Emma was kind enough to get you some pills from the chemist. She gave to me before she left for council business, but I was told I was only supposed to give them to you if you seemed "appropriately regretful."
[ He isn't hungry, and it's not just the latent nausea from his hangover that makes his stomach lock up at the thought of food. Sophie would tease him and coax him into eating some bread and drinking some water. Sophie... won't be the one looking after him anymore. ]
I'm a little afraid to ask, but: who put me to bed?
[Does that make it easier to stomach? She's not sure, but it warm bread sounds better than room temperature bread.]
I did. You're heavier than you look when you're bouncing off the door frames.
[Emma would have taken up that responsibility, typically, but she may have been cleaning up a mess elsewhere. It was kinder to let Maelle deal with the drunk rather than the drunk's... stomach contents.]
[Each year, Expedition 33 looms like an executioner's axe. To Maelle, it's worse than the Gommage. Her time with Gustave was always sand flowing through an hour glass, but once he made it clear that he would be leaving with that expedition, there went another year. His decision isn't a surprise to her, but she thinks hers will be a surprise to him despite how vocal she's been these past few years about seeing what's beyond their island.
He might boot her off the Hanging Garden where she waits for him to finish with his work for the day. Or worse, he may be disappointed in her. Sad. Younger people going on the expeditions isn't unheard of, but Emma had been upset, and while Gustave stood his ground, she can so easily imagine him having that same upset aimed at her. The same argument about staying in Lumiere and doing good there with the time she has left. It's all so hypocritical.
Emma and Gustave like to act like they can't sway her in anything. That her determination is made of iron. It is, in some ways, but Gustave has always been able to break her with a look of concern or soft, stern words born out of care. She just... has to ignore that. She has to stand her ground.
She paces the rooftop garden, reciting her words under her breath. Her choice. Thinking of all the things he might say, and her counters. The sun is getting low in the sky and she can't recall the last time she'd been so anxious. Maybe she's never felt it like this before.]
[ He vaults lightly off the rope as it reaches the rooftop, the late sunlight slanting low through the air below the Shield Dome and lending Lumière a kind of glinting gleam that makes the shattered city live up to its name. It seems drenched in old gold, windows reflecting back the glow, light scattered thickly over the water in the harbor. He pauses to look out over it all, towards the Monolith with its number etched in fire, so far away.
Not long now, he promises. He'll wipe that number out with his own hands if he has to, to save Lumière's children from the fate that has taken so many.
Maelle's head of red hair glows in the late light, too, as he jogs along the rooftop and into the Hanging Gardens. The scent of flowers and growing things is thick in the air: new life, even in this dying world.
He's a little damp with perspiration — he'd come from training at the expedition academy after a long morning and early afternoon working with his apprentices — and his hair sticks lightly to the back of his neck. The fresh breeze coming over the rooftops is a relief, and he closes his eyes to it a moment before heading over to her, an indulgent smile already curving his lips. ]
Well? If you want a race home, you might have to give me a minute. I've been doing climbing exercises all afternoon.
[So caught up in her imaginary argument with Gustave, she's entirely missed his arrival. His voice, loud and clear in her ears, makes her gasp and she turns around to face him with wide eyes. He looks so happy. He almost always greets her with a smile, and vice versa, but now she just looks vaguely guilty. She might be wiping that smile off his face.]
Um. Actually, can we sit for a while? I... I need to talk to you about something.
[Maelle motions to the bench beneath the flowers and vines with room for two. Or one of him and two of her, but even so, she doesn't think she can sit without vibrating through the bench, roof, and very foundations of their little island.]
His smile fades, replaced by a faint furrow in his brow, a motion that's only now just beginning to linger there in the first glance toward a wrinkle.
The last time she'd asked to speak with him, looking like this, she'd had to confess breaking some thing that at the time he'd thought was valuable. He can't remember it now; all he recalls is Maelle's huge, worried eyes and how pale her face had been beneath the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. ]
Yes. Yes, of course.
[ He takes his seat at one end of the little bench and waits for her to join him, a strange curling feeling in his stomach. What could have happened? Maybe one of the other citizens has been cruel to her again... maybe she's gotten in some kind of trouble.
It doesn't matter, he decides. Whatever it is, he'll help her through it. He only has a few precious months left with her now... he can't bear to let even a moment of them slip through his fingers. ]
[She'd practiced this a hundred times. He would sit. She would remind him of how she's always felt out of place, how she held no important position in Lumiere, and how she wanted to know what the world beyond was like. How she didn't want to live in Lumiere without him, because Lumiere before him was miserable and how could she ever bid him farewell?
It all leaves her head once he's actually seated. She doesn't sit. She wrings her hands together as she stands before him. She takes a breath. Lowers her hands to her sides. Steadies her voice against her nerves.]
[ His shock rolls over him like a wave of ice-cold water. He— he can't take this sitting down, no matter what Maelle might ask. ]
Well, I haven't.
[ That doesn't make sense—
He pushes up to his feet, suddenly towering back over her. Even at sixteen, Maelle is petite. But there's still room for her to grow, still time, there's still— there's still time for her. ]
[The Paintress awaits. Soon, it will all be over--one way or another. They'll win, or they'll die. Maelle thinks she should feel more about it. Feel more something. But, when she sits with herself in the silence of the night, all she can think about is killing Renoir. Hurting him, running him through, repaying him for what he took from her. It's no longer for Lumiere. It's for Gustave, all of his hopes and dreams, and while that does include Lumiere and her people, Maelle is doing this for him. She thinks about him all the time. His absence is a wound that will never fully heal.
Before they make the final push, she wants to see his grave one last time. To talk to what remains of him, not the stars or the fabric on her arm.
She's surprised when her early morning journey through the leaves reveals Verso already there. Her boots come to a stop, the grove warm with its reds and golds, inviting and peaceful. Out of the sight of the Paintress, as Verso had said. It's so quiet, could Gustave speak from wherever he may be, she thinks she might be able to hear it.]
... he'd be grateful for you.
[Maelle's voice is quiet, but it carries. They would have never made it this far without Verso. They have the best chance to defeat the Paintress with his knowledge and Gustave's Lumina Converter. Except it feels like a knife in her heart every time she thinks about that. He should be here. He should be witness to how they've toppled Axons and powerful Nevrons he never could have imagined.
[ This is an opportunity Verso knows he can't afford to waste. Maelle -- Alicia, he reminds himself, inside his own thoughts -- represents the past chance he's ever had to end all of this, to finally put a stop to all this senseless everything. Pain, death, the Expeditioners hurtling themselves into pointless deaths year after year, his own emptiness, his own suffering. It's the right thing to do, he's sure, and to that end, any sacrifice along the way to ensure its feasibility is worth it. So why does this feel so fucking awful?
( He knows why. )
Verso has been back here a few times, since they buried the man, or did as much fo a burial as they could manage. The wind drifts through the trees, a gentle caress through his hair, barely lifting the sashes of tied over every grave marker. Verso remembers, all those years ago, when everyone around him had died and he simply couldn't, his world turned upside down as he had the awful truth forced down his throat to choke on, how in his fury and his grief he'd tried to trace his way back to every least body to find what was left of old friends and drag them here, to give them some kind of peace. It'd taken months, and his hands would bleed and heal and bleed again, driving every stake into the ground, tying every armband. Every death killed some part of him, back then. And what's become of him now?
Maelle's voice is soft, carries with that gentle breeze, but to Verso it might as well cut through the air like a knife, slicing through his chest. He feels every muscle in his body lock up, something cold running down his spine, even if he does his best not to show it, not turning to look at her, his eyes trained on Gustave's grave. ]
-- You think so?
[ His throat feels dry, his voice cracked, his fingers twitching involuntarily at his side. ]
[Standing here now, Maelle feels like she can actually see beyond Gustave's grave. The markers, the sashes. All put here out of reverence. Out of care. She hadn't given it much thought before, her grief consuming all that passed through her mind, about how this all came to be. This sacred place.
It was Verso.
She'd cared less for Verso, before. He was their ticket forward, and Maelle was happy to leave it at that, but he's since become a friend. Even if he lied, hid things. He had saved her. He had made sure Gustave was put to rest somewhere beautiful. He fought alongside them.
It meant a lot to her. It still does, and finding him here makes her wonder if he'd come to speak to the dead, too.
As she steps beside him, she lightly touches his arm, glancing up at him before her eyes fall to Gustave's grave. His arm, neatly laid to rest. She thinks of all the times she would take that fabricated hand in hers and pull him along the rooftops of Lumiere, or feel that arm wrap around her alongside the one of flesh and bone, and how safe and loved she felt in his embrace.
She'll never stop missing him.]
Yeah. I mean, you've kept us alive thus far.
[And, maybe a little more importantly than that--]
You've kept me out of trouble.
[Not that she particularly goes looking for it, but he's quick to look to her, to see if she's all right. Check on her. She's noticed. He tries to cheer her up when she looks particularly sad, and he's simply there, filling some of the immeasurable space Gustave left vacant.
[ Verso's been here a few times, since they left, slips off on his own from the Expedition enough that it probably hasn't roused much suspicion. He has friends of his own here to pay quiet respects to, old memories and regrets. What he'd told Maelle was true, that sometimes he'd come here and talk to them, out loud. Sometimes it helps. Often it doesn't. And in recent visits, he's tried talking to Gustave.
There was never an apology. Somehow, it feels insulting to the man to even try. Instead he'd just -- tell him about what's happened since he joined the Expedition. How Lune and Sciel seem to be warming up to him, bit by bit. How Maelle had gone out of her way to include him as part of the team. He doesn't know if that's even more insulting, somehow, but Verso feels like the least he can do, the closest thing to an actual apology that might mean anything that he can give, is just -- the assurance that he's doing his best. Protecting them, keeping them going, that they're pressing on. One fell. They all continued. And he'd stand there, in the wind and silence, too afraid to voice questions that he wants to ask to someone he knows isn't there.
Now Maelle is here, and in some strange way, he thinks he can hear his voice in hers. He closes his eyes -- not wanting to turn and look at her. To see the quiet hurt he can hear in her voice, to know that he did that to her. ]
I don't think I've kept you entirely out of trouble.
[ Maelle does what she wants, more or less. Spirited, bright, strong. Weighed down by impossible grief, but more and more of her old self ( that he remembers from brief glimpses in Lumiere, running and laughing along the rooftops, rolling her eyes as Gustave chided her ) is starting to shine through again. ]
-- He raised you well. You've got sense enough on your own.
[ She's a clever girl. Just young, and a touch too bold because of it. Verso can only stand beside her, try to be at least a pale reflection of what she's lost -- a role he knows a bit too well. ]
Gustave wasn't able to keep me entirely out of trouble, either. I was rounding up.
[She crouches, knees bending as she takes in a breath. That Gustave could be reduced to just this breaks her heart. He was her everything. Father, brother, friend. And she knows how much he meant to Emma, his apprentices, their neighbors and the infinite number of friends he had in Lumiere. She supposes there's some comfort in thinking that, wherever he is, he may be with Sophie--but she's selfish and misses having him with her. In the next life. That might be sooner rather than later, depending on how the upcoming battles go, but she swallows that thought down along with the lump in her throat.]
He was just meant to be someone's parent. I'm lucky that it was me.
[If she continues down that trail of thought she'll cry, and she doesn't want to, so she sniffs and glances up to Verso. Something lighter.]
You're not snitching on me, are you?
[Verso is in a somber mood. She can feel it. He's harder to read than Gustave, and she hasn't had years to figure him out, but this is obvious.]
[ Somber, guilt-ridden, and miserable. It's too late to change his mind even if he wanted to, any attempt he made to tell the truth would fall on deaf ears. His choices are made, they're about to play out, and maybe he's here just because of all the choices he's made, this is the one he wishes he could have changed, because if anyone could look at everything he's doing and cast judgment on him, it would have to be Gustave.
Placing that on a dead man that he only ever knew from afar is probably more than a little unfair. But the grave is, as always, silent, and it's just Maelle next to him, crouching down to peer at Gustave's arm -- sniffing, as she looks up. She doesn't really want to linger on that, does she.
Verso half-shrugs, folding his arms loosely over his chest, raising an eyebrow as he regards her. ]
What if I am?
I think he deserves to know what you've been getting up to.
[ That is a lot of what he talks to the grave about. Maelle did this, today, she said this, she's fighting, learning, growing. You'd be so proud of her. She's carrying you with her. I know you wouldn't believe me, but I'm sorry you aren't here to see it. ]
[Snitches get stitches, Verso. She breathes out a soft laugh, looking back down at that fabricated arm sitting alone. Alone, except for the fact that she feels like part of her is buried here, too.]
Has he said anything back?
[Verso doesn't know what Gustave sounds like. Not his voice, not his laughter. He only saw him as a corpse, bloodied and still. Verso doesn't know Gustave's silly smile when he thought he made a clever joke--they often were--or anything at all about him, not really.]
I wish...
[The words trail off. She wishes for a lot of things. That she had been stronger. That they hadn't stopped to throw stones. That Verso had shown up earlier.
But that would be cruel to say. Still, the words are there, on the tip of her tongue.
Had he been minutes earlier, they wouldn't be standing over Gustave's grave at all. Lune could have healed him. They would he okay. Right?]
I like to think I can hear a bit of him in you, actually.
[ Maelle can't possibly know how much Verso means that, too, past a platitude. Since Clea unceremoniously found him and and gave him another unwelcome truth that he'd be forced to live with for the rest of his miserable too-long life, Verso has known about Alicia being born into the canvas. He couldn't exactly be there all the time, but he'd made the efforts, slipping off to Lumiere for a day or two with Esquie's help at least once or twice a year, keeping an eye on her from afar. He could never really say he was there for her in any meaningful way, but Verso did see enough to know that her parents left her too young, that other families also didn't give her enough time, and that the year he started seeing Gustave and his older sister in her life is when Verso noticed how much more she was starting to smile. He'd only see distant glimpses into their lives, into what Maelle and Gustave had with each other, but it was enough to know how much she meant to him, how much he meant to her, the mark that they've left on each other.
The legacy he leaves will be in her, in his apprentices, in Lumiere.
At her trailed off murmur, he just -- closes his eyes. Reaching out to her, settling a gentle hand over her shoulder. ]
I know.
[ She doesn't need to say it. He knows.
He knows and he understands, with all the weight of truth. The memory of standing there on the edge of that cliff, crouched low and watching as the man somehow struggled to his feet, as he stood against Renoir for far, far longer than any one Expeditioner should have been able to do. He kept watching, even as the girl he's watched grow up these past sixteen years cried and screamed and battered her fists against a barrier she couldn't possibly understand she had the power to entirely unmake. He kept watching as her heart broke, as her world unraveled, and -- when he realized, beside him, stone-cold and silent, was Alicia.
Sometimes he thinks the guilt of her presence made him act. But in the end, he'd chosen to wait, and now they're here, standing in front of that man's grave, trying to comfort the daughter he raised with his own hands. And what does that make him? A shadow, a monster, a -- there aren't really many words. But whatever Gustave was ( and whatever Verso was ), he knows he's far from it.
Before he realizes what he's saying, there are more words falling from his lips, his voice gaunt and hollow and ringing in his ears like someone else is saying them. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
That's not the story I heard. I guess it doesn't really matter. You're paying the price now, aren't you?
no subject
[ In other words: yes. ]
no subject
Or if you sounded like you were dying.
no subject
I feel like I'm dying. Does that count?
no subject
Do you think food will stay down?
no subject
[ He isn't hungry, and it's not just the latent nausea from his hangover that makes his stomach lock up at the thought of food. Sophie would tease him and coax him into eating some bread and drinking some water. Sophie... won't be the one looking after him anymore. ]
I'm a little afraid to ask, but: who put me to bed?
no subject
[Does that make it easier to stomach? She's not sure, but it warm bread sounds better than room temperature bread.]
I did. You're heavier than you look when you're bouncing off the door frames.
[Emma would have taken up that responsibility, typically, but she may have been cleaning up a mess elsewhere. It was kinder to let Maelle deal with the drunk rather than the drunk's... stomach contents.]
no subject
Well, that explains the bruises. I'll be down in a minute, I should
[ Drag the pillow back over his head and perhaps suffocate himself in the process. Go back to sleep. Go back to yesterday, before— before. ]
wash up first.
no subject
[To put it kindly.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cries about a timeline where gustave had kids and she gets to be a big sister
they would both love it so much!!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
I wonder how the "hey I'm going with you on Expedition 33" convo went 😭
sounds like a good nomination for a next thread....
I was hoping you'd say that!! I'm on it 🫡
opens my arms to them!
ESCAPE
He might boot her off the Hanging Garden where she waits for him to finish with his work for the day. Or worse, he may be disappointed in her. Sad. Younger people going on the expeditions isn't unheard of, but Emma had been upset, and while Gustave stood his ground, she can so easily imagine him having that same upset aimed at her. The same argument about staying in Lumiere and doing good there with the time she has left. It's all so hypocritical.
Emma and Gustave like to act like they can't sway her in anything. That her determination is made of iron. It is, in some ways, but Gustave has always been able to break her with a look of concern or soft, stern words born out of care. She just... has to ignore that. She has to stand her ground.
She paces the rooftop garden, reciting her words under her breath. Her choice. Thinking of all the things he might say, and her counters. The sun is getting low in the sky and she can't recall the last time she'd been so anxious. Maybe she's never felt it like this before.]
no subject
Not long now, he promises. He'll wipe that number out with his own hands if he has to, to save Lumière's children from the fate that has taken so many.
Maelle's head of red hair glows in the late light, too, as he jogs along the rooftop and into the Hanging Gardens. The scent of flowers and growing things is thick in the air: new life, even in this dying world.
He's a little damp with perspiration — he'd come from training at the expedition academy after a long morning and early afternoon working with his apprentices — and his hair sticks lightly to the back of his neck. The fresh breeze coming over the rooftops is a relief, and he closes his eyes to it a moment before heading over to her, an indulgent smile already curving his lips. ]
Well? If you want a race home, you might have to give me a minute. I've been doing climbing exercises all afternoon.
no subject
Um. Actually, can we sit for a while? I... I need to talk to you about something.
[Maelle motions to the bench beneath the flowers and vines with room for two. Or one of him and two of her, but even so, she doesn't think she can sit without vibrating through the bench, roof, and very foundations of their little island.]
no subject
His smile fades, replaced by a faint furrow in his brow, a motion that's only now just beginning to linger there in the first glance toward a wrinkle.
The last time she'd asked to speak with him, looking like this, she'd had to confess breaking some thing that at the time he'd thought was valuable. He can't remember it now; all he recalls is Maelle's huge, worried eyes and how pale her face had been beneath the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. ]
Yes. Yes, of course.
[ He takes his seat at one end of the little bench and waits for her to join him, a strange curling feeling in his stomach. What could have happened? Maybe one of the other citizens has been cruel to her again... maybe she's gotten in some kind of trouble.
It doesn't matter, he decides. Whatever it is, he'll help her through it. He only has a few precious months left with her now... he can't bear to let even a moment of them slip through his fingers. ]
What's on your mind?
no subject
It all leaves her head once he's actually seated. She doesn't sit. She wrings her hands together as she stands before him. She takes a breath. Lowers her hands to her sides. Steadies her voice against her nerves.]
I'm going with you and Expedition 33.
[Maelle braces for impact.]
no subject
For a long collection of heartbeats and one awkwardly held breath, he just stares at her. ]
No, you're not.
[ It comes out like a reflex, like she'd smacked him on the back and that came out instead of a cough. No. No. It's too absurd to even think about. ]
no subject
Yes, I am. I've made up my mind.
[As if there aren't always others who disapprove of younger people going on the expeditions.]
no subject
Well, I haven't.
[ That doesn't make sense—
He pushes up to his feet, suddenly towering back over her. Even at sixteen, Maelle is petite. But there's still room for her to grow, still time, there's still— there's still time for her. ]
And you're not going.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
TO THE GRAVE
Before they make the final push, she wants to see his grave one last time. To talk to what remains of him, not the stars or the fabric on her arm.
She's surprised when her early morning journey through the leaves reveals Verso already there. Her boots come to a stop, the grove warm with its reds and golds, inviting and peaceful. Out of the sight of the Paintress, as Verso had said. It's so quiet, could Gustave speak from wherever he may be, she thinks she might be able to hear it.]
... he'd be grateful for you.
[Maelle's voice is quiet, but it carries. They would have never made it this far without Verso. They have the best chance to defeat the Paintress with his knowledge and Gustave's Lumina Converter. Except it feels like a knife in her heart every time she thinks about that. He should be here. He should be witness to how they've toppled Axons and powerful Nevrons he never could have imagined.
It's all so unfair.]
no subject
( He knows why. )
Verso has been back here a few times, since they buried the man, or did as much fo a burial as they could manage. The wind drifts through the trees, a gentle caress through his hair, barely lifting the sashes of tied over every grave marker. Verso remembers, all those years ago, when everyone around him had died and he simply couldn't, his world turned upside down as he had the awful truth forced down his throat to choke on, how in his fury and his grief he'd tried to trace his way back to every least body to find what was left of old friends and drag them here, to give them some kind of peace. It'd taken months, and his hands would bleed and heal and bleed again, driving every stake into the ground, tying every armband. Every death killed some part of him, back then. And what's become of him now?
Maelle's voice is soft, carries with that gentle breeze, but to Verso it might as well cut through the air like a knife, slicing through his chest. He feels every muscle in his body lock up, something cold running down his spine, even if he does his best not to show it, not turning to look at her, his eyes trained on Gustave's grave. ]
-- You think so?
[ His throat feels dry, his voice cracked, his fingers twitching involuntarily at his side. ]
no subject
It was Verso.
She'd cared less for Verso, before. He was their ticket forward, and Maelle was happy to leave it at that, but he's since become a friend. Even if he lied, hid things. He had saved her. He had made sure Gustave was put to rest somewhere beautiful. He fought alongside them.
It meant a lot to her. It still does, and finding him here makes her wonder if he'd come to speak to the dead, too.
As she steps beside him, she lightly touches his arm, glancing up at him before her eyes fall to Gustave's grave. His arm, neatly laid to rest. She thinks of all the times she would take that fabricated hand in hers and pull him along the rooftops of Lumiere, or feel that arm wrap around her alongside the one of flesh and bone, and how safe and loved she felt in his embrace.
She'll never stop missing him.]
Yeah. I mean, you've kept us alive thus far.
[And, maybe a little more importantly than that--]
You've kept me out of trouble.
[Not that she particularly goes looking for it, but he's quick to look to her, to see if she's all right. Check on her. She's noticed. He tries to cheer her up when she looks particularly sad, and he's simply there, filling some of the immeasurable space Gustave left vacant.
She wants to think he'd appreciate that.]
no subject
There was never an apology. Somehow, it feels insulting to the man to even try. Instead he'd just -- tell him about what's happened since he joined the Expedition. How Lune and Sciel seem to be warming up to him, bit by bit. How Maelle had gone out of her way to include him as part of the team. He doesn't know if that's even more insulting, somehow, but Verso feels like the least he can do, the closest thing to an actual apology that might mean anything that he can give, is just -- the assurance that he's doing his best. Protecting them, keeping them going, that they're pressing on. One fell. They all continued. And he'd stand there, in the wind and silence, too afraid to voice questions that he wants to ask to someone he knows isn't there.
Now Maelle is here, and in some strange way, he thinks he can hear his voice in hers. He closes his eyes -- not wanting to turn and look at her. To see the quiet hurt he can hear in her voice, to know that he did that to her. ]
I don't think I've kept you entirely out of trouble.
[ Maelle does what she wants, more or less. Spirited, bright, strong. Weighed down by impossible grief, but more and more of her old self ( that he remembers from brief glimpses in Lumiere, running and laughing along the rooftops, rolling her eyes as Gustave chided her ) is starting to shine through again. ]
-- He raised you well. You've got sense enough on your own.
[ She's a clever girl. Just young, and a touch too bold because of it. Verso can only stand beside her, try to be at least a pale reflection of what she's lost -- a role he knows a bit too well. ]
no subject
[She crouches, knees bending as she takes in a breath. That Gustave could be reduced to just this breaks her heart. He was her everything. Father, brother, friend. And she knows how much he meant to Emma, his apprentices, their neighbors and the infinite number of friends he had in Lumiere. She supposes there's some comfort in thinking that, wherever he is, he may be with Sophie--but she's selfish and misses having him with her. In the next life. That might be sooner rather than later, depending on how the upcoming battles go, but she swallows that thought down along with the lump in her throat.]
He was just meant to be someone's parent. I'm lucky that it was me.
[If she continues down that trail of thought she'll cry, and she doesn't want to, so she sniffs and glances up to Verso. Something lighter.]
You're not snitching on me, are you?
[Verso is in a somber mood. She can feel it. He's harder to read than Gustave, and she hasn't had years to figure him out, but this is obvious.]
no subject
Placing that on a dead man that he only ever knew from afar is probably more than a little unfair. But the grave is, as always, silent, and it's just Maelle next to him, crouching down to peer at Gustave's arm -- sniffing, as she looks up. She doesn't really want to linger on that, does she.
Verso half-shrugs, folding his arms loosely over his chest, raising an eyebrow as he regards her. ]
What if I am?
I think he deserves to know what you've been getting up to.
[ That is a lot of what he talks to the grave about. Maelle did this, today, she said this, she's fighting, learning, growing. You'd be so proud of her. She's carrying you with her. I know you wouldn't believe me, but I'm sorry you aren't here to see it. ]
no subject
Has he said anything back?
[Verso doesn't know what Gustave sounds like. Not his voice, not his laughter. He only saw him as a corpse, bloodied and still. Verso doesn't know Gustave's silly smile when he thought he made a clever joke--they often were--or anything at all about him, not really.]
I wish...
[The words trail off. She wishes for a lot of things. That she had been stronger. That they hadn't stopped to throw stones. That Verso had shown up earlier.
But that would be cruel to say. Still, the words are there, on the tip of her tongue.
Had he been minutes earlier, they wouldn't be standing over Gustave's grave at all. Lune could have healed him. They would he okay. Right?]
no subject
[ Maelle can't possibly know how much Verso means that, too, past a platitude. Since Clea unceremoniously found him and and gave him another unwelcome truth that he'd be forced to live with for the rest of his miserable too-long life, Verso has known about Alicia being born into the canvas. He couldn't exactly be there all the time, but he'd made the efforts, slipping off to Lumiere for a day or two with Esquie's help at least once or twice a year, keeping an eye on her from afar. He could never really say he was there for her in any meaningful way, but Verso did see enough to know that her parents left her too young, that other families also didn't give her enough time, and that the year he started seeing Gustave and his older sister in her life is when Verso noticed how much more she was starting to smile. He'd only see distant glimpses into their lives, into what Maelle and Gustave had with each other, but it was enough to know how much she meant to him, how much he meant to her, the mark that they've left on each other.
The legacy he leaves will be in her, in his apprentices, in Lumiere.
At her trailed off murmur, he just -- closes his eyes. Reaching out to her, settling a gentle hand over her shoulder. ]
I know.
[ She doesn't need to say it. He knows.
He knows and he understands, with all the weight of truth. The memory of standing there on the edge of that cliff, crouched low and watching as the man somehow struggled to his feet, as he stood against Renoir for far, far longer than any one Expeditioner should have been able to do. He kept watching, even as the girl he's watched grow up these past sixteen years cried and screamed and battered her fists against a barrier she couldn't possibly understand she had the power to entirely unmake. He kept watching as her heart broke, as her world unraveled, and -- when he realized, beside him, stone-cold and silent, was Alicia.
Sometimes he thinks the guilt of her presence made him act. But in the end, he'd chosen to wait, and now they're here, standing in front of that man's grave, trying to comfort the daughter he raised with his own hands. And what does that make him? A shadow, a monster, a -- there aren't really many words. But whatever Gustave was ( and whatever Verso was ), he knows he's far from it.
Before he realizes what he's saying, there are more words falling from his lips, his voice gaunt and hollow and ringing in his ears like someone else is saying them. ]
I really am sorry.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)