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tomorrow is here — closed

WHO: Expedition 33 (Gustave, Maelle, Sciel, and Verso)
WHEN: post-mingle, pre-mission
WHERE: the apartments
WHAT: the remaining members of Expedition 33
NOTES\WARNINGS: spoilers for Acts 1&2 of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33

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Verso doesn't necessarily mind the new space that he's in. Sciel's right that it isn't across the continent. It is what it is. Both Maelle and Sciel say comforting words to him as he exits the scene, and he appreciates their kindness and reassurances for what they are.

He's using the Pictos to move larger objects out of the way to set the piano in the living area. His fingers slide across the smooth surface of what he's stolen. It isn't the piano that he had for decades upon decades, but he's grown fond of it. Because it is what was there for him when he came to a new world, to a new place without certainty.

Music found him yet again.

But he tilts his head as he hears the knock on the door. Shifting, he acknowledges Gustave in the entryway. He's mildly surprised but makes a small gesture for him to enter if he so wants to do so.

"Hopefully, you're not been sent here because they asked you to come." His tone wraps itself in ease, saying without saying that Gustave doesn't have to do anything for him, that he isn't the one in the wrong.

Gustave lifts his hands, palm out, a placating gesture. "No. I came here on my own volition."

He hadn't been sure Verso would want to talk, but the man steps back to let him in, and Gustave enters after only a short hesitation. The apartment looks much like the one he'd left, though Verso has been moving furniture around to make room for the grand piano he'd lifted from the casino. It's only been a little while, but it feels like a lifetime since they met each other there.

Gustave wanders in and moves close to the piano, running a gentle hand over the graceful curves of the wood, recalling the baby grand that had sat abandoned and alone in the streets of Lumière. Whoever had owned it had brought it out there, perhaps in the resigned hope that someone else might be able to eke a little joy, a little comfort from it, the way they had.

He isn't a musician, himself, but he can always appreciate the artistry of a well-constructed, beautifully designed tool. He has the sudden impulse to ask Verso if he can open the top and look inside; quells it. "I'm sorry."

First things first. He turns around, hands loose at his sides, trying to keep from folding his arms over his chest. "I didn't realize Sciel would ask you to... you shouldn't have to be apart, if you don't want to be."

Will it be easier for him if Verso isn't there? Yes. And that makes him feel guiltier still. It's not a side of himself he enjoys, not one he wants to indulge.

"Ah, good."

Pulling the stool out, he takes a seat on it as he faces him. He feels like it would be better to seem more casual than like he is waiting for the man to leave. His hands rest between his legs, interlacing his fingers.

Already, he's shaking his head at the apology. "There's nothing to be sorry about, and Maelle believes this is my decision." He decides it's best to volunteer what he's lied about as soon as he left. "I don't want Sciel to have to bear the brunt of saying what's right for everyone."

Honestly, he should've come to that conclusion himself. But he wanted to stay; he wanted to be invited. He dips his chin down as he realizes that is just selfishness talking and not what is best for anyone involved.

"Try to make sure she maintains that story, too, yeah?" He certainly hopes that she does, but it's difficult to know with her. Maybe she already knew that he'd make that decision. "But it is something I should've said first. She just happened to get there before me."

Gustave shouldn't have to live in the space of someone he doesn't trust; it wouldn't be fair to him when he's already just trying to piece back his life after losing it; make up all the lost time with those that he was parted from too soon.

Gustave is already shaking his head as he looks around for a chair, draws it over so he can sit facing Verso, his fingers laced between his knees, elbows on his thighs as he leans in to face the other man. "You're doing it again."

Deciding for everyone what they should and shouldn't hear, picking and choosing what truths to tell. "If Sciel made that call, I'd be willing to bet she'll tell Maelle so. She asked you this knowing she'd be the one responsible for having made that decision. I won't ask her to lie, and I won't lie to Maelle. So who are you really trying to protect?"

His anger has filtered away; what's left is a sense of bewildered uncertainty. Verso's lying again already, and for what? To give Maelle a moment of feeling as though there wasn't friction between the adults she cares for so much? To protect his own ego? "Tell me this: do you really want to be out here, separated from your own team?"

He'd seen the way Verso teased Sciel, how he looked at Maelle, his eyes softening. This might ultimately have been the decision he'd have made, but is it really the one he wanted?

He pauses to glance out the window instead of answering. Who are you really trying to protect? Who are you really trying to save?

It's a knife twisting in his chest. It's a wound that he didn't mean to inflict or know that he's causing.

His mouth twitches into a half smile as he shifts back to return to where he was sitting. He pulls the stool back out to sit. "I just wanted to not make things awkward for everyone. The simplest solution would be to just say it was my decision." A small shrug. "I would've come up with it myself, anyway, but just didn't get the chance."

Gustave clings to the truth yet doesn't seem to understand the nuance of lies, of what they protect, of who they protect, because he thinks he knows best. Guess that is something they have in common.

"But if you disagree, I understand. I just didn't want Maelle to be caught in the middle of a conflict that she isn't at fault with, Gustave." It isn't like he can stop them from telling her the truth, anyway. His desire was just to protect the feelings that may be hurt.

Exhaling a long sigh, he mulls over the question that he's being asked. But he shakes his head. "I don't think you have the right to ask me that question." As much as he wants to protect Gustave's feelings, his pain, his guilt; he only has so much patience.

But he makes a small gesture, "You can ask me anything else, however."

Edited 2025-07-12 17:31 (UTC)

His eyebrows push up, and this time they stay there. "Are you going to tell me what I can and can't ask, now, too? Along with what I do and don't need to know?"

The simplest solution, he says, as if it weren't simply a stopgap that would only make things worse the moment it was found out. Maybe that's what Verso does, simply lies to smooth the way in the moment, only to find it blowing up in his face later, worse than it would have if he'd only been honest. "If you don't want to answer me, then don't. But if you keep twisting the truth, picking and choosing..."

He shakes his head, leans back, his hands on his thighs. "You told me, back at that course in the casino, that I could trust you. How am I supposed to do that when I never know if you're telling the truth or just picking parts of it you think I want to hear?"

"You came here because you wanted to talk, right? Not fight?" Verso holds his hands up in surrender. He isn't sure how the man expects him to answer -- probably truthfully, his smile twists in amusement, but he doesn't feel that sort of response would be appreciated in the moment.

He pauses to bring the cover over the keys of the piano. It makes a soft clicking sound. Resting his elbows on the cover, he leans back and crosses his legs at the ankles. It's best to try to look a little more comfortable, but he admits to saying the wrong thing. Probably should've been better to just say he didn't want to answer that question rather than he didn't have the right to it.

"All right, poor choice of words." If there is one thing to be said about him, he doesn't run from confrontation, at least. Maybe that is because of his immortality; his immortality is gone but he still has the memories, the grit, and experience it all taught him. The sting of being told to leave is nothing compared to Expedition Zero.

Putting it into perspective, nothing of great betrayal or harm has been done. At least to him.

"I intended to tell you about who my father is. It's hollow to say now, but I did." A slight pause. "When you asked me how many immortals there were, I evaded the answer. My father is dead and I didn't want to think of how the number of immortals would be, if he were not here, only me. And that I helped in his death."

He rubs his thumb over his other. "I don't regret anything that I did in the Monolith, however. I prepared myself for that day, but just because I've prepared myself doesn't mean that those things don't still hurt. And I didn't know how to explain that pain to you... who was hurt worse by that man's actions."

He blows out a breath, hands lifting and falling again to his thighs. "Yeah."

Fighting won't solve anything; butting heads will only lead to more upset and hurt feelings, to this feeling he has now, of a crack widening between them where before there had been a tentative bridge spinning into existence, delicate as a spider's web.

So: if he doesn't want to fight, he has to take a breath, has to try and take what Verso says at face value. If he doesn't, if he's always assuming there's more to the story that's being left out, he's going to go mad. They'll never be able to build any trust if he isn't willing to bend as much as he's asking Verso to.

Did Verso intend to tell him, someday? Possibly. Probably. But intentions are slippery things; he could easily have argued to himself that it would be best to keep it for a little while yet. A little longer. After all, who does it hurt, omitting a truth that no one really wants to hear?

It's insidious. It's easier, until it's not.

But this, he thinks — hopes — is true. It doesn't subtly sideslip Verso's own feelings, put the focus on someone else. It's complex and painful, and Gustave takes no joy in hearing it, but his shoulders relax, a little, his expression softening. "I don't hold you responsible for what your father did."

It was Renoir, and Renoir alone, who faced him in the cave that day, who arrived on the shore moments after they'd landed. His sins belong to him alone. The fear and pain Gustave feels at even the thought of him belongs to him alone.

Gustave glances down, and looks back up at him. "Family is..."

He thinks of Maelle, the day he and Emma had brought her home. Thinks of Sophie telling him goodbye, heartbreak in her eyes, a future vanishing around them as her fingers slipped from his. There's nothing amused in his small, crooked smile; it's only wry. "...complicated. Whatever your relationship with him was... is... you don't need to explain yourself to me. I really don't have a right to that, from you. Not yet. I know I haven't earned your trust yet, either."

What could he possibly offer to a man with a grief this complex, who helped kill his own father, the man who murdered Gustave himself? "...I don't know what I could possibly say to help. I can't think of him without..."

He grimaces, small, waves at his chest, where his treacherous heart is, for the moment, beating steadily. "But I know what it's like to lose family, you know, I've been a son grieving his father, and for that, I'm sorry. I can only try to imagine how difficult this all might be."

"No, you may not, but I do still feel responsible for not getting there sooner." His fingers interlace a different way -- making a triangle with his index fingers. He stares through the little hole that is made toward the floor, toward the tip of his boot. "I'll be sorry for that for as long as I'm alive."

His eyes drift up as he breaks the triangle his fingers make. "But that isn't for you to soothe or bear the weight of, all right? I just want you to know that much from me." It is as he promised Maelle; he would offer information voluntarily this time around instead of waiting.

"I thought it before that it's odd to tell you how loved you are." He decides to circle back on thoughts that he had before in the casino. "I don't know if that eases anything for you, but you are so very loved by those that met you. I'm sure even those that come to meet you will feel the same."

His tone lacks the usual flirtatious tone that he would make, but sounds more solemn, sincere, warm.

Perhaps, this is all borrowed time, but just like at the water park; he wants to let Gustave think of the future, of himself, of what he meant even though he probably already knew that much.

"But thank you." It's nice that he doesn't have to explain anything about his relationship with Renoir. He feels like that eases something for him; his posture actually relaxing as he lounges against his piano.

"You don't have to imagine or sympathize." His head cants the opposite way as he smiles, soft, sad. "I think it would be rather cruel to ask you to help with anything in this matter. So you don't have to -- I realize your heart may be too big to let it go, but I'm asking you to, for yourself."

Maybe one day they'll get to a point where Verso will want to tell him about his relationship with Renoir; maybe they never will. Maybe he'll be able to talk to Sciel, or Maelle; maybe he'll make some new acquaintance here he can talk to about it all. It's impossible to say, and all Gustave can offer right now, is this white flag, willingly giving up the thing he'd pressed for earlier.

It means he'll have to trust that Verso won't betray them. Maelle had said he chose us and he hadn't fully believed her, but Verso is still here, just down the hall, not retreating to find Renoir. His lips quirk, press together. "I think we've all found ourselves here still holding onto regrets from our old lives."

Verso regrets not getting to the cliff sooner. Gustave regrets stopping to throw rocks with Maelle. Lune and Sciel might regret having leaped off earlier only to be trapped by the Lampmaster down at the water. And all those are only one instance in a lifetime — in Verso's case, a lifetime that stretches over multiple lifetimes. "I know I have."

In the end, Gustave can't grant Verso absolution for not being there in time, so he only nods, leaning forward again as Verso's shoulders loosen, moving on to something else he's said. "They love you, too."

He knows he was loved, and he knows he was mourned, but it strikes something, deep inside, to hear it from Verso. He lowers his head a little, looking at the floor, before looking back up at Verso again. "I hear you were the one who gave them a way to say goodbye to me. Thank you, for that."

Edited 2025-07-12 19:36 (UTC)

Verso makes a soft noise of agreement; it seem like they simply will carry those regrets until it's time to let them go. His eyes drift down. He already said his piece about how he will not let go of his regrets; he thinks it would make him into a monster if he did.

He offers a small but real smile. "Still, I hope one day, while you're here, that you can let go of what you regret. There's so much to live and experience now that you have the chance."

A slight pause as he dips his chin down. "But I know that'll take time... it's something that I hope all the same." For all of them.

His shoulders bounce a little as he chuckles. "They like me a lot." It doesn't bother him; his posture tenses for a second as he exhales slowly. He turns one boot to lightly tap against the other.

"I was a great help and asset to them, and that had us grow close," A slight tilting of his head one way then the next. "I care about them and they care about me, but it feels wrong to use the word 'love.' It's a deep like, I'd say." Another little chuckle slips out as he rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling.

His gaze drifts back down to slip back toward Gustave. "You're welcome." It's a beat before he's smiling yet again. "A funny thing to say 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' for, isn't it?"

A beat. "They carried you through the entire journey. You kept them going when they didn't think they could keep going. I think whenever they thought of giving up, they thought of you." Breathing out another sigh, he feels the tension build up in his chest -- all he can do is sigh it out. Another smile follows, "It's good you're here. They really missed you."

Edited 2025-07-13 08:46 (UTC)

"Mm." He has his own opinions on whether Verso was really just a beneficial ally to a team caught in a net of mourning. He sees the way Maelle looks at him, how comfortable Sciel is with him. Verso hadn't heard the way Maelle defended him, up there on the rooftop, to her own brother. Bonds are forged quickly in the crucible of Expeditions; that's clear not only from his own experience but from the journals they'd found along the way.

But he won't press it. Maelle and Sciel can have that conversation with him on their own, if they want to. He lowers his head a moment, lacing his fingers together, tapping the index finger of his right hand against the metal knuckle of his left. It's strange to hear of himself as a... a symbol, almost. An inspirational memory. Gustave shakes his head, very slightly. "I missed a lot."

It's not a reprimand to himself, just a quiet comment. He missed a lot, and Verso was there for all of it, picking up the slack from Gustave's empty place and helping them in ways Gustave could never have imagined. Is he jealous? Is he grateful? Is it somehow both and so much more, all snarled together in his chest, drenched in guilt and grief? How strange for them both to know each other more from what they've heard from the others than from what they know after meeting here themselves.

But none of that is Verso's fault. Verso isn't the reason he wasn't there to go with them to the mountains, to the Monolith. "I'm glad I get to see them again."

He sucks at his teeth, sits up. "The way I heard it, they never would have gotten to the Paintress without you. Inspiration only goes so far. So it seems like a good thing that we're all here together. A new adventure for Expedition 33."

Verso lets his gaze drift down at the quiet comment. He mulls over if he should offer some reply or not. His eyes flick back up to Gustave's face and decides ultimately that it's best to leave what is said alone. It's delicate, fragile -- it's best not to touch things that are healing. Poking at a wound won't make it mend itself faster, but interrupt the whole process together.

"Mm." It's his turn to make a soft noise. His chin dips when Gustave says that he's glad to see them once more. He lightly drums his fingers against the surface of the piano's cover once more. A flash of a smile at the praise. "They're giving me a bit too much credit. But I suppose I did know some things that they didn't."

He blinks, looks away, before returning to looking to Gustave.

"I suspect Lune will be arriving soon sensing some disturbance in the balance of the group." His smile widens a little more, shifting to something a little friendlier. "Then, she'll be the true leader of our little Expedition."

His hands lift up, but he doesn't raise his arms high enough to move how he's position against his piano. "But you're fine with it? Me still being part of Expedition 33?" A small inclination of his head. "It feels like that might be asking a lot of you -- and your feelings do matter. Especially in this."

Lune. He chuckles, nodding, shoulders loose, if not completely relaxed. "Yeah. I'm sure wherever she is, she knows we need her."

It's another weird little jolt, hearing Verso talk about Lune like he knows her. But he does know her, doesn't he? Spent all that time with her, just like he had with Sciel and Maelle. Lumiere is so small these days that it's unusual not to know all the same people your friends know, and Gustave's work took him all over the city, helping out. He'd gotten to know just about everyone, or so it had seemed.

He pushes past it. He hadn't come here to dwell on all the things that make him uncomfortable about Verso; he'd come to make amends. Because they're on the same team. Because they need to be able to work together.

And, maybe a little, for the version of himself from a day ago, who only knew that Verso was an Expeditioner, and helpful, and older than he looks. The version who was glad Verso is here. The version who liked him, even as he found him a little difficult to pin down.

Verso lifts his hands, a placating, open gesture, and Gustave wonders what would happen if he said no. No, how can he be trusted? No, what happens if he has to make a choice between his father and his team? No, there's too much space between them now, a ravine that cracked open, deep and impassable as any from the Fracture?

No, he thought he could trust him, and learning Verso lied, that he held back the truth, hurt more than he could ever have anticipated?

Gustave wets his lip, finds a way to nod his head. "Yeah. Yeah, of course I'm fine with it."

... He's got to be more convincing. He tries a small smile, which mostly makes its way to his eyes, even if it's a little wry. "You can offer things none of the rest of us can. Maelle and Sciel trust you, they're used to working with you. You've earned your place as a part of the team, whether I was there to see it or not. You deserve that spot, Verso. I want you there."

He breathes out a little, hands opening as he tips his head to one side, considering. "I think you and I... maybe we just need to get to know each other. Maybe, in a different life... a different path... I'd still have been there when you joined up, and we'd be just as close as you and the others. If you're willing, I think we deserve to see what we can be, you and me, together. Instead of just being these... stories to each other, that people we care about have told us."

He glances back at Verso, expression open and earnest. "What do you think?"

Edited 2025-07-16 21:27 (UTC)

"A sixth sense, maybe."

He flicks his index finger toward the ceiling, making small little circles in the air. His eyes close. If they all were together, would they need him? He wants to stay with them, to watch over them, but he continues to wonder if that's his own selfishness. What is his place? How can he be useful?

His eyes open.

Verso can't help the expression that dances over his face at Gustave saying that he's fine with it. His head tilts as he isn't able to hide the frown. A slower, meaningful blink as he looks away from him. Letting him collect himself to try again with what he is saying.

He drifts his gaze back to him, sees the small smile. You want me there? Of course, he doesn't say that aloud. They're trying to mend feelings and misunderstandings. Gustave is here to talk and he should continue to respect that versus start an unnecessary fight over words.

Only it isn't just misunderstandings.

His shoulders lower, feeling the weight on them, but he tries to make the gesture seem more like he's relaxing more against the piano -- hearing something that's a relief -- rather than something that builds more weight upon his chest.

"I think that sounds more than fair." Fairer than deserved. He breathes a little laugh through his nose. "So, let's start again. Verso. The only son of Renoir." He gently rests a hand against his only chest. Running his thumb's nail against his index finger, he wonders if he should mention how his relationship with Renoir has changed.

His head gives a little shake.

"Immortal from Expedition Zero. Over one-hundred years old." His shoulders lift and lower. "A simple, straight-forward description, I'd say." Another little smile. He did think of saying how he isn't quite as immortal as he once was. However, he doesn't want Maelle to know; he's playing stupid, playing dumb, if he takes a hit and dies from it -- at least they'll be safe. He'll claim ignorance after.

A frown flickers over Verso's face before he shutters it, expression smoothing out once more. Verso doesn't believe him; fair enough. Neither of them really believe each other, which isn't the best possible foundation for new teammates, let along a potential friendship, but things change. Maybe, as they get to know one another, the wariness and uncertainty will fade. Maybe they'll both stop thinking they each know the right thing to do, and start listening to each other instead.

Maybe, maybe.

But Verso gives that charming little laugh, brief and self-effacing, and introduces himself all over again, and he is charming, if also an unknown element. "I find it hard to believe there's anything simple or straight-forward about you."

It's amused, not an accusation, and Gustave sits up to take his turn, gesturing toward his own chest. "Gustave. An engineer before I was an expeditioner. Two sisters, one of which you know; three apprentices back in Lumière."

He shakes his head right back, eyebrows lifting, wry. "32 years old, and not immortal, it turns out. Not that I was expecting to be."

His shoulders lift in a shrug at the comment that there probably isn't anything simple about him. He tilts his head to the side as he joins in the amusement.

Verso glances away shortly after the introduction. "Well, it is nice to meet you." There is a wall of words that he could say, but he decides those are the best ones to choose from what could be said.

"Anyway, you've probably seen enough of me today." He breathes out a little laugh through his nose. Drumming his fingers on the surface of the cover, his smile flickers across his face.

"You're right to your emotions and outrage, you know?" A slight beat. "End up burning yourself out fast if you don't let yourself feel." His smile remains as he gives his casual advice.

Verso thinks he should give another apology, but decides that he's said too many already. Eventually they'll sound like nothing but placating statements. He decides to let that one go and instead say something truthful. "There's still some things I can't say yet but it's not being hidden from you. It's just a conversation not yet had, all right?"

As methods of getting rid of him go, it's one of the more polite ones. And Verso's not wrong, really: Gustave has probably seen enough of him today, and vice versa. He can't imagine Verso's all that thrilled to be spending the time with him, either, not when he's the reason — however unwittingly — Verso is now separated from his teammates and friends.

He huffs a small breath of laughter as he sets his hands on his knees. "Yeah. Good advice for both of us, I think."

What reaction might Verso be hiding under that warm, oh so charming smile? Anger, resentment? That same awkward sense of having been replaced, of no longer being needed, that Gustave himself feels?

If there's a fight to come, who would really be a more useful member of the team? From a purely practical standpoint, the answer is clear. Maybe not even just a practical one.

He's standing as Verso goes on, and pauses there, half-turned, listening. A conversation not yet had. It only sparks more questions: why not? is it something Verso feels he can't handle yet, the way everyone seems to think he can't handle things yet?

Gustave considers him for a moment, thoughtful. "Okay, fair enough. But just so I know if I need to brace myself down the line, is it gonna be something else I won't enjoy hearing? If you can tell me, I guess. Otherwise I'll, well... wait and be surprised, I suppose."

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