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bakerstreet2025-05-01 07:04 am
pippilongsockings) wrote in bakerstreet2025-05-01 07:04 amNursed back to health
 
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pippilongsockings) wrote in bakerstreet2025-05-01 07:04 am
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[ 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.
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[ 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.
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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.
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[ 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. ]
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[ 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.
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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. ]
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(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. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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.
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No, you're probably right. And even if some made it, we... we can't veer off course to go look. We all knew the risks.
[ As ruthless as it sounds, that's the harsh reality they're forced to deal with. She nods as if to reaffirm her own conviction, meeting Gustave's eyes. ]
The plan doesn't change. We'll keep an eye out for any signs of survivors, but we continue, the four of us. We owe it to them.
[ She straightens, sitting up. This line of reasoning only brings her back to a point that's been driving her mad. Her hair sways as she glances back at Gustave, a frown knitting at her brow. ]
But then who could have written that message, at the tree? That's what I still don't understand. We wouldn't have even known to look for Maelle without it. It's like someone wanted us to find her. [ And she can't be sure that's reassuring, since it can't have been the man on the beach-- which means there's yet another unknown to contend with. ]
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They'd worked and trained together, of course, but Tristan had been the one who really knew her, who'd been close to her. They'd had separate, overlapping circles.
Now, he looks at her and realizes he can interpret her expression — that faint tightness to her jaw and the dissatisfied look in her eyes — with hardly any effort, anymore. They've been thrown together into this pressure cooker and come out as tightly entangled as he's ever been with anyone who wasn't Maelle or Sophie. She might known him better now than Emma ever has.
She'd be well within her rights to blame him, if they ever find evidence that there were other survivors, that they'd left them behind in his desperate need to find Maelle. (If that's the case, he'd never forgive himself, either, but neither could he have made any other choice. It weighs on his heart like a stone, only the first impossible choice theur were asked to make here.) ]
I don't know. Maybe it was the Curator.
[ He's far enough removed from his panic in that moment for curiosity to nudge him again, mulling it over as he stares up at the stars. Could it have been the Curator? It certainly couldn't have been Noco. Nothing about that message seemed anything like what a gestral would write. (It hadn't been challenging anyone to a fight, for one thing.)
There are too many unknowns, and it makes him uneasy, on edge. ]
Maybe if we find more expedition journals, we'll learn more about who else might be here, and who could have brought her to that manor and left us that note.
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Hm. He doesn't exactly strike me as the... literary type. But I guess we'll see sooner or later.
[ She has a feeling in her gut the mystery person will reveal themselves at some point; for good or ill, that remains to be seen. They would deal with one crisis at a time. The golden tattoos snaking over her skin gleam in the flickering fire as Lune curls one leg under herself, one hand settling on her knee. ]
I made a note of it in our journals, all the same. We can't leave any details out, in case-- well. [ The quick moue of her mouth is almost somewhat apologetic, even though it's just good sense to be prepared for every eventuality. She has faith in them, but they need to cover all bases for the worst case scenario. ] Should Expedition 32 need them.
[ Her reports are obsessively meticulous and exhaustive, of course. She doesn't have any other setting. Exhaling softly through her nose, Lune flicks a look toward Maelle, sleeping peacefully. For once, without nightmares. ]
I'm a little worried she can't remember who helped her, Gustave. Maybe it's the trauma, or maybe... [ Something else. Something more troubling. ]
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Good, [ he tells her, rather than wander down the conversational path of who might have saved Maelle, brought her to that strange manor, left the note for whoever else might come along. It's thorny and winding and as far as he can tell almost entirely circular until they find some new information. ]
I've been recording everything, too. Who knows, we may even find things we missed in the moment when we go back through and read our own notes.
[ Every expedition knows they're most likely simply paving the way for the next to come, no matter how hard they all hope that this time, that this expedition, will be the one. If the worst should happen and they fall here, Expedition 32 will need everything they've learned. Something in these journals and logs might be the key they need to break the cycle once and for all. Tomorrow comes.
He follows her glance, eyes sliding sidelong and down before lifting once again — not to the stars, this time, but to Lune's face as her quiet words touch on a fear he's hardly let himself look at, let alone study or question. ]
She's been through a massive shock. We all have.
[ Added before she can remind him of the very same fact. But Maelle has been quiet since they found her, troublingly so. He keeps finding himself hovering near her, worry gnawing at him. She seems all right, for the most part, but what if she isn't? What if Lune's right and there's some other element at play here, something darker and more harrowing even than the trauma of the beach? What if something he can't even see, let alone fight, has touched his sister and won't let go of her? ]
Short of trying to hypnotize her to get past whatever block might be there...
[ His lips press, frustrated; he shakes his head. ]
We need more information.
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Then we'll watch out for any changes in Maelle, and seek out the answers. Whatever's tormenting her, intangible or otherwise, won't have her.
[ As simple as that. Though of course it's not simple at all when they still know so little, but in this case she's willing to bet on some good old-fashioned defiance, too. No use going into battle expecting to lose. Every day so far they've made some new discovery, learned more of this world. This problem ought to be no different. Her expression softens soon, though she hesitates for a beat before speaking up, meeting Gustave's gaze. ]
She's going to need you. Your support, the connection you share. I think that'll be key, if... if there really is something else going on than prolonged shock.
[ Maelle is in many ways so strong and wise beyond her years, but she is still a teenager, at the end of the day. And nobody shares a closer bond with her than Gustave. If something or someone is haunting her, that connection will no doubt play a role. ]
But we should probably not jump to the worst case scenario immediately. [ Just be prepared for one. Her smile is tired but amused, and she hums wryly, ] It has to be our turn to catch some good fortune for a change, one of these days.
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Lune's advice is good, but it falls on unlistening ears just now, his thoughts caught and circling in frustrated musing. ]
Not jump to the worst case scenario? Lune—
[ He checks himself with an effort, glancing quickly over to where Maelle is still a motionless lump, asleep near Sciel. Still, he lowers his voice as he pushes back up to lean on one arm, turned toward her. It hurts. He ignores it, lifting his other hand to gesture as his words grow warm. ]
Even aside from her amnesia, we know what's after her. He is. The man from the beach. And I—
[ It catches him off-guard, swift as a cane hooking around his throat. The words stumble on themselves, and he has to take a moment to sort through them, find the ones he needs. ]
I, I— I don't know— I can't protect her from him. All of us together couldn't stand against him, not as we are. If he comes for her before we can collect enough chroma, grow stronger, better prepared, we'll die. All of us. This?
[ He waves his hand toward the wound she'd repaired and healed, shaking his head. ]
That Nevron was nothing compared to the things he had on the beach. And I was still too slow, I couldn't—
[ Distress creeps into his expression, closing his eyes tightly, furrowing his brow, his hand lifting toward his own head like he might be able to pluck the swirling thoughts from it. ]
It almost had her.
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[ It's quiet but cracks like the lightning bolts she rains down from the skies, white-hot and intense, and she shifts on the grass so she too faces Gustave more fully. Her face is a cast of defiant anger, fierce and beautiful in the warm glow of the fire. Not all of it is directed at Gustave, but rather at the situation as a whole. She understands where Gustave is coming from, each of his fears and concerns, but the shade of defeatism coloring his words rubs her the wrong way after everything they've already been through. ]
We don't know. We don't know if he's the only one involved. We don't have all the pieces, not yet. But we will find them. The Lumina Converter works! Every day it gives us a slightly bigger advantage. Every day we learn more, grow stronger.
[ She motions with one hand, flat palm slashing through the air. ] That day on the beach? We weren't prepared for anything like that. But now we know he's out there, and we know something of what he's capable of. What's the first step of problem solving? Identifying the issue. How is he doing what he does, how was he spared by the Gommage. We figure that, and the rest will follow.
[ She has to believe that in order to keep going. Otherwise, what's the point? ]
"If he comes"? What, you want to lay down and die because we might be outmatched? We all knew the risks, the specifics are irrelevant. Maelle knew them too. Now we have to find a way to deal with them, because that's what we do.
[ But the fight goes out of her as suddenly as it was ignited, and she seems to deflate, shoulders slumping a little as a heavy sigh gusts past her lips. Now, all that's left written across her expression is weary sympathy, her eyes beseeching him. Her voice is whisper-soft when she finally goes on. ]
Come on, Gustave. What other choice is there? Today was tough, but we continue. We have to. We can do this, all of us together. We can find a way to keep her safe.
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That's what I'm saying, I'm saying we aren't strong enough, we're not— we have to— we're going to have to find a way— listen, the more Nevrons we take down, the stronger we'll become and then it won't be—
[ He's leaning toward her, spine a crunched parenthesis as he tries to meet her eyes before he lifts his hands higher into the air, frustrated. 'What, you want to lay down and die?' ]
No, I didn't say that, I told her to run! We should all run, until we're stronger, until we know— until we know— Lune—
[ It's the conversational equivalent of a rushing river meeting the sea at a spring tide, words rushing together until it's almost impossible to know who's saying what or even what's being said at all, until, finally: ]
I know! I know all that.
[ She makes her point with all the precision of her fighting ability, and he's left feeling as though he's been rocked by lightning strikes, the ground underneath him shifting and knocking him off his feet.
In the brief moment of silence, he takes a breath, tries to settle himself again. ]
I know that. I just—
[ His jaw shifts; he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and gives a tiny, abortive shake of his head as his shoulders lower along with his voice. ]
You're right about all that. And I'm not saying we don't have a chance, or that we won't find a way to win through. I'm saying...
[ He looks up, over, lashes fluttering as he blinks a little too fast, trying to get a grip on himself. ]
I'm just... it was a bad day. That's all.
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