[ It's a long climb, with a few detours to edge along a crumbling ledge or grapple across to another path, but he's grown hardier in these last weeks, lean and strong, and his breath comes a little faster but easily enough as he pulls himself upward.
This jagged tooth of rock might not properly be able to be called a mountain, but it's dizzyingly high to a man who spent his whole life on Lumiere's small island, where the tallest points were buildings. Even the crooked tower doesn't go this high, and for a moment, once he reaches the ledge he'd spotted from far below and glances over the edge, he feels a swell of real vertigo. Everything looks impossibly tiny from this height; even Esquie would seem small.
His mouth is dry, his heart pounding, but he's not in any rush now that he's gotten up here. He needs to make sure he's visible, needs to make sure he does this right. (There are handholds and grapple points he'd clocked below, all of which will be in range... just in case. He'll be able to save himself, as long as he keeps his head. Probably.)
Gustave looks out over the continent that unfurls around him, feeling the breeze sift through his hair, cooling his warm face and drying the sweat on his forehead. It might look like he's looking for signs of movement, of life, and he is, but he no longer thinks that will be enough.
Maybe this will. A few minutes after reaching the ledge, the rock jutting out over open space, he reaches a foot out over the dizzying drop below, and steps off into the air. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2025-06-02 07:28 pm (UTC)This jagged tooth of rock might not properly be able to be called a mountain, but it's dizzyingly high to a man who spent his whole life on Lumiere's small island, where the tallest points were buildings. Even the crooked tower doesn't go this high, and for a moment, once he reaches the ledge he'd spotted from far below and glances over the edge, he feels a swell of real vertigo. Everything looks impossibly tiny from this height; even Esquie would seem small.
His mouth is dry, his heart pounding, but he's not in any rush now that he's gotten up here. He needs to make sure he's visible, needs to make sure he does this right. (There are handholds and grapple points he'd clocked below, all of which will be in range... just in case. He'll be able to save himself, as long as he keeps his head. Probably.)
Gustave looks out over the continent that unfurls around him, feeling the breeze sift through his hair, cooling his warm face and drying the sweat on his forehead. It might look like he's looking for signs of movement, of life, and he is, but he no longer thinks that will be enough.
Maybe this will. A few minutes after reaching the ledge, the rock jutting out over open space, he reaches a foot out over the dizzying drop below, and steps off into the air. ]