[ There is a moment, awful as it is, that he sees Gustave's confusion flicker into surprise, sees something in him that's almost like -- jealousy, envy. Natural, understandable, and completely fair. Verso's not even shared this much to every Expedition he's worked with, but most of them, and in there he's seen so many different responses. Anger wasn't unusual. Suspicion. Utter confusion and bewilderment, disbelief.
And its subtle, but its there: a tension immediately wound through his entire body, a spring coiled tight and ready to snap, like he's ready to act and defend himself at a moment's notice, like there's a threat in that response even as Verso thinks it's a normal one to have. The nightmares don't come as often, anymore, after so many decades, and the memory doesn't haunt his every breath the way it used to, but at a moment's notice at any time it can still sear itself back into his heart. Fire, ash, his fingers slick with blood, looking straight into the eyes of a woman he loved with his whole heart as he slid his sword between her ribs, as she looked at him with nothing but revulsion and hate.
But Gustave doesn't respond that way. He doesn't even seem to hesitate to believe him. He just takes it in, a whole truth, and Verso opens his eyes when he feels Gustave's gentle kisses against his cheek. Comforting. Apologetic. He's sad for him --
-- Verso's heart breaks a little right there, into a few dozen more pieces that he pours straight into Gustave's hands, broken little shards to join the broken regretful piece of he'd left with Gustave in the garden two years ago. Its not like people can't understand, they usually do, after a while. But for Gustave to hear this from him, and to so immediately open his heart to him, to take him in and understand how much it hurts . . .
He shivers, all but melting into his touch. ]
I -- [ His breath catches. He's crying a little, some single tear straying down his cheek, trailing through dirt and grime. He hadn't noticed. Was it from remembering her, was it just from the fleeting thought of everyone he's lost and buried and watched Gommage away, was it just out of pained relief that Gustave just wants to help him? He doesn't know. ]
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And its subtle, but its there: a tension immediately wound through his entire body, a spring coiled tight and ready to snap, like he's ready to act and defend himself at a moment's notice, like there's a threat in that response even as Verso thinks it's a normal one to have. The nightmares don't come as often, anymore, after so many decades, and the memory doesn't haunt his every breath the way it used to, but at a moment's notice at any time it can still sear itself back into his heart. Fire, ash, his fingers slick with blood, looking straight into the eyes of a woman he loved with his whole heart as he slid his sword between her ribs, as she looked at him with nothing but revulsion and hate.
But Gustave doesn't respond that way. He doesn't even seem to hesitate to believe him. He just takes it in, a whole truth, and Verso opens his eyes when he feels Gustave's gentle kisses against his cheek. Comforting. Apologetic. He's sad for him --
-- Verso's heart breaks a little right there, into a few dozen more pieces that he pours straight into Gustave's hands, broken little shards to join the broken regretful piece of he'd left with Gustave in the garden two years ago. Its not like people can't understand, they usually do, after a while. But for Gustave to hear this from him, and to so immediately open his heart to him, to take him in and understand how much it hurts . . .
He shivers, all but melting into his touch. ]
I -- [ His breath catches. He's crying a little, some single tear straying down his cheek, trailing through dirt and grime. He hadn't noticed. Was it from remembering her, was it just from the fleeting thought of everyone he's lost and buried and watched Gommage away, was it just out of pained relief that Gustave just wants to help him? He doesn't know. ]
-- Over a hundred years.
[ He lived through the Fracture. ]