(no subject)

[ Apologies—? Verso follows Gustave's gaze to a sleeping Maelle, and— ]

Oh.

[ Oh, he feels terrible. He had noticed that Maelle had disappeared from their conversation at some point, but he hadn't realized that she'd come here. And why would she, if not because she'd felt excluded? Unwanted? His mood sinks in an instant. ]

I didn't realize she was here, [ he admits, shamefully. ]

...I came for the train.

[ But that feels incredibly fucking shitty of him, now. ]

( in verso's defense, he could have lied and said he had come for maelle. at least he's honest. that being said, gustave realizes that he shouldn't have expected verso to know that his little sister would have been here—he is not privy to the new routines of the young girl now with gustave as someone she can go to.

so, he steps back into his room and grabs at the train. it has been sitting on the windowsill, keeping it out of the way of gustave's work. when he hands it back, it's quite cold to the touch. though the room isn't cold, there's a small sliver of space between the window and the wall that allows the winter air to stream in. thankfully, the hearth in the corner of the room with the fire warms up the room quite significantly.

gustave remains holding the train, even as verso holds on to it. )

I am not here to judge, monsieur.

( the cracks in the family are obvious for him, who has spent quite a few months here. )

It is not the first time Maelle hides away here. ( the young girl stirs, tucked under the blankets, but remains under the heavy influence of sleep, still. he lets go of the train. ) Don't worry. I will return her to her room when I turn in for the night.

( a bit of a usual routine, seems like.

but lest verso think that gustave is ushering him away (how rude of him, if so), he asks, )

Are you retiring for the night yourself? I imagine traveling here and keeping to your mother's company must have been tiring.

[ The tinplate steel of the little model train is chilly against his fingers, and he jumps a little, surprised. His eyes drift to the splinter-thin opening between the window and the wall, and he wonders if he should bring Gustave a blanket to stuff in the crevice. Aline and Renoir wouldn't have thought of it during the summer months when Gustave started working here, and he gets the feeling that Gustave simply puts up with it without complaining now that it's an issue. ]

Hm?

[ He comes back into awareness at the tail end of Gustave's sentence. Something about his mother's company being tiring— ]

Oh. I'm the one who tires her out, I think. All that needless worrying.

[ She's convinced he's going to get himself into all sorts of trouble at the Conservatory. It kills her that he's gone, he knows, but surely every child has to strike out on their own sometime. He can't end up like Clea, still managing the household when she's old enough to have her own.

A beat. ]

You're, uh. [ He looks down at their fingers, centimeters away on the little toy train. ] Still holding on.

—sorry.

( gustave is holding the model train with his left hand, prosthetic locked in place. he has to manually peel his fingers off with his right hand, moving the joints about as if massaging the metal. )

It is harder to move in the cold.

( it is a marvel of engineering, his arm, surprisingly complex and functional despite the times. to be able to wear it like a second arm, flex fingers, rotate his mechanical wrist, despite the vague connections to where it meets flesh. a gift, from his lovely apprentices; they had disguised it as an entirely different project, picking at his brain with questions and suggestions, all while gustave had been bed-ridden after his accident, sickly and demotivated.

his gaze lingers on maelle. his apprentices are only a little older than her, and despite their life filled with less luxuries and opportunities, it is not as crippled with limitations as the young girl's is. )

Did you know she's an exceptional poet? It surprises me that her vocabulary is so vast.

[ He did know. Well, sort of. Maelle has shown him her poetry a few times, and he's never been anything but encouraging, but she just as often hides it away. Says it's private or it's not ready. Verso thinks of his little sister choosing Gustave to confide her poetry in, just as she'd chosen Gustave to seek comfort with tonight, and he feels a surge of jealousy.

It's ugly. He smothers the feeling and replaces it with guilt instead. ]

I'm not surprised at all. She's had her nose in a book since the moment she could read.

[ Always ahead of her peers. Ahead of where Verso was at her age, certainly. She's incredibly intelligent for such a little girl. ]

—I think the fictional characters are kinder to her than people in real life.

[ Sweet Maelle, always an outsider. She'd been an unexpected addition to their family of four, much younger than Clea and Verso, who'd been bonded so closely by growing up together. Then she'd started school, and she'd been so bookish and shy, and she'd never really found someone she'd rather spend time with who wasn't fictional. ]

...Anyway. [ Mon dieu, this whole thing has gone horrifically off-track. He'd wanted to come in, take his train, maybe look dashingly handsome while doing it. ] Thanks for taking care of her. I can take her to her room.

Fiction generally is.

( kinder, but it can be dangerous, too, to find too constant of an escape within the dreams of the imaginary. just as gustave had said, he is not here to judge (nor critique, really); his sense of protectiveness over maelle stems from his being an older brother himself, and how earnest he is about his young apprentices back home. it is an intrinsic part of him (for better or for worse, as sophie would remind him) to care for those who will become the legacy of those who succumb to the most certain inevitability of life.

when verso takes a turn to retiring properly, and taking maelle with him, gustave stops to consider the mood. it feels like he might have said something unkind without realizing.

(also, verso seems the kind that needs socializing.)

an obstinate request spills forth, )

Would you mind if I came with? I could do with a short break to stretch my legs.

( he's been hunched over his work for a few hours now. perhaps carrying maelle back to her room, in other occasions, forced him to take such a break. )

I'm considering stealing some hot chocolate from the kitchens, to warm up a bit. ...if you'd like to be an accomplice.

[ The corner of Verso's mouth curls up, faintly but surely. Even with the unpleasant swell of jealousy, he doesn't mind Gustave coming with. How could he? Gustave is fascinating, a real erudite academic, and he probably has a lot of interesting things to say, plus he'd really like to get to know the person Maelle has been gushing about for months, and—

Who is he kidding? It's because Gustave is cute. ]

Planning a heist right under Amélie's nose, huh? [ He laughs, pocketing the train. It's heavy enough that the roomy pocket of his pajama pants sags slightly. ] I should warn my parents that they've hired an inveterate criminal.

[ Joking!! He's joking. Carefully, Verso takes the book from Maelle's hands and sets it beside her, gently slipping his hands underneath her body and hoisting her up into his arms. She's grown since he last did this, and he feels a pang of bittersweetness at the realization that he missed watching that happen.

Softly, so as not to wake her: ] Grab her book, will you? We can drop her off first, and then you can entice me into a life of crime.

( it's a good thing gustave catches on to verso's sense of humor quite easily, finding nor rush of panic at the possibility of the dessendre joke accusing him of minor theft to his parents. there's only but a smile at the thought, as gustave makes space for verso to pick up his sister. while verso does so, he sets his glasses down on the table and grabs for the little lamp object that verso had picked up in his earlier intrusion in gustave's room.

(though verso might think that maelle is growing far too quickly, she still is rather small in juxtaposition with her much taller brother; she looks tiny, fragile even, as her breathing comes out in even breaths between her lips.)

grabbing the book, he leads the way out, into the dark hallways of the dessendre home. after closing his door, and before darkness can encroach upon them and make their travels difficult, gustave raises the hand holding the little lamp—from it, a glow emits, much like a candle would. it's faint and warm, but lights up a surprising amount. )

Shall we?

( indulge in a little life of crime? it sure feels like they're thieves in the dark, with one little girl tagging along, asleep in her brother's arms. )

[ Ah, so that's what the little device does. Or maybe it's just part of it, and there's more to it than that; Verso's no engineer, and it's difficult for him to tell what something like that does just by looking. All the same, he gives the object an appreciative nod, complimenting Gustave's engineering without actually saying anything. ]

We shall, [ is all he whispers in response before padding down the hall to Maelle's room. He fumbles to open the door with Maelle still in his arms, then walks her to the bed to gently lay her down on the mattress.

Momentarily, he sits beside her, the bed dipping under his weight. He strokes her little cheek with his thumb, affectionate. ]

Good night, Maelle.

[ In response, she cuddles up against the pillow and murmurs, "Night, Gustave."

She's just tired, he reasons, and she's not used to him being home anymore. It's probably been Gustave walking her back to her room all these evenings that he's been away. Still, the words feel like an icy dagger to the heart, and he can't hide his disappointment as he stands up and shuts the door behind him. ]

—Kitchen's this way.

[ He probably already knows. ]

Allez, on y va.

( gustave had been standing by the doorway, allowing the rightful brother be in charge of tucking maelle in bed. he doesn't miss that strange look of some sort of sordid emotion on verso's face, but it would be rude to make a comment on it right this moment. an emphatic as he may be, gustave is not very good at putting the best words forth to breach a subject.

so, to the kitchen they go, with gustave's little lamp lighting the way.

they make it without even rousing the dogs, asleep by the fireplace in the main hall, and they find the kitchen deserted. it feels plenty cramped, though, and gustave can imagine that there is a lot of dough resting for the morning's breakfast, as well as whatever other food implementations for the upcoming holiday gala.

setting the lamp down on the counter, he figures they might as well continue this nightly rendezvous with proper mood lighting for the occasion of two not-so-thieves sneaking in the night. the hot chocolate gets prepared rather quickly by gustave, and he's handing over a cup to verso, setting it down on the counter for him to take. gustave himself finds a stool to sit on.

he motions at the lamp, since he's more comfortable in bringing up technical stuff as conversation rather than small talk... )

I'm not settled on the name, but I'm leaning towards 'Lumina Converter'. I know such ideas are a thing of the past in the bigger cities ( —almost a fairytale-like notion, he thinks— ) but where I'm from, there are dangers in the woods, in the darkness. This blight... ( he hums quietly for a moment, eyes thoughtful on the surface of his drink; sure, he is working on something to make transportation easier in the face of a developing nation, but he works too, hard, toward one small, forgotten village's perils. it sounds silly to try to explain to a man of the city proper.

he writes letters to lune on a weekly-basis, and she keeps him apprised of any troubles. why not just leave, all of them? that much wouldn't deter the foreign darkness from encroaching further inland, its torment chasing after them on the same day, every year, without fail.

a glance up at verso, trying to make note of his expression, likely confused. ) Sorry, that was a strange tangent. I've been told that I'm not very good at small talk.

[ Verso's sat on the counter as Gustave talks, legs dangling as he curls his hands around his mug of Gustave-prepared hot chocolate. There's a casual ownership to the comfortable way he sits, different to Gustave's careful perch on his stool. He is a little confused by the tangent, but he's not displeased by it. It's probably the most he's heard Gustave talk at one time all day. Clearly, it's a passion project. ]

Don't worry. You can get lots of practice when you pass me in the halls.

[ Teasing, again. He hopes they'll do more than just small talk. ]

"Ça va?" "Ça va."

[ He smiles, boyish. ]

I liked your strange tangent. [ Yes, it was a strange tangent. But not a boring one. ] It's impressive that you're able to build these things. The last thing I built was a sign for the treehouse that says no sisters allowed.

( something eases in gustave—he feels in his chest, that constricted mess unspooling. and then, he's laughing softly, verso's teasing managing to not afflict him this time. rather, it lands well. gustave reckons this is what company around people his age ought to be like this: easy and with some amount of teasing. he's missed that, and the people who would usually turn the taciturn engineer into a more relaxed human (catherine, lucien—) have not been around since, well, the accident.

he shakes his head slightly, though mirth remains on his face. )

Necessity is the mother of invention, as they say. I am sure it was quite the sign.

( where gustave is from, everyone's either a fighter or an inventor or a politician. it's a bit of a cursed trifecta, severely lacking in the arts, but it is born of necessity rather than an actual desire. luckily for gustave, he has the brains in order to fit and enjoy his role. )

Though I imagine your ability with the piano is nothing to scoff at, monsieur. I wouldn't be able to play a single melody, I'm sure.

[ Gustave hasn't even heard him play yet, and he's already complimenting his skill. Verso wonders if he's only going on the presence of the piano and his enrollment at the Conservatory, or if there's more to it. Maybe someone talked up his playing—? Not Maman or Papa; they'd sooner talk about what a gifted artist he is. He doubts Clea has spoken to Gustave at all save for maybe a few clipped exchanges. She's always busy with one thing or another—even Verso has hardly spoken to her since getting back. It must have been Maelle, then. She'd always loved listening to Verso play. When she was a little girl, she'd come into his room and lie in his bed, listening to his lullabies coming from the study until she fell asleep. ]

Ah, now I see why Maelle is so fond of you. Flatterer.

[ Verso grins into his mug, getting a hot chocolate moustache to match his existing one. He swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, self-conscious. ]

But I'm sure that isn't true. Anyone can learn piano with the right teacher, and you've already got a good base to start with—

[ He gestures toward Gustave's hands with his mug. ]

An engineer's fingers must be quite... [ Hm. Maybe he's making this weird. ] Dexterous.

[ He takes another sip. ]

( he's making this weird. )

The Dessendre name is not without its many accolades following it, you realize.

( so, it's not so much trying (or being) a flatterer so much as this being a statistical fact. gustave needs not listen to verso play the piano to know that he must be very good at it, and to be accepted by the conservatory? well, one can hardly guess wrong there.

he does raise his left hand, showing off the 'dexterity' of his metal fingers—somewhat painfully slow. )

Not the hand one would use to play the piano. Like you saw earlier, it locks up quite a bit from time to time.

( plus, he really has no interest in learning to play the piano lol... )

[ Why wouldn't he have any interest in learning the piano, the greatest thing ever??? C'mon, Gustave.

But luckily, his mention of the mechanical hand distracts Verso from trying to persuade him over to pianism (for now). He sets the mug down beside him, hands braced beside him on the counter so that he can lean forward a little and examine the joints. He's sure Gustave has already thought of every possible way that he could improve it, and that some musician who's only seen it for the first time today won't be able to offer any advice of substance, but still— ]

Is it the cold?

[ His eyes flick from Gustave's hand to his face, questioning. ]

I was thinking that we should stuff something in the gap under your window to stop the draft. Or you could borrow some of my gloves—my mother buys new ones every winter, and there aren't enough days in the year to wear them all.

I do happen to like the draft...

( it's like keeping the window open without needing to open it at all. besides, gustave, who fixed the leak in his adjoining bathroom wouldn't bother to fix something simpler such as the gap between window and sill? it's kind of verso to think of how to best manage gustave's comfortability.

he leans back, taking a sip of his hot cocoa, and sets it back down. )

It's quite alright, really. ( how to explain he's pretty weird ) It isn't negatively impacting my life.

( so much for piano playing )

Yeah, okay, [ he says, trying not to sound disappointed that Gustave doesn't want him to come help him with his draft problem. It wouldn't have put him out at all, and it would have been a good way to ingratiate himself.

He leans back, too, out of Gustave's personal bubble. ]

Well, there goes my plan to swoop in and fix everything to get on your good side.

[ His voice has the lilt of playfulness, although that's pretty much exactly what his plan actually was. ]

( like most of the dessendre family, gustave doesn't doubt that verso has a way with words. while most of his family can be serious and to the point, he seems more well-versed in injecting humor into his way of speech. )

You are under the wrong impression that things pertaining to my person require fixing.

( in equal (or similar) lilt of playfulness. )

I do not imagine there is reason for you to try and get on my good side. I'm quite impartial. The adult company has been nice, though.

( figures he doesn't get much of that around here. )

Well, I'm here for the next three weeks. You can seek me out for adult company any time you like.

[ —All right, he needs to sit on his metaphorical hands. He's never considered himself shy, not in the slightest—like a flower, he blooms under the warm rays of someone's attention—but he does fancy himself a gentleman, at least when he wants to be. Besides, he thinks Maelle (and perhaps the entire family) would be very irritated if he tried shamelessly flirting with her tutor one day into his holiday vacation.

He is very good-looking, though. Maybe... three days into his holiday vacation. ]

Mature conversation, I mean, [ he corrects. ] You know, mm, paying bills, eating Brussels sprouts, having knees that crack a little when you crouch.

[ Verso grins, lopsided. ]

Adult stuff.

( right. good(?) thing that gustave is mostly, entirely too oblivious to the fact that he has somehow gathered at verso's attentions. )

Eating Brussels sprouts? Barbaric behavior.

( he jests a bit in return.

because for all that verso tries to 'play it cool' while having insinuating slips of his actual intentions, gustave does cherish the idea that he will have a conversation partner in the next three weeks that is not a young girl who is barely double digits in age. )

I imagine you will be present for the holiday gala? I have been hearing a lot about it, but no one has been able to tell me what exactly it all entails...

( he's fishing a little! )

[ If he's fishing, then he's got Verso hook, line, and sinker. There's no hesitance at all to tell Gustave about the annual Dessendre holiday party, if that's what it takes to pique his interest. It's hardly some big secret; Verso's been going to these things since he was old enough not to embarrass his parents. ]

No one's told you? [ A shrug. ] Guess that makes sense. Maelle's only been a couple of times herself.

[ And she's so shy that she often ends up in the corner of the room with a book until he manages to coax her away. ]

Every year, my parents hold a big soiree for all of their Painters' Council friends. Black tie, hors d'oeuvres, expensive wine.

[ Smugly: ] Masterly entertainment. [ That's him! ]

( as verso takes the bait, gustave takes this opportunity to sit back and drink from his cup of hot cocoa. it's not so sweet a drink, not like how he remembers it, but he imagines this is due to it being high quality chocolate. a novel notion, ever since arriving in the dessendre home, that most everything is of such caliber.

he hums. )

That's you, I imagine.

( the 'masterly entertainment'. verso makes it hard not to notice how smug he feels about it. )

Is it a whole day affair? I figure I'll have to schedule Maelle's classes that day around it otherwise.

( he is not thinking himself invited, and he certainly does like being able to organize his days ahead of time. )

[ Gustave assumes he won't be invited, and Verso just assumes he plans to go. If he would think about it for a moment, he would come to the conclusion that it's unlikely any of the other adults in the house have extended an invitation—Maman and Papa seem cordial but distant, and Clea is... Clea—but of course he'll come. He lives here. It's not as if he plans to squirrel away and hide during the party, is it?

So, he laughs a little, raising an eyebrow. ]

You're planning on doing classes and a party in one day? [ Very dedicated! ] The gala's in the evening, but I doubt she'll mind if you take the day off.

( ah, gustave is quick to pick up in the error of verso's assumption. )

I'm planning on doing classes, and that is all. If I were to take the day off, it would be a great opportunity to visit a contact from the university in the city proper.

( he does have his own schedule and his own things to work toward, and looking forward to a party that he isn't invited to (and neither wants to attend) is not one of those things.

gustave doesn't want to sound rude, though. )

I'm sure your parents will express the plans for the day when we get closer to it.

[ Ah. Well, that's as explicit an 'I don't care about your family's stupid party' as one can get while remaining somewhat polite, he supposes. Puts an end to that conversational thread quite quickly. Uncharacteristically awkward and unsure what to say, he shrugs. ]

Yeah. Probably.

[ He taps his fingers against the rim of his mug briefly, a remembered tune. ]

Well, it's getting pretty late. Wouldn't want you to be tired for Maelle's classes tomorrow.

Edited 2025-12-29 20:03 (UTC)