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After the departure of the Paintress and Renoir, life in Lumière unfolded like a reprise — like a new interpretation of an old, familiar song. The months stretched on long and slow, until those months added up and became a year. The city was healing, buoyed up by hope, and by time.
Still, life was not without its tragedies. It had been difficult for all of them when they discovered that Maelle would only be able to bring back those erased in the final Gommage, the one following the fall of the Paintress. Those who had been lost to previous Gommages, to violence on the continent, or to natural causes were lost to them forever. Their chroma was either too old to be safely restored, or it had long been reabsorbed back into the canvas and used to create new life — and was thus unable to be restored without causing new, different deaths. There would be no return for Sophie, for Pierre, for Gustave, and for countless others.
And yet, they carried on, as they always did, even in the face of deep loss and sadness. Maelle and Emma, who had never been quite as close to each other as either of them were to Gustave, clung to each other in their grief, and their bond deepened into something rich and beautiful. Sciel returned to her classroom and her students, and although the fresh grief of losing hope for Pierre’s return threatened to drag her down, it did not break her as it had before. Monoco returned to his outpost in the mountains, and Verso would accompany him there for long stretches at a time, too restless to stay in Lumière for long.
Lune, for her part, returned to the only life she truly knew — the Expedition Academy. While Expeditions as they had known them were no longer necessary, other missions to the continent were more important than ever. With a population that was finally growing, there would soon be a need to expand the city — perhaps back to Old Lumière, perhaps to somewhere new entirely.
And what was more, Lune still could not satiate the curiosity that kept bringing her across the sea, again and again.
On such trips, she was usually accompanied by a handful of 32s and 31s — fledgeling expeditioners who still itched for adventure and exploration. They journeyed to the continent for weeks at a time, sometimes via boat, sometimes via Esquie, to document, study, and learn.
And though much of this was a return to normalcy, there were also a few new surprises.
During Lune’s stints at home in Lumière, Sciel would show up at the Academy at least once a week to force her to take a break from her work. Any protests she would have made died in an instant when Sciel fixed her with a look and reminded her, “Friends are not distractions!” before taking her hand and dragging her out into the sunlight without another word.
Sometimes, the outing in question was as simple as a walk down to the boulangerie and back, snacking on pastries and catching up on their days as they went. Other times, they would stop by Emma’s to pick up Maelle too, and then the three of them would crowd into Sciel’s little kitchen to cook a meal together and talk long into the night over dinner. Occasionally, Lune would return the favor and show up at Sciel’s classroom in the middle of the day with lunch for the two of them, or with snacks for her students.
All in all, Lune had to admit that it was rather nice. Taking breaks did help her stay productive with her work. But more than that, she felt an icy corner of her heart starting to melt, and a long forgotten feeling starting to resurface, one that she had once been afraid to name.
One day, on such an outing, Sciel offered to accompany Lune on her next mission, suggesting a small trip to the continent, just the two of them.
“I need a break from the city anyway,” she’d said. Then, with a waggle of her eyebrows, added, “Besides, who better to help with your research than a former member of the illustrious Disaster Expedition? Come on, it’ll be like old times!”
And Lune, who had never been very good at denying Sciel anything, agreed.
———
Esquie dropped them off in the wastes between Monoco’s Station and Old Lumière, and they made the rest of the journey into the city on foot. It was strangely nostalgic to follow the same path they’d taken before, first through the building Monoco tore open, and then on past the final remains of Expedition 58. Finally, as the sun was setting, they agreed they could travel no farther and decided to make camp so they could begin their exploration in earnest the following morning.
The two of them slipped easily back into their expedition routines, setting up camp like a well-oiled machine. Lune handled the fire; Sciel handled the meal. Sciel set up the gramophone; Lune picked the record. They chatted easily while they worked, about anything and nothing. Sciel told stories about the antics her students got up to; Lune caught Sciel up on her latest research.
It was a bit like old times, Lune thought quietly to herself. Except… different.
For one, there was no glowing 33 overhead on the Monolith. Even Maelle’s message to her father had long since been erased, leaving just a bare, innocuous rock formation.
And then there were the changes to Old Lumière itself. In the past year, the permanent fog and gloom that used to rest over the city had lifted, leaving the night sky clear and the stars bright. It was as if the hold that the Fracture once had on that place had finally been released, and although the destruction remained, it felt peaceful in a way it hadn’t before. Less like the corpse of a city and more like a bare tree in winter, waiting expectantly for spring.
And then there was Sciel herself.
Lune had almost forgotten how vibrant she looked under the stars, how beautiful. There was something about her that came alive in a different way on the continent. The set of her shoulders was a little more at ease, the lilt of her laugh a little more free, the green of her eyes a little more wild. It was not unlike the way Sciel lit up in the presence of her students — the way teaching brought out something in her that was so fundamentally herself — and Lune wondered what it was about the continent that had the same effect.
As night fell, they both settled into their bedrolls and let the conversation naturally dwindle. Luckily, they no longer needed someone to stay up and keep watch. There were very few nevrons anywhere on the continent that could pose any real threat to Lune and Sciel after all their adventures — certainly not any of the ones here in Old Lumière.
Nevertheless, Lune tossed and turned for what felt like hours, long after Sciel fell asleep, watching as the moon climbed higher and higher into the sky.
At last, she gave up on sleep and crept away from camp. She didn’t go far, just a few dozen feet away, to a familiar rocky outcropping where she could look over the valley and see… her.
Of all the terrible things she’d seen during Expedition 33, somehow the Hauler haunted Lune the most.
Her corpse loomed overhead like a monstrous omen, and the weight of an entire city rested on her shoulders, forcing her down, crushing her — in death as it had in life. Her head was bent and bowed, hair obscuring whatever might be left of her face. And worst of all, that giant golden sword pierced her neck through completely, pinning her to the ground below.
All that burden, all that weight carried… and it had all been for naught.
Lune wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she was dragged from her thoughts by footsteps on the rubble behind her — intentionally loud, telegraphing their presence so as not to startle her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Lune said, without turning around.
“You didn’t.” Sciel lowered herself down to sit beside Lune with a grunt. “Woke up on my own a few minutes ago. Guess this old back isn’t used to sleeping on the dirt anymore.”
Lune smiled weakly at the joke, but it struck at the part of her heart that was already aching. Sciel was right. They were getting older — finally, like they’d always dreamed of.
And yet that reality only filled her with dread.
Still, she tried to tease back. “Regretting joining me out here already?”
“Never.” Sciel swayed to the side and bumped their shoulders together. “Is it the lack of a soft bed that’s keeping you up as well? Or is there something else on your mind?”
Lune thought it was rather generous of Sciel to bother asking, considering they both already knew the answer. Of course there was something on her mind. There always was.
She wasn’t sure if she could explain what drew her here, but for Sciel, she wanted to try.
“This spot, I… sometimes, when I’m on a mission to the city with the others and I can’t sleep… I come sit here.”
Sciel looked around, appraising the area with new eyes, trying to understand.
“There used to be a soul fragment nearby. Just there,” Lune added, pointing to the spot. “Of Renoir.”
“Ah yes, I remember. He told us about her, didn’t he?” Sciel nodded in the direction of the Hauler. “Maelle’s sister. Clea.”
“He did,” Lune confirmed. “Do you remember what he said?”
“I think so… Something about mortality. How she wasn’t worried about death itself, but she was still afraid to die because there were so many things she wanted to do and see.”
Lune nodded. “At the time,” she started, slowly, “I felt the same way. The last year of my life was ticking down, but there was still so much to study and do… I thought, maybe, if we defeated the Paintress, if we stopped the Gommage, I’d finally be free of that burden.”
“And now?”
Lune breathed out sharply, somewhere between a scoff and a mirthless laugh. “And now it’s– it’s worse somehow. Because I have more time than I ever dreamed of, and I don’t know what to do with it. And I can’t stop thinking about that– fuck, that image. The city on her back, her hidden face…” Lune trailed off and turned her head away sharply as tears stung in her eyes.
A moment passed in silence, and then Lune felt a gentle hand between her shoulder blades. She tried not to flinch at the touch, still unused to the physical affection Sciel gave so freely.
“You saw yourself in her,” Sciel said, simply.
“I did,” Lune said, then amended, “I… I do.”
The hand on Lune’s back started to move in slow, soothing circles. “And what is it that you see?”
“Defeat. And failure,” Lune said, her voice laced with disgust. She gestured towards the Hauler with a dismissive flick of her hand.
Lune’s life purpose had always been to put Lumière on her back and carry the city to victory. And she had done exactly that. She had succeeded. No one put a sword through her neck.
So why did she come back to this spot again and again — and why did it feel like looking in a mirror when she did?
Sciel hummed quietly, then asked, “What else?”
Lune looked out over the valley again and felt a wave of bitterness crest over her. Her words spilled out fast and angry. “And disappointment. Her own father Painted that. He put that weight on her back.” She shook her head, and her shoulders tightened with rage.
It had been so sublimely devastating when Lune learned that her name had been on her mother’s lips in her last moments, and then in the next breath to learn that she had only been thought of as a contingency plan. Not as a person. Certainly not as a beloved daughter.
“All my life, I thought I had to hurry. I had to make the most of my time because it was running out, I couldn’t waste even a second. But when I look at her… I realize it was the opposite. I wasted so much time. And the worst part of it all is that she looks so…” Lune took a shuddering breath, bracing herself against the pain of this most vulnerable admission, “… lonely.”
She risked a glance at Sciel, sure that she would find a reflection of her own shame there. That Sciel, too, would see that Lune’s life had amounted to nothing but loneliness and futility. But all she found was a soft smile. It was sad, yes, but also warm and kind.
“You can take the city down off your back now, Lune,” Sciel said. “You don’t have to carry that weight anymore.”
The simplicity of that statement — and the unavoidable truth of it — hit Lune squarely in the chest. She tried to take a breath, but it hitched, catching in her throat, and came out as a sob. She squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best to force the emotion back down, but Sciel’s gentle, persistent touch on her back was more kindness than she could bear.
Lune put her head in her hands and wept.
She felt Sciel’s arm slide around her shoulders, pulling her against her side. As she wept, Sciel rocked them gently back and forth, whispering gentle reassurances. “There you go, let it all out. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
When Lune’s sobs finally started to subside, she pulled away from the embrace and ran her gloved hand under each eye. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” she said. She cleared her throat and shook her head, trying desperately to regain control of her emotions.
“I told you once that every time we’re together, it’s to grieve,” Sciel said.
“I’m sorry,” Lune repeated. She blinked fiercely against tears that were still threatening to fall. “I don’t mean to, it’s just–”
“Hey, hey… None of that.” Sciel interjected. She took one of Lune’s hands in both of her own and pulled it into her lap. “What I mean is: I’m glad we’re together. Especially if there are things to grieve.”
It wasn’t until Sciel reached up to tuck Lune’s braid behind her ear that Lune realized she had been subconsciously hiding her face behind her hair. It was an old habit, born from long days in the lab when her parents had had no tolerance for tears. She had learned at a young age that her emotions could not be used against her if they could not be seen.
But then, she thought again of the Hauler, lonely and faceless, and — with great effort — she turned to look Sciel in the eye. Swollen eyes and tear stains be damned.
Sciel squeezed her hand once more, then laced their fingers together. “You carried so much for so long,” she said. “More than you should ever have had to. More than most people in Lumière will ever know. But you don’t have to. Not anymore.”
“I think…” Lune said, “I think I’m less afraid to put the weight down and more afraid of what I’ll be left with if I do.”
A look of immense sadness passed over Sciel’s face, and she tugged on Lune’s elbow. “Come here, you.”
And maybe it was the cover of night, or maybe it was a testament to the depth of her trust in Sciel, but Lune didn’t even feel ashamed as she followed willingly, tipping over until she lay on her side with her head in Sciel’s lap.
They stayed that way for a long while. Sciel played idly with Lune’s hair, carding her fingers through the strands again and again. Her other hand rested loosely on Lune’s shoulder, a warm, steady presence.
At last, Sciel said, with dry mirth, “You know, I don’t think any of the Dessendres thought Renoir’s portraits were particularly flattering either.”
Lune laughed wetly. “That’s true,” she conceded.
It was a grim joke, but it was also a valiant effort at cheering her up. And, to her surprise, Lune found that it was working.
“So, I suppose you’ve got company, if nothing else,” Sciel said, chipper and matter-of-fact in a way that was so intensely Sciel that it made Lune’s heart ache.
“I suppose I do.”
Lune felt a deep calmness come over her then. The grief was not gone, not entirely, but for now, it was fading to the background of her awareness. She reached up and took Sciel’s hand, then rolled onto her back. She was unsurprised to see that Sciel had already turned her eyes heavenward, scanning the night sky. Lune wanted to ask what Sciel was whispering to the stars, as she had done on the Expedition, but was gripped by a sudden fear of what Sciel might say.
Instead, she said, “I missed you, you know.”
“You did no such thing,” Sciel countered, although not unkindly, her gaze still fixed on the night sky. “You see me all the time.” Her tone was light but also brittle, and Lune heard something hidden behind the fragility in her voice. Something she could not quite identify.
“But I did,” Lune insisted. “I did miss you. Being on the continent with you again, I had forgotten how much I… how much I missed you.”
She hoped Sciel knew what she meant. That even though they had their walks and lunches and outings, she missed this. This closeness. Long nights under the stars. Having only each other in the whole world to lean on. She wanted this somehow, but in Lumière. She wanted this, but more. This, but always. She wanted, she wanted…
Sciel tore her gaze away from the stars to look down at Lune with a curious, inquisitive expression. As if Lune were a puzzle she could not quite piece together.
“I missed you too,” she whispered. Her voice was so soft and so reverent that Lune began to wonder if Sciel did, in fact, know exactly what she meant. The thought alone made her heart leap in her chest.
The corner of Sciel’s mouth twitched with the very beginnings of a smile, like a flower that was not quite ready to bloom. She ran her fingers through Lune’s hair once more, but this time, she let them linger along Lune’s jaw, brushing her thumb over the tattoos on her cheek. Her palm was warm and calloused, and Lune could not resist the urge to close her eyes and lean into the touch.
They were dancing around something now, something that was both new and very old. It felt dangerous and untamed, like wildfire.
Before she could think better of it, Lune turned her head and placed a kiss on the inside of Sciel’s wrist. She let her lips linger there and breathed deep, inhaling the soft scent of her skin.
Sciel’s quiet gasp brought her back to reality, and Lune opened her eyes wide in a panic. But every instinct that told her to flee or to apologize vanished in an instant when she looked up and saw the Sky herself, green-eyed and full of wonder. The Sky, who shone with starlight and held the Moon with tender care.
All at once, Lune became aware of a fundamental truth. She loved Sciel, deeply and irrevocably. Maybe she had always loved her, or maybe she had fallen in love somewhere along the way, but in any case, she surely loved her now.
Lune had denied herself a great many things in the name of the city on her back. But Sciel was still here, now, and Lune refused to follow in the footsteps of the Hauler. She set down that burden and allowed herself to truly want.
The wildfire blazed in Lune’s chest again, and she surged upwards, capturing Sciel’s lips with her own. She sat up and folded her legs under her, taking Sciel’s face in both of her hands. Sciel returned the kiss with equal fervor. One of her hands found Lune’s waist, and the other slid from its place along Lune’s jaw to the back of her neck, holding her close.
Kissing Sciel felt like a natural continuation of that night in the Crooked Tower, all those years ago, and at the same time, it felt like something completely new and different.
Before, there had been passion, fueled by grief and connection. And although each of those elements were present now too — not least of all grief — the feeling was categorically different.
After all, Lune realized, how could the passion between two strangers possibly compare to this? How could anything that came before hold a candle now? Now, she knew what it was like to watch Sciel fall in battle, to skid to her knees beside her lifeless body with a healing spell already glowing on her hands. Now, she knew what it was like to watch Sciel gommage — to feel herself gommage — only to wake up what felt like moments later and take on the world together once more. Now, she knew what it was like to lose Sciel, again and again, only to somehow manage to keep her in the end.
When at last they pulled back, breathing hard, Lune slid her hands down to Sciel’s shoulders and took in the sight of her. The scar across Sciel’s nose crinkled with delight, and the ribbons in her hair floated on the wind. Her green eyes flitted between each of Lune’s own, and she bit the corner of her lip as if fighting off a smirk.
She was, Lune thought, unbearably beautiful.
“Sciel, I… I love you,” Lune said.
The words were out before Lune had time to consider what she was saying, but she found that she did not regret them. Even if Sciel did not feel the same way, she deserved to know.
Sciel kissed her, again, soft and sweet. “I love you, too,” she replied, as easily as if she’d said it a thousand times before.
Lune felt her own eyes widen. “You… you do?” Floundering, she clarified, “But I’m… I’m in love with you.”
There was a breathless moment in which Sciel simply looked at her, stupefied. And then she threw her head back and laughed, bright and clear. “Oh, you beautiful, intelligent woman! I’m in love with you. I’ve been trying to romance you for months!”
“You– what?”
“What did you think I was doing, exactly?” Sciel tilted her head to the side, sympathetic, but her eyes were shining with mirth. She was enjoying this.
Lune ducked her chin and felt her cheeks heat. “I thought you just wanted to be better friends!”
“Friends, indeed!” Sciel snorted. “Why else would I drag you out into the wastes to sleep on the ground?”
“I take it you’re not actually all that interested in the research?” Lune offered, weakly.
“Not nearly as much as you are, I’m afraid. And you were so stoic! I thought maybe I’d read it all wrong. That you didn’t feel the same…” Sciel faltered, ever so slightly, and Lune heard that same brittle quality from earlier resurface in her voice.
“Sciel, no! That’s not it at all. I just never dreamed…” Lune shook her head, as if dismissing the thought, then took Sciel’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry.”
Sciel twisted her mouth to the side in a crooked smile. “I suppose I shall forgive you,” she said, with an air of faux haughtiness, then softened it by leaning in for another kiss.
Lune smirked and countered, “Am I to assume that’s also why you’re barging into my office every other day?”
“Well, I’m not exactly doing it for my health, am I?” Sciel quipped. “It’s downright dangerous in there, mind you! Tripping hazards, unidentified pictos on every surface, in-progress experiments for gods know what…”
“The mighty expeditioner, defeated by a messy office. A true tragedy.” Lune said, then leaned in and stole another kiss. Because she could.
Sciel hummed against her lips and pressed their foreheads together. “As much as I’d like to do a lot more of this, it’s quite late.” Sciel kissed her once more and then pulled away. “And, knowing you, I highly doubt that you’re going to be interested in sleeping in to make up for all this tomorrow.”
“I could be persuaded…” Lune started, surprising even herself, and leaned back in.
Sciel tsked and flashed a wicked grin. “But what about all the very important research we came here to do?” She stood and extended a hand down to Lune. “Come on, then. Let’s get to bed.”
And Lune, who had never been very good at denying Sciel anything, followed.