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.”
"Well, I can probably handle that," Lune says wryly, lips quirking, squeezing Sciel's arm before letting her hand drop. She's not sure she's one hundred percent convinced by Sciel's insistence, but she isn't going to call the other woman out on it. Instead, she nods toward the door – maybe getting out of the bathroom and the immediate vicinity of the shower might help settle Sciel.
Sciel is more than happy to leave the bathroom, tip toeing out and into the dark hall and right to her bedroom. At the doorway, she realizes she’s not going to make Lune navigate her mess, so she gestures to her wait with a raised finger. She doesn’t bother flipping on the lights there, familiar enough with where she’s last left piles of clothes and kicked-off pumps and pillows from her unmade bed to move around them, right to her dresser, where she grabs a clean t-shirt and shorts. Right back to Lune she goes, dripping a little the whole way.
“We’re going to be so tired tomorrow, starting the day with a hike…”
Lune nods with a faint hum of acknowledgement, waiting obediently. For a moment, she feels silly to hang out in the dark hallway when she could just go into her own room already and wait there, but it doesn't feel right to leave after she'd made a point to stick with Sciel through the shower. And Sciel returns soon enough.
The dripping is actually kind of bothering Lune, but she tamps down on it admirably. It's just a few drops of water, she tells herself, it won't damage anything.
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," she murmurs as they go, trying to keep quiet until they get into her room. "There were days when it was a struggle to get up and keep going."
On the Expedition, but she's sure she doesn't need to elaborate. At least the circumstances are less dire this time. And although Lune usually considers it a waste of time, she concedes, "I guess there's always napping."
“It feels worse when you know you could sleep in, though,” she whispers. “We never got to sleep in on Expedition!”
She’s hot on Lune’s heels down that last stretch of hall, still dripping, and she hates the feeling of it but tells herself she’ll be cozy in Lune’s bed before long. The minute Lune’s door closes behind them, she drops the towel to her waist and pulls the t-shirt on over her head. It says SAN FRANCESCO SUPERFEST 2025 in big letters, and it engulfs her, several sizes too big.
Lune turns away while Sciel dresses, ostensibly to turn down the neatly laid covers. At the question, she huffs a wry laugh.
"Sleeping in the middle of the day? Not in our household." That way of thinking stuck too well after she was in charge of her own self, ingrained as a waste of time. Picking up a pillow, she turns it slowly in her hands, fluffing it idly as she considers.
"But... maybe I can give it a try now."
There's a long list of perfectly normal, mundane things that Lune has never experienced, never had the time for. Maybe napping can be next— surely that will go better than going on a date did.
Sciel drapes the towel around her neck and steps into her shorts, and then starts trying to wring more water from her hair so she ceases to drip. Her heart rate settles minute by minute, settling into a calm that's a little less forced, even if the way her hair sticks to her skin still bugs her.
"You should do it," she says. "Take a whole afternoon to just luxuriate in bed. Think about nothing, when you think at all."
"An hour," she bargains, twisting the towel around her hair hard for a moment, and then unwrapping it again and deeming it... acceptable. She still puts the towel around her shoulders to shield herself. "Half an hour isn't anything. It'll vanish in the blink of an eye."
"An hour," Lune repeats slowly, as if weighing the idea in her head. Throwing the pillow back against the headboard, she breathes out a sound caught between a sigh and a chuckle. "Okay, fine. An hour."
Turning back to Sciel, she smiles a bit crookedly, amused. "How do you always manage to talk me into these things?"
“I’m very charming and persistent,” she says, matter-of-fact, and Lune turning to her is as good as opportunity as every to step into her space to hug her, nestling her chin right into the crook of Lune’s shoulder. “And you know I’m right.”
If Lune is surprised or taken aback by the hug, it only lasts for a second – Sciel did warn her earlier, after all – before her arms go around the other woman to return the embrace, huffing a quiet, fond laugh.
"Yeah. I know." Both of those things, really. "Are you feeling better?"
She nods against Lune’s shoulder, lingering right where she is. Every second is healing, one step closer to feeling completely at home in her own body again.
“Yes. Thank you.” Couldn’t do it alone. “I promise someday I won’t be a baby about that.”
No promises on not having a bleeding heart, though.
Lune's fingers press into Sciel a little tighter for a beat at the gratitude, a wordless acknowledgement she feels a bit awkward putting into words. She doesn't make any effort to move out of the hug, even though normally the prolonged embrace would probably feel a bit weird— even with Sciel, who has patiently subjected Lune to more casual touches than any other person past or present, like taming a stray cat.
"Well, there's no hurry," Lune murmurs after a beat. With that, or anything else. If Sciel needs to be hugged, then she'll stand here for the rest of the night if she has to.
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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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"Come on. Let's get you some pj's, yeah?"
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Sciel is more than happy to leave the bathroom, tip toeing out and into the dark hall and right to her bedroom. At the doorway, she realizes she’s not going to make Lune navigate her mess, so she gestures to her wait with a raised finger. She doesn’t bother flipping on the lights there, familiar enough with where she’s last left piles of clothes and kicked-off pumps and pillows from her unmade bed to move around them, right to her dresser, where she grabs a clean t-shirt and shorts. Right back to Lune she goes, dripping a little the whole way.
“We’re going to be so tired tomorrow, starting the day with a hike…”
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The dripping is actually kind of bothering Lune, but she tamps down on it admirably. It's just a few drops of water, she tells herself, it won't damage anything.
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," she murmurs as they go, trying to keep quiet until they get into her room. "There were days when it was a struggle to get up and keep going."
On the Expedition, but she's sure she doesn't need to elaborate. At least the circumstances are less dire this time. And although Lune usually considers it a waste of time, she concedes, "I guess there's always napping."
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She’s hot on Lune’s heels down that last stretch of hall, still dripping, and she hates the feeling of it but tells herself she’ll be cozy in Lune’s bed before long. The minute Lune’s door closes behind them, she drops the towel to her waist and pulls the t-shirt on over her head. It says SAN FRANCESCO SUPERFEST 2025 in big letters, and it engulfs her, several sizes too big.
“Have you ever napped?”
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"Sleeping in the middle of the day? Not in our household." That way of thinking stuck too well after she was in charge of her own self, ingrained as a waste of time. Picking up a pillow, she turns it slowly in her hands, fluffing it idly as she considers.
"But... maybe I can give it a try now."
There's a long list of perfectly normal, mundane things that Lune has never experienced, never had the time for. Maybe napping can be next— surely that will go better than going on a date did.
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"You should do it," she says. "Take a whole afternoon to just luxuriate in bed. Think about nothing, when you think at all."
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Even that could be pushing it, honestly. And not thinking about anything is definitely beyond her.
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Turning back to Sciel, she smiles a bit crookedly, amused. "How do you always manage to talk me into these things?"
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"Yeah. I know." Both of those things, really. "Are you feeling better?"
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“Yes. Thank you.” Couldn’t do it alone. “I promise someday I won’t be a baby about that.”
No promises on not having a bleeding heart, though.
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"Well, there's no hurry," Lune murmurs after a beat. With that, or anything else. If Sciel needs to be hugged, then she'll stand here for the rest of the night if she has to.
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