Verso (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
tableauvivant) wrote2025-09-17 01:14 pm
[ Though the stars never speak back, Sciel always finds she gets what she needs when she talks to them. ...Almost always, anyway. Tonight is a strange exception. ]
Wish you were here, Dad. [ She sighs, lying in the grass at the cliff's edge, her legs dangling over the rocky face. ] They're not being very chatty at the moment, and I...could use some advice.
[ What do you do when one of your best friends is murdered, but you have to go on? To someone who's lived through the Gommage year in and year out, it isn't a new concept. But Gustave's death had ripped through them all in their own ways. Maelle has clearly -- understandably -- struggled badly with her grief. Lune, naturally, has retreated into her work. And Sciel?
Well, she'd been the one to remind them all of the mantra of the Expedition. She tucks her love and fondness for their fallen friend in her heart with the others, safe and treasured, but not weighing her down. ...Too much.
And then, of course, there's...Verso. The strange (and admittedly handsome) man who'd arrived too late, but who'd since sworn himself their ally in completing the mission. Their interactions thus far have been...interesting, to say the least, and behind her usual, easy demeanor, Sciel finds she isn't sure what to make of the man.
"Be cautious," Lune had warned unnecessarily. Sciel may be a free spirit and occasionally a loose canon, even, but she isn't an idiot.
What she is, though, is...curious. ]
Wish you were here, Dad. [ She sighs, lying in the grass at the cliff's edge, her legs dangling over the rocky face. ] They're not being very chatty at the moment, and I...could use some advice.
[ What do you do when one of your best friends is murdered, but you have to go on? To someone who's lived through the Gommage year in and year out, it isn't a new concept. But Gustave's death had ripped through them all in their own ways. Maelle has clearly -- understandably -- struggled badly with her grief. Lune, naturally, has retreated into her work. And Sciel?
Well, she'd been the one to remind them all of the mantra of the Expedition. She tucks her love and fondness for their fallen friend in her heart with the others, safe and treasured, but not weighing her down. ...Too much.
And then, of course, there's...Verso. The strange (and admittedly handsome) man who'd arrived too late, but who'd since sworn himself their ally in completing the mission. Their interactions thus far have been...interesting, to say the least, and behind her usual, easy demeanor, Sciel finds she isn't sure what to make of the man.
"Be cautious," Lune had warned unnecessarily. Sciel may be a free spirit and occasionally a loose canon, even, but she isn't an idiot.
What she is, though, is...curious. ]
[Early on during his time with the 33s, Verso had thought that he might be able to distance himself from the others. Play up his role as the dark and mysterious stranger, take detached approaches wherever possible, remind himself that nothing is more ephemeral than an Expeditioner so he should avoid getting attached, etc. It had lasted all of five minutes. More and more time passes and closer and closer they get to the end of everything, but his hopeless heart keeps reaching out for connections regardless of everything else.
Which is why when the night drags on and he notices that Sciel isn't at her usual spot by the fire, he can't help but head off to see if he can find her. Partly why, anyway; admittedly, he's also grown fond of her company. She keeps him on his toes without catching him off-guard with questions (thanks, Lune) or criticising his poetry (it's not that bad, Maelle!!!) It's nice. It's something he hasn't experienced in a long while.
He doesn't mean to listen in on her; the night is quiet and her voice carries across the field as he makes his approach. Part of him feels like maybe he should turn back for a bit, bide some time and pretend that her words are safe with the stars. But, again, his hopeless heart convinces him otherwise, and he makes a slow approach, clearing his throat in announcement as he does.]
Hey. Sorry, I wasn't eavesdropping, I was... [Worried? Lonely? Curious? Looking for you?] Intruding. Subtle but important distinction.
[Fucking nailed it. Once he's a couple feet away, he stops. Maybe she wants to be alone. Maybe he should have waited, after all. It's too late now, though. He can kick himself over his lacking social skills later.]
You can try me if you want. Can't promise it'll be good advice, but hey, maybe I'll surprise us both.
Which is why when the night drags on and he notices that Sciel isn't at her usual spot by the fire, he can't help but head off to see if he can find her. Partly why, anyway; admittedly, he's also grown fond of her company. She keeps him on his toes without catching him off-guard with questions (thanks, Lune) or criticising his poetry (it's not that bad, Maelle!!!) It's nice. It's something he hasn't experienced in a long while.
He doesn't mean to listen in on her; the night is quiet and her voice carries across the field as he makes his approach. Part of him feels like maybe he should turn back for a bit, bide some time and pretend that her words are safe with the stars. But, again, his hopeless heart convinces him otherwise, and he makes a slow approach, clearing his throat in announcement as he does.]
Hey. Sorry, I wasn't eavesdropping, I was... [Worried? Lonely? Curious? Looking for you?] Intruding. Subtle but important distinction.
[Fucking nailed it. Once he's a couple feet away, he stops. Maybe she wants to be alone. Maybe he should have waited, after all. It's too late now, though. He can kick himself over his lacking social skills later.]
You can try me if you want. Can't promise it'll be good advice, but hey, maybe I'll surprise us both.
[It's been a few days since Verso has had the heart to speak to anyone. Since he's had the heart to move, really; he's spent as much time as he could in bed, as if he could will away his existence by refusing to participate in it. Once it occurs to him that he's just engaging in his own form of make-believe, though, the thought of continuing to shut himself away starts to grate on his nerves. He's tired of pretending – he's so fucking tired of it – and all too quickly the walls of the room begin to feel like they're closing in on him, and the air grows thick and suffocating, and he realises how little he can bear the thought of one more person walking through the door to visit with him like he's some tragic sculpture on display, so fragile that nobody seems comfortable even breathing around him else they cause him to shatter.
So, he gets out of bed. Washes himself and changes into the first clean outfit he's worn since waking up in Lumiere. Leaves the bedroom, hoping against hope that he's alone in the apartment, but of course he's not. He can see Maelle off to the side, can hear the sudden silence as she stops whatever it was she'd been doing when his door creaked open and his footsteps thudded heavy and frustrated against the wooden floor.
Ignoring her doesn't feel like an option, so he offers only a brisk:]
I'm going for a walk.
[Rather than waiting for acknowledgement, a response, anything, he quickens his pace and makes way for the front door.]
So, he gets out of bed. Washes himself and changes into the first clean outfit he's worn since waking up in Lumiere. Leaves the bedroom, hoping against hope that he's alone in the apartment, but of course he's not. He can see Maelle off to the side, can hear the sudden silence as she stops whatever it was she'd been doing when his door creaked open and his footsteps thudded heavy and frustrated against the wooden floor.
Ignoring her doesn't feel like an option, so he offers only a brisk:]
I'm going for a walk.
[Rather than waiting for acknowledgement, a response, anything, he quickens his pace and makes way for the front door.]
[ It's a surprise when the new addition to their ragtag crew appears out of the night, but Sciel isn't startled. She doesn't appear miffed, either, and turns an easy smile his way when he makes himself known. ]
Ah, yes. Very important distinction. If you'd been eavesdropping, that'd be completely unacceptable. But 'intruding?' What the hell, come on over.
[ There's a little laugh as she sits up more fully, patting the ground beside her. ]
I'd love it if you did. Surprise me, that is. [ As in: her expectations aren't high, given that they'd only just met, but she'll give it a go. Why not? There isn't much more they can collectively lose, and death waits around every corner. Surely some possibly half-baked advice from a stranger couldn't do too much damage. ]
I was just trying to figure out the best way to remember them. [ Does she need to elaborate, to add "the people we've lost?" ] We have our ways back home, but out here... Well, you know. There aren't many funerals [ except one ]. We can't bury them all. ...But you can't let it weigh you down too much, either. Carrying them with you even emotionally can be just as fatal as if you'd brought their bodies along.
[ How? How to strike the balance? ...Maybe someone with, say, decades of experience losing people might know. It'd been his idea to lay Gustave to rest as they'd done, after all, and that had been enormously helpful for everyone.
But it couldn't be done for everyone who had died, or might die. So...? ]
Ah, yes. Very important distinction. If you'd been eavesdropping, that'd be completely unacceptable. But 'intruding?' What the hell, come on over.
[ There's a little laugh as she sits up more fully, patting the ground beside her. ]
I'd love it if you did. Surprise me, that is. [ As in: her expectations aren't high, given that they'd only just met, but she'll give it a go. Why not? There isn't much more they can collectively lose, and death waits around every corner. Surely some possibly half-baked advice from a stranger couldn't do too much damage. ]
I was just trying to figure out the best way to remember them. [ Does she need to elaborate, to add "the people we've lost?" ] We have our ways back home, but out here... Well, you know. There aren't many funerals [ except one ]. We can't bury them all. ...But you can't let it weigh you down too much, either. Carrying them with you even emotionally can be just as fatal as if you'd brought their bodies along.
[ How? How to strike the balance? ...Maybe someone with, say, decades of experience losing people might know. It'd been his idea to lay Gustave to rest as they'd done, after all, and that had been enormously helpful for everyone.
But it couldn't be done for everyone who had died, or might die. So...? ]
[ Maelle lives in a hard-won fantasy. A true paradise, one that exists in spite of all of the pain and the death that paved the way. Most mornings she starts by looking out the window at the streets of Lumiére, hardly able to believe it's all real, with everyone and everything so vibrant and alive and happy.
...Well. With one notable -- crucial -- exception.
Today, like most days, she sits at the bay window of their apartment, leaning against the glass and smiling contentedly down at the passers-by. They're not just the Lumiérans who'd been alive when she'd departed for the Expedition, but also those who'd passed away or Gommaged before. Loved ones that other citizens had wanted back, who had been happy to be given another chance. Maelle watches them all and uses the sight to solidify that what she'd managed had been enormous, and what she'd chosen had been right. For everyone. Whether they could accept it (yet) or not.
Today seems like it'll be like any other day in the world she'd protected...until she hears the water. Maelle stiffens like a prey animal, ears perking up at the unexpected sound. She remains frozen as heavy footfalls follow, then the telltale squeaking of boards, and -- against all odds - Verso appears.
Briefly. But he's hurrying to the door, away from her, and she snaps up to intercept. ]
Verso, wait. [ If he continues, she'll chase. After what had happened between them, there is seemingly no line she won't dare to cross to sway him. And so she steps closer, extending a hand as if to calm a bucking horse. ] You can't keep ignoring me like this, I-... Can we talk? Please?
...Well. With one notable -- crucial -- exception.
Today, like most days, she sits at the bay window of their apartment, leaning against the glass and smiling contentedly down at the passers-by. They're not just the Lumiérans who'd been alive when she'd departed for the Expedition, but also those who'd passed away or Gommaged before. Loved ones that other citizens had wanted back, who had been happy to be given another chance. Maelle watches them all and uses the sight to solidify that what she'd managed had been enormous, and what she'd chosen had been right. For everyone. Whether they could accept it (yet) or not.
Today seems like it'll be like any other day in the world she'd protected...until she hears the water. Maelle stiffens like a prey animal, ears perking up at the unexpected sound. She remains frozen as heavy footfalls follow, then the telltale squeaking of boards, and -- against all odds - Verso appears.
Briefly. But he's hurrying to the door, away from her, and she snaps up to intercept. ]
Verso, wait. [ If he continues, she'll chase. After what had happened between them, there is seemingly no line she won't dare to cross to sway him. And so she steps closer, extending a hand as if to calm a bucking horse. ] You can't keep ignoring me like this, I-... Can we talk? Please?
Glad you agree.
[It would have been incredibly awkward if she hadn't.
With the seat offered, Verso makes a vague yet polite-seeming gesture with his hands before sitting down beside her, letting his own legs dangle over the edge of the cliff and leaning back against his arms as he looks up at the stars. It's intended to be a quick glance, but when the topic lands squarely at the heart of death, he lets his focus linger in place, watching the detritus gently bob overhead.
Still, it's not the kind of question that catches him off-guard. He doesn't need to sift through his mountainous lies and find some way to present a kernel of the truth – or at least something that resembles one – without giving himself and everything else away. The answer presents itself to him immediately and he reaches for it without hesitation, finally looking towards Sciel over a shrug of his shoulders.]
Well, personally, I talk to them. Share what's going on and think about what they might say.
[More often than not, he's the only person left to remember that they even existed in the first place. It's a heavy burden and that might show in how his expression grows a little more soft, a little more tired, but it's one he willingly bears. To abandon it now would weigh down on him infinitely more, anyway.]
It helps me keep a piece of them alive even if it's just in my mind.
[That's not exactly what Sciel asked, though, so Verso releases a soft sigh and looks skyward once again.]
But that's just me. How have you been remembering them?
[It would have been incredibly awkward if she hadn't.
With the seat offered, Verso makes a vague yet polite-seeming gesture with his hands before sitting down beside her, letting his own legs dangle over the edge of the cliff and leaning back against his arms as he looks up at the stars. It's intended to be a quick glance, but when the topic lands squarely at the heart of death, he lets his focus linger in place, watching the detritus gently bob overhead.
Still, it's not the kind of question that catches him off-guard. He doesn't need to sift through his mountainous lies and find some way to present a kernel of the truth – or at least something that resembles one – without giving himself and everything else away. The answer presents itself to him immediately and he reaches for it without hesitation, finally looking towards Sciel over a shrug of his shoulders.]
Well, personally, I talk to them. Share what's going on and think about what they might say.
[More often than not, he's the only person left to remember that they even existed in the first place. It's a heavy burden and that might show in how his expression grows a little more soft, a little more tired, but it's one he willingly bears. To abandon it now would weigh down on him infinitely more, anyway.]
It helps me keep a piece of them alive even if it's just in my mind.
[That's not exactly what Sciel asked, though, so Verso releases a soft sigh and looks skyward once again.]
But that's just me. How have you been remembering them?
[There is a small part of Verso that feels the urge to brush Maelle's hand aside, or to more directly remove her from his path, or to find some other way to get her to leave him alone without having to speak the request aloud. His pain feels like a tangible thing, far more easily sensed than the angry whispers of his chroma, and it's almost miraculous that he was able to announce his intentions without his voice breaking.
But it is a very small part; mostly, he doesn't have the heart to lash out against her like that. Earlier, when they'd fought over the fate of the canvas, he'd had a purpose greater than himself – her future. The power to change it for the better feels profoundly outside of his grasp now, but he's not blind to the ways through which he could make it worse. Humouring impulses that might bring about the latter doesn't sit well with him even after everything, so he freezes in place like a cornered cat, posture tense and upper back almost arched.]
What's there to talk about?
[A lot, he knows, making the question deliberately obtuse. Talking requires listening, though, and he's not sure that Maelle would want to hear him out any more than he wants to hear her justify his existence or whatever else he worries she might have in mind, so.]
But it is a very small part; mostly, he doesn't have the heart to lash out against her like that. Earlier, when they'd fought over the fate of the canvas, he'd had a purpose greater than himself – her future. The power to change it for the better feels profoundly outside of his grasp now, but he's not blind to the ways through which he could make it worse. Humouring impulses that might bring about the latter doesn't sit well with him even after everything, so he freezes in place like a cornered cat, posture tense and upper back almost arched.]
What's there to talk about?
[A lot, he knows, making the question deliberately obtuse. Talking requires listening, though, and he's not sure that Maelle would want to hear him out any more than he wants to hear her justify his existence or whatever else he worries she might have in mind, so.]
[ His reply comes quick. That's to be expected, she thinks, given his experience. ...Though the man also has had a way of playing his cards close to his chest thus far, so there is a small element of surprise at what she feels is a decently forthright answer. ]
I actually do the same. Talk to them, or sometimes just about them. [ To the stars, as she'd been taught. ] And it usually helps. Just...right now, things are...a little quiet.
[ It's Sciel's way of saying that she's having a little more trouble processing everything that's happened lately, which -- since it is still Sciel -- is still better than how most would fare in her shoes.
She turns his way again with eyes that hold the brightness of the sky above them. ]
Even death is different out here. [ She adds finally, returning her gaze skyward. ] Funny. Of all the changes you think you might run into on the Continent...
[ They'd expected death: it's baked into the Expeditions at their very core. But... The sheer brutality of it, and even the way the bodies remain after? It's...unsettling. ]
I actually do the same. Talk to them, or sometimes just about them. [ To the stars, as she'd been taught. ] And it usually helps. Just...right now, things are...a little quiet.
[ It's Sciel's way of saying that she's having a little more trouble processing everything that's happened lately, which -- since it is still Sciel -- is still better than how most would fare in her shoes.
She turns his way again with eyes that hold the brightness of the sky above them. ]
Even death is different out here. [ She adds finally, returning her gaze skyward. ] Funny. Of all the changes you think you might run into on the Continent...
[ They'd expected death: it's baked into the Expeditions at their very core. But... The sheer brutality of it, and even the way the bodies remain after? It's...unsettling. ]
[ It's...awful, seeing him like this. She winces at his reply, shoulders tensing automatically. In the new, perfect world, there is just one issue, and it's that -
Verso hates me. The idea has been like a poison, one she keeps at bay as best she can, but which feels undeniable to Alicia-turned-Maelle-turned... 'Maelle.' She feels the despair in his chroma, which has been palpable even through closed doors. And now, after not seeing or speaking to him since...before their return, it's clear in his posture and in his voice. He hates me, and there's nothing I can do about it. ]
Everything. [ She stresses, and there is a desperation to the plea. ] We haven't spoken in days, and-... I know what happened was awful, but it's all going to be okay. You'll see, I promise. [ There's a light flush of embarrassment and she worries the inside of her lip before committing to what she adds next: ] ...You're okay.
[ Does he know it was the last thing her brother had ever said to her? Does he know she'd have done anything to have died in Verso's place, that she believes completely that it'd have been better for everyone? ]
Please. We can go for a walk if you want, I just...want to help you.
Verso hates me. The idea has been like a poison, one she keeps at bay as best she can, but which feels undeniable to Alicia-turned-Maelle-turned... 'Maelle.' She feels the despair in his chroma, which has been palpable even through closed doors. And now, after not seeing or speaking to him since...before their return, it's clear in his posture and in his voice. He hates me, and there's nothing I can do about it. ]
Everything. [ She stresses, and there is a desperation to the plea. ] We haven't spoken in days, and-... I know what happened was awful, but it's all going to be okay. You'll see, I promise. [ There's a light flush of embarrassment and she worries the inside of her lip before committing to what she adds next: ] ...You're okay.
[ Does he know it was the last thing her brother had ever said to her? Does he know she'd have done anything to have died in Verso's place, that she believes completely that it'd have been better for everyone? ]
Please. We can go for a walk if you want, I just...want to help you.
[Verso has never understood death the way the current Lumierans do; even when he lived there, the Gommage was an unknown entity. People still died, of course, but never en masse in a burst of petals that covered the whole of the city. Never in the definite way threatened by the number on the Monolith.
So, he tries to picture what it might be like. Something oddly beautiful, something uniquely ephemeral. A constant absence rather than an unchanging presence. Ordinary. Familiar. Perhaps peaceful. Predictable almost down to the minute, with too-abundant room for closure. Rationally these things are easy enough to imagine, but he can only feel their resonance from a distance. So:]
I never witnessed a Gommage so it's hard for me to relate to what you're used to but... I do remember what it was like learning what death means out here.
[Albeit when the dead were still fewer and more far between; when he still held hope that saving Aline would restore them to life. All he's known for nearly 70 years is the sight of bodies piling up, quantifying the sacrifices made for his survival. For better or for worse, that's kept him from losing perspective, and were it not for those constant reminders, he might be a different person. Again, for better or for worse.
He lifts himself into a more proper sit, bringing one leg to his chest and wrapping an arm around his shin, slightly turning himself towards Sciel. Like this, he feels a little more present even if he also feels a bit scattered.]
It really put things into a perspective I wasn't expecting. It helped to figure out why it bothered me, you know, beyond the obvious. Took a lot of listening to things I didn't really want to hear before I could get back to doing the talking, though.
So, he tries to picture what it might be like. Something oddly beautiful, something uniquely ephemeral. A constant absence rather than an unchanging presence. Ordinary. Familiar. Perhaps peaceful. Predictable almost down to the minute, with too-abundant room for closure. Rationally these things are easy enough to imagine, but he can only feel their resonance from a distance. So:]
I never witnessed a Gommage so it's hard for me to relate to what you're used to but... I do remember what it was like learning what death means out here.
[Albeit when the dead were still fewer and more far between; when he still held hope that saving Aline would restore them to life. All he's known for nearly 70 years is the sight of bodies piling up, quantifying the sacrifices made for his survival. For better or for worse, that's kept him from losing perspective, and were it not for those constant reminders, he might be a different person. Again, for better or for worse.
He lifts himself into a more proper sit, bringing one leg to his chest and wrapping an arm around his shin, slightly turning himself towards Sciel. Like this, he feels a little more present even if he also feels a bit scattered.]
It really put things into a perspective I wasn't expecting. It helped to figure out why it bothered me, you know, beyond the obvious. Took a lot of listening to things I didn't really want to hear before I could get back to doing the talking, though.
[The words are familiar, plucked from the memories of the Verso he never was and never wanted to be. They're words that have proven wrong time and again as he bore witness to the endless consequences of his sacrifice. Nobody's okay and nothing's okay, and this Verso has lived with that understanding for so long now, so damned long, that he winces in turn when Maelle speaks them, his expression darkening further when she says she wants to help him.
I told you how to help me, he wants to say, the retort burning like bile at the back of his throat. He pleaded and he begged and used that very phrasing – help me – and she had called him brother instead, and he doesn't have the capacity to tell her how that's made him feel on top of everything else.
Which is his own fault, he knows; Alicia returned to the canvas and Verso kept everything to himself. She can't possibly know he feels about his own creation and how it shaped the world. Even his exhaustion has been twisted into something vague and palatable. Yet he's still angry. Being here still hurts. And he's not convinced she knows what he needs, either, so his response is a somewhat curt:]
With what, Maelle?
I told you how to help me, he wants to say, the retort burning like bile at the back of his throat. He pleaded and he begged and used that very phrasing – help me – and she had called him brother instead, and he doesn't have the capacity to tell her how that's made him feel on top of everything else.
Which is his own fault, he knows; Alicia returned to the canvas and Verso kept everything to himself. She can't possibly know he feels about his own creation and how it shaped the world. Even his exhaustion has been twisted into something vague and palatable. Yet he's still angry. Being here still hurts. And he's not convinced she knows what he needs, either, so his response is a somewhat curt:]
With what, Maelle?
Not even out here? [ Lune is the interrogator, so by comparison Sciel's question seems light. Offhand. ...The truth is, she's also very curious about Verso, his past, and his intentions, but there's no reason genuine interest can't exist alongside trying to keep their group safe, right? ] You never saw anyone run out of time?
[ They'd found a few journals suggesting at least some of those who came before had faded to petals rather than being cut down by Nevrons (or accidentally poisoned by Esquie, etc). How many of those groups had Verso come across in his travels? Surely some, right...?
Her demeanor is still very zen, though, and when he pulls himself into a sitting position, she does the same, her eyes still skyward. ]
That's interesting. [ She murmurs, tracing the path of some of the distant evidence of the Fracture far overhead with her eyes. ] What were some of those things you didn't want to hear?
[ Color her curious. As a sort of peace offering -- to indicate she's not trying to scare him off -- Sciel adds: ] I know what you mean, I think. You can get...stuck, sometimes, because it's impossible to move ahead without accepting the way things are. And...accepting the way things are can be brutal.
[ The sound of water nearby, in this moment, makes her feel a little ill. ]
[ They'd found a few journals suggesting at least some of those who came before had faded to petals rather than being cut down by Nevrons (or accidentally poisoned by Esquie, etc). How many of those groups had Verso come across in his travels? Surely some, right...?
Her demeanor is still very zen, though, and when he pulls himself into a sitting position, she does the same, her eyes still skyward. ]
That's interesting. [ She murmurs, tracing the path of some of the distant evidence of the Fracture far overhead with her eyes. ] What were some of those things you didn't want to hear?
[ Color her curious. As a sort of peace offering -- to indicate she's not trying to scare him off -- Sciel adds: ] I know what you mean, I think. You can get...stuck, sometimes, because it's impossible to move ahead without accepting the way things are. And...accepting the way things are can be brutal.
[ The sound of water nearby, in this moment, makes her feel a little ill. ]
[ That was wrong. It was the wrong thing to say and her cheeks burn further with the immediate regret, but -- what can she do? Add another apology to the pile?
"What what, Maelle?" A hundred answers leap into her throat (into an unmarred throat, one whole and able to speak with him in the first place because she's here, and not there.) What does she want to help him with...? Settling in, starting over, being happy. Finding some kind of meaning in life again, now that the mission he'd clearly been chasing for decades and decades is done.
She stands with her fists balled up, nails biting into her palms. ]
I don't know. [ An honest answer, if one that admits her own ignorance. ] But that's why I want to talk. You know we haven't ever been able to...to level with each other the way we can now? I know who I am, and what you were trying to do. So...this is the first time it's really real.
[ Maelle is staring hard at him and the cries resound in her memories like a cacohany: unpaint me, unpaint me. She has to resist the urge to scream herself to drown them out.
Finally she shakes her head, deflating a bit. ]
Can we start with...coffee? When was the last time you ate?
[ A small, unspoken reminder: you're no longer immortal. That had maybe been a very dangerous concession to make, given her knowledge of how little he wants to be alive in the first place, but...she'd promised. So... ]
"What what, Maelle?" A hundred answers leap into her throat (into an unmarred throat, one whole and able to speak with him in the first place because she's here, and not there.) What does she want to help him with...? Settling in, starting over, being happy. Finding some kind of meaning in life again, now that the mission he'd clearly been chasing for decades and decades is done.
She stands with her fists balled up, nails biting into her palms. ]
I don't know. [ An honest answer, if one that admits her own ignorance. ] But that's why I want to talk. You know we haven't ever been able to...to level with each other the way we can now? I know who I am, and what you were trying to do. So...this is the first time it's really real.
[ Maelle is staring hard at him and the cries resound in her memories like a cacohany: unpaint me, unpaint me. She has to resist the urge to scream herself to drown them out.
Finally she shakes her head, deflating a bit. ]
Can we start with...coffee? When was the last time you ate?
[ A small, unspoken reminder: you're no longer immortal. That had maybe been a very dangerous concession to make, given her knowledge of how little he wants to be alive in the first place, but...she'd promised. So... ]
Not a lot of people make it that long.
[Some have, he knows, from reading the same journals Sciel had. He envies the writers for how they're able to spend their last moments knowing that their trials will soon be over and they won't have to worry about anything anymore, even if those aren't likely to be thoughts they were actually having.]
And those who do, they're usually the ones who've resigned themselves the their fate before it happens. Always figured it was best to leave them be.
[It feels like adding insult to injury, staying with them, hurting with them in ways that feel insulting, given how they crave for the tomorrows he wishes he didn't have to experience.
The next question Sciel asks veers closer to the kind Verso is reluctant to answer, even if he's already broached the topic of his immortality a few times around the 33s. Hell, thanks to Lune's question, he had damned near introduced himself with the fact that he's tired of living forever. That had been a factual answer to an impersonally asked question, though; Sciel is seeking something a little closer to his heart, a little less maskable by flippant statements of the obvious.
He sighs softly, barely perceptible, and continues waging his eternal war between honesty and obfuscation for a moment longer before deciding that he risks giving himself away as a liar if he gets evasive about it now. So:]
The... truths about being immortal. Where I'd gone wrong. The things that are outside of my control. You know, the stuff that leaves you wallowing in existential angst for way longer than you'd like.
[A pause, then he points to Sciel in a gesture of agreement.]
Stuck's a good word for it. You keep forging ahead but there's always gonna be a part of you that gets mired in everything you're leaving behind. So, what's that for you? If you don't mind me asking.
[Some have, he knows, from reading the same journals Sciel had. He envies the writers for how they're able to spend their last moments knowing that their trials will soon be over and they won't have to worry about anything anymore, even if those aren't likely to be thoughts they were actually having.]
And those who do, they're usually the ones who've resigned themselves the their fate before it happens. Always figured it was best to leave them be.
[It feels like adding insult to injury, staying with them, hurting with them in ways that feel insulting, given how they crave for the tomorrows he wishes he didn't have to experience.
The next question Sciel asks veers closer to the kind Verso is reluctant to answer, even if he's already broached the topic of his immortality a few times around the 33s. Hell, thanks to Lune's question, he had damned near introduced himself with the fact that he's tired of living forever. That had been a factual answer to an impersonally asked question, though; Sciel is seeking something a little closer to his heart, a little less maskable by flippant statements of the obvious.
He sighs softly, barely perceptible, and continues waging his eternal war between honesty and obfuscation for a moment longer before deciding that he risks giving himself away as a liar if he gets evasive about it now. So:]
The... truths about being immortal. Where I'd gone wrong. The things that are outside of my control. You know, the stuff that leaves you wallowing in existential angst for way longer than you'd like.
[A pause, then he points to Sciel in a gesture of agreement.]
Stuck's a good word for it. You keep forging ahead but there's always gonna be a part of you that gets mired in everything you're leaving behind. So, what's that for you? If you don't mind me asking.
[Maelle's posture, the tone of her voice, the desperation by her words – these things conspire to make the promise of fresh air something distant and out of reach as Verso finds himself without the heart to refuse her. And while he could still take his walk with her by his side, the kind of conversation she requests isn't really one they can have in public. It's not one that he can bear the weight of while having to act like he's not holding himself together with thin strings of paint and weak adhesives.
So he half-heartedly flicks his wrists towards the sofa, indicating for Maelle to take a seat but making his own way to the window first.]
I'm not hungry.
[It's more honest than stubborn. He's barely able to keep down water; the thought of consuming anything more substantial than that leaves his stomach roiling. All the more reason for him to open the window all the way, though; all the more purpose behind the deep breath he takes in as he pokes his head outside and tries not to calculate the lethality of a plummet to the ground below.
When he turns back into the apartment, he looks at the sofa and still can't bring himself to sit. So, he leans against the wall instead, arms tightly crossed over his chest.]
Maybe you know what I was trying to do but you don't understand why. You don't want to. That's the problem.
So he half-heartedly flicks his wrists towards the sofa, indicating for Maelle to take a seat but making his own way to the window first.]
I'm not hungry.
[It's more honest than stubborn. He's barely able to keep down water; the thought of consuming anything more substantial than that leaves his stomach roiling. All the more reason for him to open the window all the way, though; all the more purpose behind the deep breath he takes in as he pokes his head outside and tries not to calculate the lethality of a plummet to the ground below.
When he turns back into the apartment, he looks at the sofa and still can't bring himself to sit. So, he leans against the wall instead, arms tightly crossed over his chest.]
Maybe you know what I was trying to do but you don't understand why. You don't want to. That's the problem.
That's...very true. And thoughtful, actually.
[ Sciel doesn't say it as if she's surprised that Verso has said something thoughtful -- she doesn't know him well enough one way or the other yet -- but it is a good point. Her own perspective on death and the Gommage is unique, and so assuming that most others might want company during their final moments is-...well, just that: an assumption. It seems just as likely people -- particularly Expeditioners, given their usual nature -- might not want to share the experience with an outsider.
There's an odd pang of sympathy as she regards Verso now. ]
You didn't ask to be this way. [ He knows this, but it might be worth the reminder. ] ...I'm sorry it's been such a burden. But...I hope it's some comfort, knowing you've taken your situation and made the best of it by helping people.
[ Implication: and not killing them, as his commander has been. ]
That's...a bit personal, actually. [ There's no way she's going to get into her tragic backstory right now, no matter what he shares. ] But...well, the gist of it is everyone's story, isn't it? You lose people who're important to you, in our world. Just...some of them hit a bit harder.
[ Husbands, for example. Unborn children. ]
It's like you said, right? All we can do is carry them with us. Move forward... And then, maybe someday, what we're doing out here will mean there's a lot less death to go around.
[ Sciel doesn't say it as if she's surprised that Verso has said something thoughtful -- she doesn't know him well enough one way or the other yet -- but it is a good point. Her own perspective on death and the Gommage is unique, and so assuming that most others might want company during their final moments is-...well, just that: an assumption. It seems just as likely people -- particularly Expeditioners, given their usual nature -- might not want to share the experience with an outsider.
There's an odd pang of sympathy as she regards Verso now. ]
You didn't ask to be this way. [ He knows this, but it might be worth the reminder. ] ...I'm sorry it's been such a burden. But...I hope it's some comfort, knowing you've taken your situation and made the best of it by helping people.
[ Implication: and not killing them, as his commander has been. ]
That's...a bit personal, actually. [ There's no way she's going to get into her tragic backstory right now, no matter what he shares. ] But...well, the gist of it is everyone's story, isn't it? You lose people who're important to you, in our world. Just...some of them hit a bit harder.
[ Husbands, for example. Unborn children. ]
It's like you said, right? All we can do is carry them with us. Move forward... And then, maybe someday, what we're doing out here will mean there's a lot less death to go around.
[ She doesn't move at first. Her eyes train on him as he walks toward the window, glancing downward, causing a lump of panic to press against her throat, threatening to escape. But he turns again and she finally does sit, leaving enough room on the sofa for him in a laughably optimistic olive branch.
Verso speaks and she can't help but shake her head automatically in response. I do understand! she wants to shout, but it's a gut reaction born of anxiety and the overwhelming need to fix things. Verso will not live, and she refuses to let him die. So where does that leave them?
Maelle swallows down her protests, trying desperately to think of something that won't make it all worse, as has apparently been her specialty. ]
I-... Then tell me again. [ Tell me again when we aren't standing in a nexus of creation with the Canvas on the line. For as afraid as she is now of continuing to erode their relationship, it doesn't compare to the wild confusion and alarm she'd felt back then. There was never any chance that she would allow him to go -- allow him to destroy the Canvas -- unless he had been able to overtake her in their duel.
In the end, all they were left with was her choice, and his pleas. ]
Why, after everything was fixed, were we still not enough?
Verso speaks and she can't help but shake her head automatically in response. I do understand! she wants to shout, but it's a gut reaction born of anxiety and the overwhelming need to fix things. Verso will not live, and she refuses to let him die. So where does that leave them?
Maelle swallows down her protests, trying desperately to think of something that won't make it all worse, as has apparently been her specialty. ]
I-... Then tell me again. [ Tell me again when we aren't standing in a nexus of creation with the Canvas on the line. For as afraid as she is now of continuing to erode their relationship, it doesn't compare to the wild confusion and alarm she'd felt back then. There was never any chance that she would allow him to go -- allow him to destroy the Canvas -- unless he had been able to overtake her in their duel.
In the end, all they were left with was her choice, and his pleas. ]
Why, after everything was fixed, were we still not enough?
[There's a comment on the tip of his tongue – that he is quite thoughtful, thank you for noticing – self-deprecating in how it exaggeratedly self-aggrandises, but he's comfortable enough with Sciel that he doesn't feel like putting up a front. Granted, they haven't spent much time together, but even in these short moments it's like she sees him as more of a man than an oddity; like he doesn't need to don quite so many masks around her because she isn't trying to peer between the gaps to validate whatever image she's been painting of him in her mind's eye. And that's... rare. Oddly affirming, too, which is itself rare.
So, he keeps it quiet while she moves on to commiserating with him. For a fleeting moment, it feels nice to be understood. When she shifts to him helping people, though, the masks come back on and his posture droops ever slightly beneath their weight.]
Yeah, it's... what keeps me going.
[Ending the cycle, he could say while still being honest, but it feels dishonest for what he's leaving out. Besides, the little he does say tells the whole truth on its own, going even farther into a past where he struggled to come to terms with following Renoir's command, dipping into the moments of depression when he couldn't bring himself to do anything, holding itself up like the lone buoy keeping him afloat.
Sciel's own secrecy isn't surprising, though, and Verso responds to it with a contemplative hum. Under different circumstances he might have played at feeling denied, but the mood still doesn't feel right for that, so he chooses a different course.]
Mm, maybe someday. It'd be nice to not be the only old man walking around out here.
[Aside from Renoir, but whatever. That's not the point!!!
Speaking of points, Sciel asked for advice and Verso feels compelled to try and offer some, even if he's still not sure he has anything of value to contribute. That little bit of self-consciousness has him crossing his arms over his chest, but in a relaxed sort of way.]
I guess my advice is to try and figure out how to be okay with them being quiet for a while. They're not going anywhere on their own, but, well, memories are prone to suggestion, right?
[He should know, being a living one. He looks up at the Monolith with its taunting 33; with the shell of his mother curled up in grief at its base, and rolls his shoulders.]
Even when it's as simple as wanting to believe they'll always be right where we need them to be. And especially when we're grieving.
So, he keeps it quiet while she moves on to commiserating with him. For a fleeting moment, it feels nice to be understood. When she shifts to him helping people, though, the masks come back on and his posture droops ever slightly beneath their weight.]
Yeah, it's... what keeps me going.
[Ending the cycle, he could say while still being honest, but it feels dishonest for what he's leaving out. Besides, the little he does say tells the whole truth on its own, going even farther into a past where he struggled to come to terms with following Renoir's command, dipping into the moments of depression when he couldn't bring himself to do anything, holding itself up like the lone buoy keeping him afloat.
Sciel's own secrecy isn't surprising, though, and Verso responds to it with a contemplative hum. Under different circumstances he might have played at feeling denied, but the mood still doesn't feel right for that, so he chooses a different course.]
Mm, maybe someday. It'd be nice to not be the only old man walking around out here.
[Aside from Renoir, but whatever. That's not the point!!!
Speaking of points, Sciel asked for advice and Verso feels compelled to try and offer some, even if he's still not sure he has anything of value to contribute. That little bit of self-consciousness has him crossing his arms over his chest, but in a relaxed sort of way.]
I guess my advice is to try and figure out how to be okay with them being quiet for a while. They're not going anywhere on their own, but, well, memories are prone to suggestion, right?
[He should know, being a living one. He looks up at the Monolith with its taunting 33; with the shell of his mother curled up in grief at its base, and rolls his shoulders.]
Even when it's as simple as wanting to believe they'll always be right where we need them to be. And especially when we're grieving.
[When they had their conflict over Alicia's Gommage, Verso had been closed off, yes, but still present. There was emotion in his tone beyond the bitterness, his voice made no secret of how it existed on the verge of breaking, and his eyes couldn't hide that they were welling up with tears. Even then, even to him, that hurt had felt survivable. All he needed was time and space and understanding.
Now, though, it's like a part of him had died in that in-between place, left behind as yet another ghost to haunt the real Verso's soul. There is no life to his tone, no light to his eyes. His lips are drawn into a thin line that doesn't bear the slightest hint of a quiver, but that does break for a scoff when Maelle asks why they still weren't enough.
That isn't the problem either, though he can't bring himself to say so. Quite the opposite; the problem is that he loves her and the others too much to go through this all again.]
I spent nearly seven decades knowing every year of my life had a cost that the rest of the world had to bear. Hundreds of people gone – [He snaps his fingers.] – like nothing because Maman couldn't accept that her real son was dead and Renoir couldn't leave her behind. I watched her go from a woman to a ghost, killing herself and leaving everyone else to their fates so she could keep playing make-believe.
[Still, he doesn't crack; still, he doesn't emote. It's like he's reciting someone else's history.]
You're doing the same thing. You're putting the Canvas at risk, choosing death and forcing me to watch.
Now, though, it's like a part of him had died in that in-between place, left behind as yet another ghost to haunt the real Verso's soul. There is no life to his tone, no light to his eyes. His lips are drawn into a thin line that doesn't bear the slightest hint of a quiver, but that does break for a scoff when Maelle asks why they still weren't enough.
That isn't the problem either, though he can't bring himself to say so. Quite the opposite; the problem is that he loves her and the others too much to go through this all again.]
I spent nearly seven decades knowing every year of my life had a cost that the rest of the world had to bear. Hundreds of people gone – [He snaps his fingers.] – like nothing because Maman couldn't accept that her real son was dead and Renoir couldn't leave her behind. I watched her go from a woman to a ghost, killing herself and leaving everyone else to their fates so she could keep playing make-believe.
[Still, he doesn't crack; still, he doesn't emote. It's like he's reciting someone else's history.]
You're doing the same thing. You're putting the Canvas at risk, choosing death and forcing me to watch.
We can only hope, someday, there are loads of old men out exploring the Continent. [ It's a bit of a joke, and she cracks a grin before glancing his way. ] Doubtful they'll all be quite as handsome as you, but...
[ The idea that they might yet be able to experience things like achy knees and gray hair is...oddly uplifting. It's the kinds of experiences she imagines people once took for granted, and which they're now fighting tooth and nail to restore. Strange.
Of course, it wasn't just those things. It would also mean that people like her, and like Sophie, could have the families they wanted without the awful implications of the choice. And...for all of them, it just meant life. A chance to walk the earth for so much longer, to get to know each other and themselves in ways they now had to fit into increasingly short windows.
Sciel is a realist, but also a dreamer. And so she asks: ] Verso...what's it like? All that time, experiencing everything without that number hanging over your head...? [ And because she knows some of that time -- his history -- has been less than pleasant, she adds gently: ] Tell me about...some of the happiest bits. The most surprising, or the wildest.
[ He'd given her good advice, and she commits that to heart. So now, maybe she can help to transform some of the shadows that hang over their new companion, to refocus his immortality within a more positive light. And not in a you should be grateful way -- she isn't that type of person -- but in a way that might genuinely help him.
Why not? He'd saved Maelle, he's the one providing the direction for them to help keep the mission going. If she can do anything to pay him back a bit, then... ]
[ The idea that they might yet be able to experience things like achy knees and gray hair is...oddly uplifting. It's the kinds of experiences she imagines people once took for granted, and which they're now fighting tooth and nail to restore. Strange.
Of course, it wasn't just those things. It would also mean that people like her, and like Sophie, could have the families they wanted without the awful implications of the choice. And...for all of them, it just meant life. A chance to walk the earth for so much longer, to get to know each other and themselves in ways they now had to fit into increasingly short windows.
Sciel is a realist, but also a dreamer. And so she asks: ] Verso...what's it like? All that time, experiencing everything without that number hanging over your head...? [ And because she knows some of that time -- his history -- has been less than pleasant, she adds gently: ] Tell me about...some of the happiest bits. The most surprising, or the wildest.
[ He'd given her good advice, and she commits that to heart. So now, maybe she can help to transform some of the shadows that hang over their new companion, to refocus his immortality within a more positive light. And not in a you should be grateful way -- she isn't that type of person -- but in a way that might genuinely help him.
Why not? He'd saved Maelle, he's the one providing the direction for them to help keep the mission going. If she can do anything to pay him back a bit, then... ]
[ Maelle can barely hold off until he's finished speaking; it's more than clear that she's bursting to interrupt. When he does stop, she speaks immediately: ]
I'm putting the Canvas at risk? [ Shocked. Indignant. ] I saved the Canvas. And I'm not like Maman! She only cared about the fantasy she made, like you said. But I am exactly where I want to be! Here, with everyone I care about, with all of them alive and happy. All of those people that suffered because of our family: I've put it right.
[ She'd restored everyone she could and filled the city with the souls who had been taken from it too soon. Gustave and Sophie could be together and start the family they'd always wanted, Sciel and her husband could raise their child, Lune could share their experiences with her parents. It's...impossible to imagine anyone might see this as something bad, something dangerous.
And yet...! ]
Just because you see this as death doesn't mean it is. [ She's standing again, voice incensed and fraught with emotion. ] Verso, I know the risks, but I told you: this is what I want. I'm happy. And any time I have to live my life here is better than out there.
[ She'll say it a thousand times if she had to. And she knows...probably, once she's gone, that they'll destroy this Canvas once and for all. So she has to keep the lights on...for as long as she can. ]
It isn't make-believe. [ Maelle insists, sounding again soft. Pleading. ] This is real.
I'm putting the Canvas at risk? [ Shocked. Indignant. ] I saved the Canvas. And I'm not like Maman! She only cared about the fantasy she made, like you said. But I am exactly where I want to be! Here, with everyone I care about, with all of them alive and happy. All of those people that suffered because of our family: I've put it right.
[ She'd restored everyone she could and filled the city with the souls who had been taken from it too soon. Gustave and Sophie could be together and start the family they'd always wanted, Sciel and her husband could raise their child, Lune could share their experiences with her parents. It's...impossible to imagine anyone might see this as something bad, something dangerous.
And yet...! ]
Just because you see this as death doesn't mean it is. [ She's standing again, voice incensed and fraught with emotion. ] Verso, I know the risks, but I told you: this is what I want. I'm happy. And any time I have to live my life here is better than out there.
[ She'll say it a thousand times if she had to. And she knows...probably, once she's gone, that they'll destroy this Canvas once and for all. So she has to keep the lights on...for as long as she can. ]
It isn't make-believe. [ Maelle insists, sounding again soft. Pleading. ] This is real.
[Oh. It's been a long time since someone (besides Esquie and Monoco) has called him handsome; Verso lets out a breath of a laugh that does a poor job of hiding how he's momentarily taken aback. At least the night will hide the rest of what his lowered guard would have otherwise revealed, he thinks, as he tries his hand at a casual shrug to make it seem like he's more accustomed to pretty Expeditioners letting him know that they think he's pretty, too.]
It's for the best. My handsomeness is a heavy burden to bear. Wouldn't wanna inflict that on others.
[In his younger years, he probably would have done a better job of holding his own, turning Sciel's charm back on her with practised ease. But the more he thinks on what he did say, the more he hears the stars above groaning at him from afar, and he finds himself uncharacteristically grateful, instead, when she goes back to asking him personal questions. At least they don't leave him scrambling to contend with how his social skills haven't aged nearly as well as the rest of him has.
Happiest bits, though. Surprising he can do, and wild as well. Goodness knows he's had enough extreme encounters with Nevrons that he could speak on them for days. But he's not getting the feeling that she wants to hear stories about him carving his way through the stomach of the serpent, or taking down an Obscur after it lobbed off his dagger arm, or any of the other life-or-death circumstances he's stubborned (and immortaled) his way through.
But, fuck, when has he felt happy?]
Well, there's the first time I flew on Esquie's back. Of course Lumiere had airships, but I'd never been a take-to-the-skies kind of guy, you know? I preferred trains. The way you could feel the ground beneath you as they moved across the Continent. Getting to take it all in instead of passing it by.
[The man is that fucking loyal to his trains. Air travel that's well ahead of anything that existed outside of the Canvas? Gosh, who cares??? Did you see that train?]
He brought me so high up that I could see everything, all at once. It was then that I realised how beautiful the world still was after the Fracture.
[His voice is soft at the end, reflective and positive in ways it rarely gets these days. Back then, he had still believed that Aline could be saved from herself and the Canvas could be protected from Renoir, and the sight had made him more determined to press on. And while that's changed, his thoughts on the beauty of everything haven't. So...]
Maybe I'll be able to take you up there one day. Show you what it's like. Unless there's something else you wanted to see on the Continent...?
It's for the best. My handsomeness is a heavy burden to bear. Wouldn't wanna inflict that on others.
[In his younger years, he probably would have done a better job of holding his own, turning Sciel's charm back on her with practised ease. But the more he thinks on what he did say, the more he hears the stars above groaning at him from afar, and he finds himself uncharacteristically grateful, instead, when she goes back to asking him personal questions. At least they don't leave him scrambling to contend with how his social skills haven't aged nearly as well as the rest of him has.
Happiest bits, though. Surprising he can do, and wild as well. Goodness knows he's had enough extreme encounters with Nevrons that he could speak on them for days. But he's not getting the feeling that she wants to hear stories about him carving his way through the stomach of the serpent, or taking down an Obscur after it lobbed off his dagger arm, or any of the other life-or-death circumstances he's stubborned (and immortaled) his way through.
But, fuck, when has he felt happy?]
Well, there's the first time I flew on Esquie's back. Of course Lumiere had airships, but I'd never been a take-to-the-skies kind of guy, you know? I preferred trains. The way you could feel the ground beneath you as they moved across the Continent. Getting to take it all in instead of passing it by.
[The man is that fucking loyal to his trains. Air travel that's well ahead of anything that existed outside of the Canvas? Gosh, who cares??? Did you see that train?]
He brought me so high up that I could see everything, all at once. It was then that I realised how beautiful the world still was after the Fracture.
[His voice is soft at the end, reflective and positive in ways it rarely gets these days. Back then, he had still believed that Aline could be saved from herself and the Canvas could be protected from Renoir, and the sight had made him more determined to press on. And while that's changed, his thoughts on the beauty of everything haven't. So...]
Maybe I'll be able to take you up there one day. Show you what it's like. Unless there's something else you wanted to see on the Continent...?
[Not even Maelle's burst of emotion – powerful thought it may be, and easily capable of getting Verso to shut up under any other circumstances – is enough to restore his own expressiveness. He leans and he listens and gives nothing away without even having to mask himself.
When she's done, he shrugs. Not to be dismissive, per se, but rather to signal his disagreement before he launches into it.]
You're delaying the inevitable. The only way to save the Canvas is to stay away.
[Not that Verso can speak that with any confidence. Maybe Maelle leaves tomorrow, reaches out to Renoir, and uses her return to convince him that the Canvas doesn't need to be destroyed because it doesn't have the same hold on her as it did on Aline. Or, maybe Renoir sees her and takes the first opportunity he can to save his real son's grief-cursed soul by destroying the Canvas as he'd threatened. Regardless, the thought of Renoir returning for his daughter and reinstating the decades-long cycle of death to bring her home haunts Verso. He can't go through that again. He fucking can't.
Do the others understand the nature of their existence, now, and what it means for their future, he wonders? Lune and Sciel surely must, given everything they've seen along the way, but what about Gustave and Sophie? The rest of the Lumierans? Do they know that they're still facing off against a ticking-down clock, only this time they have no way of predicting when their ends might come? How many of them would have chosen this life if presented with all the facts and given the opportunity to refuse?]
And even if you are right and I'm wrong, you don't need me to be here for any of that. Like you said, this is what you want. Fuck how anyone else feels, right?
When she's done, he shrugs. Not to be dismissive, per se, but rather to signal his disagreement before he launches into it.]
You're delaying the inevitable. The only way to save the Canvas is to stay away.
[Not that Verso can speak that with any confidence. Maybe Maelle leaves tomorrow, reaches out to Renoir, and uses her return to convince him that the Canvas doesn't need to be destroyed because it doesn't have the same hold on her as it did on Aline. Or, maybe Renoir sees her and takes the first opportunity he can to save his real son's grief-cursed soul by destroying the Canvas as he'd threatened. Regardless, the thought of Renoir returning for his daughter and reinstating the decades-long cycle of death to bring her home haunts Verso. He can't go through that again. He fucking can't.
Do the others understand the nature of their existence, now, and what it means for their future, he wonders? Lune and Sciel surely must, given everything they've seen along the way, but what about Gustave and Sophie? The rest of the Lumierans? Do they know that they're still facing off against a ticking-down clock, only this time they have no way of predicting when their ends might come? How many of them would have chosen this life if presented with all the facts and given the opportunity to refuse?]
And even if you are right and I'm wrong, you don't need me to be here for any of that. Like you said, this is what you want. Fuck how anyone else feels, right?
girl help, the emotional whiplash between our threads is killing me
searingbond
2025-09-20 09:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Something that Verso will learn quickly about Sciel is that she is always unapologetically...well, Sciel. Forthright in gentle ways, honest with almost everything. As if living her life otherwise is simply not an option. It's why she can speak to his attractiveness without batting an eye, and why -- eventually -- she'll suggest they take things further in a similarly straightforward way.
At the moment, she's finding herself more charmed than she'd been expecting. Of course, it'd be natural that someone with Verso's (claimed) lived experience would have a plethora of interesting stories, and he's quickly proving to live up to that. But...in his telling of them, she can sense him opening up a bit, maybe even without realizing it. What she assumes is some degree of a smooth façade, present during some of their other interactions to this point, melts away little by little as he recounts flying over the world on Esquie. As he shares his love for trains, of all things.
Who wouldn't find all this endearing? Sciel turns to face him fully, expression one of genuine fondness, even with their only having just met the man. ]
I'm very jealous. Really, walking doesn't measure up...even when you get to do it out here. [ Her experience is limited to walking...and the occasional boat, which she won't mention.
In fact, it's easy to not think about her hatred for the water, because as he finishes his thought, he looks positively childlike in reliving that joy, and she...leans forward a touch, drawn in. ]
That's beautiful, Verso. [ The earnestness of it should come through in the warmth and richness of her voice. Then he voices the idea of taking her to see it all and she smiles more widely in surprise and delight. It might not -- probably won't -- ever happen, but the offer is...sweet. Like something from a fairy tale. ]
I'd really like that. [ Sciel replies. ] Maybe once we can get Esquie flying again, and when we have a minute to breathe between all the chaos.
[ And if she isn't dead by then, which would be a toss up.
The question elicits a thought hum as she turns back out to look at the world before them, considering. ]
Not specifically, no. [ Lune would want to see everything, but Sciel? ] I'd love to just see some of your favorite places. ...Oh! Unless you happen to know there's snow somewhere...?
At the moment, she's finding herself more charmed than she'd been expecting. Of course, it'd be natural that someone with Verso's (claimed) lived experience would have a plethora of interesting stories, and he's quickly proving to live up to that. But...in his telling of them, she can sense him opening up a bit, maybe even without realizing it. What she assumes is some degree of a smooth façade, present during some of their other interactions to this point, melts away little by little as he recounts flying over the world on Esquie. As he shares his love for trains, of all things.
Who wouldn't find all this endearing? Sciel turns to face him fully, expression one of genuine fondness, even with their only having just met the man. ]
I'm very jealous. Really, walking doesn't measure up...even when you get to do it out here. [ Her experience is limited to walking...and the occasional boat, which she won't mention.
In fact, it's easy to not think about her hatred for the water, because as he finishes his thought, he looks positively childlike in reliving that joy, and she...leans forward a touch, drawn in. ]
That's beautiful, Verso. [ The earnestness of it should come through in the warmth and richness of her voice. Then he voices the idea of taking her to see it all and she smiles more widely in surprise and delight. It might not -- probably won't -- ever happen, but the offer is...sweet. Like something from a fairy tale. ]
I'd really like that. [ Sciel replies. ] Maybe once we can get Esquie flying again, and when we have a minute to breathe between all the chaos.
[ And if she isn't dead by then, which would be a toss up.
The question elicits a thought hum as she turns back out to look at the world before them, considering. ]
Not specifically, no. [ Lune would want to see everything, but Sciel? ] I'd love to just see some of your favorite places. ...Oh! Unless you happen to know there's snow somewhere...?
[ She's shaking her head again, stubbornly denying it all before she even speaks. ]
You're wrong. If I leave, they'll destroy it. [ Papa would, absolutely. Maelle believes this intensely, considering all the 'damage' it had done to their family, and can't imagine a world where he would let it continue singing its siren song to his wife and daughter. ] This is the only way I can keep it safe.
[ It's impossible to keep the Canvas alive forever, at least...at the moment. She has plans to discuss with some of the others some of the ways to possibly slow or stave off completely the rot that would take her from within, over time. Over a long time, she reminds herself sharply, as if defending herself to Verso. With her power and the brilliant minds of their world, they could come up with something. Figure out a way...
Even if it was as crude as finding some method by which to 'lock' the Canvas, to somehow protect it even after her death...? But that was a puzzle for another day. ]
I do need you. [ She stresses: the verbal equivalent of stamping her foot. ] I wouldn't have kept you alive if I didn't think you could have a home here with us. You don't need the mask anymore, you can be whatever you want, do anything you want...! [ Or: almost anything. ] Why won't you even give it a chance? Now that I finally remember everything and we've got time to...fucking breathe, why won't you try?
[ Verso had died to save her. She wouldn't let him do it again. ]
"Fuck how anyone else feels?" [ It stings like acid to a wound and she recoils, face twisting in pain. ] Is that really how you think I feel, Verso? Is it? It's true that I don't want to leave the Canvas because I don't want to go back to a life that's already over, and don't you dare tell me what it is or isn't like, because you don't know. [ Her breaths are shallow and she feels a little light-headed in turn, but presses on furiously. ] ...But just because that's true, it doesn't mean I don't care. I would do anything to save this Canvas. I love these people. And you are one of them! I care about you no matter how badly you think of me. Even if you-...think of me as a stranger, if the time we've spent together means nothing anymore. I care...so much.
[ It's why she'll live, and die, here. ]
You're wrong. If I leave, they'll destroy it. [ Papa would, absolutely. Maelle believes this intensely, considering all the 'damage' it had done to their family, and can't imagine a world where he would let it continue singing its siren song to his wife and daughter. ] This is the only way I can keep it safe.
[ It's impossible to keep the Canvas alive forever, at least...at the moment. She has plans to discuss with some of the others some of the ways to possibly slow or stave off completely the rot that would take her from within, over time. Over a long time, she reminds herself sharply, as if defending herself to Verso. With her power and the brilliant minds of their world, they could come up with something. Figure out a way...
Even if it was as crude as finding some method by which to 'lock' the Canvas, to somehow protect it even after her death...? But that was a puzzle for another day. ]
I do need you. [ She stresses: the verbal equivalent of stamping her foot. ] I wouldn't have kept you alive if I didn't think you could have a home here with us. You don't need the mask anymore, you can be whatever you want, do anything you want...! [ Or: almost anything. ] Why won't you even give it a chance? Now that I finally remember everything and we've got time to...fucking breathe, why won't you try?
[ Verso had died to save her. She wouldn't let him do it again. ]
"Fuck how anyone else feels?" [ It stings like acid to a wound and she recoils, face twisting in pain. ] Is that really how you think I feel, Verso? Is it? It's true that I don't want to leave the Canvas because I don't want to go back to a life that's already over, and don't you dare tell me what it is or isn't like, because you don't know. [ Her breaths are shallow and she feels a little light-headed in turn, but presses on furiously. ] ...But just because that's true, it doesn't mean I don't care. I would do anything to save this Canvas. I love these people. And you are one of them! I care about you no matter how badly you think of me. Even if you-...think of me as a stranger, if the time we've spent together means nothing anymore. I care...so much.
[ It's why she'll live, and die, here. ]
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