[ She remembers the initial confusion, then the dread clawing up her throat when she realized what was happening around her. How the joy and jubilant hope welling around Lumiere turned into horror and chaos in mere moments. This future was supposed to be abolished for good, and yet it dawned on them regardless like the cruel, inescapable thing that it is. It was all for nothing, every loss and every struggle.
To be aware of yourself slowly disintegrating, your entire being dissolving into ash and petals and being unable to do anything...
Lune always thought she understood the Gommage. She'd had no idea.
Then... there is nothing. Until suddenly, there's this. This train, not a broken pre-Fracture relic, but functional and gleaming, chugging along the tracks to some unknown destination. Lune wanders through the rumbling cars feeling numb and bewildered, understanding nothing that's going on. She only knows she shouldn't be anything, anymore. Weaving past the other passengers, she suddenly spies a figure up ahead; familiar one. Her heart skips. Another trick?
Cautiously she approaches from behind as if maybe he's a mirage after all, reaching out a hand to touch his armā arm that remains solid instead of turning to ash. ]
[ He doesn't know how long he's been here, sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, swaying with the motion of the train, staring out the window, lost in thought. Whatever destination awaits them, it doesn't seem to be anywhere nearby, and none of the attendants or other riders can answer his questions about where they're headed or how long it might take to get there. Eventually, even his curiosity about the train itself wanes, and now he stands with a hand on a nearby pole, his gaze turned thoughtful and inward.
The touch doesn't come as a surprise, at first. Other passengers have brushed past him before, and a few have put a hand on his shoulder to let him know they'd be moving by. But thenā
Gustave?
He turns, caught in a daze that shifts to surprise across his face before dawning into outright horror. His eyes widen, and his hands ā both hands, the metal prosthesis once again attached as solidly as ever, as if he'd never burned it into a wreck in a desperate last stand, as if it had never fallen from his body with a final horrible thud ā come up to grasp her shoulders. ]
Noā
[ It spills out of him, desperate. ]
No, no, no, no no no no!
[ His hands shake on her arms, tightening, and his face crumples right before he drags her into a rough embrace. His voice is a hoarse whisper, grief sandpapering his words. ]
[ In a dumbfounded daze, Lune's eyes skip haphazardly across his features and along his frame, as hale and whole as the day they departed LumiĆØre, the shock persisting even as his hands grip her shouldersā real. Here. (Where?) She barely registers his anguished words, not until his front crashes into hers as he reels her into a rough embrace.
Breath punches from her lungs and her chin hits his shoulder, her arms coming up to curl around him; reflexively at first, but soon grasping onto his uniform with both hands, fisting the fabric. His uniform that he's wearing. She's not standing rigidly in front of that burial mound, held together by force and duty, while Sciel tries to comfort an inconsolable Maelle. She's not slowly fading away in a spray of lazily drifting petals.
But both of those things happened, didn't they? ]
Gustave.
[ All she can get out is his name in a choked voice, overwhelmed and confused, rare wetness gathering behind her eyelids. ]
[ A moment of startle, and then he can feel her hands fisting into the material of his uniform, the uniform he'd woken to find clean and whole once more, no rips or tears or enormous, gaping holes blown in the fabric. He wraps himself around her, uncertain whether he's trying to comfort her or himself, and feels his heart break again. It's almost as painful this time as it was when the white-haired man speared him through with that implacable beam of chroma. ]
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
[ He murmurs it into the crush of her hair, eyes squeezing shut before he opens them again and forces himself to loosen his embrace enough to step back, look down into her face. His hands stay on her shoulders, unwilling to let her go. ]
[ Lune's hands fly to the sides of his face once there's some space between them, eyes wide and disbelieving as she takes him in, tactile in a way she usually isn't. The shock of it all is still working its way through her system, somehow hitting her full force now at the sight of Gustave, her thoughts moving slow and sticky like tar. ]
I... Weā
[ Her mouth is so dry. She shakes her head as if to jog her memories and thoughts, blinking a few times as her hands drop down to Gustave's shoulders instead. Like they're holding each other up, and maybe they are to a point. Her gaze too drops down, staring at the collar of his uniform without seeing anything, a frown knitting at her brows as she thinks back. ]
We defeated the Paintress. She's gone.
[ She enunciates slowly in a quiet voice, as if the recollection is coming back to her in fragments. Her fingers clutch at his shoulders tighter, and when Lune lifts her chin to meet Gustave's eyes again, she's never looked as lost as she does when the rest falls from her lips in a hushed, incredulous whisper. ]
[ He ducks his head to meet her eyes, trying to get her to focus on him. Lune is uncharacteristically rattled; whatever happened must have shaken her to the core. But she marshals herself with that same stubborn resilience he knows so well, only to speak impossible words into this impossible space.
All the breath goes out of him in a rush, like he's been hit in the gut, and his fingers tighten on her arms. ]
What do you mean it came anyway?
[ The Gommage is... it's from the Paintress, isn't it? That's what they've always known, always believed. But if they defeated her, if she's gone, and it came anyway...
He can't stop himself, gives her a little shake. ]
Maelle?
Is Malle all right?
[ Please, noā she was still so young, if the Gommage came anyway it surely must have passed her by. She was only sixteen. She had nine whole years left.
And yet Gustave finds himself looking up, away from Lune to cast his glance quickly around the train car, looking for a familiar head of red hair. ]
[ Gustave shakes her slightly, and one of her hands lifts up to hold her temple like she's warding off pain thereā or maybe just overwhelming sense of loss and failure.
Maelle. Lune glimpsed her for a moment, through her own fear and confusion, before she saw nothing at all anymore. She didn't see what happened to the girl, but how could her fate have been any different from the others Lune had seen... dissipating. All of them, gommaging, indiscriminately. ]
We returned to LumiĆØre, after. And... I don't understand. It should haveā this shouldn't haveā
[ She shakes her head. All the years of study, research, work: hers and others. False. Meaningless. All the loss and sacrifice and tragedy, and for what? Her throat feels tight, raw. ]
Everyone begun to Gommage, one after another. Regardless of age. I didn't see Maelle but for a moment before Iā
[ The words run out. No attempt at explanation will make this right. ]
[ His throat closes, the heart that somehow continues to beat stumbling in his chest. ]
Even the, the children?
[ Maelle, his apprentices, all those orphans who had been left to the less than tender care of the orphanage... Lumiere's future, gone. Blown away in a cloud of ash and petals, just like they'd always feared.
His wide-eyed, worried glance hadn't revealed any other familiar faces, though. No Sciel, with that scar across her nose; no Emma in her graceful skirts and blouses. No Maelle, red ponytail bobbing through the ground. But he can't let himself fall apart; there's still someone here who needs him, who is shaking under his hands and trying to keep herself together.
He looks down into Lune's face, and his hands gentle on her shoulders as he meets her dazed eyes. ]
Lune. Hey, hey, hey. It'sā
[ How much of a lie is he willing to speak? ]
āYou'll be okay. There's... there's nothing else you could do. It's over. And at least... at least we're together again.
[ It's over. A single tear slips down her cheek, even if she wipes it stubbornly away before it makes much headway. She didn't cry even when Sol and Stella Gommaged, when her parents' Expedition failed. Just closed herself off and buried herself deeper in her work. But the idea that all that effort and sacrifice was pointless after all is now coming close to breaking her. She'd wasted all her years working towards a goal that was always going to be doomed anyway. All of them had. ]
It was all for nothing, Gustave. All this time, all that work. What did I miss? I must have missed something. There had to have been somethingā something I could'veā
[ She was supposed to be the expert. It wasn't enough, she wasn't enough. Her breathing picks up without her notice, quietly working herself up to a fit as the cruel emormity of the situation crashes down on her. ]
[ It was all for nothing. Their shared nightmare, that maybe this fight really has been impossible all along, that for all their ingenuity and drive and determination, they would simply... fail.
And Lune... he knows how her parents pushed her. How she'd spent her whole life in pursuit of a solution. But expertise isn't always enough, and their world was never fair. The odds were always stacked against them, impossible. ]
No.
[ He's shaking his head, coming to wrap his arms around her again, drawing her close to him. Maybe they both failed. But he still... even now he can't believe it was truly for nothing. ]
No, Lune, no. It's not because of you. This isn't... it's not your failure. I know it.
[ Lune folds easily into the renewed embrace, accepting the comfort from him since she can find none within herself just now. Usually she can find a way to use whatever tragedy life throws at her, in order to keep going. Not this time. Her chin and mouth press into his shoulder, lips pinched, her own arms coming around him to hold on. ]
I'm sorry.
[ It's mumbled against his shoulder after a moment, but whether the apology is for what happened or for her own weakness just now, it's hard to tell. She doesn't bother trying to untangle that either, shuddering once as she inhales deeply, enforcing some self-control. There's a gleam of wetness in her eyes when she pulls back after a moment, just enough to see his face again, but no more tears fall. ]
Hey.
[ Like it's finally dawning on her she's actually seeing her lost friend again, and regardless of this utter sense of failure that's made its home inside her, she is happy about that at least. A tremulous smile follows. ]
[ He shakes his head, curling his arms around her and drawing her to him, close and warm, offering what little comfort he can in the face of... everything she's just told him, the devastation of it all.
Maybe if he'd been there, if he'd... if he'd been able to help....
She pulls back, and he loosens his hold on her immediately, hands shifting to her arms as he looks down into her face. That shaky little smile makes his heart tighten in his chest, and a myriad of emotions flicker across his face in the draw of his eyebrows together, the press of his lips: regret, guilt, sorrow, a quiet but oceanic grief. ]
Howā
[ He's not even sure he should ask, what he should ask. His hands tighten a little on her arms. ]
How long?
[ How long has it been, how long were they without him, how long have Maelle and his friends had to grieve because he simply couldn't win in a fight against someone who wouldn't die? ]
[ Lune's own hands cup his elbows, somehow reluctant to break the physical contact between them just yet, as if fearful he'll too vanish if she does.
It's far from an exact question, but somehow Lune understands what he means anyway. ]
A couple months. Give or take, the weeks blurred together before long. We had a... guide, of sorts, to show us the fastest way to the Paintress.
[ She tenses suddenly, thinking of Verso, a small frown knitting at her brows as a horrible thought lashes at her. Did he know? Did he know this would happen, that defeating the Paintress wouldn't break the cycle but speed it up? No. Surely he would have said something if he did. Lune can't comprehend the magnitude of such a betrayal if he did, in fact, know what would happen all along and never breathed a word even after everything they'd gone through together. ]
[ Someone else managed to find them in that shattered, desolate world?
He's already frowning, but when Lune tenses, her gaze turning slightly inward at some distracting ā or maybe distressing ā thought, he leans down toward her a little, trying to catch her gaze with his, his eyebrows rucked hard together into a furrow. ]
What, what'sā is somethingā
[ Wrong, he almost says, and he wrestles it back, knowing the answer. It's all wrong, all of it, somehow everything was perhaps even wrong from the very beginning, if destroying the Paintress meant destroying LumiĆØre, too.
But it had been months ā months ā since he was taken from them, since he... since he left them, and he can't stop the helpless desire to somehow fix things from welling up. Could he have stopped it, if he'd been there? Could anyone? ]
[ At the question, Lune exhales silently, shoulders slumping slightly as she seems to deflate. This is going to require explanation from the beginning, but she's not sure she relishes having to tell all this to Gustave. ]
When that man... at the cliffs. After heā [ Murdered you, is what she can't force out of her mouth. She probably doesn't need to, giving Gustave a thin-lipped look and squeezing her fingers against his elbows. ]
The rest of us would have been next if Verso hadn't shown up just then. He stopped Renoir ā that's the white-haired man ā and gave us time to get out. Verso is Renoir's son, and they're both Expeditioners... from Expedition Zero.
[ Yeah. She lets that sink in for a moment. ] Apparently they stopped aging and the Gommage has no effect on them. As Verso explained it, Renoir thinks this immortality of theirs is a gift from the Paintress and that's why he's been destroying every Expedition since that made it to the continent. Verso disagreed with his ideology. He wanted to join us in defeating the Paintress since he couldn't do it alone and he'd had enough of beingā stuck.
[ She falls quiet again for a moment, shaking her head, regret etched onto her face. ]
We didn't really have any other choice, Gustave. It was just the three of us left. He offered help, knew the fastest route to the Monolith. Past the dangers between us and there. I trusted that the shared goal would be enough, even though I knew he wasn't telling us everything. I thought it was worth the riskā for LumiĆØre. For everyone who'd laid the trail before us.
[ Now there's anger, flickering in her eyes and tightening her shoulders. ]
But now I keep thinking... what if Verso knew all along that this would happen if the Paintress falls? And he just never said a fucking word so we wouldn't get in the way of him getting what he wanted. [ An end. Oblivion. ]
Nobody is meant to live forever. Death is part of life, and having to let go of those we love is an inevitability. But I can understand why a detail like that might be a little muddled for you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meme top-levels ā ota forever
insomnia
midnight texting
stuck together
morning after
same sky
sexting
random scenario
shipping texts
injured intimacy
survival
train to afterlife ā demainvient
To be aware of yourself slowly disintegrating, your entire being dissolving into ash and petals and being unable to do anything...
Lune always thought she understood the Gommage. She'd had no idea.
Then... there is nothing. Until suddenly, there's this. This train, not a broken pre-Fracture relic, but functional and gleaming, chugging along the tracks to some unknown destination. Lune wanders through the rumbling cars feeling numb and bewildered, understanding nothing that's going on. She only knows she shouldn't be anything, anymore. Weaving past the other passengers, she suddenly spies a figure up ahead; familiar one. Her heart skips. Another trick?
Cautiously she approaches from behind as if maybe he's a mirage after all, reaching out a hand to touch his armā arm that remains solid instead of turning to ash. ]
...Gustave?
no subject
The touch doesn't come as a surprise, at first. Other passengers have brushed past him before, and a few have put a hand on his shoulder to let him know they'd be moving by. But thenā
Gustave?
He turns, caught in a daze that shifts to surprise across his face before dawning into outright horror. His eyes widen, and his hands ā both hands, the metal prosthesis once again attached as solidly as ever, as if he'd never burned it into a wreck in a desperate last stand, as if it had never fallen from his body with a final horrible thud ā come up to grasp her shoulders. ]
Noā
[ It spills out of him, desperate. ]
No, no, no, no no no no!
[ His hands shake on her arms, tightening, and his face crumples right before he drags her into a rough embrace. His voice is a hoarse whisper, grief sandpapering his words. ]
Putain. Lune, no. Not you. Not you, too.
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Breath punches from her lungs and her chin hits his shoulder, her arms coming up to curl around him; reflexively at first, but soon grasping onto his uniform with both hands, fisting the fabric. His uniform that he's wearing. She's not standing rigidly in front of that burial mound, held together by force and duty, while Sciel tries to comfort an inconsolable Maelle. She's not slowly fading away in a spray of lazily drifting petals.
But both of those things happened, didn't they? ]
Gustave.
[ All she can get out is his name in a choked voice, overwhelmed and confused, rare wetness gathering behind her eyelids. ]
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I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
[ He murmurs it into the crush of her hair, eyes squeezing shut before he opens them again and forces himself to loosen his embrace enough to step back, look down into her face. His hands stay on her shoulders, unwilling to let her go. ]
What happened? Do you remember?
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I... Weā
[ Her mouth is so dry. She shakes her head as if to jog her memories and thoughts, blinking a few times as her hands drop down to Gustave's shoulders instead. Like they're holding each other up, and maybe they are to a point. Her gaze too drops down, staring at the collar of his uniform without seeing anything, a frown knitting at her brows as she thinks back. ]
We defeated the Paintress. She's gone.
[ She enunciates slowly in a quiet voice, as if the recollection is coming back to her in fragments. Her fingers clutch at his shoulders tighter, and when Lune lifts her chin to meet Gustave's eyes again, she's never looked as lost as she does when the rest falls from her lips in a hushed, incredulous whisper. ]
But the Gommage came, anyway.
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All the breath goes out of him in a rush, like he's been hit in the gut, and his fingers tighten on her arms. ]
What do you mean it came anyway?
[ The Gommage is... it's from the Paintress, isn't it? That's what they've always known, always believed. But if they defeated her, if she's gone, and it came anyway...
He can't stop himself, gives her a little shake. ]
Maelle?
Is Malle all right?
[ Please, noā she was still so young, if the Gommage came anyway it surely must have passed her by. She was only sixteen. She had nine whole years left.
And yet Gustave finds himself looking up, away from Lune to cast his glance quickly around the train car, looking for a familiar head of red hair. ]
regretting this thread right now, ugh
Maelle. Lune glimpsed her for a moment, through her own fear and confusion, before she saw nothing at all anymore. She didn't see what happened to the girl, but how could her fate have been any different from the others Lune had seen... dissipating. All of them, gommaging, indiscriminately. ]
We returned to LumiĆØre, after. And... I don't understand. It should haveā this shouldn't haveā
[ She shakes her head. All the years of study, research, work: hers and others. False. Meaningless. All the loss and sacrifice and tragedy, and for what? Her throat feels tight, raw. ]
Everyone begun to Gommage, one after another. Regardless of age. I didn't see Maelle but for a moment before Iā
[ The words run out. No attempt at explanation will make this right. ]
SO many regrets
[ His throat closes, the heart that somehow continues to beat stumbling in his chest. ]
Even the, the children?
[ Maelle, his apprentices, all those orphans who had been left to the less than tender care of the orphanage... Lumiere's future, gone. Blown away in a cloud of ash and petals, just like they'd always feared.
His wide-eyed, worried glance hadn't revealed any other familiar faces, though. No Sciel, with that scar across her nose; no Emma in her graceful skirts and blouses. No Maelle, red ponytail bobbing through the ground. But he can't let himself fall apart; there's still someone here who needs him, who is shaking under his hands and trying to keep herself together.
He looks down into Lune's face, and his hands gentle on her shoulders as he meets her dazed eyes. ]
Lune. Hey, hey, hey. It'sā
[ How much of a lie is he willing to speak? ]
āYou'll be okay. There's... there's nothing else you could do. It's over. And at least... at least we're together again.
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[ It's over. A single tear slips down her cheek, even if she wipes it stubbornly away before it makes much headway. She didn't cry even when Sol and Stella Gommaged, when her parents' Expedition failed. Just closed herself off and buried herself deeper in her work. But the idea that all that effort and sacrifice was pointless after all is now coming close to breaking her. She'd wasted all her years working towards a goal that was always going to be doomed anyway. All of them had. ]
It was all for nothing, Gustave. All this time, all that work. What did I miss? I must have missed something. There had to have been somethingā something I could'veā
[ She was supposed to be the expert. It wasn't enough, she wasn't enough. Her breathing picks up without her notice, quietly working herself up to a fit as the cruel emormity of the situation crashes down on her. ]
no subject
And Lune... he knows how her parents pushed her. How she'd spent her whole life in pursuit of a solution. But expertise isn't always enough, and their world was never fair. The odds were always stacked against them, impossible. ]
No.
[ He's shaking his head, coming to wrap his arms around her again, drawing her close to him. Maybe they both failed. But he still... even now he can't believe it was truly for nothing. ]
No, Lune, no. It's not because of you. This isn't... it's not your failure. I know it.
no subject
I'm sorry.
[ It's mumbled against his shoulder after a moment, but whether the apology is for what happened or for her own weakness just now, it's hard to tell. She doesn't bother trying to untangle that either, shuddering once as she inhales deeply, enforcing some self-control. There's a gleam of wetness in her eyes when she pulls back after a moment, just enough to see his face again, but no more tears fall. ]
Hey.
[ Like it's finally dawning on her she's actually seeing her lost friend again, and regardless of this utter sense of failure that's made its home inside her, she is happy about that at least. A tremulous smile follows. ]
I missed you. We all did.
no subject
Maybe if he'd been there, if he'd... if he'd been able to help....
She pulls back, and he loosens his hold on her immediately, hands shifting to her arms as he looks down into her face. That shaky little smile makes his heart tighten in his chest, and a myriad of emotions flicker across his face in the draw of his eyebrows together, the press of his lips: regret, guilt, sorrow, a quiet but oceanic grief. ]
Howā
[ He's not even sure he should ask, what he should ask. His hands tighten a little on her arms. ]
How long?
[ How long has it been, how long were they without him, how long have Maelle and his friends had to grieve because he simply couldn't win in a fight against someone who wouldn't die? ]
sweating as i guesstimate something here
It's far from an exact question, but somehow Lune understands what he means anyway. ]
A couple months. Give or take, the weeks blurred together before long. We had a... guide, of sorts, to show us the fastest way to the Paintress.
[ She tenses suddenly, thinking of Verso, a small frown knitting at her brows as a horrible thought lashes at her. Did he know? Did he know this would happen, that defeating the Paintress wouldn't break the cycle but speed it up? No. Surely he would have said something if he did. Lune can't comprehend the magnitude of such a betrayal if he did, in fact, know what would happen all along and never breathed a word even after everything they'd gone through together. ]
no subject
[ Someone else managed to find them in that shattered, desolate world?
He's already frowning, but when Lune tenses, her gaze turning slightly inward at some distracting ā or maybe distressing ā thought, he leans down toward her a little, trying to catch her gaze with his, his eyebrows rucked hard together into a furrow. ]
What, what'sā is somethingā
[ Wrong, he almost says, and he wrestles it back, knowing the answer. It's all wrong, all of it, somehow everything was perhaps even wrong from the very beginning, if destroying the Paintress meant destroying LumiĆØre, too.
But it had been months ā months ā since he was taken from them, since he... since he left them, and he can't stop the helpless desire to somehow fix things from welling up. Could he have stopped it, if he'd been there? Could anyone? ]
What are you thinking?
no subject
When that man... at the cliffs. After heā [ Murdered you, is what she can't force out of her mouth. She probably doesn't need to, giving Gustave a thin-lipped look and squeezing her fingers against his elbows. ]
The rest of us would have been next if Verso hadn't shown up just then. He stopped Renoir ā that's the white-haired man ā and gave us time to get out. Verso is Renoir's son, and they're both Expeditioners... from Expedition Zero.
[ Yeah. She lets that sink in for a moment. ] Apparently they stopped aging and the Gommage has no effect on them. As Verso explained it, Renoir thinks this immortality of theirs is a gift from the Paintress and that's why he's been destroying every Expedition since that made it to the continent. Verso disagreed with his ideology. He wanted to join us in defeating the Paintress since he couldn't do it alone and he'd had enough of beingā stuck.
[ She falls quiet again for a moment, shaking her head, regret etched onto her face. ]
We didn't really have any other choice, Gustave. It was just the three of us left. He offered help, knew the fastest route to the Monolith. Past the dangers between us and there. I trusted that the shared goal would be enough, even though I knew he wasn't telling us everything. I thought it was worth the riskā for LumiĆØre. For everyone who'd laid the trail before us.
[ Now there's anger, flickering in her eyes and tightening her shoulders. ]
But now I keep thinking... what if Verso knew all along that this would happen if the Paintress falls? And he just never said a fucking word so we wouldn't get in the way of him getting what he wanted. [ An end. Oblivion. ]
Midnight Texting
I write not for myself. Nor about us. I only need to request one thing.
Tell Verso to bathe once in a while. He's beginning to smell like Monoco.
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Also, just how do you know what he's beginning to smell like?
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[It's a cryptic answer. But he thinks she is aware of the reasons he knows what he does.]
I ask not that you do this for myself, if you must do it at all.
[Do it for yourself if you like. But do it for the boy.]
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[ There was no reason to ask it like that, but she did anyway. ]
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Regardless, I am not above speaking to YOU if it will stop him doing something so foolish.
[Not that he expect he has spoken with her. This is personal, private and painful business all around.]
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[ Nope, not very honored at all. ]
Didn't it occur to you that perhaps he's within his rights to make his own decisions, as right or wrong as they may seem to you?
no subject
[Or decide not to bathe for a week. Come on, now.]
no subject
I believe there's a word for that. Do you prefer dictatorial or dogmatic?
no subject
My preference hardly matters. Not when it comes to keeping that boy alive.
[He prefers devoted.
Still, boy. Boys follow the laws of their fathers. She isn't wrong.]
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no subject
[What else is a desparate father supposed to do? Let him die?]
no subject
Nobody is meant to live forever. Death is part of life, and having to let go of those we love is an inevitability. But I can understand why a detail like that might be a little muddled for you.
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No. No, I don't believe you do. Not if you believe there is only one kind of love.
no subject
I believe there are many kinds of love, and they all end eventually, like they should. Everything has an end. To think otherwise is delusion.
no subject
[For those who come after, right?]