Gustave casts a sidelong glance at Verso, quiet and considering. "She's stubborn as hell, it's true." He shifts, shifting to bring his pack to his lap, digging through for his journal. Distracting himself, obviously, before he asks: "Let me know. If you're ever open for - convincing."
He's going to assume it was a platitude, a deferment made with the assumption that they would never live to see this day together. Gustave hasn't untangled his own feelings about this new reality enough to know what he wants, yet, but - it's good to know what's on the table when making plans.
Verso raises an eyebrow. "I should let you know that you aren't as hard up as you clearly think you are." Have some standards, man. He's a traitor, a liar, and he's basically Gustave's brother-once-removed. Surely at least one of those things is a dealbreaker. "It would be the gallant thing to do."
Honestly, he hasn't had the mental space to consider if they're deal breakers yet or not. Gustave keeps thinking back to Verso's question, the intense way he'd asked what he'd be willing to do for Maelle—
If he were in Verso's shoes, would his choices have been that different?
"You're allowed to just say 'no,' you know. You don't have to convince me I don't want to."
He wants to say that if I wanted to say no, I would say no, but... he probably would try to convince Gustave that it was him who didn't want to. There's not a problem in the world he's ever thought he couldn't charm his way out of, disinterest included. Disinterest isn't the problem, though.
"Are you always so suspicious of someone trying to be gentlemanly?"
Gustave thinks about that for a moment, before he rocks forward to push himself to his feet. "No," he says, "just you, I think. Goodnight, Verso. Let me know if you come up with an actual answer."
It's neither heated nor hateful; just tired in that slightly overwhelmed way.
Verso should probably ask Gustave not to go, then explain everything. No equivocating, just blunt honesty. Tell him it's not you, it's me, and that he's pretty sure he doesn't deserve good things, and that it would be better for Gustave (and everyone else here) to wipe his hands of Verso altogether before he causes more suffering.
Instead, he just lets Gustave go. It's several nights before he tries to get Gustave alone again. It's been a long day; Maelle has just spent most of it trying to play volleyball with Gestrals. Verso tried, but he got hit in the face. He crouches by the fire, a respectable distance away as he warms his hands against the evening chill.
"You'll be a hero back in Lumière," he says, canting his head toward Gustave's journal. "All that knowledge. They'll build a statue of you."
Gustave gives him space. It might be more difficult if he weren't still so often lost in his own head, consumed by thoughts about the newfound nature of the world around them. (And of Maelle, how the thought of losing her makes it hard to breathe, but if she has a different life to be living somewhere else—)
He snaps out of it, clearly a little surprised, before he shakes his head no. "No one wants that, least of all me. Not particularly useful information now anyway either." Gustave glances down at the book, then at Verso's face, inspecting. "I see the nosebleed stopped."
He watched you take that volleyball in the face, man.
Verso wipes under his nose self-consciously. "That just happens sometimes, when you headbutt the ball."
He wouldn't know. He's not sporty. Sciel was kind enough to assure him that his nose still looks as charming as ever, though, and only a little swollen.
A shrug. "Maelle seems to be having fun." She'd certainly laughed at his misfortune.
"I don't think I had that much energy when I was sixteen. I feel like I'd remember that." Gustave similarly declined, much preferring to watch than actually play.
He leans in to feed the fire; it's clear there's a question on the tip of his tongue, and he's not sure how to phrase it without coming off as accidentally accusing or judgmental: what do you want would definitely just lead to Verso fleeing. Instead, a Little awkwardly, he just remains silent after that.
Yeah, he sees that question dying to get out. "You should have told me that I needed an excuse to talk to you. I would have done some light dismemberment."
Edited (idk is that a word) 2025-07-22 02:19 (UTC)
Gustave half-heartedly flings a palm full of sand at him at the remark. "No, I was just— I wondered if this conversation was business or pleasure, is all." He pauses, then hastily adds: "You know what I mean by that."
The corner of Verso's mouth curls up, and he flicks some sand in Gustave's direction with his thumb and forefinger. It doesn't even make it to Gustave. He lowers himself to sit, then, once he's reasonably certain Gustave isn't about to tell him to piss off.
"Just thought I'd spread the gossip," he says with a shrug, voice light. "Sciel is planning on having Maelle bring her husband back." Obviously, he's seeking Gustave's opinion on this, but he couldn't possibly say what he means.
Gustave looks slightly surprised by the news, though in truth he's more just caught off guard by hearing this through the (very short) grapevine instead of from Sciel directly.
"Pierre was a good man," he says, tipping his head back in thought. "She deserves the happiness." There are so many people gone that he'd love to see again, but there's a dull throb in his chest at the sea of cognitive dissonance in his thoughts; he's never truly grappled with existentialism before, so worried about the ones to come after that he never spares much thought for himself.
He has his own thoughts on bringing people back from the dead, but— Maelle just did it several times over, and they don't seem too torn up about it. Recreations of people from outside the Canvas are perhaps a special case.
"Are you planning to do the same, then?" Maelle would probably do it even if Gustave didn't ask. She'd do anything to make him happy. "Settle down with a brood of ten children?" That's what he wanted, as Verso recalls.
Gustave fixes him with a slightly bewildered look at the question. "I don't have a wife to bring back," he says slowly, and then seems to remember he'd talked about Sophie with him that evening with wine under the sky.
He laughs helplessly. The idea of living a normal, domestic life feels so far out of reach that it's almost cruel. "And I feel like- maybe me and Soph won't have that much to talk about these days." They had four years and an Expedition between them; he's still not on even footing with his own existence yet, quite honestly.
"Hm. Something to think about, I suppose." It's a transparent disagreement; he's not certain there's going to be enough common ground between them to rebuild a foundation. But that's a problem for a future that he's not even sure will come to pass yet, so there's little point in agonizing over it now.
"And what about you? Will you be summoning your great lost love back to your side?" He knows so few details.
Verso idly plays with the sand, letting the grains run through his fingers. It's an uncomfortable topic, and one he'd rather not dwell on. He would do anything to bring Julie back, to undo at least that great sin, but—
"She won't be by my side," he says, as vague as he can be without outright lying. If it comes to pass, if Maelle really brings her back, he supposes everyone will know what he did then. "We had an... argument, at the end."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Gustave says softly, and he means it. "Happy to listen, if you ever feel like talking about it."
But he's not looking directly at him, holding his hand up to the fire. Instead, Gustave keeps talking without really giving Verso a chance to answer, because he's aware that he's more likely to get an evasion or an excuse to leave instead of a real reply. "But Pierre coming back... suppose that's why Sciel turned down my proposition this morning."
He hadn't. He wouldn't. But after a few days, he's feeling a little petty.
Aw, Gustave is so cute. Verso doesn't believe him for a second. For the sake of his dignity, he presses his lips together and tries very hard not to laugh. There's still a sharp exhale through his (slightly swollen) nose that betrays him regardless.
"Oh, did she? Strange, you're usually such a ladykiller."
He was trying!!! He was trying so hard. It's not that he thinks he's irreplaceable but any means, but the thought of Gustave confidently waltzing up to Sciel (first thing in the morning, in fact!) to proposition her is far-fetched. Maybe if he'd told Verso he was secretly in love with her, and that he'd stammered through a heartfelt confession, that might have been more believable.
"No, it's— very plausible." It's not. "I'm beside myself with jealousy, in fact. Was that the intended result?"
Oh, it's extremely silly, and he wasn't really expecting Verso to buy in; he wouldn't have included Sciel without her knowledge if he had. But the conversation had been leaning more serious than he'd been hoping it would after an admittedly lovely day on the beach, listening to Maelle laugh more than maybe he ever has.
"Mission succeeded, then," he says a little wryly. "I hope the jealousy was appropriately unpleasant."
"Horrifically," he says with a hand over his heart. "I may never recover."
It had been an out for Verso to escape an uncomfortable topic. He can see that — Gustave hadn't exactly been subtle with the sudden shift in subject. He does feel that he perhaps owes Gustave a little honesty, though, or at least something resembling it.
"She didn't take the immortality well," he says apropos of nothing. He's careful not to sound too upset about it; his aim isn't to be comforted. It's to show that he's trying, even if Gustave doesn't seem to think he is. "That's why we didn't work out."
Well. Trying is the key word. He doesn't need to be that honest.
The unprompted honesty surprises him a bit, and he shoots another sidelong glance at Verso, humming an acknowledgement under his breath. "I can see that being a sticking point in a young couple's relationship," he says after a moment.
He wonders how Sophie is going to take it all in if she returns. If she'll be impressed or horrified by the tales of their adventures.
"Well. I doubt you'll have much trouble finding company in Lumière," he says. "Assuming you won't prefer living amongst the gestrals."
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superniceone) wrote2025-06-23 06:53 pm
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He's going to assume it was a platitude, a deferment made with the assumption that they would never live to see this day together. Gustave hasn't untangled his own feelings about this new reality enough to know what he wants, yet, but - it's good to know what's on the table when making plans.
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If he were in Verso's shoes, would his choices have been that different?
"You're allowed to just say 'no,' you know. You don't have to convince me I don't want to."
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"Are you always so suspicious of someone trying to be gentlemanly?"
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It's neither heated nor hateful; just tired in that slightly overwhelmed way.
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Verso should probably ask Gustave not to go, then explain everything. No equivocating, just blunt honesty. Tell him it's not you, it's me, and that he's pretty sure he doesn't deserve good things, and that it would be better for Gustave (and everyone else here) to wipe his hands of Verso altogether before he causes more suffering.
Instead, he just lets Gustave go. It's several nights before he tries to get Gustave alone again. It's been a long day; Maelle has just spent most of it trying to play volleyball with Gestrals. Verso tried, but he got hit in the face. He crouches by the fire, a respectable distance away as he warms his hands against the evening chill.
"You'll be a hero back in Lumière," he says, canting his head toward Gustave's journal. "All that knowledge. They'll build a statue of you."
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He snaps out of it, clearly a little surprised, before he shakes his head no. "No one wants that, least of all me. Not particularly useful information now anyway either." Gustave glances down at the book, then at Verso's face, inspecting. "I see the nosebleed stopped."
He watched you take that volleyball in the face, man.
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He wouldn't know. He's not sporty. Sciel was kind enough to assure him that his nose still looks as charming as ever, though, and only a little swollen.
A shrug. "Maelle seems to be having fun." She'd certainly laughed at his misfortune.
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He leans in to feed the fire; it's clear there's a question on the tip of his tongue, and he's not sure how to phrase it without coming off as accidentally accusing or judgmental: what do you want would definitely just lead to Verso fleeing. Instead, a Little awkwardly, he just remains silent after that.
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"Just thought I'd spread the gossip," he says with a shrug, voice light. "Sciel is planning on having Maelle bring her husband back." Obviously, he's seeking Gustave's opinion on this, but he couldn't possibly say what he means.
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"Pierre was a good man," he says, tipping his head back in thought. "She deserves the happiness." There are so many people gone that he'd love to see again, but there's a dull throb in his chest at the sea of cognitive dissonance in his thoughts; he's never truly grappled with existentialism before, so worried about the ones to come after that he never spares much thought for himself.
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"Are you planning to do the same, then?" Maelle would probably do it even if Gustave didn't ask. She'd do anything to make him happy. "Settle down with a brood of ten children?" That's what he wanted, as Verso recalls.
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He laughs helplessly. The idea of living a normal, domestic life feels so far out of reach that it's almost cruel. "And I feel like- maybe me and Soph won't have that much to talk about these days." They had four years and an Expedition between them; he's still not on even footing with his own existence yet, quite honestly.
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"And what about you? Will you be summoning your great lost love back to your side?" He knows so few details.
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"She won't be by my side," he says, as vague as he can be without outright lying. If it comes to pass, if Maelle really brings her back, he supposes everyone will know what he did then. "We had an... argument, at the end."
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But he's not looking directly at him, holding his hand up to the fire. Instead, Gustave keeps talking without really giving Verso a chance to answer, because he's aware that he's more likely to get an evasion or an excuse to leave instead of a real reply. "But Pierre coming back... suppose that's why Sciel turned down my proposition this morning."
He hadn't. He wouldn't. But after a few days, he's feeling a little petty.
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"Oh, did she? Strange, you're usually such a ladykiller."
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"No, it's— very plausible." It's not. "I'm beside myself with jealousy, in fact. Was that the intended result?"
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"Mission succeeded, then," he says a little wryly. "I hope the jealousy was appropriately unpleasant."
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It had been an out for Verso to escape an uncomfortable topic. He can see that — Gustave hadn't exactly been subtle with the sudden shift in subject. He does feel that he perhaps owes Gustave a little honesty, though, or at least something resembling it.
"She didn't take the immortality well," he says apropos of nothing. He's careful not to sound too upset about it; his aim isn't to be comforted. It's to show that he's trying, even if Gustave doesn't seem to think he is. "That's why we didn't work out."
Well. Trying is the key word. He doesn't need to be that honest.
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He wonders how Sophie is going to take it all in if she returns. If she'll be impressed or horrified by the tales of their adventures.
"Well. I doubt you'll have much trouble finding company in Lumière," he says. "Assuming you won't prefer living amongst the gestrals."
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btw i initially read this as gustave offering verso a piece of chewed up fruit jerky
you can't prove he didn't
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fuck don't look at me
now all of china knows that was gonna be your first sentence
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