bakerstreet | Nursed back to health

[ 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. ]

[ He exhales a breath that's almost a laugh, looking down at his lap. Optimism, bone-headed stubbornness; maybe they're the same thing when it comes to being an expeditioner. Both are needed in order to do this thing they're attempting to do... to break the cycle. To make the impossible possible. To secure a future, even if it isn't one for themselves.

(Though part of him still hopes to see Lumière again, to walk its streets and climb its buildings, to feel under his hands again the machine hearts that keep the city safe and humming. He would like to sit on its roofs under a starry sky with Lune and a bottle of wine and know the city and the people in it are finally free.) ]

If anyone can do it, it'll be you. And even if we can't answer all the questions, the next expedition will benefit from the information we've gathered.

[ Every expeditioner has one hand on the path before them and one reaching out behind, helping the next to come along. It's how it's been for longer than his lifetime, an unbroken chain of expeditions blazing paths— for those who come after.

He reaches for the bottle again and winces at the tug in his side, his free hand coming reflexively to cover the sore area. ]

[ Lune notices the wince, one hand lifting reflexively to... maybe place a hand on his arm? It's not clear, since she aborts the movement halfway through, hovering a few beats in the air before she determines he's okay. Reassured, she pulls back her hand, studying the skies and listening to the soft melody of the record player. It's a while before she speaks up again, voice somber. ]

There are no points for effort. Only results.

[ It sounds like a quote, the way she says it. Glancing sidelong at Gustave with a small, wry smile that's quickly turning into a grimace, she confirms: ]

It's something my parents always used to say. I've spent my whole life on this, you know, because they chose this path for me. What better way to gain a research assistant that never goes home than birthing one, right? I think my value to them wasn't as a daughter, but as a back-up plan. For their legacy. And now I'm here and I need to actually get those results. And it's...

[ She trails off, shaking her head and breathing out a helpless almost-laugh, her eyes tracking the stars for a moment as if they have the answers she seeks. She doesn't regret being here for a moment, and she'd damn well do everything in her power to see this through, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel the pressure. ]

Well, it's quite a lot.

[ She slaps her thighs softly with her palms, an airy, no-worries sort of gesture that somewhat conflicts with her words while turning back toward Gustave, injecting more levity into her tone to shake off those gloomy thoughts of her complicated family life. ]

But thank you for the vote of confidence. And I need more of that. [ That being the wine, indicating with one hand he should pass the bottle over. ]

[ He hands the bottle over, but if Lune's hoping he'll simply brush past everything she's said, everything she's saying, she's in for an unwelcome surprise. ]

Maybe that's true. But it doesn't mean you don't have control over your own legacy.

[ Legacies, those who came before preparing the way for those yet to come, all of them working together toward a shared goal... it's complicated. Not one of them has a future that can truly be called theirs, not unless the expedition succeeds. ]

And you can look at it in another way... thanks to all those years of study and research, you're better prepared for the things we may find here than almost anyone.

Besides—

[ He leans over, his hand still lightly gripping his side to support the motion as he reaches back for the bottle again. He glances up at her from under his brows, eyes warming. ]

You can't tell me you aren't thrilled to find real Gestrals. I think you might even be enjoying yourself.

[ Gustave knows just which tac to take. The mention of Gestrals visibly begins to dredge her from the slight funk she'd sunken into, a slow smile spreading to her lips until it's grown into a broad grin. Relieved of the bottle, Lune gestures animatedly with her hands as she speaks. ]

The Gestrals. Oh, I wish we had more time! To really study them, to learn everything. Can you imagine? All the things that could be out there we thought only existed in fairytales. There's so much we simply don't know.

[ The very thought sends her mind racing. She allows herself the daydream of success in which The Paintress falls and Lumiere is saved, and she can dedicate herself to researching happier things on her own terms, unburdened by legacies. Like Gustave pointed out, she can't change the past. But the future is a different matter. The hope of it warms her to the core. Sobering a little, she glances briefly toward their sleeping friends. ]

It's good to encounter more than just death and ghosts. [ She hesitates a beat, before adding, ] I wanna think that's a good sign.

[ He tips the bottle up to his lips and watches as she brightens and blossoms, animated with her enthusiasm. He's tired and sore, and as little as he'd like to admit it to Maelle, he's currently feeling every day of his thirty-two years and more besides. It's nice to let her excitement wash over him, to see the delight back in her face. ]

No, I think you're right.

[ Finding Maelle had lessened some of the burning, almost obsessive need to march on straight through this strange world, to never veer from the path. There have been moments since leaving the impossible manor where he's found himself looking around, the curiosity that had been dulled and silenced by the massacre on the beach sparking once more like a match in darkness. ]

There's a lot to learn, and it's a pity that so much of our focus has had to be on simply the things that want to kill us. This place might be a shell of its former self, but that doesn't mean it's dead and empty.

[ The bottle lowers, presses against his leg as he looks out toward the glowing numbers across the water. ]

When we defeat the Paintress, I'd like to spend some time just... exploring. There's so much to find. We might even find what's left of Old Lumière, can you imagine?

[ Lune listens silently, quiet joy and relief filling her with Gustave's every word. Gently, she nudges him with her elbow, grinning all over again. ]

Hey. You seem in better spirits. And you said "when".

[ When they defeat the Paintress. As hotly as she'd argued with him before they'd found Maelle in that strange manor about their duty and necessity to make sacrifices when needed, she appreciates this more optimistic outlook all the same. It is certainly -- thankfully -- miles away from that shellshocked and defeated man she'd come across after the beach. ]

Less shooting, more studying, hm? I like that plan.

[ She teases, thinking back on the incident with that odd, giant Nevron guarding its flowers. She knows Gustave was still on edge then, having just found Maelle and reacting out of instinct to protect her, but regardless. This is the Gustave she knows, from Lumiere. She gives a quiet snort of laughter, adding, ]

Unless that was just the wine talking. [ The drink is certainly helping her with feeling a bit lighter. ]

Edited 2025-05-05 07:41 (UTC)

[ He lets her nudge push him gently, making him sway a little before he huffs a breath and looks over his shoulder at her, at her grin. Even now, even here, Lune's willing to embrace little glimpses of happiness wherever she finds them. It warms him more than the fire, more than the wine, some kernel of himself he'd tucked way deep down after the beach now opening under the sunshine of her smile and growing tentatively toward the light.

It's easier for him to try and draw it out in her than it is to find it in himself, so he just lets that little tendril find its own way while he rolls his eyes at her, exaggerated for effect, at the reminder of how he'd attacked the Nevron in the circle of flowers. ]

I think Sciel is rubbing off on me.

[ In better spirits is a moving target for them all, but he does feel... if not better, then a little less on the razor-edge of constant panic and despair. They found Maelle and now he can keep her safe — or try his best to keep her safe — and that soothes some of his terror.

He waves a hand at the wine bottle, shrugging easily. ]

But the wine is definitely helping.

[ He'd like to drink the whole bottle with her, to get drunk and tease her and let the stars swirl peacefully overhead, but even in this camp they're not really safe. After — if there's an after, when there's an after — they can have the rest then. To celebrate.

He shifts, lying all the way back onto the grass, wincing again at the way freshly-healed muscles and bone ache at even this easy movement, then relaxes once he's settled, hands loose on his belly. ]

Who knows? Maybe we'll even be able to sleep tonight.

[ It's good to see him smile and be playful with her, the warmth of that familiar camaraderie sending a sudden jolt through her. She'd missed this. They were both so preoccupied back in Lumière, so caught up in their work and research and every other thing; it's what happens when life has a timer on it. Some fall into complacency, while those too stubborn to lay down and die quietly find their ways to fight back against the inevitable. But perhaps they should have tried to make more time for things like these, too. Calm nights over shared drinks. She hopes they get the chance to rectify that, yet. ]

We could all probably try to learn from Sciel.

[ Lune hums, a little wryly, knowing that's not going to happen. Sciel has an enviable calm about her, an acceptance that whatever will be, will be. Either it works, or it doesn't. Lune has trouble with that kind of mindset, to just... wait for things to simply happen, and Gustave is the same.

She breathes a faint laugh at Gustave's prediction about sleeping, smiling to herself as she leans back on her palms against the grass, supporting her torso while crossing her ankles, the fire warming her bare toes. The stars are bright overhead, more preferable to gaze at than the glow of the Monolith's numbers. ]

Tristan would've already polished off that bottle all by himself. Absolutely insufferable, [ she says pensively out of the blue, wistful and fond both. It still hurts to think about them all, but this is how they keep past friends and family alive. ]

[ It hurts to huff a laugh, in more than just the way where it tugs and tightens abused muscles and bones. One corner of his mouth twitches up, rueful, and flickers back again. ]

Yeah.

[ His expression softens as he looks up at the stars with her, breathing carefully into his side to test the soreness that will probably take all night to fade. It hasn't been that long since their last night in Lumiere, with Tristan and the others, all so excited for the expedition, bragging about how they'd be the ones to take down the Paintress and come home heroes. ]

Lucien tried to get me drunk the night before we left. Probably try to do the same now, in fact.

[ He owes Lucien his life, and he won't ever get a chance to repay that debt. But that, too, is the kind of leverage Lucien would have enjoyed holding over him with friendly teasing.

They'd all have died for one another. He knows that. It's only luck that death took Lucien that day and not him, too. ]

Yeah.

[ Lune agrees through a faint breath of laughter, though it's tinged by an undercurrent of sadness. It's still hard to understand what happened on that beach. All those lives snuffed out in an instant, friends and colleagues. And after... it was a small miracle Lune'd ended up somewhere close enough to Gustave. Close enough to find him when she had. If she hadn't... would they still be sitting together under the stars like this? Or would he have been another corpse for her to stumble into, slumped right there next to Catherine?

She inhales deeply and closes her eyes to banish the haunting image, trying not to go tumbling down that rabbit hole. She'd been seemingly holding it together herself then, on task and barking orders like a general, masking the fact that she was confused and frightened; by the massacre as well as the utter hopelessness written across Gustave's face. ]

Do you think... [ Her voice catches a little, and she pauses to clear her throat, cracking her eyes open once more to stare up at the stars wheeling overhead. ]

Could it be possible to find other survivors, out there? We were all flung to such different places, after-- maybe it's a small chance, but not impossible, surely.

[ They did not stop to take a headcount of the bodies, after all. ]

[ What a terrible question to have to ask; what an awful thing it would be if she's right. If there are other survivors, are they injured with no one to heal them? Are they alone and lost? They can't all be as lucky as Sciel, found by a Gestral and brought to a place with life (of a sort) and somewhere to rest and recover. He exhales, a long resigned breath, and pillows his head on one folded arm. ]

Maybe not impossible, but the chances... they have to be minuscule. We didn't find anyone else at the tree. I still can't believe we found Sciel.

[ He rolls his head to look over at her, eyes dark, the firelight limning them both with a subtle glow. ]

I don't want to believe it, but I think we're all that's left of Expedition 33. It's up to us, now.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject