Everyone runs out of time eventually, some sooner than others. It's selfish to wish for more when he knows that if someone is to be left behind, it probably won't be him.
He seems a little surprised by the hand on his shoulder, and he suppresses the impulse to reach up and touch it with his own. "No promises," he says, half-smiling at his own lap. "Haven't found a way to relax half as effective as you yet. Might take some experimenting."
Being an inventor and all. Experimenting must be his bread and butter. There are two very lovely women he could experiment with across the camp, in fact, but Verso has a feeling Gustave's low self-esteem and awkward nature will impede that from happening. He doesn't have the right to feel relieved about that, and it's actually an awful thing to feel relieved about, but the fact remains that after a lifetime of being interchangeable with someone else, he's glad to not be so easily replaced.
A pat on the shoulder, and he retracts his hand. "I'm sure you'll think of something." And that's all he says before walking away, although he refuses to acknowledge it as fleeing.
"Coward," Gustave murmurs as Verso goes, and he himself is uncertain about who he's talking about. He doesn't mean to look as disappointed as he feels, and he schools his expression quickly. He's lonely, as irrational as it is, had forgotten how much comfort he took in the affectionate touch of another person. It feels now like it's being dangled mockingly out of reach; Verso claims to be interested, but remains unyielding.
Verso had been fine with allowing Sciel to distract him. Perhaps he simply preferred intimacy with women.
Perhaps also it's a horrible idea to waste time thinking about this at all, but there always comes a point in the night when it's too late to be productive; he is going to burn all of that idle time restless and antsier than normal, double- and triple-checking supplies and preparations with the rest of the team anyway.
That's the last time Verso allows himself to get distracted by human connection. Gustave had said he'd do anything for Maelle, 'fuck the mission' included, and that's the go-ahead he needs to feel confident about his choice. It still feels like shit to watch Renoir fade away, for the record. For as long as Verso's been railing against him, there's a part of him, bigger perhaps than he would like, that still loves him. It's worse still to watch Maman struggle against what she knows to be true, see the hatred with which she looks at Maelle.
She doesn't mean it, he's convinced himself; drowning people pull others down with them. It'll be all right once she's forced to face reality, something he still doesn't quite believe they're capable of accomplishing until they have. And then— He watches Sciel and Lune embrace, happy tears in the corner of Lune's eyes that she quickly wipes away. When they return to Lumière, he watches children marvel at Esquie and Monoco. He watches it all fade away one last time.
After all of it, he's still fucking here. Speaking with Maelle without barriers for the first time is everything, but he finds himself somewhat disappointed to hear that there's no reason to destroy the Canvas anymore. Oblivion had seemed enticing, and more enticing still when he has to endure Lune's berating. One second repainted into this world, and she's already dressing him down. Maelle certainly got her essence right.
He knows when he's not wanted, so he keeps his distance for the night. Maelle has plenty to talk about with the others, plenty of stories to keep them entertained.
Gustave hates that he's shut down often enough on this Expedition that he's able to recognize its approach, but at least he's got enough warning to know he needs a few minutes alone to recalibrate. His primary focus is, of course, on Maelle, what this means for her and her future. Second comes the worry about everyone else in Lumière; third comes thoughts about the rest of the Expedition team, and then from there the million other things that have changed about his perception of their world.
He doesn't let himself dwell on Verso until it's almost too late in the night to even bother approaching. He'd lied so effortlessly and flawlessly at practically every turn; Gustave finds himself wondering despite himself if any of it had been authentic.
He isn't sure he can muster up the energy to care about feeling betrayed right now, his affect a bit flat as he stops to stand near him. "Explains the way you look at her."
He didn't really expect Gustave to come rub his back and tell him that he's so brave to sacrifice everything for family, but he'd hoped for something a little more than an inexpressive face and dull tone. At least if Gustave came to yell at him as Lune did, he'd get to use it to wallow in his own self-hatred some more.
His back is against a tree, legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped in his lap. Verso looks up at Gustave, but only for a brief moment. "I did want to tell her." So badly, at times. Gustave has no idea how it had felt to watch Maelle look at him as if he'd hung the stars while Verso was just a stranger to her.
Gustave has little interest in yelling and even less in consoling, and he watches him for a moment before taking a seat of his against a neighboring side of the tree trunk.
He's not wary of him, exactly; just uncertain about where they stand - not him and Verso, necessarily, but Verso and the rest of the Expedition. "I'm honestly a little surprised you didn't kill me," he says after a moment. "Must have been a strange situation for you."
Gustave hums quietly at that, because - well. It's a good answer. He's relieved to know Verso's entire personality hadn't been a carefully curated mask. "Yeah," he agrees, watching the sky, too in his own head to really absorb much of what he's seeing. "We must have sounded like idiots to you," he settles on eventually. "Naive."
If the vibe weren't so somber right now, Verso would probably laugh. Does Gustave imagine him as a moustache-twirling villain, laughing at the naivete of people who couldn't possibly know better? He was ignorant once, too. He had a bright-eyed idealism once, too.
Surely Gustave doesn't care to hear all that, so he lands on, "You sounded hopeful."
Verso has always been an enigma, opaque from the beginning. Gustave isn't sure what sort of secrets he'd been expecting him to have been hiding, but his wildest imagination never came close to this. It's been an incredibly surreal twenty-four hours.
"We were," he says, for lack of better answer. Quiet again, and he takes a low, careful breath. "I don't know how you want us to feel about you."
Verso wants to be liked, obviously, but that doesn't feel particularly realistic at the moment. Maybe not ever. Lune might hold a grudge for eternity. "Honestly," he answers, a little sheepishly. "I didn't think you'd feel any way about me."
Translation: He hadn't planned on having to deal with the consequences of his actions.
Gustave swears softly under his breath, feeling an uncomfortable bubble of emotion he's not immediately and fully sure how to even identify. "Was anything about any of your time with us- true?" There's a rough sort of edge to his voice. "Or were we just a means to your end. That's what I'm asking."
Yes, Gustave, it's hard not to snark, the handjob was all part of my dastardly manipulation. Unfortunately, he's fairly sure that irreverence would strike out with Gustave right now.
"I was just trying to do the right thing." It isn't an answer, exactly, but he isn't certain how he possibly could answer that. Yes, large parts of it were all a lie. He tried to ingratiate himself in the hopes that the Expedition would unwittingly help bring about their own demise. He still cut off a hand to talk to Gustave, anyway.
It's inane, the way Gustave thinks now about Verso's deferred affection. After the Paintress, he'd insisted, and Gustave had allowed that to become a private thing to look forward to.
He'd been willing to let them all be erased from existence without a word of warning or explanation; he's not going to assume 'a handjob in the woods' is beyond reason if it means sticking close to someone who meant something to Maelle.
"Okay." His head hurts. "And what are you going to do now?"
Gustave's asking, he thinks, because he's afraid Verso is some moustache-twirling villain, and that he'll do something to jeopardize their existence again. Despite everything, Verso feels the urge to put him at ease. Old habits die hard.
"Our mother's out of the Canvas," he explains; Maelle had claimed it was hidden from her and that she wouldn't return, and he supposes he has no choice but to believe her. Maelle had also claimed that she would use the Canvas responsibly, unlike Maman, and he has no choice but to believe that right now, too. "I'll help Maelle with whatever she needs."
What comes after that, he's not certain. No more torturing Maman with his existence, no more Gommages to try to rescue her from herself. Maybe Maelle will see fit to erase him, when this is all over.
A pause, before he can't help himself. "I liked you. All of you."
It's not quite that. More than anything else, Gustave is starting to accept that there aren't any mustache-twirling villains in the first place, even though the existence of one would make all of this so much simpler. He thinks about that final walk with Soph, the tentative empathy she'd had for the Paintress even then, and it makes his heart hurt.
"Past tense?" He doesn't really have a point in asking, his head knocked back against the bark of the tree. It's just - easier, to stay here.
Gustave is silent for a long moment, like he's absorbing those words, before he doubles over to press his face into his hands. "I can't believe I slept with Maelle's actual brother. This is such an- insane situation." He means all of it, not just their weird dynamics.
"You didn't know any better," he says, and the worst part is that he's genuinely trying to make Gustave feel better about it. It's not like he's the one who did it while fully aware of the uncomfortable intertwining of their family trees. Verso should probably do some self-reflection about that, but he's absolutely not going to. "You thought I was just a... mysterious and handsome stranger."
"You were that." Gustave isn't sure what point he wants to make, what he's trying to communicate - if it's anything at all. This is so insignificant in the scope of everything else, but maybe it feels like this is one thing he might actually have influence over.
He closes his eyes, as if that's going to help him think. "I considered us friends. I hope you did, too."
Verso doesn't linger on that because, well, fucking obviously. No one's ever wanted to be his friend after the truth came out. Superficial charm only goes so far.
He leans his head against the trunk of the tree, bark scratching at his hair. "I think that's Esquie calling you." It's not, but it's only fair to give Gustave the sort of outs he always gave himself.
Gustave is silent for a long moment, but he's unmoving. Focused, in that intense way he does at times, and vaguely he wonders if this is what a migraine feels like.
"You've only ever been on Maelle's side, haven't you. Since the very beginning. I can't hate you for that."
Yes, and no. Maelle, of course, deserves a mother who lives in the real world. She deserves a family that's moved on, that doesn't blame her for things that were never her fault. Kicking Aline out of the Canvas was certainly a step in that direction. Part of it had been selfish, too, though. He'd wanted it all to stop.
"Oh, I don't know. Lune's doing a good job of it."
"This may come as a surprise, but Lune and I are, in fact, different people. Is this where you let us know that all Expeditioners actually look the same to you after so long? Because that would be the worst twist yet."
It's not funny. He knows it isn't funny, but he's at a strange loss.
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superniceone) wrote2025-06-23 06:53 pm
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He seems a little surprised by the hand on his shoulder, and he suppresses the impulse to reach up and touch it with his own. "No promises," he says, half-smiling at his own lap. "Haven't found a way to relax half as effective as you yet. Might take some experimenting."
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Being an inventor and all. Experimenting must be his bread and butter. There are two very lovely women he could experiment with across the camp, in fact, but Verso has a feeling Gustave's low self-esteem and awkward nature will impede that from happening. He doesn't have the right to feel relieved about that, and it's actually an awful thing to feel relieved about, but the fact remains that after a lifetime of being interchangeable with someone else, he's glad to not be so easily replaced.
A pat on the shoulder, and he retracts his hand. "I'm sure you'll think of something." And that's all he says before walking away, although he refuses to acknowledge it as fleeing.
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Verso had been fine with allowing Sciel to distract him. Perhaps he simply preferred intimacy with women.
Perhaps also it's a horrible idea to waste time thinking about this at all, but there always comes a point in the night when it's too late to be productive; he is going to burn all of that idle time restless and antsier than normal, double- and triple-checking supplies and preparations with the rest of the team anyway.
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She doesn't mean it, he's convinced himself; drowning people pull others down with them. It'll be all right once she's forced to face reality, something he still doesn't quite believe they're capable of accomplishing until they have. And then— He watches Sciel and Lune embrace, happy tears in the corner of Lune's eyes that she quickly wipes away. When they return to Lumière, he watches children marvel at Esquie and Monoco. He watches it all fade away one last time.
After all of it, he's still fucking here. Speaking with Maelle without barriers for the first time is everything, but he finds himself somewhat disappointed to hear that there's no reason to destroy the Canvas anymore. Oblivion had seemed enticing, and more enticing still when he has to endure Lune's berating. One second repainted into this world, and she's already dressing him down. Maelle certainly got her essence right.
He knows when he's not wanted, so he keeps his distance for the night. Maelle has plenty to talk about with the others, plenty of stories to keep them entertained.
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He doesn't let himself dwell on Verso until it's almost too late in the night to even bother approaching. He'd lied so effortlessly and flawlessly at practically every turn; Gustave finds himself wondering despite himself if any of it had been authentic.
He isn't sure he can muster up the energy to care about feeling betrayed right now, his affect a bit flat as he stops to stand near him. "Explains the way you look at her."
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His back is against a tree, legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped in his lap. Verso looks up at Gustave, but only for a brief moment. "I did want to tell her." So badly, at times. Gustave has no idea how it had felt to watch Maelle look at him as if he'd hung the stars while Verso was just a stranger to her.
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He's not wary of him, exactly; just uncertain about where they stand - not him and Verso, necessarily, but Verso and the rest of the Expedition. "I'm honestly a little surprised you didn't kill me," he says after a moment. "Must have been a strange situation for you."
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"Yeah," he says noncommittally instead. "...But it's good she had you." He'd felt jealousy the likes of which have never been felt before watching them together, but— during those 16 years in Lumiére, she deserved to feel loved, cared for. He's relieved that she did.
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Surely Gustave doesn't care to hear all that, so he lands on, "You sounded hopeful."
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"We were," he says, for lack of better answer. Quiet again, and he takes a low, careful breath. "I don't know how you want us to feel about you."
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Translation: He hadn't planned on having to deal with the consequences of his actions.
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He had trusted! You!!!
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"I was just trying to do the right thing." It isn't an answer, exactly, but he isn't certain how he possibly could answer that. Yes, large parts of it were all a lie. He tried to ingratiate himself in the hopes that the Expedition would unwittingly help bring about their own demise. He still cut off a hand to talk to Gustave, anyway.
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He'd been willing to let them all be erased from existence without a word of warning or explanation; he's not going to assume 'a handjob in the woods' is beyond reason if it means sticking close to someone who meant something to Maelle.
"Okay." His head hurts. "And what are you going to do now?"
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"Our mother's out of the Canvas," he explains; Maelle had claimed it was hidden from her and that she wouldn't return, and he supposes he has no choice but to believe her. Maelle had also claimed that she would use the Canvas responsibly, unlike Maman, and he has no choice but to believe that right now, too. "I'll help Maelle with whatever she needs."
What comes after that, he's not certain. No more torturing Maman with his existence, no more Gommages to try to rescue her from herself. Maybe Maelle will see fit to erase him, when this is all over.
A pause, before he can't help himself. "I liked you. All of you."
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"Past tense?" He doesn't really have a point in asking, his head knocked back against the bark of the tree. It's just - easier, to stay here.
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He closes his eyes, as if that's going to help him think. "I considered us friends. I hope you did, too."
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Verso doesn't linger on that because, well, fucking obviously. No one's ever wanted to be his friend after the truth came out. Superficial charm only goes so far.
He leans his head against the trunk of the tree, bark scratching at his hair. "I think that's Esquie calling you." It's not, but it's only fair to give Gustave the sort of outs he always gave himself.
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"You've only ever been on Maelle's side, haven't you. Since the very beginning. I can't hate you for that."
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"Oh, I don't know. Lune's doing a good job of it."
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It's not funny. He knows it isn't funny, but he's at a strange loss.
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