[ "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. ]
You wouldn't have had to. One of the Grandis at the Station is a fashionist. Probably has a whole storeroom somewhere full of clothing. Don't ask me where he gets his materials from, though. It's probably best not to ask.
[Not that it's ever stopped him. Having someone hand you one outfit or another whenever you meet is nice when you've spent sixty-seven years wearing the same damned thing.
The rest of what Sciel says gets taken at face value; Verso's mind perks up slightly at the thought of ways they might warm each other – starlight making way for firelight, open skies hidden behind shelter, distances cleared and breaths shared – but he doesn't read anything into it. Which is what finds him taking the Dumb Forestman approach instead.]
Honestly? My ancient wisdom has taught me that the best way is to keep moving. Nothing gets the cold on you quicker than sitting around and waiting for it to go away.
[Continuing their trek up the track path as it rises ever higher reveals more of the landscape: snow-capped mountains and evergreens in white jackets, the moonlight and starlight hitting the snow like glitter. At this angle, the Monolith dips behind the mountains, the Paintress left to her lonely grieving, her number momentarily relegated to memory. Views like this are, naturally, Verso's favourites. Anything that gives him a moment's respite from the feeling of that sword dangling over all their heads.
More importantly, though, up ahead a train car balances almost perfectly in the air, wide windows opening from both sides onto forest: one wintry, one coloured like autumn. It's a rare luxury on the Continent for something from before the Fracture to be in one piece, never mind reasonably utilisable, and the closer they get, the lighter Verso's step becomes.
Still, he stops just ahead of it, at the highest peak of the track, and nods out into the distance.]
"A fashionist?" [ Just when she thinks the mythical creatures of the Continent can't get any more interesting, Verso shares a tidbit like this and her eyes alight with glee. ] Seriously? Well, you'll have to introduce me! I can't pass up the opportunity to see what Grandis designs look like.
[ Sciel is no fashionista herself, but it'd take someone very dull indeed to not find joy and intrigue in something like this. And what kind of person doesn't get excited about a new jacket or pair of shoes or whatever every often in a while, even if only for functional reasons?
There is no disappointment in her face as Verso doesn't take the (potentially flirtatious) bait. Sciel is rarely disappointed, and this is no exception. Besides, it's far from the death knell of her shooting her shot in the future, and so she humors the conversation's direction with a hum of agreement. ]
Well, it's good thing we're already doing that. I feel warmer already.
[ Actually, it's getting cold by the minute, but that's neither here nor there. In fact, any notion of discomfort is easily forgotten as they ascend higher and higher, finally coming to a halt as her guide slows to a stop.
Sciel's breath is stolen with the wind, but it's okay. Around her is one of the most indescribably beautiful sights that she's ever had the pleasure to witness. ]
Verso... [ Those striking green eyes are wide with surprise and she turns in place as if trying to take it all in at once. She has to lift a hand to keep flyaways that have escaped from her bun from getting in her eyes, but it's an automatic gesture, and so she keeps the hand absently held up alongside her face as she just...stares.
In a brief and rare moment of absolute insanity, part of her feels like it'd be nice to just stay up here forever. To set aside their deadly mission indefinitely in favor of this view, and conversation, and card games and card readings and music and probably the best sweep of stars she's ever seen in her life, and maybe the hypothermia would get her, but falling asleep and never waking up doesn't sound so bad.
Sciel returns to herself before long, but the sparkle in her eyes from the initial impact of the view is still there, shining away. ]
This is amazing. [ She'd maybe set the bar too high when she'd assessed the simple existence of snow as a ten out of ten, not realizing quite how stunning it could get in symphony with everything else. ] It's...indescribable.
[ A memory she'll emblazon in her mind, for sure. To go back to when things are not quite as rosy. ]
[If they were simply two fellow Expeditioners, acquaintances on the verge of becoming friends, Verso might have cracked a tease here about how he'll get the Grandis to hook her up with something for their second date. Stuff like that is only fun for him when it doesn't feel like there are any stakes, though. Or when, perhaps more accurately, the tease isn't more likely to twist at him than to make them both smile.
So, instead he lets out a soft laugh, still enamoured by her brightness.]
Trust me, there's no missing him.
[On account of the massive red beret, but where's the fun in revealing that detail upfront?
He has a much better time pointing out the details of the landscape, where colours peek out from the snow and ever-burning fires cast their own pink-orange glitter across the ground, where stories can be read into the shapes of rocks, where mountains kiss the stars, guiding Sciel on a languid tour of the world before them, even as the cold bleeds deeper and deeper into his bones.
Lest he spoil everything that awaits them past the station, Verso stops cautiously short of revealing too much, letting the landscape keep its secrets for now as he ushers Sciel ahead into the train. An opulent passenger car, it combines marbled black and gold with gold accents – all sharp angles and straight lines – and plush, purple velvet seating, both in booths and in chairs. Still-lit crystal empire chandeliers line the roof, casting a warm glow onto everything, and a small, black, wood-fired caboose stove sits off in the corner aside a well-disturbed stack of firewood.]
Welcome aboard. [He offers after a moment.] Would the lady care to choose her seat?
[Shocking development: the train nerd enjoys train roleplay.]
[ She can ask him to lead her to the fashion-minded Grandis when they're back at the Station proper, when their miniature expedition is already a memory. But she's unwilling to give up the present for thoughts of the future when she's surrounding by something so incredible now, so Sciel listens attentively as Verso maps out the landscape. He describes it in the evocative language of a poet, leading her to believe that, had they never made it to this spot, he might have been able to describe it in vivid-enough detail to nearly bring her there on his words alone. There's also the feeling of this being a very familiar place, for him to pinpoint exactly the ways in which it's beautiful, unless it's just in his nature to be observant in such minutiae no matter where he is.
Whatever the case, it's incredibly engaging (both the bits he points out, and the way he goes about it). Even more so when he finally leads them into the train car, stepping aside so she can take it all in.
The interior is dazzling, but in a way that is wholly distinct from the snow-blanketed world outside. She steps further in, glancing around with a dreamy sort of smile, because it does all feel like a dream. Most things like this that were pre-Fracture are...well, fractured. Only fragments of whatever they used to be with undeniable beauty, but incomplete nonetheless. Which is why getting to experience something like this is a very rare occasion indeed.
Gold and black again. She chuckles faintly, cocking her head at the walls. There certainly was a popular design scheme back then, given how much they've seen it crop up... ]
Oh, yes. 'The lady' would. [ With an excited little lift of her brows turned in his direction, she moves ahead, glancing around at the plush seats before settling into a booth.
Sciel immediately glances out of the window as if drawn magnetically again to the snow, but before long she extricates her attention so she can return it to Verso, patting the surface of the table in front of her. ]
Is there someone else who can manage the train so the conductor can keep his passengers company? [ There's the usual twinkle in her eye as she regards him, waiting for him to sit opposite.
In the meantime, the deck of cards appears in front of her with a small flash. ]
So...have you decided on your question? Or 'questions,' if you couldn't choose. I'll be lenient.
[With Sciel distracted by the view out the window, Verso heads off to get the stove started. Temperatures may be more bearable now that the wind barely reaches them, but they can still be better, cosy in ways precious few places on the Continent are. He finishes around when Sciel speaks up, wiping his hands off on a nearby cloth, left unused since the Fracture, before moving to slide into the seat across from her.]
I suppose that can be arranged.
[After he sits down, he closes his eyes for a slight while longer than a blink, taking in the long-gone yet still-familiar feeling of heading off on safer adventures than those he usually gets up to, these days. If only he could get the train to whistle, now; if only Sciel could get a sense of how it feels to speed across the Continent, or a feel for how the track rattled beneath them as they went.
Not that what they're doing feels secondary to that kind of experience. Quite the contrary; there's a different kind of anticipation working its way through him, a separate sense of adventure than the kinds he usually seeks out. The sight of the cards before him reminds him of the one he's keeping his pocket; reaching inside his jacket, he slides it free of its leather sleeve, revealing that it's mostly clean and well-kept, then gently tosses it onto the table with the others before leaning back against the seat and fixing Sciel with a look of contemplation. No extra thought is necessary, really – the question he'd come up with back during their game hasn't left him – but he does need to build himself up to its asking.
He laughs a bit at her comment on being lenient, hoping she means it.]
Well, I was thinking. It helps to know someone before guiding them, right? So, I want to know what they have to say about me. You know, generally speaking.
[It's a question that opens him up to interpretation; he knows and accepts this. However wary he feels about that, it's better than pretending to have a question about his future when it's been decades since he's left his path open to interpretation. Besides, he still has a great amount of trust in Sciel. He's sure he'll be fine. Probably. He's sure he'll probably be fine.]
[ Sciel follows the card as he produces it, sliding it across the table. Her smile twitches upward as she quickly assesses its condition (totally fine), and then it's back among its fellows in a flourished shuffle. ]
"What the cards say about you..." [ Unconventional, but interesting. She chuckles, cutting the deck a few times.
Someone else -- someone with her level of control over the cards -- might manipulate the deck to produce tailored results. That wouldn't be a true reading, of course, and she respects both the art of tarot and the man she's reading for too much for anything like that. Besides, Sciel is both naturally insightful and straightforward; if she wants to know something, she'll ask. If she wants to say something, she'll say it.
Wordlessly, then, she works her magic. Out of the deck comes the first card and it surprises another laugh out of her. ]
The Fool again! Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself: we're looking at the cards' assessment of you over the past, present, and future. Sort of an overarching opinion for a more complete picture. So this represents your past.
[ He'll remember that the card isn't an insult, but she contextualizes it further: ] The cards paint a picture of a free spirit. Someone who felt they had everything they needed, who was comfortable where they were. The white rose in the image represents a level of innocence, and the dog at his feet is a symbol of loyalty. Again: there are challenges on the horizon, but those aren't the Fool's concern, at least for the moment. Where he is, he's able to really relax, and enjoy life as it comes. Though we can see that those times are coming to an end...
[ The language she uses doesn't directly make specific assumptions about his past and life before, so she peeks up again with an inquisitive glint in her eyes, studying his expression. ]
So...they're basically saying things were a lot easier for you back then. Pre-Fracture? [ Back when he could ski and play music and drink the night away.
[The first card reveals itself and Verso's laughter joins Sciel's, though not before he gives it a look like he and the card have become rivals, despite its not-unflattering meaning. Both are partly expressions of nerves – it'll take him a bit before those fade more – but that doesn't really ring clear. He comes across as casual, comfortable. As if he's man without more reality-devastating secrets than any one person should ever bear.
Which is perfect, really, because Sciel begins her reading and Verso finds himself in need of all the composure, all the armour, all the poker-faced interest that he can summon forth.
At the time it was true – he had thought he was exceptionally fortunate. Even with the imperfections of his life, even with the strains of being a Dessendre, even as he struggled, sometimes, to figure out the paths he wanted to walk, he had enough sense to know that his life was a good life, fulfilling in most of the ways he needed it to be.
Now, though, it's still true in the sense that he carries those feeling inside of him, but learning the reality of the world and his place within it has caused them to warp and discolour, and he considers what Sciel is saying in that light more so than the other. Someone who was set up to have everything they needed. Someone who was created to be comfortable. Someone whose ignorance was a form of innocence and whose loyalty to the woman who's caused all this suffering remains in place to this fucking date, even if that loyalty is different from how she'd ever have wanted it to be.
He swallows down a sigh and offers up a response.]
Pretty much, yeah. The world was my oyster and all that.
[Except that there were no pearls to find because that was his role, granted to him by his mother. Another sigh is lost to his stubbornness; another reply is offered in its place.]
[ Sciel doesn't overly stare at her companion, instead glancing politely away to take in more details of the train, only occasionally glancing past his face as he chews on her reading. She's running a hand over the plush velvet of the seat when he indicates they should move on, nodding once before drawing the next card and laying it beside the Fool. ]
Ten of Wands, reversed. [ She frowns slightly, idly tapping a finger on the table. ] ...Wands generally are associated with strength, determination. Inspiration. And fire, which-... I don't think I need to tell you the kinds of things associated with fire.
[ Helpful, or destructive. Symbolic of everything from enthusiasm to sex. She doesn't make use of the opportunity to flirt since she's at least trying to provide as legitimate a reading as possible, as promised. ]
So, the Ten. [ He'll see on its face that it features a man trying (struggling) to carry an unwieldy bundle of sticks. ] Reversed. The cards say...you're taking on too much by yourself. Neglecting the resources around you, burning yourself out under the weight of it all. [ There's a pause before she adds, lightly -- and while keeping her eyes to the card -- ] Sometimes this is because the burden is private, and you don't feel like you can share it, even if you wanted to. But...if it's any consolation, however you handle it, it won't last forever. You'll be able to set it all down before too long.
[ Finally she looks up, sharp green eyes rising to meet his, should he look back at her. ]
This is the kind of 'dark and personal' I was talking about, by the way. [ Her features soften again: she isn't pressing, only joking. Sciel is well aware that readings, even done for fun, can stir up some things that were for the recipient to sort through, and not for her to poke at.
[Fire. Of course it's fire. If Verso didn't know any better he'd think that Sciel was reading him rather than the cards, but of course that isn't possible, so he tries to maintain a look of calm contemplation even as his lips try to curve into a frown and his brows threaten to furrow.
Still, he crooks a halved smile and shoots a halved shrug, both saying you have no idea in a language he doesn't expect her to understand, a language shared between himself and his other.]
Yeah, I'd say I've dealt with enough fire to last a few lifetimes.
[Said easily, as if there's no greater meaning to it than needing fire to stay warm, to light the night, to prepare meals. As if the only flames that have ever harmed him are those cast his way by the Nevrons.
As Sciel continues her reading, Verso leans further back, crossing an ankle over a knee, maintaining his unbothered affectations, an ever-increasingly difficult prospect as her insights keep landing on target, resonating through him blow after blow after blow. It's the last part that hits him the hardest, though, the thought of setting everything down before too long. A trickle of relief works its way through him, a shudder of dread making its own presence known, though only to himself. He does not want to live. He does not want anyone to die. If only both were possible.
All the same, the way she throws them back to the whole dark and personal thing earns a genuine laugh, light and soft, rooted in something incredulous though, again, he's able to mask it in time.]
You're never going to let that go, are you?
[The tone of his voice suggests that he doesn't mind, even if he remains a bit wary. His masks may have started chafing around Sciel, but they're still comfortable, still familiar, still things he's reluctant to shed. Even if he suspects that she's intuitive enough to see right through them.
Those thoughts find him fidgeting with his thumb, but it's slight enough that he barely notices it himself.]
[ Maybe it's a little odd, the way he phrases the bit about fire, but not so much that it generates any thought beyond the initial, mental "huh." Sciel instead responds to his question, smiling innocently and offering a one-shouldered shrug. ]
Not yet. [ Maybe someday! But probably not.
Speaking of the future... She flips a final card, laying it beside the Ten of Wands in the line so that his past, present, and future are all neatly displayed between them. ]
Queen of Wands, reversed. [ There's an interested little 'hmm' at that. ] The deck really associates you with this suit, then. [ Sciel files that little tidbit away, as a point of curiosity. ] Right. This suggests...you'll reach a point of confidence in the future, one where you're more secure in your personal truth than you are now. You'll be aware of how others feel, or what they stand for, but those opinions won't sway you. At this point, there'll be a clear idea of 'success' in your mind, but it may not be one that you share with others.
[ ... ]
...It can also mean you might withdraw a bit more than usual, spending some time...reflecting. More of a bystander or a spectator while other things are in motion. It's this time apart that'll help solidify the confidence I mentioned, and...to help you really figure out who 'you' are, outside of others' expectations. Whatever those may be.
[ There's a pause for the requisite gravitas of a tarot reading, and then she leans back in her seat with what's intended to be a reassuring smile, though with a curious glance his way. ]
So...the cards think you were someone who used to live with a lot more freedom of spirit than you have now, who's since taken on quite a lot of...burdens, if not responsibilities, which you're slow to share with others. And that, soon, you'll be able to set those things down and feel secure in doing so, even if you're the only one who feels that way.
[ Sciel doesn't ask what he thinks about it all. She merely summarizes, returning both hands to her lap and giving him a minute to chew on the reading as he will, allowing her attention to drift to the train's decor and its cozy, warm interior.
...Well, maybe it isn't her attention that drifts: just her eyes. Because she's very much still thinking about the cards, and about Verso, and about how it all might fit in her assessment of the man thus far... ]
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tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
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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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[Not that it's ever stopped him. Having someone hand you one outfit or another whenever you meet is nice when you've spent sixty-seven years wearing the same damned thing.
The rest of what Sciel says gets taken at face value; Verso's mind perks up slightly at the thought of ways they might warm each other – starlight making way for firelight, open skies hidden behind shelter, distances cleared and breaths shared – but he doesn't read anything into it. Which is what finds him taking the Dumb Forestman approach instead.]
Honestly? My ancient wisdom has taught me that the best way is to keep moving. Nothing gets the cold on you quicker than sitting around and waiting for it to go away.
[Continuing their trek up the track path as it rises ever higher reveals more of the landscape: snow-capped mountains and evergreens in white jackets, the moonlight and starlight hitting the snow like glitter. At this angle, the Monolith dips behind the mountains, the Paintress left to her lonely grieving, her number momentarily relegated to memory. Views like this are, naturally, Verso's favourites. Anything that gives him a moment's respite from the feeling of that sword dangling over all their heads.
More importantly, though, up ahead a train car balances almost perfectly in the air, wide windows opening from both sides onto forest: one wintry, one coloured like autumn. It's a rare luxury on the Continent for something from before the Fracture to be in one piece, never mind reasonably utilisable, and the closer they get, the lighter Verso's step becomes.
Still, he stops just ahead of it, at the highest peak of the track, and nods out into the distance.]
The views don't get much better than this.
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[ Sciel is no fashionista herself, but it'd take someone very dull indeed to not find joy and intrigue in something like this. And what kind of person doesn't get excited about a new jacket or pair of shoes or whatever every often in a while, even if only for functional reasons?
There is no disappointment in her face as Verso doesn't take the (potentially flirtatious) bait. Sciel is rarely disappointed, and this is no exception. Besides, it's far from the death knell of her shooting her shot in the future, and so she humors the conversation's direction with a hum of agreement. ]
Well, it's good thing we're already doing that. I feel warmer already.
[ Actually, it's getting cold by the minute, but that's neither here nor there. In fact, any notion of discomfort is easily forgotten as they ascend higher and higher, finally coming to a halt as her guide slows to a stop.
Sciel's breath is stolen with the wind, but it's okay. Around her is one of the most indescribably beautiful sights that she's ever had the pleasure to witness. ]
Verso... [ Those striking green eyes are wide with surprise and she turns in place as if trying to take it all in at once. She has to lift a hand to keep flyaways that have escaped from her bun from getting in her eyes, but it's an automatic gesture, and so she keeps the hand absently held up alongside her face as she just...stares.
In a brief and rare moment of absolute insanity, part of her feels like it'd be nice to just stay up here forever. To set aside their deadly mission indefinitely in favor of this view, and conversation, and card games and card readings and music and probably the best sweep of stars she's ever seen in her life, and maybe the hypothermia would get her, but falling asleep and never waking up doesn't sound so bad.
Sciel returns to herself before long, but the sparkle in her eyes from the initial impact of the view is still there, shining away. ]
This is amazing. [ She'd maybe set the bar too high when she'd assessed the simple existence of snow as a ten out of ten, not realizing quite how stunning it could get in symphony with everything else. ] It's...indescribable.
[ A memory she'll emblazon in her mind, for sure. To go back to when things are not quite as rosy. ]
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So, instead he lets out a soft laugh, still enamoured by her brightness.]
Trust me, there's no missing him.
[On account of the massive red beret, but where's the fun in revealing that detail upfront?
He has a much better time pointing out the details of the landscape, where colours peek out from the snow and ever-burning fires cast their own pink-orange glitter across the ground, where stories can be read into the shapes of rocks, where mountains kiss the stars, guiding Sciel on a languid tour of the world before them, even as the cold bleeds deeper and deeper into his bones.
Lest he spoil everything that awaits them past the station, Verso stops cautiously short of revealing too much, letting the landscape keep its secrets for now as he ushers Sciel ahead into the train. An opulent passenger car, it combines marbled black and gold with gold accents – all sharp angles and straight lines – and plush, purple velvet seating, both in booths and in chairs. Still-lit crystal empire chandeliers line the roof, casting a warm glow onto everything, and a small, black, wood-fired caboose stove sits off in the corner aside a well-disturbed stack of firewood.]
Welcome aboard. [He offers after a moment.] Would the lady care to choose her seat?
[Shocking development: the train nerd enjoys train roleplay.]
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Whatever the case, it's incredibly engaging (both the bits he points out, and the way he goes about it). Even more so when he finally leads them into the train car, stepping aside so she can take it all in.
The interior is dazzling, but in a way that is wholly distinct from the snow-blanketed world outside. She steps further in, glancing around with a dreamy sort of smile, because it does all feel like a dream. Most things like this that were pre-Fracture are...well, fractured. Only fragments of whatever they used to be with undeniable beauty, but incomplete nonetheless. Which is why getting to experience something like this is a very rare occasion indeed.
Gold and black again. She chuckles faintly, cocking her head at the walls. There certainly was a popular design scheme back then, given how much they've seen it crop up... ]
Oh, yes. 'The lady' would. [ With an excited little lift of her brows turned in his direction, she moves ahead, glancing around at the plush seats before settling into a booth.
Sciel immediately glances out of the window as if drawn magnetically again to the snow, but before long she extricates her attention so she can return it to Verso, patting the surface of the table in front of her. ]
Is there someone else who can manage the train so the conductor can keep his passengers company? [ There's the usual twinkle in her eye as she regards him, waiting for him to sit opposite.
In the meantime, the deck of cards appears in front of her with a small flash. ]
So...have you decided on your question? Or 'questions,' if you couldn't choose. I'll be lenient.
[ Says the former teacher. ]
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I suppose that can be arranged.
[After he sits down, he closes his eyes for a slight while longer than a blink, taking in the long-gone yet still-familiar feeling of heading off on safer adventures than those he usually gets up to, these days. If only he could get the train to whistle, now; if only Sciel could get a sense of how it feels to speed across the Continent, or a feel for how the track rattled beneath them as they went.
Not that what they're doing feels secondary to that kind of experience. Quite the contrary; there's a different kind of anticipation working its way through him, a separate sense of adventure than the kinds he usually seeks out. The sight of the cards before him reminds him of the one he's keeping his pocket; reaching inside his jacket, he slides it free of its leather sleeve, revealing that it's mostly clean and well-kept, then gently tosses it onto the table with the others before leaning back against the seat and fixing Sciel with a look of contemplation. No extra thought is necessary, really – the question he'd come up with back during their game hasn't left him – but he does need to build himself up to its asking.
He laughs a bit at her comment on being lenient, hoping she means it.]
Well, I was thinking. It helps to know someone before guiding them, right? So, I want to know what they have to say about me. You know, generally speaking.
[It's a question that opens him up to interpretation; he knows and accepts this. However wary he feels about that, it's better than pretending to have a question about his future when it's been decades since he's left his path open to interpretation. Besides, he still has a great amount of trust in Sciel. He's sure he'll be fine. Probably. He's sure he'll probably be fine.]
literally rng'd this card again lmao
"What the cards say about you..." [ Unconventional, but interesting. She chuckles, cutting the deck a few times.
Someone else -- someone with her level of control over the cards -- might manipulate the deck to produce tailored results. That wouldn't be a true reading, of course, and she respects both the art of tarot and the man she's reading for too much for anything like that. Besides, Sciel is both naturally insightful and straightforward; if she wants to know something, she'll ask. If she wants to say something, she'll say it.
Wordlessly, then, she works her magic. Out of the deck comes the first card and it surprises another laugh out of her. ]
The Fool again! Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself: we're looking at the cards' assessment of you over the past, present, and future. Sort of an overarching opinion for a more complete picture. So this represents your past.
[ He'll remember that the card isn't an insult, but she contextualizes it further: ] The cards paint a picture of a free spirit. Someone who felt they had everything they needed, who was comfortable where they were. The white rose in the image represents a level of innocence, and the dog at his feet is a symbol of loyalty. Again: there are challenges on the horizon, but those aren't the Fool's concern, at least for the moment. Where he is, he's able to really relax, and enjoy life as it comes. Though we can see that those times are coming to an end...
[ The language she uses doesn't directly make specific assumptions about his past and life before, so she peeks up again with an inquisitive glint in her eyes, studying his expression. ]
So...they're basically saying things were a lot easier for you back then. Pre-Fracture? [ Back when he could ski and play music and drink the night away.
Her expression softens a little. ]
Shall we move on to the present?
the fool will be HEARD
Which is perfect, really, because Sciel begins her reading and Verso finds himself in need of all the composure, all the armour, all the poker-faced interest that he can summon forth.
At the time it was true – he had thought he was exceptionally fortunate. Even with the imperfections of his life, even with the strains of being a Dessendre, even as he struggled, sometimes, to figure out the paths he wanted to walk, he had enough sense to know that his life was a good life, fulfilling in most of the ways he needed it to be.
Now, though, it's still true in the sense that he carries those feeling inside of him, but learning the reality of the world and his place within it has caused them to warp and discolour, and he considers what Sciel is saying in that light more so than the other. Someone who was set up to have everything they needed. Someone who was created to be comfortable. Someone whose ignorance was a form of innocence and whose loyalty to the woman who's caused all this suffering remains in place to this fucking date, even if that loyalty is different from how she'd ever have wanted it to be.
He swallows down a sigh and offers up a response.]
Pretty much, yeah. The world was my oyster and all that.
[Except that there were no pearls to find because that was his role, granted to him by his mother. Another sigh is lost to his stubbornness; another reply is offered in its place.]
Let's.
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Ten of Wands, reversed. [ She frowns slightly, idly tapping a finger on the table. ] ...Wands generally are associated with strength, determination. Inspiration. And fire, which-... I don't think I need to tell you the kinds of things associated with fire.
[ Helpful, or destructive. Symbolic of everything from enthusiasm to sex. She doesn't make use of the opportunity to flirt since she's at least trying to provide as legitimate a reading as possible, as promised. ]
So, the Ten. [ He'll see on its face that it features a man trying (struggling) to carry an unwieldy bundle of sticks. ] Reversed. The cards say...you're taking on too much by yourself. Neglecting the resources around you, burning yourself out under the weight of it all. [ There's a pause before she adds, lightly -- and while keeping her eyes to the card -- ] Sometimes this is because the burden is private, and you don't feel like you can share it, even if you wanted to. But...if it's any consolation, however you handle it, it won't last forever. You'll be able to set it all down before too long.
[ Finally she looks up, sharp green eyes rising to meet his, should he look back at her. ]
This is the kind of 'dark and personal' I was talking about, by the way. [ Her features soften again: she isn't pressing, only joking. Sciel is well aware that readings, even done for fun, can stir up some things that were for the recipient to sort through, and not for her to poke at.
...Much. ]
And...what the cards think of your future?
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Still, he crooks a halved smile and shoots a halved shrug, both saying you have no idea in a language he doesn't expect her to understand, a language shared between himself and his other.]
Yeah, I'd say I've dealt with enough fire to last a few lifetimes.
[Said easily, as if there's no greater meaning to it than needing fire to stay warm, to light the night, to prepare meals. As if the only flames that have ever harmed him are those cast his way by the Nevrons.
As Sciel continues her reading, Verso leans further back, crossing an ankle over a knee, maintaining his unbothered affectations, an ever-increasingly difficult prospect as her insights keep landing on target, resonating through him blow after blow after blow. It's the last part that hits him the hardest, though, the thought of setting everything down before too long. A trickle of relief works its way through him, a shudder of dread making its own presence known, though only to himself. He does not want to live. He does not want anyone to die. If only both were possible.
All the same, the way she throws them back to the whole dark and personal thing earns a genuine laugh, light and soft, rooted in something incredulous though, again, he's able to mask it in time.]
You're never going to let that go, are you?
[The tone of his voice suggests that he doesn't mind, even if he remains a bit wary. His masks may have started chafing around Sciel, but they're still comfortable, still familiar, still things he's reluctant to shed. Even if he suspects that she's intuitive enough to see right through them.
Those thoughts find him fidgeting with his thumb, but it's slight enough that he barely notices it himself.]
Hit me.
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Not yet. [ Maybe someday! But probably not.
Speaking of the future... She flips a final card, laying it beside the Ten of Wands in the line so that his past, present, and future are all neatly displayed between them. ]
Queen of Wands, reversed. [ There's an interested little 'hmm' at that. ] The deck really associates you with this suit, then. [ Sciel files that little tidbit away, as a point of curiosity. ] Right. This suggests...you'll reach a point of confidence in the future, one where you're more secure in your personal truth than you are now. You'll be aware of how others feel, or what they stand for, but those opinions won't sway you. At this point, there'll be a clear idea of 'success' in your mind, but it may not be one that you share with others.
[ ... ]
...It can also mean you might withdraw a bit more than usual, spending some time...reflecting. More of a bystander or a spectator while other things are in motion. It's this time apart that'll help solidify the confidence I mentioned, and...to help you really figure out who 'you' are, outside of others' expectations. Whatever those may be.
[ There's a pause for the requisite gravitas of a tarot reading, and then she leans back in her seat with what's intended to be a reassuring smile, though with a curious glance his way. ]
So...the cards think you were someone who used to live with a lot more freedom of spirit than you have now, who's since taken on quite a lot of...burdens, if not responsibilities, which you're slow to share with others. And that, soon, you'll be able to set those things down and feel secure in doing so, even if you're the only one who feels that way.
[ Sciel doesn't ask what he thinks about it all. She merely summarizes, returning both hands to her lap and giving him a minute to chew on the reading as he will, allowing her attention to drift to the train's decor and its cozy, warm interior.
...Well, maybe it isn't her attention that drifts: just her eyes. Because she's very much still thinking about the cards, and about Verso, and about how it all might fit in her assessment of the man thus far... ]
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