[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. ]
[He stands, and Maelle takes a step back. Not out of any fear--he'd never raise a hand to her, not in any lifetime--but because she can't have this argument if she's breaking her neck to look up at him.]
Why? Give me one good reason that you yourself haven't ignored.
[Her lips press into a thin line. Of course he'd go for that one. The fact that she hates most: his time is running out. But, Emma had made the point--]
And you still have a year. It's really not that much of a difference, Gustave.
[The math route is the worst route. Maelle sighs, ruining her whole plan of not acting like a teenager.]
What do you think my next nine years will look like? What--what am I supposed to do here, without you?
[She has no apprenticeship. She's not particularly good at anything but running and swinging her rapier around. Excellent for an expedition, but not for life in the city. She has no interest in having children and making more orphans, and even if that were an idea that didn't make her heart sink, her life would be on even more of a timeline than it already is.]
[ She'll grieve him, he knows, the same way everyone here grieves the people they love at the Gommage or when they leave for the expeditions — or, occasionally, when some other unexpected tragedy happens.
He shakes his head and comes close to her, close enough to put his hands on her shoulders, ducking his head to meet her eyes. ]
You're so smart, and so capable... you could do anything. But not if you die over there on the continent, years before your time.
[Maelle shakes her head. Oh, he won't want to hear this, but he needs to understand.]
Not without you.
[She'll be alive, but she won't have a life worth living. She looks into his eyes and lifts her hands to put them on his wrists, squeezing. Imploring. He has to understand.]
I would rather have a short amount of time with you, there, than almost a decade without, here. Please.
[ His hands tighten on her shoulders, and it's all he can do to keep from crushing her to him in a hug. That small, desperate plea breaks his heart as easily as if it were made of glass. ]
You know I don't want to leave you. But it's not— it's not safe. If anything happened to you, it would kill me.
[ They've always had a special relationship, him and Maelle. In some ways, he thinks he's closer to her than he is to Emma; half her brother, half her father, but every part of him the family she needed after losing her parents at such a young age. ]
You'll...
[ He can barely say it. He has to say it. His fingers squeeze her shoulders, trembling a little. ]
[It's there in the tremble of his hands. One of hers slides up his wrist to his forearm, the one of flesh and blood, and then back down. As if trying to rid him of a chill.]
Please, Gustave. Going with you on the expedition is the best use of my life.
[Nine years might be longer than the time they've had together. The thought makes Maelle's eyes squeeze shut tightly. Crying wasn't in her recital. She refuses. The lump in her throat is proving to be an uninvited guest, too.]
I don't want to miss you that long, Gustave. And--and worse, I don't want to spend the next year wondering what happened to you.
[That's worse than the Gommage. She looks at him, eyes glassy and blue.]
[ Her eyes shine in the low angled last rays of the sun, and no matter how intently he searches them he can find no hint of anything other than sorrow and determination. His lips press together, and he pulls his hands away — first the one at her cheek, then the one on her shoulder — to pace a few steps toward the railing. Guilt lances through him like he'd called down his own lightning to strike him right here where he stands. ]
You can't— this shouldn't be.... about me. It's your life.
[When he pulls away, Maelle has to fight the urge to run after him and hug him and apologize. She's not sorry for anything she's said, but she is sorry it hurts him. If they didn't love one another so much--]
If it's my life, shouldn't I get to decide what to do with it?
[She shrugs helplessly, even if he misses the motion.]
... guess that's what happens when you're too good of a guardian.
[In moments like this, he is her father. That's the sterner side of him. She knows, she knows it comes from love. This whole argument is because she loves him, and he loves her.
It doesn't make it any less frustrating. Maelle crosses her arms. Alan wouldn't go against Gustave's requests when it came to his ward.]
Then I guess I'll just have to go with Expedition 32.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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
Why? Give me one good reason that you yourself haven't ignored.
no subject
You have time.
[ It's the only reason. And the only reason that could matter. ]
I don't.
no subject
And you still have a year. It's really not that much of a difference, Gustave.
[Math? What math?]
no subject
[ He folds his arms and stares at her. ]
How different was I one year ago?
How different were you nine years ago?
no subject
What do you think my next nine years will look like? What--what am I supposed to do here, without you?
[She has no apprenticeship. She's not particularly good at anything but running and swinging her rapier around. Excellent for an expedition, but not for life in the city. She has no interest in having children and making more orphans, and even if that were an idea that didn't make her heart sink, her life would be on even more of a timeline than it already is.]
no subject
[ She'll grieve him, he knows, the same way everyone here grieves the people they love at the Gommage or when they leave for the expeditions — or, occasionally, when some other unexpected tragedy happens.
He shakes his head and comes close to her, close enough to put his hands on her shoulders, ducking his head to meet her eyes. ]
You're so smart, and so capable... you could do anything. But not if you die over there on the continent, years before your time.
no subject
Not without you.
[She'll be alive, but she won't have a life worth living. She looks into his eyes and lifts her hands to put them on his wrists, squeezing. Imploring. He has to understand.]
I would rather have a short amount of time with you, there, than almost a decade without, here. Please.
no subject
[ His hands tighten on her shoulders, and it's all he can do to keep from crushing her to him in a hug. That small, desperate plea breaks his heart as easily as if it were made of glass. ]
You know I don't want to leave you. But it's not— it's not safe. If anything happened to you, it would kill me.
no subject
Maelle looks at him and can't imagine a future without him in it.]
I can say the same about you.
no subject
You'll...
[ He can barely say it. He has to say it. His fingers squeeze her shoulders, trembling a little. ]
It'll.... it'll get easier. It will.
no subject
[It's there in the tremble of his hands. One of hers slides up his wrist to his forearm, the one of flesh and blood, and then back down. As if trying to rid him of a chill.]
Please, Gustave. Going with you on the expedition is the best use of my life.
no subject
[ Her hands move over his wrists and forearms, and he lifts his right hand from her shoulder to cup her cheek, shaking his head.
She has to be safe. He can't— what's he supposed to do if anything happens to her? ]
Please don't say that. You have so much to offer, you just don't see it. Who knows what you could do with that time, if you stayed here?
no subject
I don't want to miss you that long, Gustave. And--and worse, I don't want to spend the next year wondering what happened to you.
[That's worse than the Gommage. She looks at him, eyes glassy and blue.]
no subject
You can't— this shouldn't be.... about me. It's your life.
no subject
If it's my life, shouldn't I get to decide what to do with it?
[She shrugs helplessly, even if he misses the motion.]
... guess that's what happens when you're too good of a guardian.
no subject
[ His sentences trail off as he leans on the railing, fingers gripping the steel as his mind races. ]
Good or bad, I am still your guardian.
[ He wets his lip and closes his eyes a moment, bracing himself for what he has to say before turning to her, the stubborn line of his jaw flexing. ]
And if I tell Alan you aren't coming, then you won't come. No matter what.
no subject
It doesn't make it any less frustrating. Maelle crosses her arms. Alan wouldn't go against Gustave's requests when it came to his ward.]
Then I guess I'll just have to go with Expedition 32.
(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)