stonethrow | (no subject)

(no subject)

𝓶𝓪𝔂𝓫𝓮, 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓬𝓲𝓻𝓬𝓾𝓶𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼—

( there are so many more questions that gustave would want answered, but there seems to be a hastiness to verso's demeanor that clues him in to the very possibility that he is working against the clock. the gears in his mind turn: could he write a note to his sister? could he fend off those coming to do the deed? how light must he travel—?

inexplicably, he is already considering this as a done deal.

in many ways, it's lucky that gustave is a writer—beyond what verso hopes for of his influence outside of france—as he is brimming with ideas to best make this work, as many of his most cherished childhood stories teetered on nearly-precise depiction of crimes and mystery, and the puzzles to solve them. as such, he is quick to make it to his wardrobe, grabbing at his favorite pair of trousers and shirt, along with a coat and a vest. the fencing sword he has set aside, on the bed, as if not yet sure what to do with it.

over his shoulder, he says, )

I'll ask that you put in the work, monsieur Dessendre. Make it seem like a thief has ransacked the room, if you would.

( in the meantime, he'll get dressed accordingly, before helping verso make a mess of the room. )

Do not mind the noise. ( well, maybe mind it a little. ) My sister and her family are in the opposite wing. Nothing short of a riot will wake them up.

[ Well, Gustave is certainly a bit bossy. This is his heroic assassination thwarting, not Gustave's, but— all right, he does have a point. Verso hadn't really thought this part through, but if it looks as if Gustave had a run-in with a thief or perhaps even a kidnapper, there'll be less impetus for the Painters—the ones who care about this stupid conflict, whose numbers seem to grow by the day—to go looking for him.

So, he approaches Gustave's desk, gingerly picking up a notebook on it. He's reluctant to truly trash someone else's place, and it's obvious in the way he handles it; he crouches down, arranging it haphazardly on the floor as if it was knocked off in haste, but doesn't actually knock it off himself. He opens the drawers of the desk, too, like perhaps someone was rifling through them. ]

I'm not sure how much time we have.

[ Probably better to assume 'less' than 'more', hence the urgency. ]

Edited 2026-01-11 18:04 (UTC)

( while gustave would very much like the space to be tossed around sufficiently to simulate a break-in or even a kidnapping (which this might very well be!), there are certain details he wants to get right. there's this short mystery novel he and his sister wrote together as children, and they painstakingly thought up of all the 'clues' left behind that spelled out the why and how it was not, revealing thus that the character in question was alive (certainly, the both of them had been obsessed with sherlock holmes).

into his travel backpack goes his gun, deciding he's better off leaving his fencing sword behind. no one but his sister knows that he owns it. a few other items get tossed inside, however many can fit, and, as he quickly finalizes his 'set up', he moves on toward the window, backpack hitched on his shoulders and proper winter clothes on.

his blood rushes with the adrenaline of the situation; should he slow down now, he will come to hesitate and think twice about this. he motions at their means of escape with his hand. )

Then we better hurry.

( outside and below, monoco whines and frets. )

After you.

Shit. Monoco only sounds like that when—

[ He starts to bark, then. There's no doubt in Verso's mind that it's an alert bark; Monoco hasn't the slightest idea what's going on, not really, but he knows enough to be frightened of strangers entering a place that Verso is in. ]

Quiet, Monoco, [ he hisses out the window. ]

They're here.

[ 'After you', Gustave had said, but Verso takes the opportunity to reach out and yank Gustave along by the forearm as he starts to climb out the window. ]

Come on.

( one thing gustave will come to admire from verso for a brief moment is that the man was able to scale up to the second floor to his bedroom. how did he even know it was his bedroom? no time to think about that, though, as he is yanked quite forcefully out the window by the forearm.

there's a pipe that gustave holds on to, and then climbing down is an easier matter now. at the sight of them, monoco seems a little calmer and has ceased his barking.

gustave jumps off the rest of the way, landing onto a bush, cushioning his fall. monoco, for his part, laps at his cheek with his tongue. )

Good boy.

( he mutters, picking himself up with a bit of a groan (a fall is still a fall). for better or for worse, from this moment onward, monsieur dessendre is the one who holds the cards on what's next. )

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