[ There's no other term for it: he's simply a mess all through the next day.
Unsurprisingly, he hadn't been able to explain either his disappearance or his physical appearance to the satisfaction of his teammates. A few awkward, stumbled words about running into a Nevron results in Sciel and Lune both giving him skeptical looks, their glances running down along his neck. It takes him going to clean up in a pond by the camp to really understand why, his reflection in the water clear beneath the brilliant wash of moon and starlight. Merde, Versoโ he looks like he'd lost a fight with some Nevron entirely composed of suction cups.
The one silver lining is that Maelle doesn't have any idea what the marks could be, while Sciel gives him and Lune sidelong, assessing glances now and then from where she sits by the fire. He hates it, and he knows he should tell them the truth, but he simply reiterates that he'd found a Nevron and... and taken a little tumble, and weathers the scolding from Lune and Maelle's concern disguised as teasing.
The next day is even worse, after a night of barely any sleep and with a head full of distracting thoughts. Anxiety follows him like a cloud, and he finds himself checking the arc of the sun in the sky far more often than usual as they move through the area around Esquie's nest, hunting Nevrons to collect their chroma and fuel the lumina for their pictos. When a Lancelier he could normally take apart with his eyes closed slips past his guard and leaves him with cracked ribs and a bruise Lune has to heal, he knows he needs to get a grip, but he just can't seem to focus, even when Maelle sticks close and tries needling him out of his thoughts.
It's bad enough that Lune and Sciel both sit him down to talk about it once they've made camp, and he does his best to try and assuage their fears โ Lune's especially. He can see the concern in her eyes, can hear it in the careful words she chooses. She hasn't breathed a word of what happened in the cave to Sciel or Maelle, and he's grateful, but he doesn't know how to tell her that isn't what's happening now.
Also not helpful: Esquie cheerfully asking him if he'd managed to find Verso, while Gustave tries frantically to get him to keep his voice down. He thinks the others don't hear it, but he can't be sure. Subterfuge has never been one of his particular skills; if he has to keep this up, he's going to go mad.
But finally Maelle is asleep and Lune is focused intently on her logs and notes, which leaves Sciel keeping watch over the quiet camp. He'd known all along that Sciel was his best option for slipping away; he tells her, truthfully, that he knows he's been a mess all day long and he just needs some time to get his head together. The memory of her warm, sympathetic smile both soothes him and ties a guilty knot hard in his stomach as he slips away, knowing she'll cover for him if she has to.
All this, and he's still not even sure he should have even bothered trying, as he makes his way through the quiet woods toward a clearing that opens to the stars above. He doesn't know Verso will come, even after his promises. Maybe he was a fool for picking these flowers that he has tucked carefully inside the jacket of his uniform, pressed safely to his breast, maybe he was a fool for believing...
The rush of relief when that touch comes, when that voice murmurs low in his ear and those arms wrap around him, is so dizzying that for a moment he thinks he might be back on that promontory. ]
Verso.
[ Half-disbelieving, even as his own arms come up to wrap over the ones around him, even as he leans back, eyes closing at the puff of warm breath, the brush of lips over his ear. ]
no subject
Unsurprisingly, he hadn't been able to explain either his disappearance or his physical appearance to the satisfaction of his teammates. A few awkward, stumbled words about running into a Nevron results in Sciel and Lune both giving him skeptical looks, their glances running down along his neck. It takes him going to clean up in a pond by the camp to really understand why, his reflection in the water clear beneath the brilliant wash of moon and starlight. Merde, Versoโ he looks like he'd lost a fight with some Nevron entirely composed of suction cups.
The one silver lining is that Maelle doesn't have any idea what the marks could be, while Sciel gives him and Lune sidelong, assessing glances now and then from where she sits by the fire. He hates it, and he knows he should tell them the truth, but he simply reiterates that he'd found a Nevron and... and taken a little tumble, and weathers the scolding from Lune and Maelle's concern disguised as teasing.
The next day is even worse, after a night of barely any sleep and with a head full of distracting thoughts. Anxiety follows him like a cloud, and he finds himself checking the arc of the sun in the sky far more often than usual as they move through the area around Esquie's nest, hunting Nevrons to collect their chroma and fuel the lumina for their pictos. When a Lancelier he could normally take apart with his eyes closed slips past his guard and leaves him with cracked ribs and a bruise Lune has to heal, he knows he needs to get a grip, but he just can't seem to focus, even when Maelle sticks close and tries needling him out of his thoughts.
It's bad enough that Lune and Sciel both sit him down to talk about it once they've made camp, and he does his best to try and assuage their fears โ Lune's especially. He can see the concern in her eyes, can hear it in the careful words she chooses. She hasn't breathed a word of what happened in the cave to Sciel or Maelle, and he's grateful, but he doesn't know how to tell her that isn't what's happening now.
Also not helpful: Esquie cheerfully asking him if he'd managed to find Verso, while Gustave tries frantically to get him to keep his voice down. He thinks the others don't hear it, but he can't be sure. Subterfuge has never been one of his particular skills; if he has to keep this up, he's going to go mad.
But finally Maelle is asleep and Lune is focused intently on her logs and notes, which leaves Sciel keeping watch over the quiet camp. He'd known all along that Sciel was his best option for slipping away; he tells her, truthfully, that he knows he's been a mess all day long and he just needs some time to get his head together. The memory of her warm, sympathetic smile both soothes him and ties a guilty knot hard in his stomach as he slips away, knowing she'll cover for him if she has to.
All this, and he's still not even sure he should have even bothered trying, as he makes his way through the quiet woods toward a clearing that opens to the stars above. He doesn't know Verso will come, even after his promises. Maybe he was a fool for picking these flowers that he has tucked carefully inside the jacket of his uniform, pressed safely to his breast, maybe he was a fool for believing...
The rush of relief when that touch comes, when that voice murmurs low in his ear and those arms wrap around him, is so dizzying that for a moment he thinks he might be back on that promontory. ]
Verso.
[ Half-disbelieving, even as his own arms come up to wrap over the ones around him, even as he leans back, eyes closing at the puff of warm breath, the brush of lips over his ear. ]
Hi.