[ For a little while, Gustave had almost wished that he had died.
It turns out, being stabbed really, really hurts. It also hurts after the stabbing, when you're being moved around and jostled, and you're trying to stare at the stranger who apparently helped save your life while also not squashing your sister-figure under the weight of your probably-dying body. Everything hurts, from his head to the horrible wound in his gut to the footsteps he takes before he's lying down, and then the hurt dissolved into a lot of sleeping and a lot of wishing he could just stand up and get moving.
The problem with not being able to move is that he's stuck in his own thoughts, and while it might be nice to have the others treating him nicely because of the aftereffects of defending Maelle with his life, he loathes the fact that he's keeping them stationary instead of continuing their expedition forward. Their days are numbered, literally, and there's only so much time they have left before it all runs out and everything goes to shit - more than it already has.
Maelle is more worried than he's ever seen her, making jokes about his old bones and whatever else to make her feel better, but he can see it. Lune and Sciel are being more pleasant than usual, perhaps worried that he could die any day and their last words to him might have been scathing or sarcastic. And Verso? The stranger who swept in just in time to save Maelle and himself? They've barely had a single conversation, and he's beginning to think it's intentional.
Well, he thinks to himself. Sorry, for getting stabbed. I'll duck and roll next time. The hoarse laugh makes his ribs ache.
Left alone now, aching and shivering from the strange fever wracking his body, he stares up at Verso with tired eyes before he waves his flesh arm, trying to shrug it off - and doing very little more than making himself groan, his entire body still feeling sore despite the pictos, the healing and the kindness of his friends. Merde. ]
... Thanks. I think I remember hearing it.
[ He keeps passing out. It's not good, but... Lifting his head, his expression softens a little at the offer.
An olive branch...? Maybe. ]
Water would be good, thanks... Verso, right?
[ Because they haven't actually spoken yet. He doesn't mean to be a jerk about it, but it just slips out. ]
[ Verso crouches down to retrieve the waterskin from his pack. The reminder that he's been avoiding Gustave at all costs makes his ears turn red, although luckily they're hidden beneath the hair that he took ten minutes to properly 'tousle' this morning. A little bit of paranoia niggles at him—has Gustave noticed that he's nervous and uncomfortable around him, and does he suspect why? Was he compos mentis enough in the moments after his stabbing to feel the anxious reluctance in Verso's body as he hoisted him up?
He has to venture closer in order to give him the water, and he does so with as much nonchalance as he can manage. It's strange being up close and personal with someone he'd only ever seen through the windows in Lumière and from a safe distance on the Continent. Verso crouches again, eyes trained somewhere on Gustave's chin as he holds out the waterskin. ]
Fabien, actually, [ he says, an extremely poor and unfunny attempt at a joke, because he's so deeply uncomfortable he feels like he might crawl out of his own skin.
Esquie, the only other living being currently at camp, calls over from where he's perched, watching the waves, "That's not true, Verver! Be nice to my new friend!" ]
Verso. Yes. I was there when...
[ He trails off. Better not to bring up any details of that night. ]
I carried you back.
[ Your metal arm is heavy, he thinks, but doesn't say. ]
[ Gustave hasn't had too much presence of mind to think or dwell on why Verso might not like him. In his eyes, it feels more like a stranger not wanting to bother a man who might be dying, especially not while his friends are taking care of him and doing everything that is possible to ensure he stays breathing. It might sting a little if he was more himself, but hovering on the edge of death and constantly wanting to pass out from pain and exhaustion has tempered him, a little.
He's had enough scolding and head shaking and crying from Maelle for a lifetime. It's almost a relief to have a break from it all and not have to worry about it. At least with a stranger, he can pretend to be fine and not get called out on it - how would he know better?
Waterskin in hand, he takes a slow, careful drink before he stares up at the other man. ]
Yes, thank you for that.
[ Saving his life and everything. ]
You've been looking after the others too, haven't you? I appreciate that.
[ Even if it is insanely weird to find another stranger out here when the only other human they've met has tried to murder them, more than once. Weird. ]
[ Looking after is not the word he'd use. Babysitting, maybe. But that's a less important distinction to make when Gustave asked how he found them, and Verso's silent for a split second.
He'd had a perfect, practiced answer to everything else. After all, he's told his story plenty of times by now. 'Used to be an Expeditioner, unsure why but immortal, trust me, I'm a friend.' This, though, is specific to the 33s, and although he lies quite a lot, Verso isn't actually good at it. ]
I was just in the area.
[ Very smooth, not vague at all. ]
I mean, I had seen footprints, and I thought it might be an Expedition, so—
[ Stop talking. This answer is good enough. He moves away again, opting to sit on a nearby log instead of remaining crouched by Gustave's side. ]
I'm just sorry I didn't get there sooner.
[ He'd been lying in wait, counting down the seconds until Renoir killed Gustave. It had felt bad then and worse now, but it had seemed the pragmatic option.
Verso would be lying if he said he weren't thinking about it a little now, the prospect of giving Gustave a quick, clean death, throwing him in the river, and saying a Nevron got him. But he can't quite make himself do it, and besides—Esquie would see, and he can't keep a damn secret. ]
He just happened to be in the area where the newest expedition had found themselves, after being guided to Esquie, after being stalked down by the man with grey hair and everything else that came with it? It's starting to feel a little less like a lucky coin toss and more like something he ought to be suspicious of, but he's far too tired to even go into those thoughts right now.
Verso saved him, isn't that enough?
It seemed like he was going out of his way to save the lot of them, and that makes Gustave's brain hurt a little. It's good, to have more friends - or allies, at least - but at the same time... There's something awkward in the air, some kind of tension he can't name. His fingers flex a little, and he hisses a soft noise as he adjusts his body.
[ Bordel de merde. Verso tries not to look put out by the questioning. It's reasonable, really, that Gustave—that anyone—would be curious. It's just that it's so incredibly stressful to be asked questions when too many of them will undoubtedly unravel his story. They're not really something he wants to encourage, but at the same time, discouraging them would seem odd.
Dry: ] I didn't think to count.
[ He's not sure how much the others have told Gustave. Maybe he should rattle off his predetermined spiel about immortality, but he's a little skeptical that Gustave will even remember this conversation in the feverish haze of his infection. ]
I've been around for a while. This isn't my first Expedition.
[ So, too many to keep track of? If you don't bother to count, it means there are either too many, or you don't care, and Gustave isn't sure which one is preferable in this situation. He's a little annoyed by it, honestly, something prickling on the back of his neck, but he tries to swallow it down and push it aside. He is tired, and he is out of sorts, and it makes him a little angrier and more bitter than he would be otherwise.
Most of the time, he's nice. He has the reputation for it. He'd like that reputation to continue.
Wheezing out a soft noise, he shakes his head absently. ]
Did I thank you? I can't remember.
[ His fingers flex as he tries to wave. ]
For saving me, and taking care of Maelle. That means a lot to me.
[ When he'd been falling in and out of consciousness, bleeding all over Verso's coat. He looks down involuntarily; if he tries hard enough, he can still see the areas where he couldn't scrub the blood all the way out. Slightly darker splotches on the fabric. ]
He doesn't remember anything really, other than being stabbed, and Maelle crying, and some harsh, sad words from Sciel and Lune. Did he actually die, or did he just come close to it? He really can't tell, and is one better than the other as long as he is still breathing?
Somehow, Verso saved him. He's going to have to figure out a way to pay him back for it.
For saving him, and looking after his friends, and... Being here.
Groaning a little, he hears the name and goes tense, hissing and looking away. It's hard to remember the ones that have been taken from them, even if...
He bows his head. ]
One of the other members of our Expedition. He didn't make it as far as we did.
Oh, [ is an echo, call-and-response to Gustave's. He feels suddenly nauseated, and he wraps his hands around his knees, staring out at the dim evening sky. For a protracted moment, he's silent, consumed with shame. If only Gustave knew that Verso didn't even try to save his friends. If only Gustave knew that Verso had hoped Renoir's blade killed him, too. Pragmatic, logical. The removal of a complication.
He doesn't feel very pragmatic right now.
Finally, eyes anywhere but on Gustave: ] I wish I had been there. So I could have helped.
But I don’t think anything would’ve helped. We weren’t prepared for the Nevrons, or…
[ Or the man.
The man who’d almost killed him. Who might still, if he doesn’t recover.
There’s an awkwardness. Verso can’t really look at him, and Gustave doesn’t think he can be blamed. Why would he want to worry about befriending a man likely to die from this wound? It’s not as if there’s a lot of hop, no matter what the others say. He’s on borrowed time already, and it feels as if even his very bones hurt.
It’s all a bit much, and he can feel the emotions welling in his eyes. Shit.
Double shit. ]
Are you planning on sticking around? We could use the help.
[ Verso glances over at Gustave again, which is a mistake. He looks miserable. He looks like a man who lost all of his friends in one fell swoop, who was just nearly murdered by a seemingly omnipotent man. Guilt floods his every sense. Fuck. ]
Hey.
[ He scoots a little closer to Gustave, desperately trying to make things— better, somehow. That's always been his job. ]
You're into the old Expeditions, right? [ That's what the girls said, anyway. ] Did you hear about the one that did the whole Expedition naked and oiled up?
[ Okay, maybe they weren't oiled up. But all good stories are embellished. ]
[ Do you think he's going to argue with Lune or Sciel, or let Maelle turn her big, sad eyes on him and not wilt? He's well aware he's completely at their mercy, half-dead or alive, and even as he winces and groans through the pain and hopes the infection does disappear, he recognises where he sits in the hierarchy.
It would probably be funny if he wasn't feeling so fucking miserable and awful about it all.
Glancing back over, he hisses out a soft sound. ]
The, uh, the swimmers?
[ Oiled up...? That's what this guy paid attention to...? ]
I think I read a little bit about them. You met them?
[ Now Gustave is too good to hear about naked, oiled up Expeditioners??? Please.
Luckily, Verso isn't fazed. Telling stories about old shit no one else was around to see is kind of his main form of social interaction; people are easily impressed and amused by stories from the past when there's no one else around to tell them. So, he nods. ]
I did, yeah. The 60s, I think.
[ Most of the Expeditions kind of blur together, just procession after procession of sacrifices on Maman's altar. The 60s, though, were different. They certainly... stuck in his mind. ]
I didn't join them, though. Fit issue. Didn't want to give up my sword.
[ And there was no way in hell he was going to walk around with it swangin' when he could run into his father at any minute. ]
But— you haven't been surprised until you've stumbled on a burly, naked man punching a Nevron with his bare hands.
Edited (let me not reuse the same icon twice) 2025-10-22 22:41 (UTC)
The talk of history, as awkward as it might be in this particular instance, is enough to perk him up and distract him from how many things hurt. It's a nice break from the strangeness of chattering away with a stranger, as good as Verso seems to have been to him and the others. He feels a touch of vulnerability as he forces himself to relax, to focus on the stories.
The sixties... He remembers them.
Gustave remembers a lot of those who came before. He wonders if the thirty-three will be remembered so fondly. ]
They were more brawn, weren't they? I don't think the swordplay would've gone down as well with them. Not quite the finesse they were looking for.
[ The rest, though, makes him laugh, startled by the image, and it pulls on his body as he groans. ]
[ Verso laughs too—albeit softer, more subdued—because, well, it was pretty funny. After the initial shock wore off, anyway. When he'd first encountered them, he'd mostly been focused on making sure that he wasn't staring at anything below the neck. ]
Sorry.
[ He'd wanted that kicked puppy look off of Gustave's face, and he succeeded. An insane thing to think, perhaps, when what he wanted just previously was for Gustave to be dead. Maybe it's because it feels like he now owes Gustave for the sin, like he has to make up for it. Then again, it also often feels like he needs to make up for the sin of existing, so it's hard to differentiate the two. ]
...The, uh, poultice they're making is good. You'll be fine.
[ Admittedly, he's never used it himself, but he's seen other Expeditioners use it. Easy to get hurt out here. ]
[ It's nice, to hear Verso laugh, he thinks, if only as a reminder that he is still alive. Neither of them are dead, and the world is not entirely bleak, and they will survive a little longer. They're a step closer to where they need to be, a step closer to freeing the world from the nightmarish shackles it suffers from.
That is what keeps him going at the moment. His desire to prove himself, to defend the others, to see the joy on his friends' faces when they come back victorious... If they come back.
If. When. He's not sure which one he believes in more at the moment.
Slumping back again, he breathes out a soft hiss. ]
I hope so. It can't be worse than how it is at the moment.
'Teach' is a strong word. I gave them the ingredients, and from there you just sort of—
[ He mimes mashing and mixing. ]
Combine it.
[ It's not rocket science. All they'll have to do is stick the vaguely gross mixture on Gustave's wound, and— well, he probably won't be like new, but Verso is fairly sure he'll survive the infection. It's not optimism—he's just seen enough injuries by now to know when they're lethal.
...Except for when he mistook Gustave's for lethal on the Cliffs, but to be fair, he'd really looked dead. ]
They've been worried about you. Maelle most of all. [ Super casually: ] You're her brother?
[ That's kind of the definition of a poultice, but he doesn't want to say that, because it feels a little too mean. Instead, Gustave just nods, because irritating the man who saved his life, and was continuing to do so, feels a little bit too far.
It's easier to focus on the other things, like the poke close to his heart, the reminder of Maelle.
Her face... She had been shattered by what had happened, and Gustave can't help the guilt gnawing at him, making him feel like he could cry all over again.
Leaning back, he sighs softly. ]
Guardian, technically, but it's more like brother, yeah. [ And father, sometimes, but he doesn't want to deal with that right now. ] My sister and I took her in.
Ah, [ Verso says, like he didn't already know all that. It's not like he's a stalker. Clea had asked him to keep an eye on Alicia, so he had. Visits to Lumière every once in a while, peering through the windows. Sitting on the bench, waiting for them to walk by.
Nothing weird. ]
You have a sister, too.
[ He's seen Emma before, out walking with Gustave and Maelle. He hadn't been certain of their relation. Could have been a friend, a girlfriend. Somehow knowing that Maelle has a brother and a sister in Lumière, the perfect facsimile of her real family, makes his stomach twist. ]
Well, that was good of you two. [ He grinds his teeth a little. ] It's good that she has family looking out for her.
[ Gustave doesn't know enough about Verso to guess, but he said 'too', so the guess is reasonable.
There's a pang in his chest as he thinks of Emma, somewhere so distant from him now. Is she worried about him, or does she assume he's already dead? It wouldn't be a bad bet to make, and considering how close he'd come to death on this expedition already, he couldn't blame her either way.
Gustave knows her thoughts on both him and Maelle being here, and they weren't flattering.
Swallowing, he shakes his head. ]
It's - she shouldn't be here. Not really. It isn't her time, but there was nothing we could say to persuade her to stay at home.
[ Impulsively: ] You could have kept her off the boat.
[ It's unfair, and on some level he knows that, but he blames Gustave for her being here. Someone should have stopped her. She's only a little girl, she doesn't belong on an Expedition—it's dangerous here, and she's going to see a lot of death, and she could get hurt.
But a stranger with no relation to her would have no reason to feel this way. So, after a moment passes, he shakes his head. ]
I could have tried, but she would have found a way.
[ The barb doesn't sting, because it isn't the first time that he's heard it.
His sister, the other Expeditioners, even himself, a constant barrage in his mind. He could have kept her home, bound her and chained her, but knowing his sister? She would've found some other way. Maelle would always do whatever it took to get her own way.
Gustave might not be sure why Verso is so intense about it, but he doesn't blame him. ]
[ It's interesting. Maelle is quite a bit more strong-willed than the Alicia he knows. Verso has to wonder—did Maman strip her of her own desires when she made her? Or was Alicia always like this, and it's just growing up in Lumière that has made her this way? Did Verso somehow contribute to her shyness, her self-denial? Is Gustave just better at being her brother than he could ever be?
He sort of wishes he could ask. Get on his knees beside Gustave and beg him to share his secrets. That's insane, though, so he suppresses the urge.
Instead, he says, not entirely unkindly, ] You can't say no to her, can you?
[ It's hard, considering what he feels for Maelle.
He is responsible for her, and he feels that way, especially out here where there's only so many of them left. He has to take care of her, and protect her, even if she is strong and able to take care of herself - at least in her own mind. What he wants is to make sure she gets back, and that's why he had been so willing to stand up and step between her and the man trying to kill them: she had to live.
Shaking his head, he wheezes out a sound that might bea laugh. ]
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It turns out, being stabbed really, really hurts. It also hurts after the stabbing, when you're being moved around and jostled, and you're trying to stare at the stranger who apparently helped save your life while also not squashing your sister-figure under the weight of your probably-dying body. Everything hurts, from his head to the horrible wound in his gut to the footsteps he takes before he's lying down, and then the hurt dissolved into a lot of sleeping and a lot of wishing he could just stand up and get moving.
The problem with not being able to move is that he's stuck in his own thoughts, and while it might be nice to have the others treating him nicely because of the aftereffects of defending Maelle with his life, he loathes the fact that he's keeping them stationary instead of continuing their expedition forward. Their days are numbered, literally, and there's only so much time they have left before it all runs out and everything goes to shit - more than it already has.
Maelle is more worried than he's ever seen her, making jokes about his old bones and whatever else to make her feel better, but he can see it. Lune and Sciel are being more pleasant than usual, perhaps worried that he could die any day and their last words to him might have been scathing or sarcastic. And Verso? The stranger who swept in just in time to save Maelle and himself? They've barely had a single conversation, and he's beginning to think it's intentional.
Well, he thinks to himself. Sorry, for getting stabbed. I'll duck and roll next time. The hoarse laugh makes his ribs ache.
Left alone now, aching and shivering from the strange fever wracking his body, he stares up at Verso with tired eyes before he waves his flesh arm, trying to shrug it off - and doing very little more than making himself groan, his entire body still feeling sore despite the pictos, the healing and the kindness of his friends. Merde. ]
... Thanks. I think I remember hearing it.
[ He keeps passing out. It's not good, but... Lifting his head, his expression softens a little at the offer.
An olive branch...? Maybe. ]
Water would be good, thanks... Verso, right?
[ Because they haven't actually spoken yet. He doesn't mean to be a jerk about it, but it just slips out. ]
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He has to venture closer in order to give him the water, and he does so with as much nonchalance as he can manage. It's strange being up close and personal with someone he'd only ever seen through the windows in Lumière and from a safe distance on the Continent. Verso crouches again, eyes trained somewhere on Gustave's chin as he holds out the waterskin. ]
Fabien, actually, [ he says, an extremely poor and unfunny attempt at a joke, because he's so deeply uncomfortable he feels like he might crawl out of his own skin.
Esquie, the only other living being currently at camp, calls over from where he's perched, watching the waves, "That's not true, Verver! Be nice to my new friend!" ]
Verso. Yes. I was there when...
[ He trails off. Better not to bring up any details of that night. ]
I carried you back.
[ Your metal arm is heavy, he thinks, but doesn't say. ]
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He's had enough scolding and head shaking and crying from Maelle for a lifetime. It's almost a relief to have a break from it all and not have to worry about it. At least with a stranger, he can pretend to be fine and not get called out on it - how would he know better?
Waterskin in hand, he takes a slow, careful drink before he stares up at the other man. ]
Yes, thank you for that.
[ Saving his life and everything. ]
You've been looking after the others too, haven't you? I appreciate that.
[ Even if it is insanely weird to find another stranger out here when the only other human they've met has tried to murder them, more than once. Weird. ]
How did you find us?
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He'd had a perfect, practiced answer to everything else. After all, he's told his story plenty of times by now. 'Used to be an Expeditioner, unsure why but immortal, trust me, I'm a friend.' This, though, is specific to the 33s, and although he lies quite a lot, Verso isn't actually good at it. ]
I was just in the area.
[ Very smooth, not vague at all. ]
I mean, I had seen footprints, and I thought it might be an Expedition, so—
[ Stop talking. This answer is good enough. He moves away again, opting to sit on a nearby log instead of remaining crouched by Gustave's side. ]
I'm just sorry I didn't get there sooner.
[ He'd been lying in wait, counting down the seconds until Renoir killed Gustave. It had felt bad then and worse now, but it had seemed the pragmatic option.
Verso would be lying if he said he weren't thinking about it a little now, the prospect of giving Gustave a quick, clean death, throwing him in the river, and saying a Nevron got him. But he can't quite make himself do it, and besides—Esquie would see, and he can't keep a damn secret. ]
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He just happened to be in the area where the newest expedition had found themselves, after being guided to Esquie, after being stalked down by the man with grey hair and everything else that came with it? It's starting to feel a little less like a lucky coin toss and more like something he ought to be suspicious of, but he's far too tired to even go into those thoughts right now.
Verso saved him, isn't that enough?
It seemed like he was going out of his way to save the lot of them, and that makes Gustave's brain hurt a little. It's good, to have more friends - or allies, at least - but at the same time... There's something awkward in the air, some kind of tension he can't name. His fingers flex a little, and he hisses a soft noise as he adjusts his body.
Fucking ouch. ]
You've seen more of us, in the past?
[ Bro. ]
How many?
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Dry: ] I didn't think to count.
[ He's not sure how much the others have told Gustave. Maybe he should rattle off his predetermined spiel about immortality, but he's a little skeptical that Gustave will even remember this conversation in the feverish haze of his infection. ]
I've been around for a while. This isn't my first Expedition.
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[ So, too many to keep track of? If you don't bother to count, it means there are either too many, or you don't care, and Gustave isn't sure which one is preferable in this situation. He's a little annoyed by it, honestly, something prickling on the back of his neck, but he tries to swallow it down and push it aside. He is tired, and he is out of sorts, and it makes him a little angrier and more bitter than he would be otherwise.
Most of the time, he's nice. He has the reputation for it. He'd like that reputation to continue.
Wheezing out a soft noise, he shakes his head absently. ]
Did I thank you? I can't remember.
[ His fingers flex as he tries to wave. ]
For saving me, and taking care of Maelle. That means a lot to me.
[ Obviously. It's his life. ]
It was, uh. Good of you.
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[ When he'd been falling in and out of consciousness, bleeding all over Verso's coat. He looks down involuntarily; if he tries hard enough, he can still see the areas where he couldn't scrub the blood all the way out. Slightly darker splotches on the fabric. ]
You were really thankful, now that I think of it.
[ A squint, and— ]
But you also kept calling me Lucien.
[ So, clearly, he wasn't in his right mind. ]
Friend of yours?
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[ Gustave doesn't remember a lot.
He doesn't remember anything really, other than being stabbed, and Maelle crying, and some harsh, sad words from Sciel and Lune. Did he actually die, or did he just come close to it? He really can't tell, and is one better than the other as long as he is still breathing?
Somehow, Verso saved him. He's going to have to figure out a way to pay him back for it.
For saving him, and looking after his friends, and... Being here.
Groaning a little, he hears the name and goes tense, hissing and looking away. It's hard to remember the ones that have been taken from them, even if...
He bows his head. ]
One of the other members of our Expedition. He didn't make it as far as we did.
[ It stings. ]
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He doesn't feel very pragmatic right now.
Finally, eyes anywhere but on Gustave: ] I wish I had been there. So I could have helped.
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He thinks so. ]
But I don’t think anything would’ve helped. We weren’t prepared for the Nevrons, or…
[ Or the man.
The man who’d almost killed him. Who might still, if he doesn’t recover.
There’s an awkwardness. Verso can’t really look at him, and Gustave doesn’t think he can be blamed. Why would he want to worry about befriending a man likely to die from this wound? It’s not as if there’s a lot of hop, no matter what the others say. He’s on borrowed time already, and it feels as if even his very bones hurt.
It’s all a bit much, and he can feel the emotions welling in his eyes. Shit.
Double shit. ]
Are you planning on sticking around? We could use the help.
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[ Verso glances over at Gustave again, which is a mistake. He looks miserable. He looks like a man who lost all of his friends in one fell swoop, who was just nearly murdered by a seemingly omnipotent man. Guilt floods his every sense. Fuck. ]
Hey.
[ He scoots a little closer to Gustave, desperately trying to make things— better, somehow. That's always been his job. ]
You're into the old Expeditions, right? [ That's what the girls said, anyway. ] Did you hear about the one that did the whole Expedition naked and oiled up?
[ Okay, maybe they weren't oiled up. But all good stories are embellished. ]
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[ Do you think he's going to argue with Lune or Sciel, or let Maelle turn her big, sad eyes on him and not wilt? He's well aware he's completely at their mercy, half-dead or alive, and even as he winces and groans through the pain and hopes the infection does disappear, he recognises where he sits in the hierarchy.
It would probably be funny if he wasn't feeling so fucking miserable and awful about it all.
Glancing back over, he hisses out a soft sound. ]
The, uh, the swimmers?
[ Oiled up...? That's what this guy paid attention to...? ]
I think I read a little bit about them. You met them?
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Luckily, Verso isn't fazed. Telling stories about old shit no one else was around to see is kind of his main form of social interaction; people are easily impressed and amused by stories from the past when there's no one else around to tell them. So, he nods. ]
I did, yeah. The 60s, I think.
[ Most of the Expeditions kind of blur together, just procession after procession of sacrifices on Maman's altar. The 60s, though, were different. They certainly... stuck in his mind. ]
I didn't join them, though. Fit issue. Didn't want to give up my sword.
[ And there was no way in hell he was going to walk around with it swangin' when he could run into his father at any minute. ]
But— you haven't been surprised until you've stumbled on a burly, naked man punching a Nevron with his bare hands.
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The talk of history, as awkward as it might be in this particular instance, is enough to perk him up and distract him from how many things hurt. It's a nice break from the strangeness of chattering away with a stranger, as good as Verso seems to have been to him and the others. He feels a touch of vulnerability as he forces himself to relax, to focus on the stories.
The sixties... He remembers them.
Gustave remembers a lot of those who came before. He wonders if the thirty-three will be remembered so fondly. ]
They were more brawn, weren't they? I don't think the swordplay would've gone down as well with them. Not quite the finesse they were looking for.
[ The rest, though, makes him laugh, startled by the image, and it pulls on his body as he groans. ]
Ah, merde, don't make me laugh like that...
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Sorry.
[ He'd wanted that kicked puppy look off of Gustave's face, and he succeeded. An insane thing to think, perhaps, when what he wanted just previously was for Gustave to be dead. Maybe it's because it feels like he now owes Gustave for the sin, like he has to make up for it. Then again, it also often feels like he needs to make up for the sin of existing, so it's hard to differentiate the two. ]
...The, uh, poultice they're making is good. You'll be fine.
[ Admittedly, he's never used it himself, but he's seen other Expeditioners use it. Easy to get hurt out here. ]
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That is what keeps him going at the moment. His desire to prove himself, to defend the others, to see the joy on his friends' faces when they come back victorious... If they come back.
If. When. He's not sure which one he believes in more at the moment.
Slumping back again, he breathes out a soft hiss. ]
I hope so. It can't be worse than how it is at the moment.
[ He feels like a gutted fish. ]
You taught them?
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[ He mimes mashing and mixing. ]
Combine it.
[ It's not rocket science. All they'll have to do is stick the vaguely gross mixture on Gustave's wound, and— well, he probably won't be like new, but Verso is fairly sure he'll survive the infection. It's not optimism—he's just seen enough injuries by now to know when they're lethal.
...Except for when he mistook Gustave's for lethal on the Cliffs, but to be fair, he'd really looked dead. ]
They've been worried about you. Maelle most of all. [ Super casually: ] You're her brother?
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[ That's kind of the definition of a poultice, but he doesn't want to say that, because it feels a little too mean. Instead, Gustave just nods, because irritating the man who saved his life, and was continuing to do so, feels a little bit too far.
It's easier to focus on the other things, like the poke close to his heart, the reminder of Maelle.
Her face... She had been shattered by what had happened, and Gustave can't help the guilt gnawing at him, making him feel like he could cry all over again.
Leaning back, he sighs softly. ]
Guardian, technically, but it's more like brother, yeah. [ And father, sometimes, but he doesn't want to deal with that right now. ] My sister and I took her in.
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Nothing weird. ]
You have a sister, too.
[ He's seen Emma before, out walking with Gustave and Maelle. He hadn't been certain of their relation. Could have been a friend, a girlfriend. Somehow knowing that Maelle has a brother and a sister in Lumière, the perfect facsimile of her real family, makes his stomach twist. ]
Well, that was good of you two. [ He grinds his teeth a little. ] It's good that she has family looking out for her.
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[ Gustave doesn't know enough about Verso to guess, but he said 'too', so the guess is reasonable.
There's a pang in his chest as he thinks of Emma, somewhere so distant from him now. Is she worried about him, or does she assume he's already dead? It wouldn't be a bad bet to make, and considering how close he'd come to death on this expedition already, he couldn't blame her either way.
Gustave knows her thoughts on both him and Maelle being here, and they weren't flattering.
Swallowing, he shakes his head. ]
It's - she shouldn't be here. Not really. It isn't her time, but there was nothing we could say to persuade her to stay at home.
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[ It's unfair, and on some level he knows that, but he blames Gustave for her being here. Someone should have stopped her. She's only a little girl, she doesn't belong on an Expedition—it's dangerous here, and she's going to see a lot of death, and she could get hurt.
But a stranger with no relation to her would have no reason to feel this way. So, after a moment passes, he shakes his head. ]
Just a joke.
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[ The barb doesn't sting, because it isn't the first time that he's heard it.
His sister, the other Expeditioners, even himself, a constant barrage in his mind. He could have kept her home, bound her and chained her, but knowing his sister? She would've found some other way. Maelle would always do whatever it took to get her own way.
Gustave might not be sure why Verso is so intense about it, but he doesn't blame him. ]
She's strong. Too strong, sometimes.
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He sort of wishes he could ask. Get on his knees beside Gustave and beg him to share his secrets. That's insane, though, so he suppresses the urge.
Instead, he says, not entirely unkindly, ] You can't say no to her, can you?
[ He never could, either. ]
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He is responsible for her, and he feels that way, especially out here where there's only so many of them left. He has to take care of her, and protect her, even if she is strong and able to take care of herself - at least in her own mind. What he wants is to make sure she gets back, and that's why he had been so willing to stand up and step between her and the man trying to kill them: she had to live.
Shaking his head, he wheezes out a sound that might bea laugh. ]
None of us can. She's...
[ What's the right word...? ]
Ours.
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