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. ]
[ Putain. When Gustave talks about Maelle with such affection, when Verso is reminded that Gustave stepped in front of her and took a sword to the gut for her, it's— it's very hard to maintain the icy disinterest he's carefully cultivated over the past few days. Unfortunately, they have something very important in common: they share a favorite person. ]
Yeah, [ he says, mouth quirking up involuntarily. ] She's difficult not to love.
[ ...Oh. That's a weird thing to say about someone he just met. ]
I imagine, [ he quickly corrects. ] She reminds me so much of... someone else.
[ Verso mentioned it before, and Gustave can understand.
It must be hard, to see someone who reminds you so much of your sister and have to stand beside her. If he had to work with someone like Maelle after something had happened to her (and he is making an assumption here, about Verso's sibling) then... It'll be agonising.
He shakes his head. ]
She sneaks in. Maelle, I mean. She's special even before you realise it.
[ Similar. Verso resists the urge to laugh. Sure, they've got quite a lot in common. ]
Yeah. I bet.
[ It was never a question, for him. Alicia had been special to him from the moment she was born, from before the moment she was born. He'd been a little brother for so long; he'd been so excited to be an older brother, like it was his destiny, like he'd been missing Alicia his whole life and hadn't realized it.
Or is that the way he felt? It's unclear which memories belong to him and which were simply given to him, stolen from someone else. ]
Sorry, [ he blunts out on impulse, because Gustave's love for Maelle has him feeling extra guilty. ] That I didn't introduce myself sooner. I think seeing you and Maelle, it just...
[ There's not really a good way to finish that sentence. 'Made me feel awful'. 'Made me resent that she loves you more'. 'Made me worried that she's too attached to you to leave this place'.
He just lets himself trail off. Gustave can fill in the blanks on his own. ]
[ Gustave had been nervous when they had taken Maelle in, he thinks.
It was a common thing, fostering. Parents died, younger each year, and so many orphans needed tending to, taking care of, raising. He wasn't entirely sure he was equipped to help raise anyone, or at least be a brother to them, but he had wanted to try. For years, he had dreamed of having his own children, something he could love and cherish in that way, but he hadn't had the chance, so this...?
It had been enough.
Maelle was more than enough.
When he thinks of how it might feel to live his life without her, it's hollow, and empty. He doesn't want to imagine it, to dream what it could be like, because it hurts. Right now, she is everything to him; that's why he had been prepared to die for her, isn't it? She is his heart, in a way, moulded and shaped to her laughter.
Shaking his head, he looks over at Verso with a pained smile. ]
It's alright. I can imagine how painful it must be.
Ah, [ is a flippant sound, and Verso shrugs his shoulders. ] It's... ancient history.
[ Like he doesn't spend every day feeling like he's missing a limb. Clea and Alicia are so integral to who he is; life without them feels like playing the piano with one hand, the melody lonely. ]
You two just remind me of the past, that's all.
[ He can make out the faint sounds of feminine voices in the distance, the rustle of footfalls on leaves. Verso reaches over, pats Gustave cordially on the shoulder—gently, so that he doesn't jostle anything sensitive. ]
But there'll be plenty of time to impress you with my tragic backstory later. I'll go help the girls with your poultice.
[ Gustave would know: he studied it for years in preparation for this mission.
It's obvious that Verso isn't comfortable with this particular conversation, though, and he shakes his head, waving his fingers absently. He'll need to repair his arm eventually, maybe do some tweaks to make it work better, but that's something for another time... When he feels more like himself.
He doesn't feel like himself right now.
Humming softly, he sinks back into his position, sliding down the wood. ]
[ Wow, Gustave really must be nice, because only someone really nice or really insane would thank Verso for this awkward, inexplicably tense conversation. Maybe Gustave simply thinks he's socially inept and has decided to take pity on him.
He shrugs. ] Ah, it was nothing. I just wanted to spare you from being Esquie's captive audience.
[ Although, honestly, one has to imagine talking to Esquie would have been more pleasant.
Still, he shoots Gustave a not-unfriendly glance. It would be reasonable to assume that the conversation has made Verso warm to him, at least. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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Yeah, [ he says, mouth quirking up involuntarily. ] She's difficult not to love.
[ ...Oh. That's a weird thing to say about someone he just met. ]
I imagine, [ he quickly corrects. ] She reminds me so much of... someone else.
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[ Verso mentioned it before, and Gustave can understand.
It must be hard, to see someone who reminds you so much of your sister and have to stand beside her. If he had to work with someone like Maelle after something had happened to her (and he is making an assumption here, about Verso's sibling) then... It'll be agonising.
He shakes his head. ]
She sneaks in. Maelle, I mean. She's special even before you realise it.
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Yeah. I bet.
[ It was never a question, for him. Alicia had been special to him from the moment she was born, from before the moment she was born. He'd been a little brother for so long; he'd been so excited to be an older brother, like it was his destiny, like he'd been missing Alicia his whole life and hadn't realized it.
Or is that the way he felt? It's unclear which memories belong to him and which were simply given to him, stolen from someone else. ]
Sorry, [ he blunts out on impulse, because Gustave's love for Maelle has him feeling extra guilty. ] That I didn't introduce myself sooner. I think seeing you and Maelle, it just...
[ There's not really a good way to finish that sentence. 'Made me feel awful'. 'Made me resent that she loves you more'. 'Made me worried that she's too attached to you to leave this place'.
He just lets himself trail off. Gustave can fill in the blanks on his own. ]
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It was a common thing, fostering. Parents died, younger each year, and so many orphans needed tending to, taking care of, raising. He wasn't entirely sure he was equipped to help raise anyone, or at least be a brother to them, but he had wanted to try. For years, he had dreamed of having his own children, something he could love and cherish in that way, but he hadn't had the chance, so this...?
It had been enough.
Maelle was more than enough.
When he thinks of how it might feel to live his life without her, it's hollow, and empty. He doesn't want to imagine it, to dream what it could be like, because it hurts. Right now, she is everything to him; that's why he had been prepared to die for her, isn't it? She is his heart, in a way, moulded and shaped to her laughter.
Shaking his head, he looks over at Verso with a pained smile. ]
It's alright. I can imagine how painful it must be.
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[ Like he doesn't spend every day feeling like he's missing a limb. Clea and Alicia are so integral to who he is; life without them feels like playing the piano with one hand, the melody lonely. ]
You two just remind me of the past, that's all.
[ He can make out the faint sounds of feminine voices in the distance, the rustle of footfalls on leaves. Verso reaches over, pats Gustave cordially on the shoulder—gently, so that he doesn't jostle anything sensitive. ]
But there'll be plenty of time to impress you with my tragic backstory later. I'll go help the girls with your poultice.
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[ Gustave would know: he studied it for years in preparation for this mission.
It's obvious that Verso isn't comfortable with this particular conversation, though, and he shakes his head, waving his fingers absently. He'll need to repair his arm eventually, maybe do some tweaks to make it work better, but that's something for another time... When he feels more like himself.
He doesn't feel like himself right now.
Humming softly, he sinks back into his position, sliding down the wood. ]
Thanks for talking to me, Verso.
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He shrugs. ] Ah, it was nothing. I just wanted to spare you from being Esquie's captive audience.
[ Although, honestly, one has to imagine talking to Esquie would have been more pleasant.
Still, he shoots Gustave a not-unfriendly glance. It would be reasonable to assume that the conversation has made Verso warm to him, at least. ]
Bon rétablissement, my friend.