tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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oui oui bonjour

[superniceone]

Gustave makes a point of rolling his eyes at her, all melodramatic theatrics. He's exhausted, yes, but he's been up long enough and had enough coffee to mostly feel human again. He'd tossed and turned, worrying about the route this conversation might take, planned and re-planned lectures, his phrasing for how he might convince her, before he'd finally just chucked that all into the bin.

No reason to start with the worst right away. They could just have a conversation. He'd put his faith in her so many times before; he'd try to do it again.

"I barely had a few drinks last night," he scoffs, baiting her into a playful argument as he unpacks the bags.

[recreatable]

"Oh, it's a few drinks now, not a few bottles? Maybe you are getting senile."

She holds her hand out for a pastry, then adds, casually, "Emma said someone came over last night. Is that why you broke out the wine?"

[superniceone]

"Nosy," Gustave says, flicking a crumb at her from the table. "It's not what you think." He takes an almond croissant of his own, humming in appreciation after a bite. "Mm. Tell me: better or worse than the pastries outside the canvas?"

To his credit, he actually sounds pretty natural when he asks — probably because he's genuinely curious.

[recreatable]

It's a requirement for little sisters to be nosy! Maelle gives him a skeptical look, but doesn't push it. Gustave seems to be in a less morose mood this morning, and she'd prefer to keep it that way. "Oh, definitely better," she says, tearing off a piece of croissant. Outside the Canvas, her throat is still raw and sore; hard to enjoy a pastry when it feels like shards of glass in her throat.

[superniceone]

Well! That's depressing! "Sure," he says, reaching across the table to rip off a piece of her croissant. He's got plenty of his own, but that is apparently not going to stop him. "Good motivation for you not to forget about us when you head back," he says, gentle and teasing.

[recreatable]

Maelle holds her croissant out of reach. Rude, Gustave! "Well, that won't be for a while." Then: "And I could never forget about you. Trust me, your breath last night was memorable."

[superniceone]

Gustave makes a show of "subtly" checking his own breath with a cupped palm, before he returns to munching his improbably flavored bread. "You should put in an appearance soon. Your other family misses you. And— you know, it might not hurt to give your papa some peace of mind. That's what I'd want, at least."

It's an awkward conversation, but it's less soul rending than he'd thought it would be.

[recreatable]

Shrugging—although it's clear the thought hurts her—she says, "They probably don't even notice I'm gone." And, if they do, they're probably happier for it. One less person for Papa to worry about; one less screw-up Clea has to scold; one less person for Maman to resent. "And I'm not ready to go yet. We just got here."

[superniceone]

"Oh, is that why we had to raise a literal army? Because Renoir forgot where you were?"

This isn't him telling her to leave; he's just challenging the notion that she's invisible.

[recreatable]

Don't challenge her notions!!! "That was before," she argues back. "Now he's back on the outside taking care of Maman."

And she needs a lot of taking care of. She's probably absolutely beside herself right now. She already despises Maelle for the fire, undoubtedly resents her for forcibly expelling her from the Canvas, and she'll hate Maelle even more if she knows that Maelle still has access to the Canvas. The thought makes her sink into herself a little.

Picking at her croissant now: "I'd rather be here."

[superniceone]

"Maelle. Hey." Gustave scoots his chair a little closer to hers, resting one hand on her shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. "Going back for a weekend doesn't undo the last sixteen years of your life. You haven't forgotten that, have you? You're never going to be the same person you were ever again." He pauses, then gives her a gentle shake. "At least, Verso swears you haven't always been such a bossy know-it-all..."

[recreatable]

"I am not," she complains, although she's laughing. Then, more seriously: "I have everything I need here. And if I go back, Papa might try to get rid of the Canvas."

mama n

[superniceone]

Gustave shakes his head, but he's quietly reaching for another piece of her croissant, as if intentionally striking when she's distracted. "He will destroy it if he thinks you've lied to him. I'd rip it apart in a second if I thought it was hurting you." He glances sideways at her. "But you've got to prove to him that you're stronger than your maman."

He's intentionally not mentioning his own worry for her, won't even imply it. He remembers how invincible he felt as a teenager, and he wasn't even a god.

i just thought it was cool slang!!!

[recreatable]

"Gustave," she scoffs, snatching her pastry out of reach. "It's fine." Then, to appease him: "I'll visit. Eventually. Just... not yet."

[superniceone]

"It's only going to get harder. Hey, listen." Gustave folds his hands in his lap, staring at them a little awkwardly now. "I know I don't have the right to ask you for even more. After everything you've already— I wouldn't be alive if you didn't—" He cuts himself off. "Petite soeur, you have to go because I need you to come back."

[recreatable]

Maelle looks caught somewhere between a laugh and a scowl, like she's not sure what her reaction should be. "Why are you being so serious?"

[superniceone]

"Because it's a serious situation. We won. You did. But it's not over, and I have to make sure I do everything I can to keep from losing you again." He swallows a sigh, folds his arms on the table. "One evening. Dinner with your other family. And then I'll be able to breathe again for a little while, and you can come tell me how much better Emma and I are."

Gustave hesitates, and then adds: "I'll swap rooms with you. You've always wanted the en suite, haven't you?" Ridiculous, like she couldn't paint her own, but he's not going to treat her like she's anything but normal.

[recreatable]

She's quiet for a moment, picking crumbs off of her croissant. "You don't know what it's like," she finally says, miserably. "To be in a broken body, in a broken family—" Her voice cracks a little, but she swallows down any desire to cry. "I just want to be with my family here."

[superniceone]

"No. I don't know. I can't know." Gustave says, quiet and quick. He wants more than anything to take it back, to apologize, because just the sound of her voice cracking like that breaks his heart. "But we're not going anywhere. I'm going to be here, miserable and bored, until you come back and say I told you so."

He presses his hand to his eyes, feels them burning with tears of his own from guilt at her obvious anguish.

[recreatable]

Now they're both going to sit here at the breakfast table blubbering, and Emma is going to walk in and walk out like Grandpa Simpson.

"What if Papa changes his mind again, and tries to get rid of you?" She shakes her head, red ponytail flying. "I can't lose anyone again."

Shoulders squared, then, she adds, "The Canvas is different. Maman must have spent decades here"—if not more—"and barely any time passed outside. So don't make me go back yet, Gustave." With the biggest, saddest blue eyes: "Please."

[superniceone]

"Maelle," Gustave says, and he's trying his best to be firm in the face of those sorrowful eyes. He swears softly under his breath, wiping his own. "You've been here sixteen years. I—"

And then he laughs, not on purpose, but just at the absurdity of his own sudden thought. "We fought a Nevron bigger than this house and you didn't flinch once. You're not going to let your papa erase us."

[recreatable]

"Because I'm strong here," she argues. "Gustave, out there— I can't even talk." She definitely doesn't have a Virtuose Stance Stendhal out in the real world!!

[superniceone]

Renoir also can't summon Axons, what's your point!! "Taking your voice doesn't take your strength," Gustave says, voice a little rough. He slips from his seat then, kneeling in front of her, reaching for her hands to grip in his own. "I'm not kicking you out, Maelle. Your home will always be with me. But I'm begging you—"

He's getting a little choked up, maybe, at the thought of watching Maelle turn into the Paintress, of being unable to stop her.

"Just show him you're keeping your word. We know he made the right choice, we both do, but you have to prove it to him."

[recreatable]

Maelle stares into Gustave's big, brown, watery eyes with her own big, blue, watery eyes, lip trembling— and then she laughs, inexplicably.

"I'm sorry. You're just so sappy." Gross, it's like he loves her or something. She takes a slow, steadying breath after that.

"I'll think about it." Squeezing his hands: "Just... give me time, okay?"

[superniceone]

It's not a no. He squeezes both of her hands in his, leaning down to tip his forehead against their joined hands. "Okay," Gustave says, clearing his throat. "But I'm going to be drinking like a fish every single night until I get an answer. Just living in a state of anxiety-riddled hangover. Just so you're aware."