[ Helplessness is the feeling he hates worst of all. They are all so helpless, in Lumiรจre, in the end: helpless in the face of the Gommage, in the shadow of the Paintress. He's spent his life battling against that helplessness, tryin to find some edge that hadn't been discovered yet, looking for another way. The opposing force to helplessness is hope, at least for him, and so he hopes, stubborn more than optimistic, and keeps trying.
But there is nothing he can do here, and he doesn't know what else to try without losing what little dignity he has left. Verso kisses him, long and sweet and sad, and his own fingers curl into the loose fabric of the man's shirt, only to let it slip from his grasp when Verso finally begins to move away. He has to shift, letting Verso move his leg out from beneath him, until he's left kneeling there, his hands loose on his thighs, watching as Verso slowly closes this door between them.
Maybe if he understood why, this wouldn't be so frustrating, he wouldn't feel so utterly powerless, but he doesn't. Nothing he can think of, no obstacle that he knows of, makes this decision make sense. Perhaps Verso will Gommage in a year โ but he'd already murmured soft words about taking what they could in the time they have, so wouldn't that make him more rather than less likely to want to grasp this thing, the potential of it, in both hands?
Maybe he needs to focus on an Expedition; that's more likely, but if that's the case Gustave will see him at the Academy, surely.
No, the only thing that makes sense is that he simply doesn't want to try, to see him again, and even that... he doesn't think he's been misreading the looks in those eyes, the tenderness in those touches. But it's the sole possibility that fills in all the blanks.
It's not a big island. He's managed to avoid Sophie, for the most part, but he still sees her everywhere. Won't that be true of Verso, too?
He sits back on his heels, looking up at Verso sitting there on the edge of the flowerbed, fingers curling into his palms there on his thighs, and wets his lip. It feels a little sore, swollen, kiss-bruised and maybe split there from their first clash, and he's going to have to explain this to Emma, he knows. After a long moment, he forces his hands to uncurl and lifts them to start buttoning his shirt back up. This โ whatever stolen moments they'd managed to glean โ is over, and one thing everyone in Lumiรจre is familiar with is an ending. ]
I could always try throwing myself off a rooftop again.
[ As a joke, it falls a little flat. But he tries anyway. He doesn't know how to do anything else. ]
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Date: 2025-05-30 09:45 am (UTC)But there is nothing he can do here, and he doesn't know what else to try without losing what little dignity he has left. Verso kisses him, long and sweet and sad, and his own fingers curl into the loose fabric of the man's shirt, only to let it slip from his grasp when Verso finally begins to move away. He has to shift, letting Verso move his leg out from beneath him, until he's left kneeling there, his hands loose on his thighs, watching as Verso slowly closes this door between them.
Maybe if he understood why, this wouldn't be so frustrating, he wouldn't feel so utterly powerless, but he doesn't. Nothing he can think of, no obstacle that he knows of, makes this decision make sense. Perhaps Verso will Gommage in a year โ but he'd already murmured soft words about taking what they could in the time they have, so wouldn't that make him more rather than less likely to want to grasp this thing, the potential of it, in both hands?
Maybe he needs to focus on an Expedition; that's more likely, but if that's the case Gustave will see him at the Academy, surely.
No, the only thing that makes sense is that he simply doesn't want to try, to see him again, and even that... he doesn't think he's been misreading the looks in those eyes, the tenderness in those touches. But it's the sole possibility that fills in all the blanks.
It's not a big island. He's managed to avoid Sophie, for the most part, but he still sees her everywhere. Won't that be true of Verso, too?
He sits back on his heels, looking up at Verso sitting there on the edge of the flowerbed, fingers curling into his palms there on his thighs, and wets his lip. It feels a little sore, swollen, kiss-bruised and maybe split there from their first clash, and he's going to have to explain this to Emma, he knows. After a long moment, he forces his hands to uncurl and lifts them to start buttoning his shirt back up. This โ whatever stolen moments they'd managed to glean โ is over, and one thing everyone in Lumiรจre is familiar with is an ending. ]
I could always try throwing myself off a rooftop again.
[ As a joke, it falls a little flat. But he tries anyway. He doesn't know how to do anything else. ]