"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.
"And practically," Lune puts in quietly with a little huff of amusement. "I guess ends justify the means, hm?"
She pushes open the bathroom door carefully and reaches out with her free hand to flick on the light, stepping inside and to the side to give Sciel room to follow. Well. Her offer to sit with Sciel while she showers had been well-intentioned, but Lune's suddenly not entirely sure how to conduct this in practical terms. She gives a quick smile, feeling a brief sting of awkwardness.
"Should I... give you a minute, here?" Or no? Sciel didn't want to do this alone but Lune doesn't want her to think she's looking or anything.
"That's right. What's a celebration without fireworks, anyway?"
The bathroom immediately puts a little shiver down her spine, even after all these months. It will fade in time, as it always has, as her body learns to exist with the sound of running water or the quietness of sealed room without reacting as though she's under the surface of the ocean, but she's not quite there, not yet, and sometimes it's nice to be weak about it. It's just easier with a friend, and a distraction. She will fantasize about being normal about this another time.
She wonders if Alicia thinks of a burning house when she sees fireworks.
She meets Lune's awkward little smile with one of her own.
"It's fine," she says, and without preamble, she pulls her sweater off over her head, the shirt briefly underneath riding up with it. She drops the sweater aside and starts on her shirt buttons, eyes on Lune. When she's vulnerable, all she has is jokes, so she adds: "Nothing you haven't seen before."
Lune starts almost imperceptibly when Sciel pulls off her sweater, clearing her throat a little and glancing away, gaze tracking the walls, a hint of color blooming across her cheeks. "Right."
The reminder sits awkwardly in this context. She knows she should probably follow suit and make light to take Sciel's mind off things, but she doesn't feel like joking about their one and only encounter; two teenagers fumbling under the weight of crushing sadness, desperately trying to feel anything but misery just for a moment. There isn't anything funny or titillating in this moment. Sciel is the one being vulnerable, literally bared; Lune shouldn't make her more so by acting weird. Whenever she doesn't entirely know what to do or say, she falls back on rationale and practicalities. This is no different, and she leans down to pick up the sweater Sciel discards, shaking it gently before beginning to slowly and meticulously fold it.
"We should put these in the laundry first thing tomorrow. Well, we can maybe air out this sweater."
She should know by now not to just drop things on the floor right in front of Lune, her most fastidious friend, so she feels a little silly for having done it. Then again, maybe Lune would like a little task, given how quickly she starts thinking of laundry.
"Probably for the best," she says, shimmying her shoulders out of her blouse. She's braless underneath, one of the many perks of a very modest chest. Her tattoos trailing down her sternum to some very smudged letters written in eyeliner down the centre line of her ribs, E and then R disappearing under the waistband of her trousers. No comment. "Handy that we have a machine for that now, though."
Lune would indeed like a task, thank you, and it's obvious with how readily she snaps up that blouse that comes off Sciel's frame next, receiving the same treatment as the sweater — already folded and placed neatly on the counter next to them.
At least now she breathes a quiet laugh and smiles, but she is steadfastly not looking at her friend's half-naked body. It's why she also misses those curious eyeliner stains in places that eyeliner should definitely not be used...
"True. Trying to wash anything out on the Continent was a nightmare." Unsurprisingly, there was never any mention in any of the preparatory seminars, lectures or old journals about the less glamorous parts of the Expedition camp life.
With Lune's eyes off her, it's all too easy for Sciel to focus on Lune anyway. It's both distance from the task at hand and a mild curiosity about her reaction, the buzz of awkwardness. She feels glad for it, in an unusual way: she may lack shame about her own nakedness, but she feels the oddness of her own behaviour as viscerally as ever, and it is immensely preferable to being studied.
"I don't want to live anywhere without a washing machine again," she says, frankly, as she drops her trousers. She steps out of them and holds them up, just her hand dipping into Lune's line of sight. No panties, sparing them both that. "I just wish I could enjoy the shower, because for a few months it was a lot nicer than random creeks."
Or bigger rivers, or the beaches, or any place Verso tries to coax her deeper in.
Lune isn't bothered by nakedness as a concept herself, and it isn't like complete privacy was always an option during the Expedition, but here it would feel... out of place, disrespectful even, to give Sciel any impression her vulnerability is being exploited— even if Lune is fairly certain she wouldn't think that way. Still, she keeps her gaze firmly on Sciel's face when she glances over with a small, sympathetic smile, taking the trousers from her. And definitely not questioning the lack of underpants, you do you, girl.
"Warm water out of a tap is a luxury." She hums in amusement, eyes back on her task of folding up the trousers. "I appreciate the toaster, personally."
Lune's cooking skills are fairly limited. Toast was her usual staple, back home, and yet she almost always managed to burn the bread.
Sciel glances at the tub and gives it a once-over, like there might be any number of dangers in it, and deeming it as innocent as it ever will be, she reaches in to turn on the water, cranked as hot as it’ll go. She withdraws her hand the moment the water starts moving, and she likes the noise of it even as she despises having to step in.
“You’ve really put a lot of hours on that thing,” she says, as lighthearted as she can muster. She has also forgotten, on a few occasions, to turn the dial back down after using it, sorry Lune. “What about… the air conditioning? That’s a good one.”
Lune hmms in return as she finishes folding up Sciel's clothes, something vaguely self-conscious on the edges of the agreement, a brief smile quirking at her lips. There have indeed been many an annoyed grumbles from Lune when her toast has popped up browned to the point of being all too crispy and crunchy, Sciel pls. :(
"It has been very useful here," she says as she takes a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, idly inspecting her nails. "Lumière was usually so mild. Interesting that the dome here does not regulate the temperature the same way."
But the crunchy is fun, Lune. Even if you have to sweep up a ton of little bread bits after.
Under normal circumstances, Sciel could not be assed to think about climate regulation outside of work, but in an enclosed space that would otherwise let her thoughts ricochet around faster and faster, it’s the greatest thing in the world. She glances at Lune as she steps into one end of the tub, just out of the shower head’s reach. She’s still not sure if she’s bracing by choice or if her body does it for her, stiffening up so badly her lungs hurt.
“Yeah?” she says. “It’s nice to have seasons, though. I’m excited to see what spring is like. Hopefully intense.”
Hopefully not too rainy.
She takes a deep breath and she bends forward to just wet her hair. It always feels silly to wash her hair without getting the rest of her wet, but it’s easier to subject herself to one sensory nightmare at the time, even if it takes longer overall.
“If we get Lumière back, you and Gustave should see if you can fix our dome so it has seasons.”
If it distracts Sciel even a little, Lune is happy enough to entertain the most mundane of talk about the weather, of all things.
"It has been a nice change." She can admit that. "There are probably all kinds of plants and flowers here we haven't yet seen in bloom."
Lune flicks a brief sideways glance over to the shower, lips pressing at the careful way Sciel goes about the whole thing, saddened and sympathetic in equal measure. She's about to grope for more words, to keep the conversation going, but...
But then Sciel says that, and it feels like the air is sucked from Lune's lungs.
She remembers touching upon this with Sciel and Gustave both, back when she'd arrived. Gustave's somber fatalism he didn't express in so many words against Sciel's optimistic determination that they would all go back to Lumière if they succeed. All of them. Lune recalls bristling at Gustave's implication – why is one death more permanent than another? – but she can't say for certain where her own opinion lies even after all these months. Will any of them return to live in a spared Lumière? Will they remember any of this, if they do? Will all they see and experience in Etraya be wiped from their minds, like it never happened?
"That's really more in Gustave's wheelhouse rather than mine," she manages to say, past a throat that suddenly feels a little tight.
Water runs through her hair, slowly seeping right to the scalp, and it's so hot that it stings her fingers, but if it's not hot enough to steam up the room, then she thinks too much about being surrounded by cold. The water drums on the floor of the tub as it streams off her hair, and she keeps her eyes screwed shut and chin tucked in tight so the water won't run onto her face. This is how it has to be.
She notes Lune's pause, but she can't slow down for anything, so she doesn't time to look.
"You have interesting opinions on everything, though," she says, over the water. "And you'll make sure he gets it done on time!"
Interesting opinions. In spite of the sudden dip in her mood, Lune can't help but breathe a small laugh at that, amused. Coming from anyone else but Sciel, she probably would have taken that as a poorly disguised insult. She rallies, making an effort to dig herself out of that rabbit hole for Sciel's sake.
"There's that," Lune admits. "I guess I can always annoy him into being prompt. He'll work quick to be rid of me."
Well, that didn't make her feel better with the way things stand between herself and Gustave right now, but at least her tone remains admirably light in spite of the sting.
Sciel turns her head at the little laugh, and just that movement sends water running perilously close to her ear, and she hunches her shoulders dramatically as she pulls back, shrinking into herself. She’d rather stand out of the stream entirely to lather up her hair, anyway, but ugh.
“You never bother him!” she says, and it’s a gentle protest –– at least a little because she’s too wrapped up in this miserable task to properly argue Lune’s case. “And if you keep sounding like that, I am going to list off nice things about you until you surrender.”
Lune hunches over, leaning her forearms against her thighs and fiddling with her — and Stella's, really — rings, watching as she turns them around and around even as her lips twist a bit, dryly. She's not sure Gustave has always shared that opinion, recalling the times they'd locked horns over some detail or another back when they were up to their eyebrows in work, their own expedition drawing closer and closer.
"Please don't," she returns with light humor, and another small laugh— amused but also really not equipped to handle casual, positive reinforcement. "I'll take your word for it."
The bathroom air is turning more humid and muggy by the minute, Lune's pajamas sticking to her skin a slightly annoying way, but she says nothing about it.
“There you go,” she says, and she manages to sound a little pleased about it, like she isn’t the one on the cusp of shivering like a little lap dog despite all the steam, despite no one having ever died from getting water in their ears. “But I’ll get you used to it someday, you know. I’m persistent.”
She wrings her hair out, sending a great soapy splat to the bottom of the tub, and goes in for the fastest rinse she can manage.
Lune hums, affection in the small sound. "Well, if anyone can manage..."
It would probably be Sciel. Lune gets up slowly when Sciel forces herself under the spray again for a rinse, beelining for the tall cabinet by the sink to pull out a towel, so it's ready when Sciel gets out. They've done laundry not too long ago— a soft, fresh towel is one of those tiny things that usually makes Lune feel better in the moment. Maybe it's a silly, but she can at least hope it might work for Sciel, too.
From under the water, being dry and wrapped in a fresh towel seems like the single greatest place to be in the world. Sciel catches a glimpse of that towel and decides she’s done. She straightens up, raking her wet hair back out of her face and looking to Lune with an extremely taut smile and an urgency in her eyes. Once she’s out, she absolutely won’t want to get back in.
Lune takes a scrutinizing look at Sciel's sodden hair and shakes her head. "Not that I can see."
She can't see the back, but what is plainly evident to her is that Sciel seems to have reached her limit. A bit of leftover shampoo would do less harm than prolonging staying in. Shaking open the towel, Lune holds it out, ready for Sciel when she gets out.
What a relief. She twists the faucet off the instant Lune opens that towel, and is out of the shower and into the wingspan of it so quickly she has to momentarily grab the wall so she doesn’t slip.
“Thank you,” she says, wrapping herself in it immediately, fingers and toes all curled in on themselves. She manages to breathe out anyway. “Hopefully someone invents a machine someday where you can stick your head in and your hair comes out clean, instantly.”
Oh, she really wanted out of there, didn't she? Once again, Lune feels a stab of sorrow at the evidence of her friend's enduring trauma, rubbing her palm against Sciel's damp upper arm once she's wrapped herself in the towel.
"You should ask Gustave if he could swing it," she says, teasing fondly with a small smile. Sobering a little, she asks, "You okay?"
Never having to sit outside the open bathroom door would be a good perk for him, too, though it’s not difficult to remind herself that he likes being there for her, inconvenient and embarrassing as it feels to her. How lucky is she to have two people that will do that for her, even in the stupid hours of the morning?
Even on solid tile and in Lune’s reach, she feels like her heartbeat doesn’t slow any, but it’s just more noticeable without the water drumming. She nods vigorously, like she could convince them both. She clutches the towel closed around her chest with one hand, reaching with the other hand to rake her wet hair completely out of her face.
“Yes, thank you. I am going to hug you the minute I’ve got pajamas on, but I’m alright.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
it can always be MORE
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.
SIGH okay i guess
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.
B)
Screaming across the sky and exploding is a sort of freedom.
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She pushes open the bathroom door carefully and reaches out with her free hand to flick on the light, stepping inside and to the side to give Sciel room to follow. Well. Her offer to sit with Sciel while she showers had been well-intentioned, but Lune's suddenly not entirely sure how to conduct this in practical terms. She gives a quick smile, feeling a brief sting of awkwardness.
"Should I... give you a minute, here?" Or no? Sciel didn't want to do this alone but Lune doesn't want her to think she's looking or anything.
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The bathroom immediately puts a little shiver down her spine, even after all these months. It will fade in time, as it always has, as her body learns to exist with the sound of running water or the quietness of sealed room without reacting as though she's under the surface of the ocean, but she's not quite there, not yet, and sometimes it's nice to be weak about it. It's just easier with a friend, and a distraction. She will fantasize about being normal about this another time.
She wonders if Alicia thinks of a burning house when she sees fireworks.
She meets Lune's awkward little smile with one of her own.
"It's fine," she says, and without preamble, she pulls her sweater off over her head, the shirt briefly underneath riding up with it. She drops the sweater aside and starts on her shirt buttons, eyes on Lune. When she's vulnerable, all she has is jokes, so she adds: "Nothing you haven't seen before."
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The reminder sits awkwardly in this context. She knows she should probably follow suit and make light to take Sciel's mind off things, but she doesn't feel like joking about their one and only encounter; two teenagers fumbling under the weight of crushing sadness, desperately trying to feel anything but misery just for a moment. There isn't anything funny or titillating in this moment. Sciel is the one being vulnerable, literally bared; Lune shouldn't make her more so by acting weird. Whenever she doesn't entirely know what to do or say, she falls back on rationale and practicalities. This is no different, and she leans down to pick up the sweater Sciel discards, shaking it gently before beginning to slowly and meticulously fold it.
"We should put these in the laundry first thing tomorrow. Well, we can maybe air out this sweater."
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"Probably for the best," she says, shimmying her shoulders out of her blouse. She's braless underneath, one of the many perks of a very modest chest. Her tattoos trailing down her sternum to some very smudged letters written in eyeliner down the centre line of her ribs, E and then R disappearing under the waistband of her trousers. No comment. "Handy that we have a machine for that now, though."
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At least now she breathes a quiet laugh and smiles, but she is steadfastly not looking at her friend's half-naked body. It's why she also misses those curious eyeliner stains in places that eyeliner should definitely not be used...
"True. Trying to wash anything out on the Continent was a nightmare." Unsurprisingly, there was never any mention in any of the preparatory seminars, lectures or old journals about the less glamorous parts of the Expedition camp life.
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"I don't want to live anywhere without a washing machine again," she says, frankly, as she drops her trousers. She steps out of them and holds them up, just her hand dipping into Lune's line of sight. No panties, sparing them both that. "I just wish I could enjoy the shower, because for a few months it was a lot nicer than random creeks."
Or bigger rivers, or the beaches, or any place Verso tries to coax her deeper in.
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"Warm water out of a tap is a luxury." She hums in amusement, eyes back on her task of folding up the trousers. "I appreciate the toaster, personally."
Lune's cooking skills are fairly limited. Toast was her usual staple, back home, and yet she almost always managed to burn the bread.
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“You’ve really put a lot of hours on that thing,” she says, as lighthearted as she can muster. She has also forgotten, on a few occasions, to turn the dial back down after using it, sorry Lune. “What about… the air conditioning? That’s a good one.”
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"It has been very useful here," she says as she takes a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, idly inspecting her nails. "Lumière was usually so mild. Interesting that the dome here does not regulate the temperature the same way."
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Under normal circumstances, Sciel could not be assed to think about climate regulation outside of work, but in an enclosed space that would otherwise let her thoughts ricochet around faster and faster, it’s the greatest thing in the world. She glances at Lune as she steps into one end of the tub, just out of the shower head’s reach. She’s still not sure if she’s bracing by choice or if her body does it for her, stiffening up so badly her lungs hurt.
“Yeah?” she says. “It’s nice to have seasons, though. I’m excited to see what spring is like. Hopefully intense.”
Hopefully not too rainy.
She takes a deep breath and she bends forward to just wet her hair. It always feels silly to wash her hair without getting the rest of her wet, but it’s easier to subject herself to one sensory nightmare at the time, even if it takes longer overall.
“If we get Lumière back, you and Gustave should see if you can fix our dome so it has seasons.”
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"It has been a nice change." She can admit that. "There are probably all kinds of plants and flowers here we haven't yet seen in bloom."
Lune flicks a brief sideways glance over to the shower, lips pressing at the careful way Sciel goes about the whole thing, saddened and sympathetic in equal measure. She's about to grope for more words, to keep the conversation going, but...
But then Sciel says that, and it feels like the air is sucked from Lune's lungs.
She remembers touching upon this with Sciel and Gustave both, back when she'd arrived. Gustave's somber fatalism he didn't express in so many words against Sciel's optimistic determination that they would all go back to Lumière if they succeed. All of them. Lune recalls bristling at Gustave's implication – why is one death more permanent than another? – but she can't say for certain where her own opinion lies even after all these months. Will any of them return to live in a spared Lumière? Will they remember any of this, if they do? Will all they see and experience in Etraya be wiped from their minds, like it never happened?
"That's really more in Gustave's wheelhouse rather than mine," she manages to say, past a throat that suddenly feels a little tight.
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She notes Lune's pause, but she can't slow down for anything, so she doesn't time to look.
"You have interesting opinions on everything, though," she says, over the water. "And you'll make sure he gets it done on time!"
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"There's that," Lune admits. "I guess I can always annoy him into being prompt. He'll work quick to be rid of me."
Well, that didn't make her feel better with the way things stand between herself and Gustave right now, but at least her tone remains admirably light in spite of the sting.
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“You never bother him!” she says, and it’s a gentle protest –– at least a little because she’s too wrapped up in this miserable task to properly argue Lune’s case. “And if you keep sounding like that, I am going to list off nice things about you until you surrender.”
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"Please don't," she returns with light humor, and another small laugh— amused but also really not equipped to handle casual, positive reinforcement. "I'll take your word for it."
The bathroom air is turning more humid and muggy by the minute, Lune's pajamas sticking to her skin a slightly annoying way, but she says nothing about it.
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She wrings her hair out, sending a great soapy splat to the bottom of the tub, and goes in for the fastest rinse she can manage.
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It would probably be Sciel. Lune gets up slowly when Sciel forces herself under the spray again for a rinse, beelining for the tall cabinet by the sink to pull out a towel, so it's ready when Sciel gets out. They've done laundry not too long ago— a soft, fresh towel is one of those tiny things that usually makes Lune feel better in the moment. Maybe it's a silly, but she can at least hope it might work for Sciel, too.
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“Did I miss any shampoo?”
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She can't see the back, but what is plainly evident to her is that Sciel seems to have reached her limit. A bit of leftover shampoo would do less harm than prolonging staying in. Shaking open the towel, Lune holds it out, ready for Sciel when she gets out.
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“Thank you,” she says, wrapping herself in it immediately, fingers and toes all curled in on themselves. She manages to breathe out anyway. “Hopefully someone invents a machine someday where you can stick your head in and your hair comes out clean, instantly.”
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"You should ask Gustave if he could swing it," she says, teasing fondly with a small smile. Sobering a little, she asks, "You okay?"
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Never having to sit outside the open bathroom door would be a good perk for him, too, though it’s not difficult to remind herself that he likes being there for her, inconvenient and embarrassing as it feels to her. How lucky is she to have two people that will do that for her, even in the stupid hours of the morning?
Even on solid tile and in Lune’s reach, she feels like her heartbeat doesn’t slow any, but it’s just more noticeable without the water drumming. She nods vigorously, like she could convince them both. She clutches the towel closed around her chest with one hand, reaching with the other hand to rake her wet hair completely out of her face.
“Yes, thank you. I am going to hug you the minute I’ve got pajamas on, but I’m alright.”
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