Chapter Text
For a while they just sit there, side by side, in the deepest part of the canvas. Maelle lays her head on Verso’s shoulder, neither of them uttering a word. They’re both coming to terms with what lies ahead.
Maelle will leave and Verso will live.
It’s a good compromise, the best he could have hoped for. After all the betrayals, lies, and bloodshed that they’ve all endured, this is the most peaceful solution. And yet, Verso feels the weight of this decision in the pit of his stomach.
It gnaws at him even as Maelle gently tugs his arm and moves him to the portal. He’s so consumed by his thoughts that the blow to his stomach comes as a surprise.
Verso staggers back as he hears a voice yell, “Lune!”
Lune has always been a force to be reconned with, but in this moment, Verso is sure that not even a Paintress could stop her and her wrath. There’s no hint of warmth or understanding in her gaze, just pure unadulterated rage. Lune had dedicated her entire life, her family’s legacy, to continuing the mission and the moment that Verso held his blade over Maelle’s heart, Lune had nearly lost it all.
She’s more than entitled to her rage.
“You damn liar,” Lune seethes, venom lacing every word. She pushes forward, getting further into his space. “You nearly-“
Sciel gets in between them, trying to diffuse the situation before it can devolve. She’s fully facing Lune, effectively shielding Verso from any more physical or verbal attacks. With a placating voice she says, “Hey now, maybe we can all take a breath for a second. We’ve all clearly been through it, yeah?”
“How can you defend-“ Lune starts but cuts herself off as Sciel grabs her wrists. From his angle Verso can see the way Sciel rubs small circles with her thumb onto the other woman’s wrists. It’s such sweet and casual intimacy that it makes Verso feel like some kind of voyeur, and he looks away.
He already feels too raw and broken from his fight with Maelle, watching how the others care for each other is another blow he can’t take at the moment. Verso might have preferred Lune berating him to being a bystander to such a tender moment.
Slowly, he feels the weight of all that’s transpired hit him.
He’s going to live.
What does that even look like?
A hysterical laugh threatens to escape his mouth but he manages to fight it off. He can’t imagine it. He doesn’t know if he’s capable of making connections, of being vulnerable and trusting. As he looks at Sciel and Lune, as they seamlessly seem to understand each other, it seems like an impossible goal. Too many ghosts still haunt him.
A burning hatred spreads through him like a wildfire. It’s a sudden and visceral anger that threatens to consume him. He may have accepted the cruelty of his continued existence, but that doesn’t erase all the suffering his family has caused. Even as a Paintress, Maelle isn’t all powerful. There are things that cannot heal through paint and ink alone.
It’s something that Verso will have to live with for the rest of his days. It’s something that Verso will have to live with alone. He’ll have no family left and no goal to achieve. There will be nothing and no one left for him, and he’ll still have to continue. Why must he be the one that always has to carry on?
Verso curses his own weakness. He hates his own treacherous heart for ending up in this situation.
A dark and ugly part of him still wants to end it all. To stop this madness from continuing and to stop this ill fated attempt before it ultimately leads to more heartbreak and loss.
He thinks of the little boy deep within the canvas, endlessly painting. Verso wasn’t able to speak with him, let alone help him. Neither of them have found their rest.
Instead, he’s still in the canvas, feeling like a wounded and caged animal that’s forced to preform for someone else’s entertainment. The desire to lash out is almost too strong to contain, but he manages.
“Sometimes people burn too hot in the inside, they start burning things on the outside too. We should do our best to avoid that, mes amis” Esquie’s melodic voice comes from above them, waving his arms wildly as he hovers over them.
The appearance of one of his dearest friends is enough to ground Verso. At the same time he feels a sturdy hand grab his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze. Monoco says nothing but Verso feels his support all the same. Their presence is enough to smother out any lingering resentment Verso had for now.
“Esquie!” Maelle says with a laugh, joy and relief clear in her voice.
The living legend descends, floating closer to them. “I am so glad everyone is okay, but I think we should go. A change of scenery would be nice.” He perks up suddenly, “Oh, oh, oh! I know the perfect place.”
Even as they’re flying atop Esquie the tension remains, which is a feat as Esquie has been humming the entire time. None of them know their destination. Esquie had been adamant that the location remain a secret.
“So,” Sciel drawls, breaking the silence. “What happens now?”
Verso sucks in a breath. He’s genuinely not sure how to answer that question, not without the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat or without anger marring words.
He and Maelle exchange glances, and from the firm line of her mouth, Verso can tell that she’s more prepared than he is for this conversation.
“I’m going to leave the canvas, but we’re going to try to fix things first.” There’s a determined look in her eyes, one that leaves no room for doubt. As she continues Verso eyes her warily , wondering how far she’ll actually go to fix things. “Everyone Papa erased, we can bring them back, just like I brought you two back.”
“That’s actually something I’d like to discuss.” Lune says, eyes accessing Maelle closely. “How exactly did you bring us back? Are there limitations, like the amount of people you back? What’s the probability of any errors or issue occurring?”
Maelle mouth twitches, and she doesn’t quite falter at the questions but Verso knows her well enough to see how she’s trying to choose her next words carefully. “It’s a bit hard to explain.”
“Verso helped me before, when I was bringing you two back. I just needed to really think about you and remember who you are. But it wasn’t just that.” Maelle fidgets with the end of her ponytail as she speaks.
“It’s also like the canvas remembers. Like there are echoes of people that I can feel?” Maelle scrunches her nose. She turns to speak directly to Lune, “It’s like how you described still feeling everyone with you? I just knew you were still in the canvas, that your essence was still in the chroma around me, and all I had to do was pull you out and bring you back.”
It’s a simplistic way of explaining things, but Verso remembers enough of his Painters training to understand that she’s explained the important bits. But, that also means he knows what she’s overlooking. “You know them though. It’s easier for you to bring them back because they’re familiar to you, you know what to look for. It’ll be different for the others.”
It’s another reason why Verso was so against Maelle remaining in the canvas to try and create her perfect world. As close as Painters are to gods in a canvas, they do have their limitations. There’s a high risk of Maelle brining someone back fundamentally changed, with either gaps in their memory or differences in their personality. Or, she may accidentally create someone completely new, who merely wears the face of a loved one long since gone.
“Repainting anything is no easy feat and Maelle only recently remembered her training and her abilities. There’s no guarantee that we’ll succeed in any of this.” Verso points out.
“There was no guarantee any of us would survive this, but we’re here, yeah?” Sciel chimes in, her gaze sweeping over everyone. “We’ve faced some impossible odds already, what’s a few more?”
“It’s not impossible though. The fact that you and Lune are here proves that.” Maelle says, a stubborn edge to her voice. Verso knows deep in his bones that her desperation and stubbornness to have everyone happy will only lead to pain and disappointment later down the line.
“Maelle.” He chides.
“What if we were able to focus the chroma, make it so you can better distinguish the essences you mentioned?” Lune asks, her gaze is off to the distance, but Verso can see the gears turning in her mind. “We might be able to create a pictos or some sort of device to help you sort through all of it. Like trying to isolate a specific sound.”
Sciel tilts her head, curious. “You could make something like that?”
A rare look of hesitation crosses Lune’s face for a brief moment before she answers. “Yes, I think so, but I can’t do it alone.”
“We’ll help of course, but none of have the expertise for-“ There’s a flicker of understanding behind Sciel’s eyes. “Oh. You don’t mean us.”
Verso pieces it together easily enough. He watches as realization hits Maelle, and her face transforms into an equal mix of pure fear and hope.
Her next words come out like a prayer, “You mean Gustave.”
Verso loses track of the conversation from there as the girls trade a flurry of sentences and questions. The feeling of cautious excitement is palpable.
Esquie’s cheerful voice cuts through the conversation, “We’re here!”
“Ah, of course.” Verso mutters under his breath. He feels his body tense up as he takes in the landscape before them.
They’re at the Forgotten Battlefield. It’s been completely untouched by everything else that has happened in the canvas. The vibrant golden leaves are the first things to greet them. The graves are the second.
It’s comically full circle. To try and bring back a man at the site he was buried. It’s the sort of poetic irony that Verso would appreciate in any other circumstance. Things being as they are, it’s yet another painful reminder of his failures.
As soon as they land, Maelle slowly walks towards Gustave’s grave. She kneels down and whispers something, her smile tentative and soft. Lune and Sciel join her soon after, each of them putting a hand on her shoulder.
Verso takes that as his cue to start building the camp to give them some privacy. It’s not his place and the thought of the man he let die returning weighs heavily on him.
“Don’t you ever get tired of brooding?” Monoco’s gravelly voice breaks through Verso’s thoughts. “Try using your time more wisely. You could be helping me polish my feet.”
“Not everyone shares your love of feet, mon vieux.”
For a gestural with no facial features it’s amazing how Verso can feel how unimpressed Monoco is with him. “Keep telling yourself that, I’ve seen how you look at my feet.” Monoco counters.
Snorting, Verso bumps shoulders with his friend. The knot in his stomach loosens ever so slightly. They work in tandem setting up camp, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence. Verso knows Monoco is waiting for him to open up, but they’ve known each other long enough to know that Monoco won’t push the issue. He’s let Verso take the lead.
When they’re finally finished setting up, Verso lets out a long breath as he sits down. There’s no point in delaying it any longer. “She wants me to live. She wants me to have a happy mortal life.” Verso admits, looking off into the sunset.
Monoco hums, “She’s not the only one, you know.”
It’s an old argument between the two, the one that caused the rift between them that spanned years. Monoco couldn’t keep watching Verso torture himself time after time, and Verso wouldn’t stop until he accomplished his goal, no matter the consequences. It wasn’t the most pleasant of partings.
“I don’t even know where to begin.” It feels like a mockery to say the words aloud in this sacred place. Verso knows that there are people far more deserving at another chance at life.
“Well you could start by joining your friends instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself.” Monoco says as he nudges a Verso, inclining his head towards the rest of their group.
It’s a mistake to look because he catches Sciel’s eyes and she gestures them over. When he tries to waive her off, she starts walking towards them instead. He knows better than to try and argue with her, so he gives her a weary smile and meets her halfway. Monoco trails behind him muttering something about being a softie.
“Hey there stranger, are you done sulking or did I interrupt?” She asks in that teasing tone of hers.
“He’s never done sulking.” Monoco says unhelpfully and Sciel laughs in response.
“I’ll have you know that most people find my sulking charming.” Verso says indignantly, faking a huff of annoyance.
Sciel rolls her eyes, “Well, Mr. Charming, we’d like you both to gather round.” Her demeanor shifts, her eyes sharpening and her back straightening from the easy stance she had. “Maelle wants to try to bring Gustave back soon.”
Verso’s eyes widen and he doesn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Already?”
“She doesn’t want to wait.” Sciel says, her voice full of sympathy and wistfulness. It’s not hard to see that she’s thinking of Pierre and their unborn child. Verso knows how much this opportunity means to her. If Maelle succeeds in bringing back Gustave, then it means Sciel is one step closer to reuniting with her husband.
“Is that really the best idea? She hasn’t rested at all.” In truth, none of them had but the rest of them aren’t trying to paint someone back into existence. Even at this distance Verso can see the bags under Maelle’s eyes and the bruises that haven’t completely healed even under Lune’s abilities.
Sciel shakes her head, “No, but you should know by now that once she’s set her mind on something there’s no going back.”
Instead of answering Verso lets out a grunt as he gets shoved forward. He glares at Monoco who doesn’t even have the decency to pretend that he wasn’t the perpetrator. Monoco starts shooing them with his hands, “Enough dawdling, we might as well join them if they’re about to get started.”
Sciel shrugs and begins leading them towards the others. As they approach neither Maelle nor Lune acknowledge them, both too lost in their preparations. Lune frantically writes something in her journal, Gustave’s prosthetic gleaming in the last bit of sunlight beside her. Closer to the tree line Maelle practices her fencing forms with a faraway look in her eyes. A small amount of chroma swirls around her feet, barely noticeable.
“We’re almost ready.” Lune says without looking up at them.
“Doesn’t this seem a bit rushed?” Verso questions because someone has to acknowledge that.
Putting down her pencil, Lune locks eyes with him. The white hot rage from earlier has dissipated, but Verso isn’t fool enough to believe it’s completely gone. There’s a cold and quiet anger lurking beneath the surface of Lune’s clam exterior. He can already see how she’s more distant, more professional than before. It hurts him to see how much of their closeness they have lost in such a short amount of time. “Out of everyone that has been erased, Gustave’s essence may be the easiest for Maelle to find, but he’s also been gone far longer than everyone else. From what Maelle’s told me, time will be an important factor that will affect our results. We should try as soon as viably possible.”
She’s right on all counts but it still sets Verso’s teeth on edge. All of them keep expecting so much from Maelle. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as he bites his tongue. He doubts that he’ll win any sort of argument in regards to this.
“Verso, you don’t have to worry so much.” Maelle says, facing them. “I can already feel him. Actually, I think I’ve always felt him with me, ever since the cliffs. He’s here, I just need to reach out.”
Maelle walks towards Verso and places a hand on his crossed arms, an olive branch of sorts. “I’m ready.”
She’s not asking for permission, but she is silently asking for his support. Verso isn’t sure why she keeps seeking his council after everything they’ve been through, but if he stop her from making the same catastrophic mistakes as their parents, then he can swallow some of the reservations he has about this.
They aren’t trying to recreate someone from scratch, Verso has to remind himself. They’re just trying to bring people back as they were, not as an idealized version Maelle may have of them. The fact that she’s seeking the expedition for guidance is proof enough of that. This isn’t a repeat of Maman’s actions.
Looking into her eyes, all he can do is nod stiffly. Relief floods her face and she squeezes his arm in gratitude. She looks to the others who nod and give her encouraging smiles. It’s all she needs before she takes a few steps back and raises her rapier into the air.
Maelle shuts her eyes and holds the rapier in front of her, pointing towards the sky. With a steadying breath she sets off into a flurry of movements. The way she moves is beautiful, a work of art in its own right. With each swing of her rapier more petals begin to surround her, the air growing thick with chroma until she performs one final thrust.
And then, Gustave Auclair takes a breath.
Gustave’s return is a joyous affair that Verso feels he has no right to be a part of, so he silently melts into the shadows as the other Expeditioners tearfully crowd around the newly repainted man.
It’s an odd feeling seeing the other man return since Verso bares the responsibility for Gustave’s death. He’s happy for all of them, Maelle most of all, but Verso knows it’s only a matter of time before he reaps what he has sown.
Despite knowing this, Verso can’t seem to look away from them. Even from his spot hidden beneath the trees, it’s easy to see the warmth and kindness of Gustave’s smile. There’s a sense of such genuine authenticity around Gustave that Verso hasn’t seen in another person in a long time.
‘It’s a shame that we’ll never be friends.’ Verso thinks wistfully.
After a time he sees Maelle lead Gustave away to her usual spot when she needs to be away from everyone else. They deserve a private moment, but Verso doesn’t envy what that also entails. He has no doubt that Maelle will be filling Gustave in on all that he’s missed, every good and terrible moment. The only thing that he’s uncertain of is how much she’ll divulge of Verso’s part in Gustave’s death.
He regrets it now, has for a while truth be told. Throughout this entire expedition all of his plans had gone awry, so much so that the past few weeks he’s been wondering about all the ways things could have played out differently. It’s safe to say that the choice to let Gustave die had been one of those decisions that had plagued him the most.
If Verso had saved Gustave’s life, would they still have ended up here or was the fate of the canvas decided long ago?
He’s on first watch so he loses himself in his musings until he’s roughly shoved against the tree he had been leaning on. He curses at himself for letting his guard down just because Aline and Renior had left the canvas. He’s preparing to summon his sword and his dagger until he registers who his attacker is.
A pair of deep brown eyes look up angerly at him and a forearm against his chest keeps him in place. The smile from earlier has long since gone.
“How could you do it?” Gustave grits out. “How could you not care about any of it? Any of them? Everyone in Lumiere, your friends, your family-“
The tenuous grip Verso has had on his temper finally snaps at the mention of his family. “Do not speak to me about my family.” He spits out, a cold and hard edge to his voice.
Verso may deserve Gustave’s ire, but he cannot tolerate a word about his family. Not when he is all that remains of them. The thought of how he never got to say goodbye to his Alicia is still too painful for him to even think about.
Something about his tone must have broken through to Gustave, who loses some of the heat in his glare. Gustave searches for something in Verso’s eyes and whatever he finds is enough for the other man to feel the need to step back and release his hold on Verso.
Unceremoniously, Verso is punched in the face in the next second.
It is a solid hit that connects firmly with his jaw. It’s a punch that leaves his ears slightly ringing to the point that he nearly misses Gustave’s next words.
“I’m sorry.” Gustave says, a combination of strain and tiredness in his voice.
Verso watches as the fight seems to leave the other man’s body entirely. Gustave pinches the bridge of his nose, mutters something under his breath, and then proceeds to sit down on the edge of the cliff by them. Unsure of what to do and his anger despairing just as quickly, Verso stays leaning against the tree, rubbing his jaw.
The apology hangs awkwardly between them.
“You really shouldn’t be apologizing to me.” Verso finally manages to say. “In fact, you have every right to hate me.”
Still facing away, Gustave sighs from where he sits and looks up at the stars. “Hate is a strong word. Do I feel angry? Absolutely. But hate?” He sighs again, “I just found out my entire world is some sort of canvas and everything I’ve known is a lie. I’m too tired to hate anything at the moment.”
Gustave finally turns his head to him, “Least of all a stranger I just met.”
His words hit Verso like a shot to his chest. It’s too easy, too kind. He hasn’t earned any of it and it makes him feel sick. It’s a far cry from forgiveness or trust, but it’s more consideration than Verso had ever expected. “I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”
Gustave laughs mirthlessly, it’s a dry and tired sound. “You don’t have to say anything. Just sit with me a while.” The next words he says come out softer, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Verso refrains from pointing out how any of the others would probably be better company. Instead, he finds himself obeying Gustave’s request. His legs dangle off the cliffside as he sits beside the other man, only a scant few inches apart.
“Where’s Maelle?” Verso asks over the sound of waves crashing onto the shore below them.
Out of the corner of his eye Verso watches as Gustave wrings his hands nervously. The artificial arm gleams in the moonlight as he moves. “I asked her to give me space, just some time to think.”
Verso hums and doesn’t push any further. Gustave was taking all of this remarkably well for someone who came back from the dead and found out all about the canvas. But everyone has a breaking point. And Gustave, for all the praises that everyone has lauded about him, is still just a man. A man that has just been given some earth-shattering truths.
Verso knows from experience that the truth is not always a kindness and not everyone reacts well to it. His thoughts briefly drift to Julie and his hand travels to his chest to linger over scars that have long since healed.
“She’s so young,” Gustave finally breaks the silence, his words carrying such deep sorrow. “So fucking young.”
“I know.”
“How could- Why can’t- She shouldn’t-” Gustave makes a frustrated noise as he tries to gather his thoughts. “There’s so much resting on her shoulders, it’s unfair. This shouldn’t be her responsibility to carry alone.”
“No one should have the sort of power that Painters have, yet here we are.” Verso muses aloud.”We can only hope she won’t follow in the footsteps of Maman.”
“I’ve poured over enough of past expeditions’ journals to know that history is often doomed to repeat itself, but I won’t let that happen to her.” Gustave says, fists clenching in determination.
“There’s so much of Maman in her, it scares me. They both love so deeply that it can consume them.” Verso speaks these words quietly, almost as if he’s scared of the truth of them.
When he was younger, he used to think that Renoir was the more emotional one between his two parents. Renoir has always been the more romantic type, more expressive with his feelings. Aline, on the other hand, had been more reserved and stricter with her children, but Verso never felt unloved. Her’s was a more silent kind of love. It wasn’t until he learned the truth about the canvas that he realized how Aline’s emotions ran far deeper than she ever let anyone know. She created Lumiere with all its inhabitants, just so she could have more time with a son that was long gone from her world.
Verso has seen how Maelle cares just as deeply for her families, those in the canvas and those out of it. She would do anything for them. But she also wants to cling to a sort of fantasy that she’s built up in her head, to have a life that she’s been robbed of, time and time again.
“It’s a double-edged sword though. As much as love can bring someone to ruin, it can also save them. Maelle loves everything about this canvas. You, her friends, the gestrals, the Continent, everything. I’ve done all I can, but if she strays, I know she’ll listen to you and the others. She’s not alone, not like how Maman was.” Verso says and he hopes to his core that he’s right.
He hears Gustave take a steadying breath next to him.
“She really was your mother, then.” There’s no surprise in Gustave’s tone, just a feeling of acknowledgement. He looks at Verso then, with compassion in his eyes. “You have my condolences, no one deserves to go through that. I wouldn’t wish the loss of family on anyone.”
Verso’s tongue suddenly feels like a lead weight in his mouth. All that he manages to do is to nod in response, a stilted and awkward movement. Outside of answering Lune’s unending questions or confronting Maelle about their loss, he hasn’t talked about his family with anyone else.
He hasn’t been able to fully grieve them.
“We’re all plagued by loss it seems.” Is the response he lands on in the end. Something neutral and true, and a way to deflect from getting too personal.
Something in Gustave’s expression shifts, turning into something sharper and more focused. It’s not a look tinged with rage this time, but it still makes Verso sit up in attention. He can see the gears beginning to turn in Gustave’s brain.
“Maelle wants to change that, though. She wants to bring people back, just like,” Gustave halts and bites his lip, eyes unfocused. “Like she did with me.”
They’re in dangerous territory now. The others had been too swept up by the chance of rebuilding and regaining everything they had lost, that they hadn’t thought of all the possibilities of failure. Even Lune, with her utter brilliance, had instead focused on just one part of the problem instead of the situation as a whole.
Maybe that’s another reason that Lune had proposed to bring Gustave back. Maybe she had known that Gustave would pick up on the things she’d overlook, help them in ways they couldn’t account for.
Verso says nothing and waits.
Gustave’s fingers begin to thrum on the ground, slowly at first before they begin to pick up in tempo. With how Gustave’s eyebrows draw together, Verso can tell his reactions aren’t out of impatience.
“You don’t think she can do it?” It’s somehow as much a question as it is a statement.
Verso is so very tired of lying and there’s nothing left to lose so what comes out is the truth. “I think she might destroy herself in the process of trying.”
The following silence is heavy between them. For a moment he considers walking over to Esquie just to acquire some wine for the rest of this conversation, but he realizes being drunk may not be the best course of action. “How much did she tell you of what happens to Painters that stay in canvasses too long?”
“She was vague with it but I was able to piece it together.” Gustave runs a hand through his chestnut curls and quietly says, “She’d die, wouldn’t she? If she stays, she’d die in here.”
Verso squeezes his eyes shut in a vain attempt to block out the pain and answers, “Yes.”
With his eyes still shut, all Verso hears is a litany of quiet curses coming from the other man. When Verso opens his eyes again, Gustave has stopped his tirade and is covering his face with his hands. Part of him wants to reach out and touch Gustave, reassure him and give him comfort. In this moment, they’re both Maelle’s brothers, facing a devastating truth. But Verso refrains from touching Gustave because he is still Gustave’s killer and the reason for the erasure of the other man’s friends and family. Verso is still a monster masquerading as a man.
But then he hears Monoco’s voice in his head, admonishing him for still being a self-absorbed sad sack. Verso had told Maelle that he would try to embrace this life, and what better way to do that then to try to atone for all that he’s done. Guilt and atonement are concepts he’s familiar with at least.
Ot’s difficult but Verso tries to give some comforting words to a man he let die, “You know, you don’t have to figure this all out tonight. What’s that you are all so found of saying, ‘tomorrow is tomorrow’, or something like that?”
Gustave’s hands finally fall away from his face and Verso can see the corner’s of Gustave’s mouth twitch upwards. Verso feels his own mouth start to curve up into a rare genuine smile at the sight of it.
“‘Tomorrow is tomorrow?’ There’s no way that you’ve traveled with the others this long without knowing the actual saying.” Gustave says, still looking exhausted but lighter than he had been a second ago.
“Tomorrow comes.” Verso says, unable to resist giving him a small smirk.
“Tomorrow comes.” Gustave returns with a chuckle, his voice full of warmth.
They stay that way for a while, listening to the waves crash beneath them. It doesn’t come as a surprise to Verso when Gustave eventually gets up to leave without a word. There’s nothing they can say that can’t be discussed tomorrow with the others and with some proper rest.
What does surprise Verso is hearing footsteps returning a few minutes after and then an odd sound of things dropping near him. He turns around just in time to see a rock go soaring above his head, making its way into the ocean.
“Oh, you missed it.” Gustave says, hands on his hips, pretending to be upset. Then he wags a finger at Verso as tries to sound scolding, “And that was a good one too.”
Verso’s a bit too dumbstruck to come up with something clever so all that leaves his mouth is a soft little, “Oh.”
Gustave gives him a lopsided smile and then nods towards the water. “Pay attention this time.”
Thankfully, Verso has enough presence of mind to respond with more than a simple ‘oh’ this time. Bowing his head, Verso says, “Of course.”
He turns his head to the ocean and this time he’s able to see the rock hit the water with a satisfying splash.
Finally out of his own head, Verso distantly realizes that it’s a beautiful night. There’s not a single cloud in the sky and no threats looming over their heads. In front of them is only a sky full of stars and a sea to mirror it. It’s selfish but Verso wants this moment of reprieve to last a bit longer.
“Surely you can do better than that?” Verso teases, turning his head back to the other man.
Gustave rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed by Verso’s comment. “Apologies, not all of us are used to coming back from the dead, unlike some I’ve heard. Forgive the slight rigor mortis.” He says dryly.
A beat passes.
“Merde. I’m so sorry, sometimes my humor-“ Gustave scrambles, a flush appearing on his face.
Verso interrupts him with a bark of laughter that startles them both. It’s a loud and harsh sound to his own ears. It’s been years, probably decades, since someone has been able to get a laugh like this out of Verso. He laughs until his sides hurt and there are tears in his eyes. It’s a miracle that no one from the camp wakes up to investigate.
When his laughter finally subsides, Verso wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. He looks at Gustave, feeling almost like he’s really seeing the man for the first time this night. The dark joke helped to make Gustave appear more real, more human than the way everyone else described him as.
“I don’t think rigor mortis counts here if you’re being repainted back into existence. It definitely doesn’t count when you’re an immortal who can freely reattach limbs.” Verso counters, a hint laughter still in his voice as he raises hand and waives it around.
Gustave clears his throat in an attempt to move on, but Verso can still spot the faint dusting of pink on the other man’s cheeks. “Well, I think we can save that debate for another time. We have more pressing matters to deal with.”
Verso raises an eyebrow at that. “Such as?”
“I believe someone has insulted my honor as a rock thrower.” Gustave tosses a rock back and forth between his hands before throwing to Verso, who catches it with ease. “It seems only right that you should demonstrate your rock throwing abilities. Or lack there of.”
“I shall not stand for such blasphemy, monsieur.”
After examining the rock, Verso pushes himself up off the ground to stand next to Gustave. The other man inclines his head, gesturing Verso on. Verso rears his arm back and then lets the rock fly.
The rest of Verso’s watch continues with them trading barbs back and forth as they toss rocks into the ocean.
They’re a strange pair. Not quiet friends, not quiet strangers, but Gustave’s presence eases something Verso’s soul. Verso knows they couldn’t be more different, and yet he alsp knows their lives will forever be intertwined by their love of Maelle.
There’s no telling what the future will hold. He wonders if Maelle will succeed and if she’ll keep her word to leave the canvas. He wonders if he’ll be able to keep his word in return. He wonders what part the strange man next to him will play in the things to come.
He throws another rock into the ocean.
Tomorrow comes.