[Vero pulls away and it hurts. It's a shock, because he's been so easy to get along with. He put her at ease, and she found herself opening up to him almost more than she had with Lune or Sciel despite them both being people she's familiar with, and friends of Gustave. Verso was sometimes clumsy and awkward and silly and exaggerated to be funny, and Maelle cherished that. He felt familiar. Which is why, when he pulls away, Maelle looks up at him in pure surprise, blue eyes blinking owlishly as if he'd just thrown ice water on her.
Too much? Condolences, in a way, without quite saying the words? She opens her mouth to speak, but he's already saying something, and her ears are ringing.]
... what?
[She almost smiles, confused, because she sees and hears him but she can't understand what he's saying.]
I... I don't understand. [Could have saved him. A choice. Is this a joke? A poor one, in some effort to upset her for--some reason? Maelle feels dizzy, but she's unable to look away from Verso.]
Why are you--why would you say that, Verso?
[Because there's no possibility there could be any truth in the words. Verso was too late, simply because he was. She was lucky he arrived when he did, to save her, but Gustave was not. It's so terribly fucked up that no part of Maelle could imagine it being by design, not by some powers that be, and certainly not by Verso.]
[ Maelle doesn't quite understand him, to the point where the expression on her face is caught in something that's almost a smile. Verso knows it's not. She's in shock, she's reeling, trying to understand what he's just told her, and why wouldn't she be, with how willing she's been to trust him, to make the choice to include him as part of her team, as family?
Verso almost wants to lie to her, again. To shrink back and cover it back up. It wouldn't be too hard to play it off, he knows, not when Maelle is clearly searching for a reason to trust him. Just his guilt, his his fear that he wasn't good enough, make up a story about how he was tracking Renoir on the way to the cliffside, how he made the conscious decision to go slow to try and sneak up on him instead of as far as he could in case he'd already caught someone.
But he can't. He can't. There's already so much he's lying to her about. So much she doesn't know or understand. He's marching them all towards their deaths, and for what?
( Because maybe, finally, when all this is over -- )
This is a truth that will hurt her. Knowing it won't help her. Wanting her to know it is selfish, too, and Verso takes another step back, his gaze still on that metal arm. Cold and dead and gone. He'd watched him on that cliff, watched all that power surging through it, trying to pretend he was detached and nonplussed to himself even though there was no one there to see his performance ( but Alicia, who would never have believed it anyway ), but wide-eyed and fascinated and a little in awe. All that power, channeled through that, and all out of love, pure and devoted, ready to lay his life down for the girl he thought of as his sister. For his real sister.
Verso knows a man who would've done the same. And he isn't that man. ]
Because it's true, Maelle.
[ His voice is soft and bitter, anger that has nowhere to go but himself. His fingers twitch at his sides, curling into his palm, nails digging into the skin even through his gloves, enough that they could bleed -- but he wouldn't bleed. It's just ink. Ink and paint and it'll all wash away, like the rest of him. Merde, the least you can do is look at her, and Verso finally does, forcing himself to lift his head to meet her eyes, his expression pained and miserable.
And again, clearer, each word tearing itself from his throat; ]
[He says it plainly. He may as well be speaking a language that doesn't exist, the way she looks at him, trying so hard to understand. It's no joke. He's serious as death, and Maelle feels a cold chill go down her spine. She feels numb.
Why? Why say this, why, in some hypothetical situation--]
Why... why would you let him die?
[She asks, a tremble in her voice, the hesitance audible. She can't understand this in any way, but whatever reason would he have to let Gustave die? Verso isn't so sick and twisted as to let another man get slaughtered when he could do something about it. It has to be the guilt of not getting to the cliff in time, the weight of so many lives on his heart, the air of this place where Gustave rests alongside so many others.
In no world does it make sense. He must be out of his mind or unwell or... Maelle shakes her head.]
Verso knows that Maelle hates liars. But she's also a child, one who's probably had figures try to protect her from the harshness of the world despite her firsthand experiences with grief and tragedy. Sometimes, truth just hurts. Sometimes, it doesn't fix anything. Sometimes he still wishes he could go back to the shadow of the Monolith all those years ago, to have willed himself to die there with the rest of the Expedition so he never had to learn the truth. He thinks about it, all the time, has talked about it with Alicia, the only one who could possibly understand. Isn't it better not to know?
Too late now. He sees the pain in her eyes. Trying to go back on it would be worse, he's sure, because what kind of joke would that have been? Gustave was a mistake, just one mistake out of the thousands he's made in his long, miserable life, and a mistake he can't even say he won't make again.
She doesn't look angry. Not yet, at least. She looks -- confused, scared, her world pulled out from under her, and god, she really does trust him, doesn't she? More than that, she loves him, like a brother, like family, at least as much as she can in the time they've known each other. His attempts to care for her and listen to her and be by her side were all genuine. She'd seen that, taken them in, and reached out to him in turn.
It's just... This. Verso can be genuine about caring about her, about wanting the best for her, about loving her like a sister -- and still have done this. ]
I've done a lot of terrible things, Maelle.
[ This isn't -- he isn't thinking straight. This doesn't help him, this doesn't help her, and this is going to shatter their little team in half. They're never going to listen to him again, and then what hope do they have of surviving, what hope does he have of surviving? There are a hundred reasons he should take this back, try miserably to reseal the crack in the dam that's already starting to let the river flooding through, but.
He can't bring himself to lie to her. He can't bring himself to tell her the truth. Maelle is shaking, trying to hold onto something, and Verso can't be that something. ]
This was just -- one of them.
[ Verso drops his gaze again. To the ground, the gentle wind whipping around them, the swirling leaves, the gleaming metal of a prosthetic arm, laid to rest. Putain. He's such a fucking coward. Gustave wasn't a coward.
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Too much? Condolences, in a way, without quite saying the words? She opens her mouth to speak, but he's already saying something, and her ears are ringing.]
... what?
[She almost smiles, confused, because she sees and hears him but she can't understand what he's saying.]
I... I don't understand. [Could have saved him. A choice. Is this a joke? A poor one, in some effort to upset her for--some reason? Maelle feels dizzy, but she's unable to look away from Verso.]
Why are you--why would you say that, Verso?
[Because there's no possibility there could be any truth in the words. Verso was too late, simply because he was. She was lucky he arrived when he did, to save her, but Gustave was not. It's so terribly fucked up that no part of Maelle could imagine it being by design, not by some powers that be, and certainly not by Verso.]
no subject
Verso almost wants to lie to her, again. To shrink back and cover it back up. It wouldn't be too hard to play it off, he knows, not when Maelle is clearly searching for a reason to trust him. Just his guilt, his his fear that he wasn't good enough, make up a story about how he was tracking Renoir on the way to the cliffside, how he made the conscious decision to go slow to try and sneak up on him instead of as far as he could in case he'd already caught someone.
But he can't. He can't. There's already so much he's lying to her about. So much she doesn't know or understand. He's marching them all towards their deaths, and for what?
( Because maybe, finally, when all this is over -- )
This is a truth that will hurt her. Knowing it won't help her. Wanting her to know it is selfish, too, and Verso takes another step back, his gaze still on that metal arm. Cold and dead and gone. He'd watched him on that cliff, watched all that power surging through it, trying to pretend he was detached and nonplussed to himself even though there was no one there to see his performance ( but Alicia, who would never have believed it anyway ), but wide-eyed and fascinated and a little in awe. All that power, channeled through that, and all out of love, pure and devoted, ready to lay his life down for the girl he thought of as his sister. For his real sister.
Verso knows a man who would've done the same. And he isn't that man. ]
Because it's true, Maelle.
[ His voice is soft and bitter, anger that has nowhere to go but himself. His fingers twitch at his sides, curling into his palm, nails digging into the skin even through his gloves, enough that they could bleed -- but he wouldn't bleed. It's just ink. Ink and paint and it'll all wash away, like the rest of him. Merde, the least you can do is look at her, and Verso finally does, forcing himself to lift his head to meet her eyes, his expression pained and miserable.
And again, clearer, each word tearing itself from his throat; ]
I let him die.
no subject
Why? Why say this, why, in some hypothetical situation--]
Why... why would you let him die?
[She asks, a tremble in her voice, the hesitance audible. She can't understand this in any way, but whatever reason would he have to let Gustave die? Verso isn't so sick and twisted as to let another man get slaughtered when he could do something about it. It has to be the guilt of not getting to the cliff in time, the weight of so many lives on his heart, the air of this place where Gustave rests alongside so many others.
In no world does it make sense. He must be out of his mind or unwell or... Maelle shakes her head.]
You wouldn't do that. I know you wouldn't.
crawls back to life
Verso knows that Maelle hates liars. But she's also a child, one who's probably had figures try to protect her from the harshness of the world despite her firsthand experiences with grief and tragedy. Sometimes, truth just hurts. Sometimes, it doesn't fix anything. Sometimes he still wishes he could go back to the shadow of the Monolith all those years ago, to have willed himself to die there with the rest of the Expedition so he never had to learn the truth. He thinks about it, all the time, has talked about it with Alicia, the only one who could possibly understand. Isn't it better not to know?
Too late now. He sees the pain in her eyes. Trying to go back on it would be worse, he's sure, because what kind of joke would that have been? Gustave was a mistake, just one mistake out of the thousands he's made in his long, miserable life, and a mistake he can't even say he won't make again.
She doesn't look angry. Not yet, at least. She looks -- confused, scared, her world pulled out from under her, and god, she really does trust him, doesn't she? More than that, she loves him, like a brother, like family, at least as much as she can in the time they've known each other. His attempts to care for her and listen to her and be by her side were all genuine. She'd seen that, taken them in, and reached out to him in turn.
It's just... This. Verso can be genuine about caring about her, about wanting the best for her, about loving her like a sister -- and still have done this. ]
I've done a lot of terrible things, Maelle.
[ This isn't -- he isn't thinking straight. This doesn't help him, this doesn't help her, and this is going to shatter their little team in half. They're never going to listen to him again, and then what hope do they have of surviving, what hope does he have of surviving? There are a hundred reasons he should take this back, try miserably to reseal the crack in the dam that's already starting to let the river flooding through, but.
He can't bring himself to lie to her. He can't bring himself to tell her the truth. Maelle is shaking, trying to hold onto something, and Verso can't be that something. ]
This was just -- one of them.
[ Verso drops his gaze again. To the ground, the gentle wind whipping around them, the swirling leaves, the gleaming metal of a prosthetic arm, laid to rest. Putain. He's such a fucking coward. Gustave wasn't a coward.
( Verso wasn't a coward. ) ]
I'm sorry.