[ It simply doesn't process at first, the words understandable but alien to him, and he can do nothing but shake his head, his brows drawing together in bewilderment. But that's notโ it isn't possible.
Horribly, the first true reaction he feels, can name, is envy. Only weeks ago he'd watched as the Gommage took so many, as Sophie drifted apart into petals and ash in his hands. If they don't succeed here, he too will one day watch the numbers change and feel himself float away. The Gommage comes for them all, calm and insidious, turning the population of Lumiรจre into complacent sacrifices.
But he shoves it away, it isn't about him, or Sophie, or any of the others they've lost to the Gommage: it's about Verso. Verso, who slides an arm around him and clings to him like Gustave is the one about to leave, who might get up and abandon him any second, even when misery lines his face and dulls the deep clear wells of his eyes. ]
Verso...
[ And when he thinks about it, when he really thinks about it, a gleam of clarity slides through his chest, his swirling thoughts. If he were the only one to survive the Gommage... if he were the only one to stay alive while all around him people died, year after year after year...
He tips his head, brushes kisses over Verso's cheek, horrified and apologetic, wanting to give him something, anything, to mitigate the enormous shadow of loneliness he hears in his voice, sees in his eyes. ]
How long?
[ His own voice is soft, his fingers sifting gently through the waves of Verso's hair, stroking, while his arm tightens around Verso's back. He's here, for what good it might do. And he still wants to help. ]
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[ It simply doesn't process at first, the words understandable but alien to him, and he can do nothing but shake his head, his brows drawing together in bewilderment. But that's notโ it isn't possible.
Horribly, the first true reaction he feels, can name, is envy. Only weeks ago he'd watched as the Gommage took so many, as Sophie drifted apart into petals and ash in his hands. If they don't succeed here, he too will one day watch the numbers change and feel himself float away. The Gommage comes for them all, calm and insidious, turning the population of Lumiรจre into complacent sacrifices.
But he shoves it away, it isn't about him, or Sophie, or any of the others they've lost to the Gommage: it's about Verso. Verso, who slides an arm around him and clings to him like Gustave is the one about to leave, who might get up and abandon him any second, even when misery lines his face and dulls the deep clear wells of his eyes. ]
Verso...
[ And when he thinks about it, when he really thinks about it, a gleam of clarity slides through his chest, his swirling thoughts. If he were the only one to survive the Gommage... if he were the only one to stay alive while all around him people died, year after year after year...
He tips his head, brushes kisses over Verso's cheek, horrified and apologetic, wanting to give him something, anything, to mitigate the enormous shadow of loneliness he hears in his voice, sees in his eyes. ]
How long?
[ His own voice is soft, his fingers sifting gently through the waves of Verso's hair, stroking, while his arm tightens around Verso's back. He's here, for what good it might do. And he still wants to help. ]