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.
For concerts? Yeah. I wasn't at it long enough to draw crowds with my own music, so I was there to play the classics. You know, give them the show they expect with a few twists along the way.
[Which was his favourite part, deciding on the spot when to get creative with the notes and the melodies and when to play things safe and familiar. It's how he infused other peoples' music with his own – how he set himself apart before he knew how desperately he'd one day wish that he could be like everyone else again.
All the ways his heart had swelled as he thought and spoke about music fall away when Sciel starts talking about securing a future for her students, and guilt reinstates itself in his stomach as a too-familiar queasiness that he tries to and mostly succeeds at breathing into submission. At least enough that it doesn't read plainly on his face. It can't have been easy to say goodbye, he thinks, but he has sense enough to not say that aloud. Obviously, it was hard, and it sucks that she was put in that position to begin with.
When he'd made his own decision decades earlier to join the first Expedition, things had been profoundly more simple. Even Search & Rescue was a decision that made itself, no cons existing to contradict the pros. Idly, he wonders which paths he'd choose to walk now. Surely he would, but the bone-tired part of him wonders what it would have been like to live out the last of his days in the city instead, fading away as smoke and petals on the wind. Having such thoughts always feels like an insult to the Lumierans, though – especially when he's in their company – so he shrugs them aside, too, and finds his words instead.]
I hope we can stop the cycle for them.
[His carefully chosen words.]
And for you. No one should have to live with this much death.
[The mood shifts a bit dark, but Verso still takes his turn. And while part of him would like to try and divert things back towards something more lighthearted, that feels like a disservice to the dead he's just invoked. So, he shifts where's he's sitting, spreading himself out a bit more to loosen the tension, and follows himself up with:]
If only the Paintress agreed.
[And the real Renoir and the real Clea, but he can't mention them so he lifts all the blame onto his mother's hunched over shoulders.]
Maybe someday, then. [ She won't belabor the point -- that it's unlikely they'll have that chance, but not impossible -- and instead takes her next turn with her eyes cast down to the cards. Was this Deal 4, or 5?
Once she's finished with that, Sciel returns her attention to Verso and the real meat of their evening. He seems to turn introspective and she does as well as something he says echoes in her mind: No one should have to live with this much death.
They still have so many secrets, she thinks. The pain and loss that comes as a natural part of both their world, and of living. There are things unsaid between the words Verso does speak, and she finds herself wondering if any of it is like what she's declined to share with him in turn.
Tonight's not the time for stories that're quite that dark, though. So when he shifts his posture and conversation turns to the Paintress, Sciel scoffs and looks in the direction she knows the (currently unseen) woman to be. ]
If only. [ Of course, she can't even blame the Paintress for the tragedies that haunt her most severely, but there's still more than enough to heap onto the massive figure. ] ...You know, my friend Sophie had a...unique opinion about the Paintress. Always said she looked sad, like she was a victim, too.
[ It's hard to swallow, considering the clear cause and effect that takes people like Sophie from them every year. But Sophie was kind, and wise, and Sciel never knew whether she should consider the opinion with any weight or just humor the inclination of someone with a good heart. ]
But...whatever the case, we'll end it. And then we'll all be free of it either way. The Paintress included.
[Of all the beautiful little things they've talked about, putting on an actual performance of his own music in front of a crowd is the one he considers the least likely, and by such a significant margin that it doesn't feel worth considering at all. This doubt doesn't show, though; Verso smiles the same as he had all the other times before playing his card.
That smile falters when Sciel talks about Sophie and thoughts of the betrayal slam up against the fore of his mind. Once, he had hoped to inspire that kind of a reaction in people. He'd wanted them to emphasise with the paintress, to embrace her as the one thing keeping them alive, to target their aggressions towards the one who deserved them. To hear someone had identified her as a victim as well, all these years later – even if they don't know the story of a grieving woman and the husband who sought to bring her back through obscene force – is surprisingly painful.]
It's an interesting perspective.
[Is what he offers after a pause, his words slowed by false yet genuine-seeming contemplation. The conversation is quickly becoming a minefield; there doesn't feel like a direction Verso can take without potentially setting something off that he's trying to keep buried, and retreat feels like it leads into the greatest risk. All he can really do is shift things back on Sciel, so he asks:]
[ "Interesting," and not one most people agree with. In fact, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone else in Lumiére besides Soph who holds that opinion.
Just because nobody's thought before to wonder if something might not be what it seems doesn't invalidate the idea, of course. ]
What about me... [ Sciel echoes. It's a good question, and not one for which she has a confident answer. They'd lived their whole lives with the Paintress as their collective enemy (and the vague concept of Nevrons, secondarily), but had then been faced with a human enemy once they landed. So...the idea of at whom to direct the bulk of her animosity is difficult to pin down.
There's a long pause as a result, and she's staring off to the side throughout. ]
...I don't know. [ A simple answer. She elaborates: ] My whole life I've watched her rise and paint away my friends and family. [ Sophie's right, though: the massive figure does appear sad. The closer they get, the more easily they can see her ducked shoulders heaving with sobs. That could all be a show, an illusion, but... ] I always say that eyes don't lie, you know. So...maybe when we meet her properly, I'll have a better idea.
[ Hard to imagine being eye to eye with the Paintress, but. ]
Besides, people can be...misguided. Maybe she's the same.
[ Doing the wrong thing for a good reason -- especially if that "good" is highly subjective -- also requires interference, though. Particularly in this case. ]
It's difficult to get past all our...history, [ Sciel says, finally glancing back to Verso before taking her turn. ] but I've been trying to reserve at least some judgement.
[It's a plaguing thought, Verso managing to bring the Expeditioners before the Paintress and having to watch and listen as they hear her out. Something that's been bothering him ever since Expedition 60 had made it to her and turned their sights on Renoir. All he has to bank on is that Aline has slipped further into her madness and her delusions – a disgusting thought he hates having, but one that insists on its own necessity all the same.]
I go back and forth.
[He offers of his own volition. It's true enough at its core, but not in its presentation. Verso casts his own glance towards the Monolith and the woman seated there who bears no resemblance to his mother.]
Sometimes it helps to see her as more human. That means she can be reasoned with. Probably, anyway. There are some stubborn people out there. But there are also times when, I don't know, I'll find the remains of another Expedition or I'll see the number change and...
[He'll think that no matter how deeply he emphasises with her for being put in this situation to begin with, he can't move on – he can't make progress – unless he sees her as someone irrevocably altered, her love every bit as warped and inhuman and deadly as Renoir's is for her.]
Well. I'm sure you know what I mean.
[A lie to an extent. It's not exactly like the Paintress is anyone else's mother. She didn't carefully craft them into existence to bear the burdens of her grief. But he thinks that at the core of it, that kind of exaggerating frustration is more universally relatable. Or he hopes, anyway; isolation has made it hard for him to say anymore.]
[ Treating Renoir like a human had not made it possible to reason with him, she thinks grimly. It's still so easy to remember Alan calling out when they'd first landed on the beach, and their collective shock at the sight of the wrinkles, the white hair... ]
It's good to be somewhere in the middle. [ Sciel offers, in support of his answer. It's not too dissimilar from her own opion, and opting for one extreme or the other is usually the wrong answer. She cants her head, nodding vaguely as she tallies points while simultaneously imagining what it might -- will -- be like trying to talk to the Paintress.
She doesn't ask if anyone's ever tried it before, assuming Verso would have supplied that information already, given its relevance. ]
I do know. [ Comes the eventual reply. Yes: some days she feels more at ease, and more easily convinces herself that maybe Sophie was on to something. But when she pictures everyone they've lost, and thinks about the future that might still be stolen, her resolve is more ironclad.
Right now, though, there's no need for anything quite that heavy. In fact, she smiles again as she looks at him, upturning her palms in an offertory gesture. ]
Félicitations -- seems you weren't over-exaggerating after all. [ Does she feel a pang of disappointment that she won't get to hear him play? Yes, absolutely, but that doesn't mean she plans to give up on making that happen one way or another. ] This means next time, I owe you a reading. You'll just have to come with a question or two prepared: don't forget.
[The relief Verso feels when the Paintress conversation reaches a natural conclusion would be palpable if he wasn't masking it away. He makes a mental note to be a bit more cautious regarding the topics he broaches with Sciel; the way she sees the world – warm and open and broad and free – isn't something he's really experienced before. It'll keep him on his toes.
That's fine, though. The part of himself that likes a challenge couldn't be more intrigued.
Or more pleased with his victory. Sciel isn't Monoco or any of the other Gestrals – even if she is their champion – so he doesn't bother gloating. Doesn't even feel compelled to, really; for once, winning at cards is the least of what he got out of this exchange. Instead, he offers his hand for a congratulatory shake.]
Good game.
[A smile, a contemplative tilt of his head. Of course he knew he'd have to come up with questions, but now that it's less of a theoretical if I win and a much more literal because I won, he finds himself almost at a loss. Most of the questions that come to mind either feel simple and dull, or they veer too close to home. And while he has time to give it some serious thought, he figures that a little guidance wouldn't hurt. So:]
What kinds of questions do people usually ask, anyway?
[ She meets his hand with her own, grasping to shake it in return with the pleasant smile of concession. ]
Good game. [ And it was, even if some of it took a back seat to their conversation. ...Maybe especially because of that, considering how enjoyable it'd been to talk with him, and how that talk had completely occupied their thoughts. Or hers, at least. She won't assume, though he did seem equally engrossed.
Sciel withdraws with a sigh: the hour means it's time to start turning in, but she feels...particularly energized. It means she'll be lying awake for a while, she knows, harboring that little flame that had been lit with the novelty of their evening and the excitement of what the future might bring.
Speaking of. His question draws her lips up in a deeper smile, and she hums thoughtfully in response. ]
Well, the classic is "what do I need to know?" General guidance. Other than that, it really depends. Money and love are popular subjects: "should I make this investment," "does so-and-so like me," those sorts of things.
[ Not exactly the most relevant or pressing subjects for Expeditioners. ...She assumes. It's possible Verso is considering giving a lot of Chroma to a gestral with a business proposition. It's possible he has matters of the heart to wonder about.
Sciel leans back on her palms, head cocked. ]
Don't think too hard about it: I tend to try and sit with myself, let the question sort of...drift to the front of my mind in a quiet moment. But it doesn't have to be deadly serious, either. Whatever feels right.
[ "Deadly" reminds her, though: ] I will need Death back, at the reading. Wouldn't want to cheat you of any possible options.
[There's a joke Verso could make about how it's been nice having Death at his hands for once, but he knows better than to keep cracking remarks on how much immortality sucks, actually, so he keeps it to himself, barely hinting at its existence through a newfound cheekiness to his smile. He pats his chest. A symbolic gesture; the card is in his jacket pocket, and of course his jacket is off elsewhere.]
It's been in good hands. Probably only got it a little grimy.
[Is he serious? Is he teasing? He covers the truth up well enough that it's impossible to tell. The card is in good condition, tucked into a makeshift leather folder, because people don't give Verso things very often – whether they intend to take it back or not – and so when it happens, he can't help but assign a level of importance to it. Like how he maintains his 33 armband as if he deserves to wear it on his sleeve.
Sciel's examples do help in that they make him realise he doesn't want to ask about his future. Which does lead him to a different kind of question, one that's been plaguing him for decades, but one that he'll definitely need to mull over for a while. At least they'll have time – fuck, he hopes they have time – for him to get a feel for what's right.
Though all that assumes that it's something he can ask; he doesn't know if there are limits. So:]
With all the fighting we usually do in a day? I'd be surprised if it wasn't covered in blood.
[ Verso in particular, who she's noticed tends to be a little more cavalier with his safety in combat. It makes sense, given his immortality, but that doesn't make it less alarming in the heat of the moment.
Sciel is still smiling, though, unbothered by the possibility of gore on Death. ]
"Anything they can't handle..." [ Interesting question. Most people assume how it works, or doesn't work, and she either corrects them or humors them, depending on the situation. His phrasing makes her expression turn intrigued, and she considers it for a while before replying. ]
That's...not how I'd describe it, exactly. [ Because they 'can' work with anything you throw at then, though some of it may be ill-advised. ] I think...it's more that there are two things to keep in mind. One: [ She lifts a finger. ] the point of the exercise isn't really to "tell the future." It's best to think of this as guidance.
[ Just as she doesn't believe there's a "right path" in life, she doesn't believe that tarot is the end-all-be-all, determining the one and only way a person ought to go on living. ]
Two: [ Up goes a second finger. ] don't ask questions you don't want answers to. Sounds obvious, but you'd be surprised how often it happens. This isn't a place to be told what you want to hear. Not by me, anyway.
[ This is just her own style of practice, of course, but it's done with her usual brand of honesty. ]
Not exactly the answer to your question, but I think leaving it at "no" would've been unhelpful, yeah?
[Sciel makes her literal points and Verso can't help but wonder a little about what he's got himself into. Not in a bad way – again, he likes the challenge, appreciates how she always manages to keep things interesting. No, it's rather that he feels like no matter what he chooses, he'll probably end up revealing more about himself than he'd intended to when he first proposed the wager.
That's all right, though; he never backs down, and he feels unusually safe with Sciel, like she'll see what's there and won't twist his words or use them against him, like she'll know which of his secrets to keep. Which feels a bit scary in spite of that safety, and that thought has him letting out a huff of a laugh as he looks away for a moment, once again feeling stupidly, almost boyishly shy.
It really has been a long time since he's experienced genuine, meaningful human connection in general, never mind with someone as extraordinary as Sciel.]
You're not wrong.
[No might have left him half expecting Sciel to go gentle with him. Not so much now.]
But got it. I'll come up with something good.
[It's a pride thing. And it's a rare burst-of-manners thing that finds him collecting the cards into a pile, tucking them away, then rising to his feet and offering her a hand to join her.]
May I escort you back to camp?
[Speaking of camp, his voice drips with it a bit.]
[ She's got a palm pressed to the grass, primed to hop up when he extends the hand. The whole gesture -- along with the offer -- earns him another amused, but intrigued parting of her lips. ]
Oh, merci. [ Sciel accepts it with a little chuckle and rises to her feet. Maybe she takes an extra beat before releasing her grasp, enjoying the brief warmth of his grip in her own: the comfort she always gets, as a touch-friendly person, when making that contact with another.
If it's something she especially savours because of the hand's owner, well. ]
And if we run into any Nevrons on the way back, don't worry: I'll keep us both safe. So you can focus on the escorting.
[ Her lips pull upward again with fond, teasing grin.
She finds herself wishing they had more time, for...another game, another conversation. Start on the reading now, maybe. There's something about their shared evening that has her feeling more at ease than usual, and definitely more excited for the next night at camp where they find themselves with a moment to spare, and share.
[The escorting. What he leaves unsaid is that the importance of the work is directly proportionate to that of the company he's keeping, still unsure how to read into the energy between them. A prospect that's made all the more complicated by the lingering of her hand in his own, that lilt of a tease to her grin.
At least there's the promise of more. Should fate favour them, anyway. Tarot and music, snow and carousels, beauty in places both odd and expected. Those thoughts are enough to hold back the slight edge of disappointment that might have otherwise made itself known in the tone of his voice as he meets her request with his confirmation, moving them that much closer to ending their evening.]
We shall.
[They head back to camp. Wander off their separate ways and into sleep. Morning comes and the group continues journeying to Monoco's Station. Grass soon makes way for the first patches of snow, and by the time they're inside – for a certain definition of inside, anyway – the cold has settled in and nobody's ready to continue further onwards until they rest up, warm up, get more acclimated to the chill that none of them really came prepared to endure.
Except for Verso, but he's had decades to prepare himself.
Up until the evening, the Grandis make for good company; then, they're off to put the events of the day down on paper, and the 33s are left with a moment to exist. Those will become rarer by the day, Verso knows – things never unfold any differently in the Canvas – so once he's spent some time catching up with Monoco, he slips away to find Sciel, wherever she might have wandered off to herself.
When he finds her, he moves to step into place beside her. It feels oddly natural, oddly right, and he has to stop himself from moving in just a little bit closer.]
Hey. [Said softly, looking over his shoulder.] You busy?
[ Tomorrow comes. A chill materializes in the air as they approach their next destination, rapidly changing into something that seeps through the clothes and skin and clings to your bones. Monoco's Station is awe-inspiring enough a sight that she can ignore the discomfort of the cold, drawn into the overhead trellis of train tracks, the magnificent spires of ice.
Through their companion and the locals, they get some of the history of the place: another brush stoke in the incomplete painting that is the distant past. The image of trains running through the Continent is grand, dreamy. The mythical Grandis who live in one of the icy stations of the old train lines are similarly grand and dreamy, offering their gentle musings and snappy poetry to any of the 33s who inquire. And while both of these novelties are enough to capture the attention of the former farmer, Sciel is more completely occupied with the main event. The feature of the area she'd been promised, and where Verso finds her once he seeks her out.
Snow. Snow! She stands in about a foot of it, staring out at the blanketed landscape with an expression of earnest thrill and wonder, when she turns on him when he approaches. ]
Just finishing something up. [ Sciel crouches down, taking some snow into her hand before straightening up again. She closes her fingers around it, making it a bit more compact, and then wraps both hands around the lump, which melts quickly with their warmth.
Once the snow has gone completely she returns her arms to her sides, and her gaze to him. The smile widens further. ]
All done. For now. [ ...As if she can't help it, her head turns back to the snowy expanse, eyes nearly sparkling with glee. ] I know you're probably used to it, but...it's incredible. More beautiful than I pictured.
[ Pierre would be just as enraptured. With the usual pang of mingled love and loss, she pictures his reaction. Pictures shoving him into a snow bank, both laughing, rolling around in the fluffy mass until their skin tingled with discomfort. ]
...I haven't forgotten you mentioning danger. [ She adds lightly, turning to return her attention to the man at her side. ] But I admit: I'm feeling a lot more excited than worried at the moment.
[There's something charming about how Sciel occupies herself with melting snow between her palms, of all things, and he watches her with reflected interest. She's right that he's used to it, and despite how much he's always gravitated towards it, he can't help but feel like he's taken it quite a bit for granted. A thought which infuses a bit of extra enthusiasm into his response.]
It only gets better from here, too.
[The beauty, anyway. The cold will get worse, and trudging through deep snow gets old about three steps in, but there's no point in ruining the wonder of the moment with the shittiness of what awaits them in the morning. Caring about the danger can wait, too; they're reasonably safe here – safe enough that Verso seems more relaxed than usual as he looks out into the sky – and with Monoco agreeing to travel with them, he's feeling more at peace with things in general.
A fragile peace, to be sure, given how all peace in the Canvas is fleeting, but that's all the more reason to embrace it while they still can. Right now, for him, that means reaping his earlier rewards. He'd been hoping they'd stop here, actually, mainly so the others can take a night or two to recuperate while they have roofs over their heads and the Grandis to keep them company, but also because he knows this place well, too. And though he might not consider it to be anywhere near as much of a home as Frozen Hearts was, its familiarity is comforting in the same way. Something he'd like to share. So:]
Lucky for you, I know exactly where to go to keep the danger away. It's a bit of a walk, but not too bad of one. I was thinking we could head over there now, if it's a good time for that reading...? Or if you wouldn't mind the company if it isn't.
[ It's a childish gesture, maybe, but she's never been one to deny herself the harmlessness of showing blatant joy. The sensation of the biting cold disappearing in her hand is novel, and when he asserts there's only more to come, the brightness in her face is sustained. ]
I'll hold you to that. [ Sciel replies, sing-song, though she doesn't doubt him.
There's a lot she could ask about since their arrival -- the snow aside, she has a lot of questions about the Station itself, and the Grandis, and Monoco of course -- but...suspects that once she's warmed up a bit, Lune will tie Verso down for her own interrogation. So she lets him off the hook (for the moment, at least), quirking a curious brow at his suggestion. ]
I don't mind a walk. [ And certainly doesn't mind more of the rare instances they've had so far where they managed to find some time to chat, just the two of them. In fact, it's something that's been at the fore of her mind since their last meeting: a new light at the end of every possibly-deadly tunnel they barrel down on a daily basis. ] Now's a great time.
[ The snow's everywhere, so it isn't as if she'll miss out on it if they go elsewhere. So Sciel gestures in the dramatized bow that Verso favors, smile again skewing teasing. ]
[One of Verso's best friends is a stuffed toy, and the brunt of his socialisation is with puppy-like mannequins. Whatever the gesture is – childish or otherwise – he finds it relatable, and comforting in so being. Time is running out and with the world constantly crashing around the 33s, the simpler the joys they find, the greater the impact they have on Verso.
Or so it's felt, anyway. So it still feels when she imitates his bow, and he makes an incoherent formal gestures of acceptance with one wrist.]
Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle.
[Then, he heads towards one of the most put-together railway tracks that stretches skyward – he did not say they would be walking on flat ground – and takes the first few track steps up before a particularly snaky gust of wind works its way around him enough to give him a slight chill. It's now that he looks back, remembering what Sciel is wearing, and points to her bare arms.]
You... don't happen to have something warmer than that, do you?
[The man has absolutely no idea what the Expeditioners do and don't bring with them, or how many of them know how to use pictos to make their own personal hammerspaces, or what they're even told about the Continent, for the most part. So, the question is purely genuine.]
[ Off they go, trudging together over the frozen and wondrous landscape. Verso leads the way, of course, but she keeps pace alongside him as much as the path will allow, eyes following the upward slope of the tracks as they approach. Once they begin their ascent she lets him go first, following with careful steps along the icy metal and possibly-unstable wood.
...Some of the less-pleasant features of their beautiful surroundings make themselves known in a brief gust, and Sciel draws her shoulders in against its bite, feeling the cold travel along her bare arms and midriff (where it chills the scar in particular). ]
Ah. [ Right. She'd been enjoying the unique experience of such deep cold when she'd just been standing in a low snow bank, but he's got a point that'll be key in not actually coming down with an illness or worse. It's too easy to picture the lecture she'd get if she returned from an "unnecessary" excursion with some sickness, and Sciel isn't that irresponsible, besides. So, just as she summons her scythe and cards, she produces a coat and gloves more like what Lune typically wears, donning them as she continues upward.
The front of the coat is still left open for now, though. It's not yet so painful that she wants to shut out the feeling entirely.
The Expeditions prepare for what they can, with the limited knowledge they have, and getting nothing sent back to the city from those who came before. They've known there are mountains, have some extent of preparation for the cold, though nothing that would allow for extended survival in these conditions (or the more intense and deadly cold he's hinted at). This'll have to do for now, and maybe next time Lune can provide the extra warmth of a handheld fire. ...Next time they're moving as a group, anyway. Much as she loves her fellow 33, close friend, and former hookup, these rare occasions that she and Verso are carving out are...well, preferably spent with just the pair of them. ]
For the record, I would've figured something out, if not this. [ Sure, they could just have the reading back at camp around a fire and protected from the wind, but where's the adventure in that? ] I'm sure you know lots of creative ways to stay warm out here, with all of your ancient wisdom.
[ If there is any innuendo laced through her words, then her usual, pleasant expression doesn't tip her hand. ]
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tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
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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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[Which was his favourite part, deciding on the spot when to get creative with the notes and the melodies and when to play things safe and familiar. It's how he infused other peoples' music with his own – how he set himself apart before he knew how desperately he'd one day wish that he could be like everyone else again.
All the ways his heart had swelled as he thought and spoke about music fall away when Sciel starts talking about securing a future for her students, and guilt reinstates itself in his stomach as a too-familiar queasiness that he tries to and mostly succeeds at breathing into submission. At least enough that it doesn't read plainly on his face. It can't have been easy to say goodbye, he thinks, but he has sense enough to not say that aloud. Obviously, it was hard, and it sucks that she was put in that position to begin with.
When he'd made his own decision decades earlier to join the first Expedition, things had been profoundly more simple. Even Search & Rescue was a decision that made itself, no cons existing to contradict the pros. Idly, he wonders which paths he'd choose to walk now. Surely he would, but the bone-tired part of him wonders what it would have been like to live out the last of his days in the city instead, fading away as smoke and petals on the wind. Having such thoughts always feels like an insult to the Lumierans, though – especially when he's in their company – so he shrugs them aside, too, and finds his words instead.]
I hope we can stop the cycle for them.
[His carefully chosen words.]
And for you. No one should have to live with this much death.
[The mood shifts a bit dark, but Verso still takes his turn. And while part of him would like to try and divert things back towards something more lighthearted, that feels like a disservice to the dead he's just invoked. So, he shifts where's he's sitting, spreading himself out a bit more to loosen the tension, and follows himself up with:]
If only the Paintress agreed.
[And the real Renoir and the real Clea, but he can't mention them so he lifts all the blame onto his mother's hunched over shoulders.]
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Once she's finished with that, Sciel returns her attention to Verso and the real meat of their evening. He seems to turn introspective and she does as well as something he says echoes in her mind: No one should have to live with this much death.
They still have so many secrets, she thinks. The pain and loss that comes as a natural part of both their world, and of living. There are things unsaid between the words Verso does speak, and she finds herself wondering if any of it is like what she's declined to share with him in turn.
Tonight's not the time for stories that're quite that dark, though. So when he shifts his posture and conversation turns to the Paintress, Sciel scoffs and looks in the direction she knows the (currently unseen) woman to be. ]
If only. [ Of course, she can't even blame the Paintress for the tragedies that haunt her most severely, but there's still more than enough to heap onto the massive figure. ] ...You know, my friend Sophie had a...unique opinion about the Paintress. Always said she looked sad, like she was a victim, too.
[ It's hard to swallow, considering the clear cause and effect that takes people like Sophie from them every year. But Sophie was kind, and wise, and Sciel never knew whether she should consider the opinion with any weight or just humor the inclination of someone with a good heart. ]
But...whatever the case, we'll end it. And then we'll all be free of it either way. The Paintress included.
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[Of all the beautiful little things they've talked about, putting on an actual performance of his own music in front of a crowd is the one he considers the least likely, and by such a significant margin that it doesn't feel worth considering at all. This doubt doesn't show, though; Verso smiles the same as he had all the other times before playing his card.
That smile falters when Sciel talks about Sophie and thoughts of the betrayal slam up against the fore of his mind. Once, he had hoped to inspire that kind of a reaction in people. He'd wanted them to emphasise with the paintress, to embrace her as the one thing keeping them alive, to target their aggressions towards the one who deserved them. To hear someone had identified her as a victim as well, all these years later – even if they don't know the story of a grieving woman and the husband who sought to bring her back through obscene force – is surprisingly painful.]
It's an interesting perspective.
[Is what he offers after a pause, his words slowed by false yet genuine-seeming contemplation. The conversation is quickly becoming a minefield; there doesn't feel like a direction Verso can take without potentially setting something off that he's trying to keep buried, and retreat feels like it leads into the greatest risk. All he can really do is shift things back on Sciel, so he asks:]
What about you?
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Just because nobody's thought before to wonder if something might not be what it seems doesn't invalidate the idea, of course. ]
What about me... [ Sciel echoes. It's a good question, and not one for which she has a confident answer. They'd lived their whole lives with the Paintress as their collective enemy (and the vague concept of Nevrons, secondarily), but had then been faced with a human enemy once they landed. So...the idea of at whom to direct the bulk of her animosity is difficult to pin down.
There's a long pause as a result, and she's staring off to the side throughout. ]
...I don't know. [ A simple answer. She elaborates: ] My whole life I've watched her rise and paint away my friends and family. [ Sophie's right, though: the massive figure does appear sad. The closer they get, the more easily they can see her ducked shoulders heaving with sobs. That could all be a show, an illusion, but... ] I always say that eyes don't lie, you know. So...maybe when we meet her properly, I'll have a better idea.
[ Hard to imagine being eye to eye with the Paintress, but. ]
Besides, people can be...misguided. Maybe she's the same.
[ Doing the wrong thing for a good reason -- especially if that "good" is highly subjective -- also requires interference, though. Particularly in this case. ]
It's difficult to get past all our...history, [ Sciel says, finally glancing back to Verso before taking her turn. ] but I've been trying to reserve at least some judgement.
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I go back and forth.
[He offers of his own volition. It's true enough at its core, but not in its presentation. Verso casts his own glance towards the Monolith and the woman seated there who bears no resemblance to his mother.]
Sometimes it helps to see her as more human. That means she can be reasoned with. Probably, anyway. There are some stubborn people out there. But there are also times when, I don't know, I'll find the remains of another Expedition or I'll see the number change and...
[He'll think that no matter how deeply he emphasises with her for being put in this situation to begin with, he can't move on – he can't make progress – unless he sees her as someone irrevocably altered, her love every bit as warped and inhuman and deadly as Renoir's is for her.]
Well. I'm sure you know what I mean.
[A lie to an extent. It's not exactly like the Paintress is anyone else's mother. She didn't carefully craft them into existence to bear the burdens of her grief. But he thinks that at the core of it, that kind of exaggerating frustration is more universally relatable. Or he hopes, anyway; isolation has made it hard for him to say anymore.]
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It's good to be somewhere in the middle. [ Sciel offers, in support of his answer. It's not too dissimilar from her own opion, and opting for one extreme or the other is usually the wrong answer. She cants her head, nodding vaguely as she tallies points while simultaneously imagining what it might -- will -- be like trying to talk to the Paintress.
She doesn't ask if anyone's ever tried it before, assuming Verso would have supplied that information already, given its relevance. ]
I do know. [ Comes the eventual reply. Yes: some days she feels more at ease, and more easily convinces herself that maybe Sophie was on to something. But when she pictures everyone they've lost, and thinks about the future that might still be stolen, her resolve is more ironclad.
Right now, though, there's no need for anything quite that heavy. In fact, she smiles again as she looks at him, upturning her palms in an offertory gesture. ]
Félicitations -- seems you weren't over-exaggerating after all. [ Does she feel a pang of disappointment that she won't get to hear him play? Yes, absolutely, but that doesn't mean she plans to give up on making that happen one way or another. ] This means next time, I owe you a reading. You'll just have to come with a question or two prepared: don't forget.
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That's fine, though. The part of himself that likes a challenge couldn't be more intrigued.
Or more pleased with his victory. Sciel isn't Monoco or any of the other Gestrals – even if she is their champion – so he doesn't bother gloating. Doesn't even feel compelled to, really; for once, winning at cards is the least of what he got out of this exchange. Instead, he offers his hand for a congratulatory shake.]
Good game.
[A smile, a contemplative tilt of his head. Of course he knew he'd have to come up with questions, but now that it's less of a theoretical if I win and a much more literal because I won, he finds himself almost at a loss. Most of the questions that come to mind either feel simple and dull, or they veer too close to home. And while he has time to give it some serious thought, he figures that a little guidance wouldn't hurt. So:]
What kinds of questions do people usually ask, anyway?
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Good game. [ And it was, even if some of it took a back seat to their conversation. ...Maybe especially because of that, considering how enjoyable it'd been to talk with him, and how that talk had completely occupied their thoughts. Or hers, at least. She won't assume, though he did seem equally engrossed.
Sciel withdraws with a sigh: the hour means it's time to start turning in, but she feels...particularly energized. It means she'll be lying awake for a while, she knows, harboring that little flame that had been lit with the novelty of their evening and the excitement of what the future might bring.
Speaking of. His question draws her lips up in a deeper smile, and she hums thoughtfully in response. ]
Well, the classic is "what do I need to know?" General guidance. Other than that, it really depends. Money and love are popular subjects: "should I make this investment," "does so-and-so like me," those sorts of things.
[ Not exactly the most relevant or pressing subjects for Expeditioners. ...She assumes. It's possible Verso is considering giving a lot of Chroma to a gestral with a business proposition. It's possible he has matters of the heart to wonder about.
Sciel leans back on her palms, head cocked. ]
Don't think too hard about it: I tend to try and sit with myself, let the question sort of...drift to the front of my mind in a quiet moment. But it doesn't have to be deadly serious, either. Whatever feels right.
[ "Deadly" reminds her, though: ] I will need Death back, at the reading. Wouldn't want to cheat you of any possible options.
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It's been in good hands. Probably only got it a little grimy.
[Is he serious? Is he teasing? He covers the truth up well enough that it's impossible to tell. The card is in good condition, tucked into a makeshift leather folder, because people don't give Verso things very often – whether they intend to take it back or not – and so when it happens, he can't help but assign a level of importance to it. Like how he maintains his 33 armband as if he deserves to wear it on his sleeve.
Sciel's examples do help in that they make him realise he doesn't want to ask about his future. Which does lead him to a different kind of question, one that's been plaguing him for decades, but one that he'll definitely need to mull over for a while. At least they'll have time – fuck, he hopes they have time – for him to get a feel for what's right.
Though all that assumes that it's something he can ask; he doesn't know if there are limits. So:]
Is there anything the cards can't handle?
[He is taking this genuinely seriously.]
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[ Verso in particular, who she's noticed tends to be a little more cavalier with his safety in combat. It makes sense, given his immortality, but that doesn't make it less alarming in the heat of the moment.
Sciel is still smiling, though, unbothered by the possibility of gore on Death. ]
"Anything they can't handle..." [ Interesting question. Most people assume how it works, or doesn't work, and she either corrects them or humors them, depending on the situation. His phrasing makes her expression turn intrigued, and she considers it for a while before replying. ]
That's...not how I'd describe it, exactly. [ Because they 'can' work with anything you throw at then, though some of it may be ill-advised. ] I think...it's more that there are two things to keep in mind. One: [ She lifts a finger. ] the point of the exercise isn't really to "tell the future." It's best to think of this as guidance.
[ Just as she doesn't believe there's a "right path" in life, she doesn't believe that tarot is the end-all-be-all, determining the one and only way a person ought to go on living. ]
Two: [ Up goes a second finger. ] don't ask questions you don't want answers to. Sounds obvious, but you'd be surprised how often it happens. This isn't a place to be told what you want to hear. Not by me, anyway.
[ This is just her own style of practice, of course, but it's done with her usual brand of honesty. ]
Not exactly the answer to your question, but I think leaving it at "no" would've been unhelpful, yeah?
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That's all right, though; he never backs down, and he feels unusually safe with Sciel, like she'll see what's there and won't twist his words or use them against him, like she'll know which of his secrets to keep. Which feels a bit scary in spite of that safety, and that thought has him letting out a huff of a laugh as he looks away for a moment, once again feeling stupidly, almost boyishly shy.
It really has been a long time since he's experienced genuine, meaningful human connection in general, never mind with someone as extraordinary as Sciel.]
You're not wrong.
[No might have left him half expecting Sciel to go gentle with him. Not so much now.]
But got it. I'll come up with something good.
[It's a pride thing. And it's a rare burst-of-manners thing that finds him collecting the cards into a pile, tucking them away, then rising to his feet and offering her a hand to join her.]
May I escort you back to camp?
[Speaking of camp, his voice drips with it a bit.]
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Oh, merci. [ Sciel accepts it with a little chuckle and rises to her feet. Maybe she takes an extra beat before releasing her grasp, enjoying the brief warmth of his grip in her own: the comfort she always gets, as a touch-friendly person, when making that contact with another.
If it's something she especially savours because of the hand's owner, well. ]
And if we run into any Nevrons on the way back, don't worry: I'll keep us both safe. So you can focus on the escorting.
[ Her lips pull upward again with fond, teasing grin.
She finds herself wishing they had more time, for...another game, another conversation. Start on the reading now, maybe. There's something about their shared evening that has her feeling more at ease than usual, and definitely more excited for the next night at camp where they find themselves with a moment to spare, and share.
Assuming she hasn't died by then, that is. ]
Shall we?
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[The escorting. What he leaves unsaid is that the importance of the work is directly proportionate to that of the company he's keeping, still unsure how to read into the energy between them. A prospect that's made all the more complicated by the lingering of her hand in his own, that lilt of a tease to her grin.
At least there's the promise of more. Should fate favour them, anyway. Tarot and music, snow and carousels, beauty in places both odd and expected. Those thoughts are enough to hold back the slight edge of disappointment that might have otherwise made itself known in the tone of his voice as he meets her request with his confirmation, moving them that much closer to ending their evening.]
We shall.
[They head back to camp. Wander off their separate ways and into sleep. Morning comes and the group continues journeying to Monoco's Station. Grass soon makes way for the first patches of snow, and by the time they're inside – for a certain definition of inside, anyway – the cold has settled in and nobody's ready to continue further onwards until they rest up, warm up, get more acclimated to the chill that none of them really came prepared to endure.
Except for Verso, but he's had decades to prepare himself.
Up until the evening, the Grandis make for good company; then, they're off to put the events of the day down on paper, and the 33s are left with a moment to exist. Those will become rarer by the day, Verso knows – things never unfold any differently in the Canvas – so once he's spent some time catching up with Monoco, he slips away to find Sciel, wherever she might have wandered off to herself.
When he finds her, he moves to step into place beside her. It feels oddly natural, oddly right, and he has to stop himself from moving in just a little bit closer.]
Hey. [Said softly, looking over his shoulder.] You busy?
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Through their companion and the locals, they get some of the history of the place: another brush stoke in the incomplete painting that is the distant past. The image of trains running through the Continent is grand, dreamy. The mythical Grandis who live in one of the icy stations of the old train lines are similarly grand and dreamy, offering their gentle musings and snappy poetry to any of the 33s who inquire. And while both of these novelties are enough to capture the attention of the former farmer, Sciel is more completely occupied with the main event. The feature of the area she'd been promised, and where Verso finds her once he seeks her out.
Snow. Snow! She stands in about a foot of it, staring out at the blanketed landscape with an expression of earnest thrill and wonder, when she turns on him when he approaches. ]
Just finishing something up. [ Sciel crouches down, taking some snow into her hand before straightening up again. She closes her fingers around it, making it a bit more compact, and then wraps both hands around the lump, which melts quickly with their warmth.
Once the snow has gone completely she returns her arms to her sides, and her gaze to him. The smile widens further. ]
All done. For now. [ ...As if she can't help it, her head turns back to the snowy expanse, eyes nearly sparkling with glee. ] I know you're probably used to it, but...it's incredible. More beautiful than I pictured.
[ Pierre would be just as enraptured. With the usual pang of mingled love and loss, she pictures his reaction. Pictures shoving him into a snow bank, both laughing, rolling around in the fluffy mass until their skin tingled with discomfort. ]
...I haven't forgotten you mentioning danger. [ She adds lightly, turning to return her attention to the man at her side. ] But I admit: I'm feeling a lot more excited than worried at the moment.
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It only gets better from here, too.
[The beauty, anyway. The cold will get worse, and trudging through deep snow gets old about three steps in, but there's no point in ruining the wonder of the moment with the shittiness of what awaits them in the morning. Caring about the danger can wait, too; they're reasonably safe here – safe enough that Verso seems more relaxed than usual as he looks out into the sky – and with Monoco agreeing to travel with them, he's feeling more at peace with things in general.
A fragile peace, to be sure, given how all peace in the Canvas is fleeting, but that's all the more reason to embrace it while they still can. Right now, for him, that means reaping his earlier rewards. He'd been hoping they'd stop here, actually, mainly so the others can take a night or two to recuperate while they have roofs over their heads and the Grandis to keep them company, but also because he knows this place well, too. And though he might not consider it to be anywhere near as much of a home as Frozen Hearts was, its familiarity is comforting in the same way. Something he'd like to share. So:]
Lucky for you, I know exactly where to go to keep the danger away. It's a bit of a walk, but not too bad of one. I was thinking we could head over there now, if it's a good time for that reading...? Or if you wouldn't mind the company if it isn't.
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I'll hold you to that. [ Sciel replies, sing-song, though she doesn't doubt him.
There's a lot she could ask about since their arrival -- the snow aside, she has a lot of questions about the Station itself, and the Grandis, and Monoco of course -- but...suspects that once she's warmed up a bit, Lune will tie Verso down for her own interrogation. So she lets him off the hook (for the moment, at least), quirking a curious brow at his suggestion. ]
I don't mind a walk. [ And certainly doesn't mind more of the rare instances they've had so far where they managed to find some time to chat, just the two of them. In fact, it's something that's been at the fore of her mind since their last meeting: a new light at the end of every possibly-deadly tunnel they barrel down on a daily basis. ] Now's a great time.
[ The snow's everywhere, so it isn't as if she'll miss out on it if they go elsewhere. So Sciel gestures in the dramatized bow that Verso favors, smile again skewing teasing. ]
Après vous.
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Or so it's felt, anyway. So it still feels when she imitates his bow, and he makes an incoherent formal gestures of acceptance with one wrist.]
Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle.
[Then, he heads towards one of the most put-together railway tracks that stretches skyward – he did not say they would be walking on flat ground – and takes the first few track steps up before a particularly snaky gust of wind works its way around him enough to give him a slight chill. It's now that he looks back, remembering what Sciel is wearing, and points to her bare arms.]
You... don't happen to have something warmer than that, do you?
[The man has absolutely no idea what the Expeditioners do and don't bring with them, or how many of them know how to use pictos to make their own personal hammerspaces, or what they're even told about the Continent, for the most part. So, the question is purely genuine.]
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...Some of the less-pleasant features of their beautiful surroundings make themselves known in a brief gust, and Sciel draws her shoulders in against its bite, feeling the cold travel along her bare arms and midriff (where it chills the scar in particular). ]
Ah. [ Right. She'd been enjoying the unique experience of such deep cold when she'd just been standing in a low snow bank, but he's got a point that'll be key in not actually coming down with an illness or worse. It's too easy to picture the lecture she'd get if she returned from an "unnecessary" excursion with some sickness, and Sciel isn't that irresponsible, besides. So, just as she summons her scythe and cards, she produces a coat and gloves more like what Lune typically wears, donning them as she continues upward.
The front of the coat is still left open for now, though. It's not yet so painful that she wants to shut out the feeling entirely.
The Expeditions prepare for what they can, with the limited knowledge they have, and getting nothing sent back to the city from those who came before. They've known there are mountains, have some extent of preparation for the cold, though nothing that would allow for extended survival in these conditions (or the more intense and deadly cold he's hinted at). This'll have to do for now, and maybe next time Lune can provide the extra warmth of a handheld fire. ...Next time they're moving as a group, anyway. Much as she loves her fellow 33, close friend, and former hookup, these rare occasions that she and Verso are carving out are...well, preferably spent with just the pair of them. ]
For the record, I would've figured something out, if not this. [ Sure, they could just have the reading back at camp around a fire and protected from the wind, but where's the adventure in that? ] I'm sure you know lots of creative ways to stay warm out here, with all of your ancient wisdom.
[ If there is any innuendo laced through her words, then her usual, pleasant expression doesn't tip her hand. ]
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literally rng'd this card again lmao
the fool will be HEARD
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