[ 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 arm— 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 then—
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 — 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 — come up to grasp her shoulders. ]
No—
[ 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 Lumière, the shock persisting even as his hands grip her shoulders— 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... We—
[ 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, no— 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 there— 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 Lumière, after. And... I don't understand. It should have— this shouldn't have—
[ 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 I—
[ 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's—
[ How much of a lie is he willing to speak? ]
—You'll be okay. There's... there's nothing else you could do. It's over. And at least... at least we're together again.
[ They'd agreed on two weeks. A shorter excursion back to the Continent – a compromise of sorts – to sate the worst of Lune's thirst for discovery while mitigating Gustave's chagrin to be away from his own work, his apprentices and Maelle. Perfectly aware that coming back to the Continent isn't really what Gustave particularly wants to do after their hard-earned victory over the Paintress, when they'd finally won the opportunity to lead a normal life without the fear of Gommage, without Expeditions, Lune had once more tried to argue going on her own. With Esquie's ever helpful assistance, moving between the Ancient Sanctuary for the Gestrals and Monoco's Station to see the Grandis would be a breeze. He would be so busy himself he wouldn't even notice she was gone!
Well. The result had been predictable. As much as Lune exasperates over Gustave's stubborn insistence, she also finds it annoyingly endearing. While they still haven't exactly worked out what this thing between them is, it does warm her heart that he's so adamant about coming with her. While she may not have said so with words, deciding to make Monoco's Station their first priority is an olive branch of sorts. Lune knows he didn't have as much time with the trains upon their first visit as he would have liked. Understandably, they'd been pressed for time and otherwise preoccupied. It's not really an inconvenience, as Lune herself didn't have enough time to pepper the Grandis with all her questions, either. Two birds, one stone.
Besides. The snow is beautiful, especially when one has only known the steady, temperate environment of Lumière, courtesy of the shield dome. She's not sure she wants to camp here, in the cold, but again; it's convenient to have a friendly cryptid around to whisk them off to a milder clime, if they so wish.
Taking a break from recording the myriad of fascinating tales the Grandis have to tell, Lune makes her way into one of the silent train cars, moving through them quietly until she finds Gustave in the locomotive, poking about the engine. Beautifully predictably.
Lune is normally too disciplined to surrender to random bouts of impishness, but she can't resist the impulse that comes to her then. A lone ball of loosely packed snow smacks against Gustave's shoulder from behind, followed by Lune's chuckle. ]
[ those two weeks weaved between going by quickly and dragging themselves out. time liked to work paradoxically like that. Gustave tried to remain focused on his work, wrapping up projects or getting them to the perfect stopping point so that he could resume upon their inevitable return. it wasn't always easy. Lune was the perfect distraction, for better or worse. the allure of dabbling into something as normal and mundane as intimacy called to him like a siren's song, reminding him of what it was like to get caught up in the warmth of affection that went beyond familial means.
that's why it made all the more sense not to deprive either of them of something they were clearly enjoying. if she's so adamant to return to the Continent, she needn't do so on her lonesome. Esquie may make for pleasant enough company, perhaps even Monoco if she needed some additional strength, but the advantages of having Gustave with her? mind-blowing — and definitely in the most inappropriate sense possible. he has a running bet on how long it'll take before she might get tired of how much of a distraction he will be.
but turnabout is fair play, he thinks. and he's intent on ensuring he returns his interest. ]
W— hey! [ his shock from being pelted by snow derives itself more from the fact that he was wrong in his calculations. Lune, even amidst the bristling cold, has warmed up so much to him that she has found the fun in pestering. his influence on her is duly noted. ] There could have been a rock in there, you know. Some twigs. And what if you hit me in my head, hm? Imagine the blood. Heathen.
[ her chuckle is returned as he turns to face her. he had someone already managed to get old remnants of oil and dirt on his cheek and across his nose from having touched around more than he should have. class act as always. ]
Crazy to think there's actual a chance I live long enough to see a railroad being rebuilt here. Maybe even ride a train myself. Hopefully you'll join me... even if we may need canes for assistance.
[ Lune would be lying if she claimed having Gustave accompany her over didn't have its... advantages. And at least they don't have to worry too much about being walked in on this time if they happen to get a bit "distracted", here and there. So far Gustave has managed to stave off Lune's initial exasperations at having some task or aspect of project management interrupted by something infinitely less productive, but there is a nice sense of novelty in the fact that they do actually have the time now to be distracted.
Brushing off bits of snow from her gloved hands, Lune chuffs a noise caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh at Gustave's dramatics, rolling her eyes. ]
Please. Hit you in the head? Excuse me— [ She points at herself. ] My aim is impeccable.
[ And she'll suffer no implications to the contrary, thank you. Her lips quirk slightly at the dark stains smudged across his face, taking a step closer and impulsively rubbing a glover thumb against his cheek in effort clean one of the spots away. The fleck of thick oil only smears further across his skin, and into her glove. Oops. ]
When there's an actual, running train, I promise I'll go with you. Canes or no.
[ A welcome thought, actually; living long enough to need a cane. She hums, amused and subtly awed in equal measure. ] You have a point, though. It still doesn't feel entirely real, does it?
[ he's aware that, should he distract Lune too much, she would either need to remain here longer or want to come back quicker. there's a thin, delicate line as to what would be acceptable. this diversion towards Monoco's Station is one of them. he's aware this stop is very much for him as opposed to Lune — perhaps a gift for parting ways with all that anchors him in Lumiére. it's a swell gift, really. he feels like a young boy again now that there's nothing urgent pulling them away from the ancient relics laying around them. ]
Ehhh. Debatable. Who needs aim when you toss around the elements like they're nothing? [ a tease. his aim is impeccable, okay. kind of needs to be thanks to his penchant towards firearms. ] Snowballs, though... you've downgraded.
[ there's an urge to find some snow to give her what for, but: 1) that would require leaving what he has deemed his domain, and 2) Lune had just closed in on him in record pace. he has no idea why her hand is gracing his features, but he accepts the warmth of it against his cold skin with glee. she can messy his face as much as she wants. wouldn't be the first time. ]
We may have gotten a bit spoiled by our current means of transportation. Maybe we should put Esquie on rails instead... heh. [ he moves his hands behind him, both gripping the rail behind him for support. Gustave feels like a teenager again, especially in how he leans towards Lune like some schoolboy hoping to charm a fellow classmate. ] Don't you worry. I know you'll age beautifully. Me, on the other hand? Mm. Not sure I can pull the grey off as well as others have shown.
[ Not entirely for Gustave. Lune did genuinely want to interview the Grandis, something about the slightly sorrowful wisdom of the gentle giants striking a chord in her. And unlike the Gestrals, as much as Lune loves them, the Grandis actually answer questions and make sense when they do. Her journal in her pictos space is already filled with notes from all of her conversations that she'd have to curate and transcribe properly later.
She exhales through her nose, a little huff of reluctant amusement; that was a back-handed compliment if she's ever heard one! ]
Would you rather I threw ice or lighting at you, then? With my so-called debatable aim, hm?
[ Her gaze narrows just a hint at that even as she teases him back. Her disposition mellows some more when he goes on, giving her an actual compliment. She tips her head to the side and rubs at that stubborn smudge on his cheek with her other finger, making some headway removing it. Her glove is probably ruined, though. The things she does for him. ]
Mm, I don't know if I'd say that. I think you'd be handsome either way.
[ See, she can be nice, too. Evidenced further by the way her lips curve into a small but warm smile, hardly missing the way he leans toward her, before she breathes a light laugh of amusement. ]
Really, did you stick your face into the engine too? You're smeared with what looks like oil. I'm a bit surprised there's any left after almost seventy years of lying out here in the elements...
Ahhh, no. Nope. Been impaled enough for one lifetime. Singed as well. I'll continue to happily take the snow, madame.
[ he's furrowing his brows and staring at her inquisitively, as if to silently ask what in the world she's rubbing at his face so hard for. it doesn't take him long to piece it together, leaving him sputtering his lips without even realizing it. Gustave withholds the comment he would like to make about how motherly she seems to be in this moment. no telling what kind of element he might get for that one. ]
Suppose only time... will tell. [ and for her motherly behavior comes some fatherly humor. at least he has an excuse. he's annoyed Maelle with that nonsense far too long in her young adulthood. ] Ahah. Yes... see, about that. I may have brought some with us. Wanted to test a theory or two when you said this would be a destination of ours.
[ he gestures down at the floor next to them, bag open and several tools and cloths laid along the floor. Gustave had intentions of stripping as much of the engine as he could, but he wouldn't be able to do that without some old fashioned lubricant. ]
Suppose I got carried away. These hands have minds of their own. Especially this one. [ the emphasized prosthetic pulls off of the rail, and with little warning, Gustave pinches two metal fingers around the side of Lune's backside. whoops. ] See? Thinking it may be time to consider a 2.0.
[ It's a small win, but she sounds a bit smug about it anyway. Lune only gives him a wry look at that dad humor that follows, since it wasn't the most egregious example possible. Not that she doesn't often chuckle at the groan-worthy lines in spite of herself... Considering they've left any concerns of unprotected sex up to fate, making no mention of any motherly fussing is probably a good thing— just another item on the list of things they really should discuss with some seriousness. Just not now, clearly.
She gives up on trying to wipe away the stains on his face and pulls her hand away, her efforts not really improving the state of things much. ]
Explains a few things. [ Now she does breathe a small laugh, glancing down at the stuff lying on the floor and gesturing toward the engine indicatively. ] I should have expected you'd want to pack as much of this away as possible.
[ His pictos space is probably halfway full by now. When Gustave suddenly sneaks a hand down to pinch at the side of her rear, he garners himself a tiny yelp of surprise and a quick, warning look that morphs too quickly into fond exasperation. ]
Mm, yes. It does seem to find itself in some interesting places with increased frequency of late... not what your apprentices ever intended, I'm sure.
[ The dryness of her delivery suffers a little from the slight flush of color across her cheeks, suddenly recalling a little too vividly their unplanned first encounter, a bit of wine-drunk merry-making somehow turning into him fingering her. And they haven't really stopped those kind of shenanigans, since. ]
[ of course it's only when she stops does he decide to bring his flesh hand up to begin touching and examining his own face. the wonders of fingerless gloves means he can hopefully find the source of her ire... and in doing so, he manages to forget those fingers were still oil-slicked from before. now he's dragged the messy further across his cheekbone and even along his nose now.
congratulations, Lune. did you know you have also brought Sciel along for this little excursion?
Gustave is probably going to figure out that he messed up by Lune's reaction, and he'll quickly pull his hand back as if to pretend he didn't do anything in the slightest. ]
Good news for them: they get to grow up and learn why it's great to ensure everyone has their limbs working and intact... to benefit others far beyond just themselves.
[ his little pinch turns into an open palm that rests firmly on the side of said rear, with Gustave finding easy confidence in her twist of fluster. he uses it to guide her forward, until her body is pressed so taut into his that he was now fully leaned back into the rail behind him. he moves to touch her face this time, brushing some idle strands of hair out from her eyes before resting them around her neck. he's careful to ensure he doesn't smear oil tracks onto her as well. for now.
he does owe her for the snowball... ]
And we're in agreement as to how much it may benefit others, hm?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meme top-levels — ota forever
insomnia
midnight texting
stuck together
morning after
same sky
sexting
random scenario
shipping texts
injured intimacy
survival
train to afterlife → 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 arm— arm that remains solid instead of turning to ash. ]
...Gustave?
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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 then—
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 — 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 — come up to grasp her shoulders. ]
No—
[ 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... We—
[ 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, no— 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 Lumière, after. And... I don't understand. It should have— this shouldn't have—
[ 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 I—
[ 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's—
[ How much of a lie is he willing to speak? ]
—You'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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sweating as i guesstimate something here
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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?
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[Or decide not to bathe for a week. Come on, now.]
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I believe there's a word for that. Do you prefer dictatorial or dogmatic?
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Well. The result had been predictable. As much as Lune exasperates over Gustave's stubborn insistence, she also finds it annoyingly endearing. While they still haven't exactly worked out what this thing between them is, it does warm her heart that he's so adamant about coming with her. While she may not have said so with words, deciding to make Monoco's Station their first priority is an olive branch of sorts. Lune knows he didn't have as much time with the trains upon their first visit as he would have liked. Understandably, they'd been pressed for time and otherwise preoccupied. It's not really an inconvenience, as Lune herself didn't have enough time to pepper the Grandis with all her questions, either. Two birds, one stone.
Besides. The snow is beautiful, especially when one has only known the steady, temperate environment of Lumière, courtesy of the shield dome. She's not sure she wants to camp here, in the cold, but again; it's convenient to have a friendly cryptid around to whisk them off to a milder clime, if they so wish.
Taking a break from recording the myriad of fascinating tales the Grandis have to tell, Lune makes her way into one of the silent train cars, moving through them quietly until she finds Gustave in the locomotive, poking about the engine. Beautifully predictably.
Lune is normally too disciplined to surrender to random bouts of impishness, but she can't resist the impulse that comes to her then. A lone ball of loosely packed snow smacks against Gustave's shoulder from behind, followed by Lune's chuckle. ]
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that's why it made all the more sense not to deprive either of them of something they were clearly enjoying. if she's so adamant to return to the Continent, she needn't do so on her lonesome. Esquie may make for pleasant enough company, perhaps even Monoco if she needed some additional strength, but the advantages of having Gustave with her? mind-blowing — and definitely in the most inappropriate sense possible. he has a running bet on how long it'll take before she might get tired of how much of a distraction he will be.
but turnabout is fair play, he thinks. and he's intent on ensuring he returns his interest. ]
W— hey! [ his shock from being pelted by snow derives itself more from the fact that he was wrong in his calculations. Lune, even amidst the bristling cold, has warmed up so much to him that she has found the fun in pestering. his influence on her is duly noted. ] There could have been a rock in there, you know. Some twigs. And what if you hit me in my head, hm? Imagine the blood. Heathen.
[ her chuckle is returned as he turns to face her. he had someone already managed to get old remnants of oil and dirt on his cheek and across his nose from having touched around more than he should have. class act as always. ]
Crazy to think there's actual a chance I live long enough to see a railroad being rebuilt here. Maybe even ride a train myself. Hopefully you'll join me... even if we may need canes for assistance.
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Brushing off bits of snow from her gloved hands, Lune chuffs a noise caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh at Gustave's dramatics, rolling her eyes. ]
Please. Hit you in the head? Excuse me— [ She points at herself. ] My aim is impeccable.
[ And she'll suffer no implications to the contrary, thank you. Her lips quirk slightly at the dark stains smudged across his face, taking a step closer and impulsively rubbing a glover thumb against his cheek in effort clean one of the spots away. The fleck of thick oil only smears further across his skin, and into her glove. Oops. ]
When there's an actual, running train, I promise I'll go with you. Canes or no.
[ A welcome thought, actually; living long enough to need a cane. She hums, amused and subtly awed in equal measure. ] You have a point, though. It still doesn't feel entirely real, does it?
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Ehhh. Debatable. Who needs aim when you toss around the elements like they're nothing? [ a tease. his aim is impeccable, okay. kind of needs to be thanks to his penchant towards firearms. ] Snowballs, though... you've downgraded.
[ there's an urge to find some snow to give her what for, but: 1) that would require leaving what he has deemed his domain, and 2) Lune had just closed in on him in record pace. he has no idea why her hand is gracing his features, but he accepts the warmth of it against his cold skin with glee. she can messy his face as much as she wants. wouldn't be the first time. ]
We may have gotten a bit spoiled by our current means of transportation. Maybe we should put Esquie on rails instead... heh. [ he moves his hands behind him, both gripping the rail behind him for support. Gustave feels like a teenager again, especially in how he leans towards Lune like some schoolboy hoping to charm a fellow classmate. ] Don't you worry. I know you'll age beautifully. Me, on the other hand? Mm. Not sure I can pull the grey off as well as others have shown.
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She exhales through her nose, a little huff of reluctant amusement; that was a back-handed compliment if she's ever heard one! ]
Would you rather I threw ice or lighting at you, then? With my so-called debatable aim, hm?
[ Her gaze narrows just a hint at that even as she teases him back. Her disposition mellows some more when he goes on, giving her an actual compliment. She tips her head to the side and rubs at that stubborn smudge on his cheek with her other finger, making some headway removing it. Her glove is probably ruined, though. The things she does for him. ]
Mm, I don't know if I'd say that. I think you'd be handsome either way.
[ See, she can be nice, too. Evidenced further by the way her lips curve into a small but warm smile, hardly missing the way he leans toward her, before she breathes a light laugh of amusement. ]
Really, did you stick your face into the engine too? You're smeared with what looks like oil. I'm a bit surprised there's any left after almost seventy years of lying out here in the elements...
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[ he's furrowing his brows and staring at her inquisitively, as if to silently ask what in the world she's rubbing at his face so hard for. it doesn't take him long to piece it together, leaving him sputtering his lips without even realizing it. Gustave withholds the comment he would like to make about how motherly she seems to be in this moment. no telling what kind of element he might get for that one. ]
Suppose only time... will tell. [ and for her motherly behavior comes some fatherly humor. at least he has an excuse. he's annoyed Maelle with that nonsense far too long in her young adulthood. ] Ahah. Yes... see, about that. I may have brought some with us. Wanted to test a theory or two when you said this would be a destination of ours.
[ he gestures down at the floor next to them, bag open and several tools and cloths laid along the floor. Gustave had intentions of stripping as much of the engine as he could, but he wouldn't be able to do that without some old fashioned lubricant. ]
Suppose I got carried away. These hands have minds of their own. Especially this one. [ the emphasized prosthetic pulls off of the rail, and with little warning, Gustave pinches two metal fingers around the side of Lune's backside. whoops. ] See? Thinking it may be time to consider a 2.0.
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[ It's a small win, but she sounds a bit smug about it anyway. Lune only gives him a wry look at that dad humor that follows, since it wasn't the most egregious example possible. Not that she doesn't often chuckle at the groan-worthy lines in spite of herself... Considering they've left any concerns of unprotected sex up to fate, making no mention of any motherly fussing is probably a good thing— just another item on the list of things they really should discuss with some seriousness. Just not now, clearly.
She gives up on trying to wipe away the stains on his face and pulls her hand away, her efforts not really improving the state of things much. ]
Explains a few things. [ Now she does breathe a small laugh, glancing down at the stuff lying on the floor and gesturing toward the engine indicatively. ] I should have expected you'd want to pack as much of this away as possible.
[ His pictos space is probably halfway full by now. When Gustave suddenly sneaks a hand down to pinch at the side of her rear, he garners himself a tiny yelp of surprise and a quick, warning look that morphs too quickly into fond exasperation. ]
Mm, yes. It does seem to find itself in some interesting places with increased frequency of late... not what your apprentices ever intended, I'm sure.
[ The dryness of her delivery suffers a little from the slight flush of color across her cheeks, suddenly recalling a little too vividly their unplanned first encounter, a bit of wine-drunk merry-making somehow turning into him fingering her. And they haven't really stopped those kind of shenanigans, since. ]
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congratulations, Lune. did you know you have also brought Sciel along for this little excursion?
Gustave is probably going to figure out that he messed up by Lune's reaction, and he'll quickly pull his hand back as if to pretend he didn't do anything in the slightest. ]
Good news for them: they get to grow up and learn why it's great to ensure everyone has their limbs working and intact... to benefit others far beyond just themselves.
[ his little pinch turns into an open palm that rests firmly on the side of said rear, with Gustave finding easy confidence in her twist of fluster. he uses it to guide her forward, until her body is pressed so taut into his that he was now fully leaned back into the rail behind him. he moves to touch her face this time, brushing some idle strands of hair out from her eyes before resting them around her neck. he's careful to ensure he doesn't smear oil tracks onto her as well. for now.
he does owe her for the snowball... ]
And we're in agreement as to how much it may benefit others, hm?
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