[ They've been close like this before—closer—but the circumstances had felt impossibly different. There's nothing romantic or exciting about the feeling of her body against his now; it feels surprisingly smaller than it used to, like she's crumpled in on herself. He'd been drawn to her brightness and warmth from the moment they'd met, had wanted to bask in it the way a cat does in the sun. Now, though, it's like her light is flickering, dulled. ]
But you didn't. You're alive.
[ And going to stay that way, if he has anything to say about it. A moment more of trying to warm her, before he creates a little distance, withdrawing so that he can gently peel the coat away from her arm.
This isn't his first time doing this. Expeditions are dangerous, and he's seen a lot of wounds. Helped, sometimes, with bandages and ointment. This is the first time he's felt such a twisting in his gut about it, though. ]
[ Yes, she's alive. But she's also...terrified. Not of dying, really, but of failing now, when they're so close to what's revealed itself to be their true mission. Sciel can see all of the people waiting for them, counting on them, who hadn't been brought back after the most recent Gommage. Not to mention those who'd otherwise been killed over the years, who would have another chance at life very soon. They're counting on the 33s to help Maelle gain control of their world and restore everyone who'd been lost.
It's an enormous weight, and she usually manages it. But right now...
Verso moves and she utters a sound of protest, but he only withdraws enough to bring her injured arm into view, which she helps him with as much as she's able, moving stiffly. It's her right arm, and the gash -- now an ugly stretch of icy, congealed red -- stretches from just beyond the array of bracelets up along to her bicep.
The wound isn't fatal, isn't as concerning as the cold, but it doesn't help. For about the hundredth time today, Sciel mentally catalogs her own suite of skills, hunting for anything of use here. But, as she's already been forced to recognize, her ability to heal is contingent on drawing strength from Nevrons. They'd need to start a fight in order to make use of it, and with her body as uncooperative as it is, that'd be a terrible idea.
She's forced to leave the whole thing in Verso's hands, which makes her grumble a bit, if only internally. It's difficult, going from the de-facto caregiver to...this. ]
S'not so bad. [ Sciel assesses. It'd stopped bleeding a long time ago, with the cold, and she doesn't feel any pain for the same reason. ]
[ Sciel, he's noticed, has a tendency to downplay the uncomfortable and unpleasant and emphasize the more upbeat parts of life. A natural optimism, maybe, but part of him wonders if she feels she has to. Like it's her role here: the eternally chipper caretaker, who handles everything with a smile while everyone else in their group mopes and sighs. Verso certainly hasn't been a help in that regard.
The wound looks bad, in his uneducated opinion. Enough that he wouldn't be able to shake it off without a little rest himself, were it his own body. It's difficult to tell if the lack of bleeding is a good or bad thing; the flesh there looks pale, cool to the touch. He grimaces, but says nothing about it. ]
We should clean and dress it. [ He fumbles for the waterskin, feeling the way the cold has turned the water inside to slush. ] It's— going to be cold.
[ It's clear his intention is a polite "heads up, this is going to suck," but Sciel shifts so she can eye him with a meaningful, slow blink that suggests "yes, thank you, I assumed."
The truth is, when it does hit her skin, she doesn't really feel it. The semi-solid bits are more easily identified, but as she watches him tend to the wound, Sciel recognizes that there just isn't a lot of sensation there at all.
After another stream of mental curses, she starts working her fingers. Focuses on flexing one hand at a time, and when that just results in a lot of trembling, one finger at a time. ]
...I was...l-looking forward to the...skiing, the...b-beauty. [ Of the snow, she means, as her gaze drifts out to the harsh wasteland beyond their temporary 'haven.' ] This is...l-less fun.
[ Fuck Frozen Hearts, honestly. How'd he decided to live here for so long? She pictures Verso and Monoco holed up in a place like this, snuggled up for warmth and, with her thoughts still a little iced over, chuckles to herself in another visible puff of air. ]
[ Verso cringes as the slush washes over her wound, not because of her agony but because of the lack of it. That's not good. For what isn't the first time today, he wishes Lune were here. Even if she weren't able to heal the worst of it—unlikely; she's the most magically gifted of all of them, whereas Verso couldn't even heal a papercut on someone else's finger—there's no way that she hasn't memorized everything there is to know about first aid.
Everything there is to know about everything, really.
He strips off the Expedition armband from his coat, taking the initiative to wind it snugly around Sciel's wound. It's probably not the cleanest possible bandage, but something has to be better than nothing. (Maybe. He's not the first aid expert.) ]
Yeah, [ he says absentmindedly, just trying to distract her, keep her talking. If she falls asleep before the sun comes up, he's not confident she won't freeze to death. ] We used to go skiing here all the time, pre-Fracture.
[ Pre-Nevrons, too, obviously. ]
...You should have seen me do tricks, [ he offers, playing it up. ] Turns out that I excel on water before and after it's frozen.
[ He wraps her wound in the emblem of their expedition, the one that Maelle had given to him, and she watches it as it becomes gradually twinged with her blood, wondering if there might be some symbolism to be found there. ...Since her mind is sluggish and deathly cold, though, Sciel dismisses the possible poetry of the moment and tries to focus on the sensation of him binding the wound, finding it...yep, still numb. ]
The Dessendres. [ She states, eyes unfocused, still trained on the golden band(age). "We" means the Dessendres, which she's since learned include...painted people, like Sciel herself, except that these are copies of 'real' people in another world. ...With the exception being the Paintess, who is both Verso's mother and Maelle's, but they aren't really related.
Distantly, she imagines the Paintress on skiis. Sciel laughs again, albeit weakly. ]
Don't tell m-me you were...swim captain and s-skii captain. [ She says warningly, her voice low, but amused. She shouldn't tease too much, though: he'd done a perfectly respectable job of teaching her how to swim, in that...last amorous day and night together. He's probably very good at skiing.
Even so -- and even in spite of her half-asleep sort of haze -- she knows he's teasing. Trying to keep her as alert as he can. So she tries, pushing herself beyond that tempting fog. ]
Jumps. Turns. I could ski right off a slope and into a Bourgeon's mouth.
[ Joking. There weren't any Bourgeons around back then. He's not entirely lying, though; Verso is good at nearly everything—at least, everything Aline could think of to make him good at—and so he does have a talent for skiing. He'd always entertained the family with his little tricks, even if it meant being regrettably sore later.
Wound wrapped, he takes the edges of his coat and draws it tighter around Sciel. ]
You might be able to go skiing after this, too.
[ With your husband, he doesn't add, although he does know that's who it would be with; he approves, of course, because he can't not approve of Sciel having the love of her life returned to her, but it's not... enthusiastic approval. ]
[ When the sleeve is eased back down over her arm, the coat moved into place, she seems to relax with another short puff of breath, settling against him.
Verso doesn't have to mention Pierre for her to pick up on it. And though it's true -- once he's back, she intends to spend as little time apart from him as possible -- Sciel also doesn't mention that fact. Even if she's completely unapologetic in how she talks about her husband and doesn't at all dim her overwhelming excitement for his return, she also isn't cruel. The man currently keeping her alive is still important to her.
The possibility that Pierre could return had never been the reason she'd pushed for a more casual relationship, of course, but...hopefully it helps now. They'd agreed, hadn't they? That this would be better, keeping things purely physical?
Knowing what she knows of Verso now, though -- with all his masks -- she has to wonder what he really had thought, through all of it. ]
I will g-go skiiing. [ Sciel corrects. ] S'long as someone's ar-round to watch my s-step. And...actually t-teach me.
[ Also, if he thinks she's going to let him drop off the face of the earth once they retake the Canvas, he's got another thing coming. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But you didn't. You're alive.
[ And going to stay that way, if he has anything to say about it. A moment more of trying to warm her, before he creates a little distance, withdrawing so that he can gently peel the coat away from her arm.
This isn't his first time doing this. Expeditions are dangerous, and he's seen a lot of wounds. Helped, sometimes, with bandages and ointment. This is the first time he's felt such a twisting in his gut about it, though. ]
Hey, show me your arm.
no subject
It's an enormous weight, and she usually manages it. But right now...
Verso moves and she utters a sound of protest, but he only withdraws enough to bring her injured arm into view, which she helps him with as much as she's able, moving stiffly. It's her right arm, and the gash -- now an ugly stretch of icy, congealed red -- stretches from just beyond the array of bracelets up along to her bicep.
The wound isn't fatal, isn't as concerning as the cold, but it doesn't help. For about the hundredth time today, Sciel mentally catalogs her own suite of skills, hunting for anything of use here. But, as she's already been forced to recognize, her ability to heal is contingent on drawing strength from Nevrons. They'd need to start a fight in order to make use of it, and with her body as uncooperative as it is, that'd be a terrible idea.
She's forced to leave the whole thing in Verso's hands, which makes her grumble a bit, if only internally. It's difficult, going from the de-facto caregiver to...this. ]
S'not so bad. [ Sciel assesses. It'd stopped bleeding a long time ago, with the cold, and she doesn't feel any pain for the same reason. ]
no subject
[ Sciel, he's noticed, has a tendency to downplay the uncomfortable and unpleasant and emphasize the more upbeat parts of life. A natural optimism, maybe, but part of him wonders if she feels she has to. Like it's her role here: the eternally chipper caretaker, who handles everything with a smile while everyone else in their group mopes and sighs. Verso certainly hasn't been a help in that regard.
The wound looks bad, in his uneducated opinion. Enough that he wouldn't be able to shake it off without a little rest himself, were it his own body. It's difficult to tell if the lack of bleeding is a good or bad thing; the flesh there looks pale, cool to the touch. He grimaces, but says nothing about it. ]
We should clean and dress it. [ He fumbles for the waterskin, feeling the way the cold has turned the water inside to slush. ] It's— going to be cold.
no subject
The truth is, when it does hit her skin, she doesn't really feel it. The semi-solid bits are more easily identified, but as she watches him tend to the wound, Sciel recognizes that there just isn't a lot of sensation there at all.
After another stream of mental curses, she starts working her fingers. Focuses on flexing one hand at a time, and when that just results in a lot of trembling, one finger at a time. ]
...I was...l-looking forward to the...skiing, the...b-beauty. [ Of the snow, she means, as her gaze drifts out to the harsh wasteland beyond their temporary 'haven.' ] This is...l-less fun.
[ Fuck Frozen Hearts, honestly. How'd he decided to live here for so long? She pictures Verso and Monoco holed up in a place like this, snuggled up for warmth and, with her thoughts still a little iced over, chuckles to herself in another visible puff of air. ]
i liked the tag better before but ok
Everything there is to know about everything, really.
He strips off the Expedition armband from his coat, taking the initiative to wind it snugly around Sciel's wound. It's probably not the cleanest possible bandage, but something has to be better than nothing. (Maybe. He's not the first aid expert.) ]
Yeah, [ he says absentmindedly, just trying to distract her, keep her talking. If she falls asleep before the sun comes up, he's not confident she won't freeze to death. ] We used to go skiing here all the time, pre-Fracture.
[ Pre-Nevrons, too, obviously. ]
...You should have seen me do tricks, [ he offers, playing it up. ] Turns out that I excel on water before and after it's frozen.
do not speak of funf!!
The Dessendres. [ She states, eyes unfocused, still trained on the golden band(age). "We" means the Dessendres, which she's since learned include...painted people, like Sciel herself, except that these are copies of 'real' people in another world. ...With the exception being the Paintess, who is both Verso's mother and Maelle's, but they aren't really related.
Distantly, she imagines the Paintress on skiis. Sciel laughs again, albeit weakly. ]
Don't tell m-me you were...swim captain and s-skii captain. [ She says warningly, her voice low, but amused. She shouldn't tease too much, though: he'd done a perfectly respectable job of teaching her how to swim, in that...last amorous day and night together. He's probably very good at skiing.
Even so -- and even in spite of her half-asleep sort of haze -- she knows he's teasing. Trying to keep her as alert as he can. So she tries, pushing herself beyond that tempting fog. ]
W...What tricks?
no subject
[ Joking. There weren't any Bourgeons around back then. He's not entirely lying, though; Verso is good at nearly everything—at least, everything Aline could think of to make him good at—and so he does have a talent for skiing. He'd always entertained the family with his little tricks, even if it meant being regrettably sore later.
Wound wrapped, he takes the edges of his coat and draws it tighter around Sciel. ]
You might be able to go skiing after this, too.
[ With your husband, he doesn't add, although he does know that's who it would be with; he approves, of course, because he can't not approve of Sciel having the love of her life returned to her, but it's not... enthusiastic approval. ]
no subject
Verso doesn't have to mention Pierre for her to pick up on it. And though it's true -- once he's back, she intends to spend as little time apart from him as possible -- Sciel also doesn't mention that fact. Even if she's completely unapologetic in how she talks about her husband and doesn't at all dim her overwhelming excitement for his return, she also isn't cruel. The man currently keeping her alive is still important to her.
The possibility that Pierre could return had never been the reason she'd pushed for a more casual relationship, of course, but...hopefully it helps now. They'd agreed, hadn't they? That this would be better, keeping things purely physical?
Knowing what she knows of Verso now, though -- with all his masks -- she has to wonder what he really had thought, through all of it. ]
I will g-go skiiing. [ Sciel corrects. ] S'long as someone's ar-round to watch my s-step. And...actually t-teach me.
[ Also, if he thinks she's going to let him drop off the face of the earth once they retake the Canvas, he's got another thing coming. ]