always loved children and it's been forever since he's been around any. It's not something he usually brings up – as far as topics go, that one's always been a bit hit-and-miss for him – but if you do... well, good luck getting him to stop asking for more stories.
[A further softening of his voice at the end, a gentling of his smile. As comfortable as Esquie is sitting with peoples' sadness, he doesn't like being its cause. Truly, he's the most powerful being in the Canvas in more than just the obvious way.]
I wouldn't mind some either, if you don't mind sharing.
[ ...There's something there. As Verso's been told: Sciel sees everything. The pale green eyes he's so fond of note the way his gaze lingers, taking in the parting of his lips and the softness of his expression. The reply, too, has a tenderness to it that manages to catch her off guard.
Sciel nods slowly in acknowledgment, but she's not thinking so much about the reason for Esquie's confusion anymore. That inquisitive look searches his face for more of a tip of his metaphorical hand as he takes the trick, but he changes the subject, and she lets the moment pass.
For now. ]
I guess it would be. [ A long time since Esquie had been around children, that is. It would've been pre-Fracture, when he and the other inhabitants of the Continent had, assumedly, spent more time among the humans. Her eyes finally drop as she cracks a fresh smile at the image: the silly, baffling Esquie in a city square, surrounded by children who're openly delighted with his quirks and antics. ] But I'm happy to try. He's helped us out a lot, after all.
[ More than she knows.
At the request, her attention flicks back up to him, and the smile tilts. ]
A story for a story. [ Sciel reminds him, unwilling to let the opportunity to flesh out more of Verso pass by. ] I'll share some about my students if you'll tell me...what you were like, when you were younger.
[ She'll keep it on theme, at least. It'd be unfair to ask for "dark and deeply personal" if the sorts of things she has in return are about the nonsense the kids in her class get up to. ]
[Said with a casual acceptance that belies his apprehension. While over the years, Verso has mastered the art of pretending like he had a childhood and didn't, in fact, come into existence as a fully-formed man who had lived and loved and died, it's still a strange thing for him to talk about in the context of sharing for the sake of sharing. Usually, he only mentions it for relatability and because it would be weird if he didn't.
The memories Aline had rewritten for him help, though it's grown harder over the years to separate them from the real Verso's memories. Not that it matters when it comes to telling stories; it isn't like anyone alive today could tell the difference. But it does matter to him and his attempts to keep himself separate from his other where possible.
Now isn't the time for such thoughts, though. Verso plays another low card then leans back in a different kind of contemplation than before, one that draws his expression a little more thin and finds his lips pursing rather than parting.]
Well, I was obsessed with my piano. Still liked painting then, so I spent a lot of time playing with my paint kit, too. I had a good imagination, if you can believe it. Used to make my own toys out of whatever I could find and tell stories about them to anyone who'd listen – usually my older sister, Clea, but my parents tried to encourage me when they could, too.
[And it's surreal to talk about. None of these memories are his, but the feelings they flood him with feel natural, organic, like he discovered them himself as he grew and learned and developed into the man he is today.]
I was a good swimmer, too. Captained the school team when I was older and everything.
I can believe it. [ Sciel confirms, her voice light as she lays a slightly higher card than Verso's, takes the pair, and then sets down a nine. ] You're a good storyteller and a creative type. [ Lover of music and art, among other, similar talents, she assumes. And he likes to talk, she's found, though it's not always about what she's trying to coax from him. ] Seems you haven't grown too far from the boy you were.
[ In those ways, anyway. In the ways that matter. Because it's easy to lose sight of your interests and dreams, when making the difficult transition into adulthood. One of her favorite things about being a teacher is getting to bask in that living, breathing spirit of youth on a daily basis. It helps to keep her energetic, and...keep her hopes up, frankly. ]
And swim captain! [ Bile rises from her stomach to burn, insistent, at the back of her throat. He already knows she hates the water, so if her smile or voice seem strained, it shouldn't be particularly suspect. ] Hmm, that's interesting. Was that your only leadership role in school? Did you also...I don't know, take charge in your classroom, or-...what is it, in music...sit first chair? Though I don't think they have that for piano.
[ They're bad examples, so she waves them off with a dismissive hand. ]
Anyway. Lots going on as you grew up! I like being able to see some of the through lines.
[ He's got a way with words. Deft hands. True passion. Eager to please.
Sciel smiles pleasantly at him from over their game, and she makes no effort to hide the fact that she's adding to her mental file on him. ]
Well done. I'd say that's all worth a story. Anything in particular you wanted to hear about...?
[Having played through most of his low cards earlier, he has to place his own queen this time; it bothers him a bit, but he's able to play it off like it's been part of his plan all along. And he maintains that air of being unbothered well enough when the words the boy you were strike him at an uncomfortable angle, lightly laughing off the comment.
It helps that when he looks past the fact of never having had a childhood, he finds that he likes the comparison, that ordinary human experience of coming into one's own over the course of a properly fleshed-out life, not one that's been artificially extended.]
Nah, just swimming. I probably shouldn't be admitting this to a teacher but I wasn't too invested in my grades. Had the opposite problem with music. Then, I just wanted to close myself off from the world and play. Even during performances that's what I was doing. The best part was always once the lights were dimmed and the only sound was the music and...
[He catches himself before he storms headlong down that particular tangent. Not that he minds talking about music, of course; it's rather that they weren't really talking about it at all. The only thing following that and is a sheepish smile and a careful pointing of his cards in her direction.]
Right. Enough about that.
[Which is perfect, actually; while he's kind of finding himself in the position of wanting to know what Sciel was like when she was a girl, he's still very interested in who she is as a teacher, and so he puts genuine consideration into what question to ask her, even as the way she looks at him distracts him a bit from the task at hand. He lifts his head skyward, focusing on the stars instead until he comes up with something.]
Tell me about something they did that made you sure you chose the right path.
[ Excellent. Sciel doesn't diminish the grin that appears with his queen, which she takes via the king of the same suit.
It isn't long before this deal is over, and the next begins. The game flows more quickly -- almost an afterthought -- as they talk, and she's playing largely with muscle memory as more of her attention is diverted to the stories they share. ]
Tsk, tsk. [ She tuts good-naturedly. ] Well, I think I can overlook it. Every student has their specialty, and we all learn differently...
[ It's rolling a boulder uphill: trying to force kids to care about something they have no love for. In her time working with them, she'd found it much more effective to start by nurturing their actual interests, then finding a way to bridge the gap between that and the areas they could use some improvement. There'd always been a viable link, if only you could uncover it. ]
"...the only sound was the music, and?" [ Sciel prompts lightly, unwilling to let it go. After all, the way he shines when he's talking about music has been...really special to see every time, and if he's curtailing the story for her imagined benefit, then she has to correct him. I want to hear about this, Verso. Tell me what makes you, you.
Then comes the direction he gives. She looks back at him with an odd smile. ]
I'm...not sure I chose the right path. [ Comes the reply, and her voice almost suggests, gently, that this is something obvious. ] I'm not even sure I think there is a "right path." There's just the one I walk. For better or worse.
[ The core of tarot is that they're meant to provide guidance, and not to predict the future. Because that future is happening in real time and isn't pre-determined. She certainly doesn't begrudge those who find solace in believing that everything happens for a reason, or that they're merely pieces on a board whose movements were decided long ago, but that just isn't the way she thinks about the world.
...Of course, he's just talking about her career choice, so the smile returns to its normal bright, easy flash. ]
But... [ A handful of memories come to mind, and she considers them all carefully in turn. ] Hmm. ...Ah. Well, there was one day I came to class, and...I wasn't feeling my best, emotionally. It'd been a tough night, and I really didn't feel up to the job that day. And the kids-... Some of them were pretty young, but they were all really in tune with everything, and so sweet. I think they could tell I wasn't doing well, and they just made it the easiest day. I felt myself coming alive again as it went on. They were usually pretty rowdy, very chatty, but they were on the best behavior. [ There's a pause and her expression softens to something fond and reminiscent, hand moving automatically to brush against the many colorful bracelets along her arm. ] A lot of adults are quick to judge children's intuition, or their capacity to be thoughtful, but I was lucky enough to benefit from it when I needed it most. They're still people, just...little ones. And I think we were able to see each other eye to eye that day.
[Verso, too, loses much of his competitive spirit the longer the game goes on. It helps that there's no real losing in the end – both prizes feeling equally desirable – but he's also feeling more and more like he has nothing to prove to Sciel. What does it matter if he's good at cards? He likes how her smile competes with the stars, and she seems to enjoy listening to him talk about music and the feelings those things inspire feel more like perfection than victory ever has, anyway.
So, he easily goes back on his own enough about that at Sciel's light prodding, releasing a soft, almost lovestruck sigh as he thinks back to a time when he was still welcomed in Lumiere and concerts still happened. The last time he played the piano for anyone there had come after public opinion began to turn against his family, but there was still a good-sized crowd and he had been able to release all the things he couldn't say out into the music.
No one understood, of course – his fingers play masks into the notes – but it was a beautiful catharsis all the same.]
And as I let everything out, the world became so small that the only thing that mattered was the beauty.
[No masks dull his tone, or dim the light in his eyes, or lessen the intensity of his words. Rarely does the impulse to hide how he feels about music strike him – at least in the years since the Fracture, anyway. Nothing makes him come more alive, nothing makes him feel more human, nothing brings him more peace than music, and he can see no harm in sharing that with others.
Except, again, that he doesn't want to focus overly on himself. Which finds him quick to latch onto what Sciel shares, too, eyes steadfastly attentive as he listens. It's interesting, he thinks, how she chooses a story that not only delves into her own vulnerability, but also exemplifies her openness to others. It's true what she says; a lot of adults might not have given them the credit. Hell, they might have been so lost in their own heads that they didn't realise what the children were doing, only tangentially aware that they had more space to think when they needed it the most.
She really is spectacular, his fool heart thinks as it continues its descent into growing irreversibly attached.]
You saw them as equals, yeah? It sounds like they were lucky to have you. And you them.
[There's something else she said that interested him, though; something about the way she said it, too, like it's the simplest thing in the world.]
That's interesting, though. The whole "no right path" thing. Can't say I've ever thought about it like that.
[It's hard for him to take action if he doesn't think he's on the right course – even if it requires him taking the wrong actions or results in catastrophic failure – but that he keeps to himself. It's too vulnerable, for one; for another, it opens him up to questions he can't answer without giving the wrong things away.]
[ There it is again. Not quite as dramatic as a chink in the armor: the way Verso relaxes when talking about something he has true passion for is more...the flicker of a candle that had previously been covered. It's made clear yet again how much he loves music, whether it's playing solo or performing, telling her stories about his study of piano or explaining the importance of scales. Sciel's ever-observant gaze trains on his face as he speaks, and even at the risk of making him self-conscious, she holds steady. It's important to commit things like this to memory, she thinks, as they're the bright spots that can make it easier to go on in the face of...any of the numerous tragedies or difficulties they're bound to experience.
...But it's more than that. With a lurch like missing a step, she realizes all at once that she might be at risk of feeling something more than affection, fondness, or admiration. More than physical desire, even. There is a fluttering in her gut that she recognizes, even though it's been dormant for years.
Careful, now. And as if she's spotted a bear trap in the path ahead, Sciel steps cautiously back, keeping her sights on the danger while also holding it at arm's length. ]
I might get nervous, all alone up there. [ Somehow fighting in the Gestral Arena doesn't seem quite as intimidating. ] When I imagine it, it feels enormous. The crowd, and somewhere like Lumiére's Opera House. But...the way you describe it, I can understand. It's really just you and your music in a world of your own. Nothing scary about that. It'd be beautiful, like you said.
[ His words open the door for her to experience a taste of what he loves, and it seems hers, in turn, offer some of the same for him. Sciel's soft smile persists as Verso correctly identifies what exactly had happened that day, and what had made it so special for her. ]
I was lucky, yeah. They're great kids. [ The reason she'd begun teaching had been to feel closer to Pierre, but that was only how it'd started. The fact that she wound up so happily entrenched in her role as their teacher was all because of her class. ] They're so bright, and so...hopeful. Obviously they've got too much responsibility for their age, but the way they manage it is-...inspiring.
[ It isn't just her class, of course. She's seen it in others, too. Maelle, naturally, but also Gustave's apprentices. The children of friends.
Lumiére's future is bright. She believes this completely. ]
Obviously there are some things that are...objectively wrong. [ She replies, when the subject shifts to her philosophy on life. ] But I don't think most people make choices that are quite so black and white. You know what they say about good intentions. [ And the road it paves. ] ...What I mean is: everything can change in an instant. For anyone. What's "right" for me today might not be the same tomorrow. So...I've just got to work with what I've got. Today.
[As soon as Verso notices how Sciel is watching him, his gaze grows shy. His smile, too, lips still curled but into something that grows ever softer the longer she looks. He tries to continue on as if the air between them is the same as it has always been and his earlier assumptions about her lack of interest are still correct, playing his next turn with the same impish flippancy as always, but clarity and surety only return to him when Sciel speaks again and he can focus back on music.]
Oh, I got nervous a lot at first. You never know how a crowd's going to react. Especially when you're taking over for a more popular pianist and a decent chunk of them only find out when you're introduced. Moments like those really get you looking forward to that hush.
[He laughs, though it's happened to him a few times early on, back before the Fracture when he was still the Dessendre boy, a rich man from a powerful family who had to prove that music wasn't some passing fancy of his, something with which to busy himself until he became part of his parents' artistic empire. It stung, of course, and the memory bubbles up a bit unpleasantly, but the impostor syndrome he'd felt then pales in comparison to the one he knows now, so it doesn't really stick.]
But yeah, once you get used to it, the stage becomes like a second home.
[Here on the Continent, now that he's left Frozen Hearts and only has a sad shack in the Ancient Sanctuary to consider his own, the thought of his piano and his music being his home rings more true than ever. Which, of course, is going to go unsaid for how vulnerable it feels.
Besides, the way Sciel speaks of responsibility distracts him from his own thoughts. It's been decades since he's had any real connection with Lumiere beyond visiting Maelle and travelling with Expeditions every now and again, so he doesn't often think about how different society must be now, particularly in the context of its youngest members. His expression falls a bit here as he sinks into deeper contemplation, mulling over both the nature of those responsibilities and what Sciel shares next.
His initial response is a simple:]
Makes sense.
[Except not entirely, through no fault of her own. It's rather that Verso has spent so long steadfastly following a singular path that he can't quite connect with what she's saying. If right and wrong are ever-changing, then that says something about his own decisions that he lacks the capacity to grapple with. No, no, no, he has to be sure. He has to be doing what's best. This all has to mean something other than death.
All that gets brushed aside, too, with an inquisitive cant of his head as a new question comes to mind.]
Now I'm curious, though. What were you working with when you decided to join the Expedition?
Hmm. [ Sciel hums thoughtfully at that, returning to the unnerving thought of a huge, faceless crowd sitting in hushed silence while waiting for the performance to begin. People in those situations set the bar high, she knows, particularly if they'd paid money, or if, as Verso says, they'd had different expectations. ] Did you usually memorize your music? That would be another layer... I could imagine seeing all the people and completely blanking on how to begin.
[ "A second home," though. Not for the first time, she thinks that, maybe if they survive this, he can find home again. Whether that's on stage, or somewhere on the Continent... Wherever he can actually breathe, and feel safe, and do the things that make life worth living.
It's what they all deserve, but he's been without for too long.
Sciel continues the game, though more than half of her mind is on their conversation instead. Even when his question is a straightforward one, for her. ]
I wanted my students to have a future. [ Simple, and not a novel reason for becoming an Expeditioner, but true nonetheless. ] I was tempted to spend my last year with them, but...there were good people joining up to go out with the 33s. People I trusted, who I knew could get the job done. [ And though almost all of them are gone now...it doesn't change anything. ] So I decided it was worth the sacrifice of leaving them to try and win their lives back.
[ It's for everyone, of course, but that classroom full of young, hopeful faces is what she holds onto when things are at their most difficult. They're the specificity she needs to get up each and every time she's knocked down (whether physically or otherwise).
Sciel holds his gaze, stars reflected in her eyes, her countenance easy. ]
I admit, not every day's as easy as "remembering the kids, and I can make it through no problem," but I'm only human.
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tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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?
no subject
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.
no subject
[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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His ominous warning makes her hum, amused, but she doesn't pursue it further. As with everything else -- like the piano lesson -- it's uncertain if they'll have opportunity for those moments of levity. Particularly if it isn't something that they stumble across on their path, like the first Gestral beach. Anything frivolous not easily done at camp will have to be treated as a possible reward for having saved the world, to be returned to if they manage a near-impossible feat. ]
He was. [ Nobody who had met Gustave could deny it. Sciel sighs, smiling ruefully now. ] He was also incredibly stubborn. A workaholic. And - [ Here the expression turns completely to amusement, and she ducks her chin, teeth flashing. ] sometimes a very silly person.
[ The infamous "GET OUT OF MY WAY" doesn't feel long ago at all.
Verso's relay of Esquie's assessment earns another laugh and she glances in the direction of camp, nodding slowly. ]
Mm, and that. [ There will surely be so many things and places she'll lament their inquisitive friend wasn't able to see, but she's grateful, at least, that he'd had the chance to meet Esquie.
(Even though, every time she looks at Esquie, a strange feeling hooks into her brain.) ] Esquie seems like a good judge of character.
[ There's a pause. Then: a breathy chuckle. ]
Ah. [ And she holds up her scant remaining cards. ] Right. Got a little distracted.
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The more he talks about him, though, the more he has to lie about something genuinely horrible. And despite his proficiency with dishonesty, he doesn't actually enjoy having to pretend. The only masks he comfortably wears are the ones that he can hide pieces of himself behind.
So, he picks back up with the Esquie tangent.]
Oh, Esquie's a good judge of a lot of things. Could stand to be a little more clear when sharing those judgments but then he wouldn't be himself.
[It's funny, Verso thinks, how a stuffed toy brought to life has probably been the biggest factor in his ability to retain his own humanity. Which the second biggest being a paintbrush-dog-mannequin hybrid. There's probably something to that but it would require deeper introspection than he cares for right now, so he shrugs it off as an idle thought.
When she draws his attention back to the cards, he sheepishly laughs. Whoops? He also isn't sure whose turn it is, so rather than admitting that, he pushes the pile aside and shrugs.]
Continent rules. When a game has paused for, uh, however long we paused this one, then we start a new trick. You want to go first, or...?
[And while she thinks it over:]
I always appreciated his nonsense. Esquie's. [A pause, then.] You know that he thinks he knows you?
[Which has been fairly easy for Verso to wave off as something meaningless, but which has also found him wondering a bit, given what he knows about Esquie.]
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Not that she blames him for that. His arrival had surely saved Maelle, and maybe herself and Lune, too, if Renoir had then joined the lampmaster against them. That appraising, green gaze trains on his face briefly before melting away at the mention of Esquie's...peculiarities. ]
Mm, very true. A little clarity would be nice. But...if he were to become more like the rest of us, he wouldn't be Esquie. So it's okay if he's a little...odd.
[ Part of why he and the gestrals and the other strange creatures of the Continent are so special is because of their quirks. The eccentricities that make them so strikingly different from people. It just brings to mind all of the interactions she's had with these various mythical beings since their arrival and generates a little glow at the idea of telling her students about it all, someday.
They'll be...so excited. Who wouldn't be? ]
"Continent rules?" [ Sciel repeats, quirking a dubious brow in response. ] ...Fine, but I'm fairly certain that was going to be in your favor, so you should start.
[ She's competitive, yes, but fair.
As they return to the subject of their balloon-like friend, her expression shifts. It's thoughtful, if a little puzzled. ]
I know. [ She affirms, crossing her arms. ] It's...strange. I don't think he'd lie, but I also feel like I'd remember if we'd met before.
[ Of course, as they'd been saying: Esquie is a strange beast. Maybe he wasn't saying exactly what he'd meant, like...that they'd 'met' in a dream. Except...
"My terrible swimmer friend." He'd definitely greeted her, specifically, as if their meeting in his Nest hadn't been the first time. Had...seemed as if he knew her somehow.
It's just another question of many. She hasn't really let it trouble her, but Sciel does keep it tucked away to occasionally chew on. ]
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[Verso still wants to try to tempt Sciel's queens into play, so he plops down another sacrificial low card as he mulls over what she says about Esquie. What he knows about Esquie, too, and his creation as someone who helps people when the darkness threatens to consume them. At the time, he'd thought Esquie had got something mixed up; after all, he had admitted that all humans seem the same to him, but some of the things Sciel has shared today have Verso thinking a bit differently.
It's not his place to intrude, though, so he stashes that thought away, too, and reverts back to his original thought to guide his approach.]
He can get faces confused, sometimes. Thinks we're all cousins. You know, uh, same same, but different. Could be that he met one of your relatives on an Expedition or something.
[An offer of information instead of a prying for some. There's a part of him that did want to ask, specifically, if her parents or perhaps any siblings were Expeditioners, but as curious as he is about Sciel's circumstances, he'd rather get to know her without them colouring things.]
I think out of everyone, you two would get along the most. He has this... way of seeing the world that's like something out of a storybook. It's like art. Confusing art, but really beautiful if you care enough to pay attention.
[Verso speaks it with a definite fondness. Esquie's perceptions have informed Verso's own view of the Continent and what it offers beyond death. They remain different, though, of course, one veering more towards the exceptional in the simplistic, the other preferring places where the beauty is easy to lose oneself in and not a challenge to find.]
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Right. [ But it's less that she agrees with his conclusion and more that it's possible Esquie's mixed her up with someone else, because she continues: ] I don't have siblings, and both my parents were farmers. No other Expedition connections to speak of. So...yeah, must've just been that I look like someone else who passed through.
[ Not too strange, really. It isn't impossible that another woman bearing some resemblance might've been an Expeditioner and run into the creature.
...Someone who might know, though, is sitting nearby. ]
Anyone come to mind? [ Sciel questions. She doesn't expect Verso to remember each and every person he'd met over the years, particularly since some of them may have met Esquie without having met Verso, but...well, now she's curious.
The fondness in his voice when he talks about Esquie is another endearing brush stroke to his character. She hums in agreement, again glancing out in the direction of where the others were spending their evening. ]
You think so? I...guess he does remind me of some of my students, actually. [ There's a childlike quality to him that's both endearing and sometimes frustrating, in that way that kids can be. ] I'd like to spend more time talking to him. Or, trying to, depending on how much he's veered into "confusing art" at that moment.
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Still, he draws it out, tilting his head at an inquisitive angle, tongue just poking out from between his lips as he plays at deep concentration, confirming with each passing moment that he's never met anyone quite like her before.]
Mm, no, I can't say that anyone does.
[His voice bears a softness that might give his heart away. It's something he picks up on himself, so he distracts from it with a flourish of his wrist as he plays a same-suited 10 over her nine.]
At any rate, I think he'd really like hearing about your students. Esquie's always loved children and it's been forever since he's been around any. It's not something he usually brings up – as far as topics go, that one's always been a bit hit-and-miss for him – but if you do... well, good luck getting him to stop asking for more stories.
[A further softening of his voice at the end, a gentling of his smile. As comfortable as Esquie is sitting with peoples' sadness, he doesn't like being its cause. Truly, he's the most powerful being in the Canvas in more than just the obvious way.]
I wouldn't mind some either, if you don't mind sharing.
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Sciel nods slowly in acknowledgment, but she's not thinking so much about the reason for Esquie's confusion anymore. That inquisitive look searches his face for more of a tip of his metaphorical hand as he takes the trick, but he changes the subject, and she lets the moment pass.
For now. ]
I guess it would be. [ A long time since Esquie had been around children, that is. It would've been pre-Fracture, when he and the other inhabitants of the Continent had, assumedly, spent more time among the humans. Her eyes finally drop as she cracks a fresh smile at the image: the silly, baffling Esquie in a city square, surrounded by children who're openly delighted with his quirks and antics. ] But I'm happy to try. He's helped us out a lot, after all.
[ More than she knows.
At the request, her attention flicks back up to him, and the smile tilts. ]
A story for a story. [ Sciel reminds him, unwilling to let the opportunity to flesh out more of Verso pass by. ] I'll share some about my students if you'll tell me...what you were like, when you were younger.
[ She'll keep it on theme, at least. It'd be unfair to ask for "dark and deeply personal" if the sorts of things she has in return are about the nonsense the kids in her class get up to. ]
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[Said with a casual acceptance that belies his apprehension. While over the years, Verso has mastered the art of pretending like he had a childhood and didn't, in fact, come into existence as a fully-formed man who had lived and loved and died, it's still a strange thing for him to talk about in the context of sharing for the sake of sharing. Usually, he only mentions it for relatability and because it would be weird if he didn't.
The memories Aline had rewritten for him help, though it's grown harder over the years to separate them from the real Verso's memories. Not that it matters when it comes to telling stories; it isn't like anyone alive today could tell the difference. But it does matter to him and his attempts to keep himself separate from his other where possible.
Now isn't the time for such thoughts, though. Verso plays another low card then leans back in a different kind of contemplation than before, one that draws his expression a little more thin and finds his lips pursing rather than parting.]
Well, I was obsessed with my piano. Still liked painting then, so I spent a lot of time playing with my paint kit, too. I had a good imagination, if you can believe it. Used to make my own toys out of whatever I could find and tell stories about them to anyone who'd listen – usually my older sister, Clea, but my parents tried to encourage me when they could, too.
[And it's surreal to talk about. None of these memories are his, but the feelings they flood him with feel natural, organic, like he discovered them himself as he grew and learned and developed into the man he is today.]
I was a good swimmer, too. Captained the school team when I was older and everything.
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[ In those ways, anyway. In the ways that matter. Because it's easy to lose sight of your interests and dreams, when making the difficult transition into adulthood. One of her favorite things about being a teacher is getting to bask in that living, breathing spirit of youth on a daily basis. It helps to keep her energetic, and...keep her hopes up, frankly. ]
And swim captain! [ Bile rises from her stomach to burn, insistent, at the back of her throat. He already knows she hates the water, so if her smile or voice seem strained, it shouldn't be particularly suspect. ] Hmm, that's interesting. Was that your only leadership role in school? Did you also...I don't know, take charge in your classroom, or-...what is it, in music...sit first chair? Though I don't think they have that for piano.
[ They're bad examples, so she waves them off with a dismissive hand. ]
Anyway. Lots going on as you grew up! I like being able to see some of the through lines.
[ He's got a way with words. Deft hands. True passion. Eager to please.
Sciel smiles pleasantly at him from over their game, and she makes no effort to hide the fact that she's adding to her mental file on him. ]
Well done. I'd say that's all worth a story. Anything in particular you wanted to hear about...?
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It helps that when he looks past the fact of never having had a childhood, he finds that he likes the comparison, that ordinary human experience of coming into one's own over the course of a properly fleshed-out life, not one that's been artificially extended.]
Nah, just swimming. I probably shouldn't be admitting this to a teacher but I wasn't too invested in my grades. Had the opposite problem with music. Then, I just wanted to close myself off from the world and play. Even during performances that's what I was doing. The best part was always once the lights were dimmed and the only sound was the music and...
[He catches himself before he storms headlong down that particular tangent. Not that he minds talking about music, of course; it's rather that they weren't really talking about it at all. The only thing following that and is a sheepish smile and a careful pointing of his cards in her direction.]
Right. Enough about that.
[Which is perfect, actually; while he's kind of finding himself in the position of wanting to know what Sciel was like when she was a girl, he's still very interested in who she is as a teacher, and so he puts genuine consideration into what question to ask her, even as the way she looks at him distracts him a bit from the task at hand. He lifts his head skyward, focusing on the stars instead until he comes up with something.]
Tell me about something they did that made you sure you chose the right path.
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It isn't long before this deal is over, and the next begins. The game flows more quickly -- almost an afterthought -- as they talk, and she's playing largely with muscle memory as more of her attention is diverted to the stories they share. ]
Tsk, tsk. [ She tuts good-naturedly. ] Well, I think I can overlook it. Every student has their specialty, and we all learn differently...
[ It's rolling a boulder uphill: trying to force kids to care about something they have no love for. In her time working with them, she'd found it much more effective to start by nurturing their actual interests, then finding a way to bridge the gap between that and the areas they could use some improvement. There'd always been a viable link, if only you could uncover it. ]
"...the only sound was the music, and?" [ Sciel prompts lightly, unwilling to let it go. After all, the way he shines when he's talking about music has been...really special to see every time, and if he's curtailing the story for her imagined benefit, then she has to correct him. I want to hear about this, Verso. Tell me what makes you, you.
Then comes the direction he gives. She looks back at him with an odd smile. ]
I'm...not sure I chose the right path. [ Comes the reply, and her voice almost suggests, gently, that this is something obvious. ] I'm not even sure I think there is a "right path." There's just the one I walk. For better or worse.
[ The core of tarot is that they're meant to provide guidance, and not to predict the future. Because that future is happening in real time and isn't pre-determined. She certainly doesn't begrudge those who find solace in believing that everything happens for a reason, or that they're merely pieces on a board whose movements were decided long ago, but that just isn't the way she thinks about the world.
...Of course, he's just talking about her career choice, so the smile returns to its normal bright, easy flash. ]
But... [ A handful of memories come to mind, and she considers them all carefully in turn. ] Hmm. ...Ah. Well, there was one day I came to class, and...I wasn't feeling my best, emotionally. It'd been a tough night, and I really didn't feel up to the job that day. And the kids-... Some of them were pretty young, but they were all really in tune with everything, and so sweet. I think they could tell I wasn't doing well, and they just made it the easiest day. I felt myself coming alive again as it went on. They were usually pretty rowdy, very chatty, but they were on the best behavior. [ There's a pause and her expression softens to something fond and reminiscent, hand moving automatically to brush against the many colorful bracelets along her arm. ] A lot of adults are quick to judge children's intuition, or their capacity to be thoughtful, but I was lucky enough to benefit from it when I needed it most. They're still people, just...little ones. And I think we were able to see each other eye to eye that day.
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So, he easily goes back on his own enough about that at Sciel's light prodding, releasing a soft, almost lovestruck sigh as he thinks back to a time when he was still welcomed in Lumiere and concerts still happened. The last time he played the piano for anyone there had come after public opinion began to turn against his family, but there was still a good-sized crowd and he had been able to release all the things he couldn't say out into the music.
No one understood, of course – his fingers play masks into the notes – but it was a beautiful catharsis all the same.]
And as I let everything out, the world became so small that the only thing that mattered was the beauty.
[No masks dull his tone, or dim the light in his eyes, or lessen the intensity of his words. Rarely does the impulse to hide how he feels about music strike him – at least in the years since the Fracture, anyway. Nothing makes him come more alive, nothing makes him feel more human, nothing brings him more peace than music, and he can see no harm in sharing that with others.
Except, again, that he doesn't want to focus overly on himself. Which finds him quick to latch onto what Sciel shares, too, eyes steadfastly attentive as he listens. It's interesting, he thinks, how she chooses a story that not only delves into her own vulnerability, but also exemplifies her openness to others. It's true what she says; a lot of adults might not have given them the credit. Hell, they might have been so lost in their own heads that they didn't realise what the children were doing, only tangentially aware that they had more space to think when they needed it the most.
She really is spectacular, his fool heart thinks as it continues its descent into growing irreversibly attached.]
You saw them as equals, yeah? It sounds like they were lucky to have you. And you them.
[There's something else she said that interested him, though; something about the way she said it, too, like it's the simplest thing in the world.]
That's interesting, though. The whole "no right path" thing. Can't say I've ever thought about it like that.
[It's hard for him to take action if he doesn't think he's on the right course – even if it requires him taking the wrong actions or results in catastrophic failure – but that he keeps to himself. It's too vulnerable, for one; for another, it opens him up to questions he can't answer without giving the wrong things away.]
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...But it's more than that. With a lurch like missing a step, she realizes all at once that she might be at risk of feeling something more than affection, fondness, or admiration. More than physical desire, even. There is a fluttering in her gut that she recognizes, even though it's been dormant for years.
Careful, now. And as if she's spotted a bear trap in the path ahead, Sciel steps cautiously back, keeping her sights on the danger while also holding it at arm's length. ]
I might get nervous, all alone up there. [ Somehow fighting in the Gestral Arena doesn't seem quite as intimidating. ] When I imagine it, it feels enormous. The crowd, and somewhere like Lumiére's Opera House. But...the way you describe it, I can understand. It's really just you and your music in a world of your own. Nothing scary about that. It'd be beautiful, like you said.
[ His words open the door for her to experience a taste of what he loves, and it seems hers, in turn, offer some of the same for him. Sciel's soft smile persists as Verso correctly identifies what exactly had happened that day, and what had made it so special for her. ]
I was lucky, yeah. They're great kids. [ The reason she'd begun teaching had been to feel closer to Pierre, but that was only how it'd started. The fact that she wound up so happily entrenched in her role as their teacher was all because of her class. ] They're so bright, and so...hopeful. Obviously they've got too much responsibility for their age, but the way they manage it is-...inspiring.
[ It isn't just her class, of course. She's seen it in others, too. Maelle, naturally, but also Gustave's apprentices. The children of friends.
Lumiére's future is bright. She believes this completely. ]
Obviously there are some things that are...objectively wrong. [ She replies, when the subject shifts to her philosophy on life. ] But I don't think most people make choices that are quite so black and white. You know what they say about good intentions. [ And the road it paves. ] ...What I mean is: everything can change in an instant. For anyone. What's "right" for me today might not be the same tomorrow. So...I've just got to work with what I've got. Today.
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Oh, I got nervous a lot at first. You never know how a crowd's going to react. Especially when you're taking over for a more popular pianist and a decent chunk of them only find out when you're introduced. Moments like those really get you looking forward to that hush.
[He laughs, though it's happened to him a few times early on, back before the Fracture when he was still the Dessendre boy, a rich man from a powerful family who had to prove that music wasn't some passing fancy of his, something with which to busy himself until he became part of his parents' artistic empire. It stung, of course, and the memory bubbles up a bit unpleasantly, but the impostor syndrome he'd felt then pales in comparison to the one he knows now, so it doesn't really stick.]
But yeah, once you get used to it, the stage becomes like a second home.
[Here on the Continent, now that he's left Frozen Hearts and only has a sad shack in the Ancient Sanctuary to consider his own, the thought of his piano and his music being his home rings more true than ever. Which, of course, is going to go unsaid for how vulnerable it feels.
Besides, the way Sciel speaks of responsibility distracts him from his own thoughts. It's been decades since he's had any real connection with Lumiere beyond visiting Maelle and travelling with Expeditions every now and again, so he doesn't often think about how different society must be now, particularly in the context of its youngest members. His expression falls a bit here as he sinks into deeper contemplation, mulling over both the nature of those responsibilities and what Sciel shares next.
His initial response is a simple:]
Makes sense.
[Except not entirely, through no fault of her own. It's rather that Verso has spent so long steadfastly following a singular path that he can't quite connect with what she's saying. If right and wrong are ever-changing, then that says something about his own decisions that he lacks the capacity to grapple with. No, no, no, he has to be sure. He has to be doing what's best. This all has to mean something other than death.
All that gets brushed aside, too, with an inquisitive cant of his head as a new question comes to mind.]
Now I'm curious, though. What were you working with when you decided to join the Expedition?
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[ "A second home," though. Not for the first time, she thinks that, maybe if they survive this, he can find home again. Whether that's on stage, or somewhere on the Continent... Wherever he can actually breathe, and feel safe, and do the things that make life worth living.
It's what they all deserve, but he's been without for too long.
Sciel continues the game, though more than half of her mind is on their conversation instead. Even when his question is a straightforward one, for her. ]
I wanted my students to have a future. [ Simple, and not a novel reason for becoming an Expeditioner, but true nonetheless. ] I was tempted to spend my last year with them, but...there were good people joining up to go out with the 33s. People I trusted, who I knew could get the job done. [ And though almost all of them are gone now...it doesn't change anything. ] So I decided it was worth the sacrifice of leaving them to try and win their lives back.
[ It's for everyone, of course, but that classroom full of young, hopeful faces is what she holds onto when things are at their most difficult. They're the specificity she needs to get up each and every time she's knocked down (whether physically or otherwise).
Sciel holds his gaze, stars reflected in her eyes, her countenance easy. ]
I admit, not every day's as easy as "remembering the kids, and I can make it through no problem," but I'm only human.
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literally rng'd this card again lmao
the fool will be HEARD
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