[ This vision of Verso keeps talking, murmuring to him, telling him he isn't alone — he is, he is, he's never been so alone in his whole life — telling him to keep going, brushing kisses he can barely feel over his battered hand. Everything still feels so distant, even as he gazes into those intent eyes, clear and full of so many things he can only barely begin to interpret. An apology, he thinks. That desperation still, trying to pull a promise Gustave isn't sure he can make out of him.
His own eyes close and squeeze, brows dragging together as his lips press, exhausted misery etching itself over his face. He doesn't... want to continue, to press on. Without the others, without Maelle, he doesn't know how he fits into this world anymore.
And even this dream of a man who hasn't seen in years is leaving him, again. He can hear it in his voice, feel it in his touches, the kisses he presses onto Gustave's limp hand. If it were really Verso asking, could he do it? If not for himself, then for him? For the possibility of Maelle, somewhere further along?
His eyes are still closed, he's still so tired, he feels like his body belongs to someone else, but he nods once, jerkily, before a fresh sting of tears trickle slowly from the corner of his eye. He doesn't want to. He wants to stay here and join Catherine, all the others. His hand twitches, remembering the feel of his pistol in his palm.
But he nods all the same, miserable and clinging to the low, murmured words of whatever part of him is left that wants to save himself. ]
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Date: 2025-05-31 11:31 am (UTC)His own eyes close and squeeze, brows dragging together as his lips press, exhausted misery etching itself over his face. He doesn't... want to continue, to press on. Without the others, without Maelle, he doesn't know how he fits into this world anymore.
And even this dream of a man who hasn't seen in years is leaving him, again. He can hear it in his voice, feel it in his touches, the kisses he presses onto Gustave's limp hand. If it were really Verso asking, could he do it? If not for himself, then for him? For the possibility of Maelle, somewhere further along?
His eyes are still closed, he's still so tired, he feels like his body belongs to someone else, but he nods once, jerkily, before a fresh sting of tears trickle slowly from the corner of his eye. He doesn't want to. He wants to stay here and join Catherine, all the others. His hand twitches, remembering the feel of his pistol in his palm.
But he nods all the same, miserable and clinging to the low, murmured words of whatever part of him is left that wants to save himself. ]
.... I promise.