bakerstreet | Nursed back to health

[ probably the one being nursed... he's not the healer in the party.

note: voicetesting! also avoiding game spoilers for the time being ]

If you're gonna insist you're fine, try not to wince while saying it. More convincing that way.

[ Lune shakes her head wearily as she takes a seat by the camp fire next to Gustave, feeling the aches of the day herself. Another day down, more battles under their belt. It feels like they're making so little progress, but what can they expect when it's just the four of them? If they had their whole team, they'd have clearer guidelines, better resources, defined roles-- but it's just the four of them, making it up as they go along. Or that's what it feels like, sometimes. That last battle against a group of hulking Nevrons took a lot out of everybody, and once they'd made it to a safe camp site limping and bruised, Lune had taken the time to heal the cuts and sprains; not her original role, but needs must.

She swallows the sigh at the back of her throat and prompts instead, ] Come on. Your turn. I saw you take that last blow meant for Maelle.

Lune...

[ He looks up at her as she comes over, steps soft on the grass where they'd managed to build their camp before collapsing into exhausted heaps. His attempt to inject humor into his voice falls short; it only comes out tired and wry, and as she takes a seat next to him, he shifts to give her room. ]

Shh. Don't say that so loudly.

[ A quick glance to the side puts his fears to rest: Maelle is asleep, curled in a soft parenthesis near Sciel, and hadn't heard Lune's comment. He breathes a small sigh and gives Lune a reproachful look, even as he half-turns towards her and reaches to lift the edge of his jacket. ]

That Nevron would have knocked her a mile back if it had managed to hit her with that backswing. I can take more of a hit.

[ And he had, judging by the state of the shirt under his trim uniform jacket. It's stained with blood, and every small motion or twist of his torso hurts. ]

[ Lune smiles dryly, tilting her chin at Gustave's reproach. She's amused by his caution as much as she understands it; she'd made sure Maelle was asleep before moving on. Lune knows she isn't the gentlest, most considerate of women, but she wouldn't upset Maelle nor Gustave like that. They have enough to contend with as is, already. ]

Yes, I'm aware. You're a good brother. [ A rare compliment, not without warmth to her tone, even as her eyes are now pulled down to his bloodied shirt. Lune sucks in a bit of air through her teeth, dismayed; the injury looks worse than she'd expected now that she's examining it up close. Now she's regretting not seeing to Gustave first. She should have known better. ]

Gustave-- merde. [ She keeps her voice low but there's no hiding the tinge of annoyance in it, stemming from concern. ] Why didn't you say something earlier? You'll be no help to Maelle if you bleed out.

[ A little dramatic, maybe, but she doesn't care. ]

[ He leans back a little onto his metal hand, stabilizing himself so he can gingerly peel the wet, bloodied cloth of his shirt from his skin. It hurts; he winces again even as he tells her: ]

I think it looks worse than it is.

[ Difficult to say whether he's trying to reassure her or himself. It certainly does look bad: blood is smeared over skin that's tight and swollen in a way that suggests something important is broken or at least badly bruised beneath. His breath comes a little faster, a little too lightly, as he looks down at his own side. ]

Actually, now that you mention it, I do feel a little bit of a twinge.

[ Not to mention light-headed and colder than he should feel with the fire nearby. ]

Edited 2025-05-02 22:18 (UTC)

[ Lune hisses a curse under her breath when she gets a better look at the damage, amazed Gustave made it to camp without uttering a single complaint. So very like him. Lune really hates that about him in this very moment, genuine fear flickering through her when she realizes how pale he's gone under the bloodstains and grime caling his skin. ]

A twinge. [ She scoffs, shaking her head again as she braces one hand gently against his shoulder in support. ] I believe that. Don't-- just stay still.

[ She can fix this, she reassures herself. Healing isn't her strongest pictos skill, but she knows she can mend the worst damage, at least. Her bare hand glows blue-white as she hovers both palms over Gustave's injury, pouring all her focus and skill into the task. Bone knits back together slowly, torn muscle and burst vessels mending as if she'd wound back time. Breathing out, she winds down the healing, satisfied and relieved by the result. The injury is erased, but she can't take back the blood loss or mitigate the lingering soreness-- those would take more mundane means to treat. ]

Hey. A bit better? [ A soft inquiry; she can yell at him later. ]

[ He keeps still as Lune works, the cool light of her healing skill washing over him like water. Her face is a pale oval in the reflected glow, and rather than watch as bones shift under his skin and that angry swelling calms, he studies her: the focus that knits her brow, her intent eyes, the way her lips press together as she works.

And then it's done, and he exhales a little easier as he runs a cautious hand over his own side. He's sore and there's still blood drying on his skin and he'd like to sleep for about a week, but the underlying wrongness of before is gone. He shifts and doesn't feel bone grinding against fractured bone anymore; that deep insult to the softest and most vulnerable parts of him has lifted. ]

Yeah.

[ She's likely furious with him, he realizes that. It doesn't stop him from lifting his gaze back to her face with a sweet, slightly crooked smile. He can take these hits for one reason only: because he knows Lune has the skill to put him back together again. It's hardly what she wants to be doing — he knows that, too — but he's never doubted her ability to rise to the occasion. ]

You're getting really good at that.

Edited 2025-05-03 12:05 (UTC)

[ Lune wants to be mad, but faced with Gustave's earnest smile and response, all she can do is roll her eyes and breathe a small laugh, a smile lingering on her lips. She resents how easily Gustave can make her smile sometimes as much as she appreciates the fact now, since they have so very little to smile about. ]

Well, you lot have have given me plenty of practise lately. I could do with less.

[ Not that she doesn't take hits herself in battle, but more often she's supporting the three others on the immediate frontline and controlling the crowds until it's time to rain down fire and ice. Lune fixes Gustave with a fond but firm look, her tone low so as not to wake the others (although they sleep so soundly there's probably no fear of that happening) but clearly brooking no argument. ]

Next time... you will tell me earlier. [ Because there is going to be a next time, she knows. ]

Next time, I'll parry with my sword instead of my ribs.

[ It's a little bit of a risk, teasing her when she's still annoyed with him and while she has more physical leverage — she could shove him over easily from where she's kneeling beside him — but the risk is worth the potential reward of making her smile again and lifting a little more of that cloud of worry that's settled around her.

But she's right, and his expression softens a little as he tugs his shirt back down over his tender but no longer battered side. ]

Hey. You've really been keeping us on our feet, Lune. You must be exhausted.

[ It's clear by her reluctant expression she doesn't want to find that as funny as she does, considering, but a small noise of amusement escapes her anyway, lips twisting a little. ]

That would also be helpful.

[ Realizing she's still hovering, Lune shifts back a little and puts an arm's length between them, finding a seat once more. If her shoulders slump a little on a tired exhale as she does, that's neither here nor there. ]

We're all of us exhausted, Gustave, [ she sidesteps, which is true but also a convenient excuse. She knows sleep won't come to her now after all the adrenaline even though she's weary, not even if it were easier for her to turn her mind off when things quiet down. It's hard for her to stop thinking about it all, the weight of the responsibility on their shoulders and her own guilt over the beach that continues to linger. ]

I'll take the first watch. You've lost some blood, but I think rest and fluids will fix that.

[ They're both smudged with blood and dirt; he feels weary right down to his bones. They're a long way now from the bright and polished Expedition that had set out across the sea, but beneath the exhaustion and the soreness of mind and body and heart is still an unyielding determination. Lune may look tired and vulnerable now, but he knows there's a core of steel in her, strong enough to withstand anything this Continent can throw at them.

He lifts his right arm and pulls it across his chest in a stretch, feeling the way the newly healed bones and muscles at his side protest. It feels good: tender, but strong. Come morning he should be back in good enough shape to continue without slowing them all down. ]

I should have filled some of Sciel's wine bottles with juice before we left. She'd have hated it, but it would have been a lot more helpful.

[ An idle comment, as he shifts sides and pulls his metal left arm across himself, stretching out his sore back and shoulder. ]

Alright. You take first watch, and I'll... keep you company.

[ He leans back on his hands and turns his head to look over at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile, even if he keeps the rest of his expression straight. ]

[ Lune turns her head, pulling her eyes from the dancing flames of the campfire to give Gustave A Look; one that spells out without a single word that was not what she meant and that he's being stubborn and ridiculous. But it all tapers away into helpless, somewhat reluctant amusement. Maybe the reason she says nothing in protest is that deep down she'd rather not be alone with her thoughts right now, the companionship a balm against all the challenges and hardship they've already had to face. And because she's always struggled with expressing such sentiments aloud. ]

Oh, I don't know. Some wine probably wouldn't go amiss after the day we've had. That's absolutely not medical advice, by the way. [ Mostly because: ] Since I'm not actually a medic.

True. A real medic would have a better bedside manner.

[ But he's already pushing up onto his feet, testing himself and his body as he goes: the small stabilizing muscles in his back and side are sore but obedient enough.

There are a few bottles set near the music player, and he pauses there a moment to select a disc and set it onto the platter. The needle moves smoothly and lowers as he bends to pick up a bottle, and as he comes back to her, a familiar, wistful melody comes drifting through the air.

If he closed his eyes and focused only on the taste and scent of the wine, the feel of the light breeze sifting through the waves of his hair like gentle fingers — on her voice and the sorrowful lilt of the music — he might almost, almost imagine himself home, sitting with her on the roof of some cracked and crooked building, looking out over the city.

He settles back beside her and uncorks the bottle, offering it out to her, first. ]

A toast: to the not-a-medic who still manages to keep us all alive.

Touché.

[ She agrees dryly, before pressing her lips together tightly to stem a protest when Gustave gets up. Light movement is good for the muscles, there's no need to fuss-- but still the urge, even if fleeting, is there. The melody weaving softly through the air is hauntingly beautiful, wistful and bittersweet, and for a moment she closes her eyes and thinks of Lumiere. The people they left behind, and the ones who are no longer with them. Home. Faulty, but the only one they have.

Giving a short hum at the proposal, Lune glances over with a small smirk. ]

Sweetening my bedside manner for next time?

[ But she sobers by the time she wraps her fingers about the neck of the bottle, earnest reply to his words and gesture both, ] Thanks.

[ It's a rich, full-bodied red, the flavor on her tongue only bringing with it another flicker of homesickness. A moment of comfortable silence ensues, before she hands the bottle over to Gustave. ]

It's been a while since we've done this.

[ He looks up as she takes the first drink, but the stars offer no answer to his searching eyes. Neither does the unfeeling glow of the numbers they can both see painted onto the Monolith, still so far ahead of them.

Closer, now, though. Maybe later he will try throwing a rock with his left arm.

His glance slides sidelong to her as she holds out the bottle, and he nods, a heavy gesture that leaves him with his head bowed a moment before he finally lifts the bottle and takes a swallow of his own. The wine is rich against his tongue, a small sliver of indulgence in this... memory of a place they've come to. Nothing seems to live here on this Continent but Nevrons and Gestrals.

And ghosts. So many ghosts. Sometimes he feels that if he looked at just the right moment, he would see them all around him, drifting like petals on the breeze. ]

Yeah.

[ A slight hesitation; another swallow before he holds the bottle back out to her. ]

Well, we were busy, before we left. Had to make sure everything was prepared. That everyone was ready.

Mmm. [ Her tone lilts a bit when she adds while accepting the bottle back, ] It wasn't a criticism.

[ For once, she almost adds to poke fun of herself. Just idle observation, but it is interesting he felt the need to explain. If anyone understands prioritizing work and research and most everything else over social life, it's Lune. ]

For all the good it did us, huh? We could have never been prepared for... all this.

[ The Paintress' looming monolith on the horizon is only one part of it, the one they knew about. Everything else... well. "A disaster" might be a generous term for it. She takes a small sip of wine to give herself a moment to think, passing the bottle back over to Gustave. ]

Still... it's not how I wanted to be here, but actually being here? After a lifetime of research and study?

[ She trails off with a shake of her head, unable to keep a small, enthralled smile from her lips. She has no words for it. The researcher in her is absolutely thrilled, as horrifyingly wrong as their expedition has gone thus far. It's a juxtaposition she struggles with sometimes, truthfully. ]

No, I—

[ It wasn't, and yet the response was almost reflexive anyway. ]

It's just—

[ Still can't finish your sentences? teases Sophie in his memory, and he hangs his head a little, lips pressing into a wry curve. He flicks a glance at her, then away again, awkward. ]

It's what I told myself. You know. As a reason why I didn't— why I didn't—

Not with you or—

[ Absolutely none of this is getting better. He exhales a heavy, dissatisfied breath, shoulders slumping. When he looks back over, his face is scrunched in a crooked, self-deprecating half-smile. ]

It was just easier. To pretend there was a good reason.

[ As though there could ever be a good enough reason not to spend the time with Lune, or Emma, or... Sophie. He reaches up to rub his fingers over the back of his neck and tries to find joy in her excitement. There's a little of the same wonder he'd seen on her face when they first found their way into those flying waters, with the strange, almost otherworldly sea creatures all around them. ]

Yeah. Think of all the questions you'll be able to finally answer.

Edited 2025-05-04 01:17 (UTC)

[ Gustave flounders as is his habit, and the look Lune gives him in return when he finally winds it down is tinged with sympathy. Understanding. With a little bit of fond amusement thrown in for good measure. But was it easier, truly? She doesn't ask. No relationship in Lumiere had a future, at least not a long one. They make do with what they have, but sometimes she wonders whether it's more or less painful to commit to someone fully and enjoy what time you had, or only sustain oneself on fleeting, superficial connections. She doesn't ask Gustave's opinion on that, either. ]

Hm. And here I thought it was just my stellar bedside manner, [ she teases instead, lips curving into a lopsided smile. His confidence in her success earns him a breathy exhale, almost a laugh but not quite. ]

I admire your optimism.

[ He has a point, of course, but all the wonderment of new discovery doesn't remove the fact that she's already thinking of all the ifs-- if they survive long enough, if she can match the questions with the right answers... if, if, if, and on it goes. ]

gustave | clair obscur: expedition 33

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spoilers ahoy given who this is

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general early game spoilers, etc!

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