Chapter Text
Verso leaned against a light pole behind Maelle, his silver-blue eyes watching in gut-wrenching anticipation as her rapier dragged through the air. Anxiety filled his chest as he watched, unable to look away as Maelle began painting the form of her dead brother… father—whatever he was to her. Verso never got the answer to that. He knew being brought back from the dead was a jarring and sometimes painful experience—being immortal taught him that lesson. Though worry for how Gustave would react filled his mind, it was mixed with another feeling:
Guilt.
For allowing Gustave to die at Renoir’s hands. Verso had convinced himself it was a necessary sacrifice. That Gustave had to die for Maelle to release the Paintress—Aline—from the Canvas and allow Renoir to finish the Gommage. Each night, the scene haunted him. And each time he told himself that, the feeling of remorse had only swirled tighter in his mind. And now Gustave was coming back. His chroma repainted in the streets of Lumiére. Verso didn’t know if this was some punishment from Maelle for letting Gustave die and almost destroying the canvas, but if it was, it was an ingenious plan.
Verso didn’t get much time to reminisce before golden petals appeared around the form Maelle was painting, before suddenly, a loud gasp escaped the revived man’s throat. Verso looked over from Maelle to the other man. For a split second, he met a pair of warm, brown eyes, but the inviting glow vanished in an instant, and the wind was knocked out of Verso as he was pinned to the light pole by his neck.
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“Who are you?!” A gruff voice, one Verso could only recognise as Gustave’s from his time spying on Expedition 33, yelled out. The hand holding Verso by the throat was tight enough to allow him to speak, but also cause pain. Verso took in a sharp breath through his mouth and grasped Gustave’s arm, meeting his gaze once more as he realised the man was holding him by his prosthetic, prepared to choke him out.
“V…Verso…” He whispered, keeping his tone as non-threatening as possible. He didn’t need to die again. Let alone come back and have to explain his immortality before Gustave tried to kill him again. Verso watched as Gustave’s head tilted back towards Maelle, exchanging words that sounded muffled to Verso’s ears as he realised Gustave—whether intentionally or not—was fully choking him out now.
The world fuzzed at the edges as inky blackness filled his vision. The last word he heard was from Gustave as the man looked back and realised that he had tightened his grip too much, “...merde-!”