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“The first thing she wanted to know is how Clea acted,” Sciel says. “If she sought us out, and if she was truly willing to be near us, or if she was hostile. She said that. ‘Hostile’, like it had to be one or the other. I told her that most of us had met her but didn’t know her very well, and that she probably didn’t have reason to be hostile to Expeditioners because she was from a time before the Fracture. The brown hair, right? She asked if Verso had told us which Clea it was, and I didn’t want to show his hand, so I just said –– it’s the Clea who thought Verso had died in a fire. But Alicia said no, that was not their Clea. Does that make any sense?”

As if Lune could confirm anything there, but Lune can put anything together. Not for the first time, Sciel wishes she could just unstitch her head, fish her memories out of her brain and plunk them right in front of Lune for inspection, like that might draw out answers in little comments she had brushed over to tend to a sad look instead.

Her expression tenses a little, concerned. An ugly little thought occurs to her, but one thing at a time.

"Hostile?" Lune parrots in confusion, frowning. "Which Clea? As if, there's two? No, that doesn't make any sense. The Paintress turned her family immortal sometime after the Fracture. The Clea we met couldn't be from after the Fracture, like you said. But she wasn't hostile. Arrogant and opinionated to a fault, but not hostile."

Pot and kettle. Lune's gaze strays away from Sciel's as she thinks, mostly going over her thoughts out loud rather than engaging in a discussion.

"Some form of fracturing of self, maybe, something like with Renoir and the Curator. Both exist, but are slightly different. Perhaps the Clea that Alicia and Verso knew after the Fracture was like that. We do not know how they became immortal. Perhaps the process wasn't gentle. Perhaps it's been so long that the Clea from before the Fracture faded from their memory, was replaced."

That wording was so specific. Their Clea. She shakes her head, finally glancing at Sciel again. "But I still don't entirely understand the hostile part."

“Maybe she just didn’t know who we were?” She wonders. “I don’t know, Lune. Verso told me their Clea died in the Fracture, but Alicia told me they hope she’s dead, because any other option is worse. I thought that meant they didn’t find her body, but maybe you’re onto something.”

She has no idea. Sciel feels her head throb, and she’s not so sure it’s entirely from weeping. It digs at her a little that maybe she’d been right to keep some distance between them, enough that Clea hadn’t noticed her to be a Lumièrian, let alone an Expeditioner. Maybe she hadn’t seen that side of her, the parts that would prompt Verso to come to this apartment just to warn them.

Feels rich, having just held Alicia while she shook, but what’s done is done.

“Maybe Alicia would tell us why they’re so afraid of this Clea, if we asked her? I’m seeing her again tomorrow.”

A silent look that verges on pleading: come with me?

Lune's lips press into a brief moue, nodding faintly, brows knitting. Sciel has a point. That doesn't fit, not perfectly. "I think we're still working with only partial information. There are still pieces missing."

She can read that look well enough, but first things first, her expression shifting into cautious curiosity. "Oh? What for?"

Less than half of the puzzle, she thinks, and they’re assembling it in the dark, lucky to get whatever light Verso lets slip onto it.

“She hasn’t been able to pin down Verso yet. I offered to take her to his camp.”

Or the edge of it, at least. They’ll need privacy.

"With luck, you'll even find him there." He does seem to move around a lot, but if anyone can pin him down, know some of his usual haunts beyond the camp, Lune bets it would be Sciel.

It was already implied, but still Lune asks to be sure, "Want company?"

She feels an immediate, immense relief that Lune understands puppy-dog eyes.

"I'd love company," she says. She's hesitant to put Lune in harm's way on her offer, but the situation with Renoir is dangerous in new ways, and she can't imagine Lune wouldn't want to go anyway. "If he's not there, I know a few places we can check that aren't too much further."

"Good." If Renoir decided to interfere with this, potentially violently, she's not sure her presence would make a difference. But she wouldn't want Sciel to go alone, either. What if they don't end up finding Verso?

"Okay. We'll check them. What time do you want to go?"

"Okay, good," she agrees, with a nod. "I told her ten, and no uniforms. And we tell Gustave that we're going?"

He may want to come, but that part she's not so sure is a good idea for a myriad of reasons, the least of which is that too many Expeditioners, in civvies or not, could feel make the whole thing feel more threatening if Alicia can't get away clean.

"Of course," Lune agrees easily with a faint nod, to all of those things. She's quiet for a beat, before confirming what Sciel already knows. "We should probably keep it to just us, this time around. We shouldn't spook her with a big group."

Nor tempt fate, with Renoir.

"Yeah. I think it'll be best with the two of us."

She's long past tears falling, but she wipes at her face again anyway, like that will restore some better composure, or at least a little bit of decorum. Lune is always so put together, so competent. Sciel can't stand to be doing any of this alone, but it's best with Lune.

"Probably better too that Maelle doesn't feel left out."

Lune inclines her head a little in acknowledgement, glad Sciel agrees. The way she wipes her face makes Lune hesitate for a second, about to ask Sciel again if she's okay or attempt to make some effort at comfort, even if she's not very good at such a thing— but then Sciel throws that line of thought about Maelle out there, and Lune is distracted thinking about it, a little frown furrowing at her brows.

"Do you think she would be, if she finds out?"

“If she alone was left out of coming with us, probably,” she says. “She was worried about that months ago, when she panicked on that awful night where we told Gustave the truth. She’s been sore about Verso avoiding her, too.”

Probably better that they don’t make her feel like she can’t be trusted with tender situations, or her own teammates.

"Mm. Right." Poor Maelle. It doesn't bear mentioning that Verso has done a good job avoiding most of them, since his most recent arrival. Maybe Alicia's presence gets Verso out of his own head a little. They can hope, at least.

But she doesn't see the point to speculate further. On any of those things, not at this late hour. Instead, Lune asks quietly again, Sciel's upset a moment ago lingering in the back of her mind, "Are you sure you're okay?" Beat. "Do you... want to sleep here?"

"I'd love to, but I smell like fireworks and I don't know if I have it in me to bathe right now," she admits, mildly embarrassed. She might get by fine with the bathroom door open, but at this hour that might be disruptive. Maybe better to just stink up her own bed. "So if that's too much of an imposition, don't worry about me, I'll be fine, I just need to have a good cry about it all."

Everything she learns about Verso's family is worse than the last thing, grief compounded, struggle after struggle. What an evening.

Under normal circumstances, Lune is fussy about things like these. But, sheets can be changed. She can deal with it. She doesn't want Sciel to be alone with this, doesn't want to a disappointing friend again after everything with Gustave and her earlier moment of snippiness at the festival.

"It's not," she says. "But... if you did want to wash up, I could sit with you while you do. Whatever you want."

Sciel’s expression breaks with relief, despite all the reasons she’d endure it alone if she had to; Lune’s kindness means everything, and she can’t resist reaching over to squeeze her hands, grateful.

“Yes, please, that’s even better,” she says. “Thank you. Augh! I feel like a walking disaster right now –– don’t know what I’d do without you.”

"Of course," Lune returns through a faint chuckle, mildly, oddly embarrassed by Sciel's gratitude. It feels nice, but she doesn't always entirely know how to process it. Still, she presses her fingers against Sciel's, squeezing back for a moment, lips pulling into a small smile.

"Come on. You'll feel better after getting washed up."

That squeeze back means the world, and Sciel just feels spurred on in feeling grateful. All of her is buzzing inside from the whiplash –– the burst of fireworks, the press of Alicia's shoulder against her chest, the long trek home and the quiet support of Lune's words and touch. She doesn't let go even as she stands.

"Oh, I hope so," she says, and she looks a little guilty when she remembers what she's left in the hall. "Also... I had some leftover fireworks. Safest stored somewhere inside, you think, or should I put them out on the balcony?"

Lune indulges Sciel for a while longer until they kind of have to let go, shuffling toward the hallway.

"Balcony, probably. Just in case," she murmurs, trying to keep quiet. Her lips quirk suddenly, wryly. "Less mess, in case of a surprise early morning firework show."

Extremely unlikely that they'd go off, but still. "Where did you even get all this?"

"Okay," she whispers back, scooping up the bag by the handle to tie-toe in that direction. The apartment is dark, with just enough starlight creeping through the windows to be able to navigate without banging herself off the furniture, so off she goes.

She replies anyway, just barely hushed to still be heard across the room:

"Apparently the bots were going to put on a fireworks show, but they cancelled it."

Who knows why. She did not care to find out the specifics, so she'd just assumed putting it on herself would not be so difficult. And it wasn't! At least until Alicia had run at her, anyway.

Sciel eases the balcony door open and sets the bag outside, slouched against the wall.

"So I helped myself."

Lune's bare feet make little sound as she follows until the edge of the living room, hanging back and waiting for Sciel to stow the bag of explosives (!) on their balcony.

"Hm. So you pilfered them," Lune replies, amusement in her low tone. "Why bring the rest back here?"

Do they really need to have random fireworks lying around, Sciel... they're already running out of space as it is :(

"Is it really stealing if I used them exactly for what they were supposed to be used for?" she wonders, just above the rumble of the glass door sliding back to where it's supposed to be, cutting out the crisp night air. "I'll bring the rest back when I have a moment, or maybe we set them off ourselves later!"

Assuming Gustave doesn't have feelings about explosives. He probably does.

Sciel tiptoes back to rejoin Lune, reaching for her hand again, just because she can.

"Considering you removed property that didn't belong to you with what I assume was without permission? Possibly without intention to return them? Yeah, kinda," Lune counters wryly, the amusement lingering. "Don't worry. I won't turn you in. You just get to explain them to Gustave later."

Because it would be rude not to – and because there is no real reason not to – Lune takes Sciel's proffered hand in hers, giving it a small squeeze even as she begins to lead the way to the bathroom.

“Okay, definitionally it is theft,” she relents, letting herself be led, right on Lune’s heels. With the brief reprieve of the night air shut out behind her, all she can smell is the sulphur on her hair and clothes. “But I’ll tell him what I’ll tell you, which is that those fireworks were probably already stolen goods, just like everything else here. So really, I’m doing a good deed by setting them loose.”

Screaming across the sky and exploding is a sort of freedom.

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fine don't hold hands all the way to the bathroom!!! :(((

look there's gonna be nakedness in a minute, isn't it sapphic enough?? (no)

it can always be MORE

SIGH okay i guess

B)