demainvient | 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

[She tries to keep the laughter at bay, but there's a soft hee under her breath as she sits up to save him from her hair. It swings behind her as she looks to him, smiling. Nightmares may plague her, but he's here by her side, and silly as ever.]

You've killed Nevrons, actually. A fair amount of them. I hope you put that in there and underlined it.

[And nearly lost his life to that man at the beach as their companions were slaughtered. She wonders how detailed his account is, in there. She doesn't have the heart to ask.]

I have put it in, thanks, and, just in case you were wondering, I wasn't looking for editorial input.

[ He closes the journal, keeping his place with a finger between the pages, and gives her a dubious glance. Things have been... better... since finding Maelle in that strange, empty manor, but he can still feel that razor-thin edge of himself, buried down deep; keeps cutting himself on it when he least expects it.

It's difficult to keep from hovering around her, making sure she's always within reach, always close enough that he would be able to get between her and danger. Writing in his apprentices' journal is a good way to make sure he gives her a little space.

And yet here she is, swinging down to sit next to him, cheery and pert as ever. ]

What, did you get bored? Lune making you write down all the different kinds of rocks and trees we saw today?

[Maelle loves her space, but she loves Gustave more. Waking up in the manor without him, not knowing if he was dead on that beach or alive and lost... it had frightened her. She still wanders to the edges of camp sometimes to have a moment or two alone, but she often finds herself trotting back to his side. Like now.]

Can't I just come over to say hi?

[Of course she can. She grins at him, bumping him with her shoulder.]

... and I was dismissed from that task the third time I described a rock as rocky. Alas, my vocabulary is insufficient.

Try 'stony,' [ he advises, tapping her leg with his pen. ]

Should get you through at least a few more.

[ Just coming to say hi. The same way she'd come by his workshop back in Lumière; the same way she'd come tap on the door of his room when he'd been up for too many hours trying to figure out some small problem with the latest iteration of the Lumina Converter.

He smiles at her, expression and voice both softening, and leans to nudge her shoulder right back. ]

Hi.

Stony. Ooh, good one.

[Always clever, this Gustave. Maelle stretches out her legs, leaning back on her palms as she looks up at the monolith. It's beautiful, in a way. She wishes she could remember how young she was when she fully understood what the numbers meant. It's simply always been. A part of their lives, their deaths.

To possibly be the ones to put an end to it all...

It's a nice thought. The thought of what comes after, though--that's almost incomprehensible.

She sighs.]

Can I ask you something?

[He's never denied her the opportunity to ask him anything. Still, she has manners.]

Hey, I'm giving you all my best material, here.

[ But Maelle's shoulders lift and fall with a sigh, and his demeanor shifts in almost the same moment as he half-turns to face her, journal still in his lap. ]

Yeah, of course.

[ They've always had the kind of relationship — he thinks, he hopes — where Maelle could be comfortable talking to him about anything at all: her worries, her fears, her hopes. He's always tried to listen to her with an open ear and to offer what advice or comfort he can.

He's not sure what might have sparked it this time, but there's only one way to know for sure. ]

What is it?

[She knows she can talk to him. No question is a stupid one, to Gustave. He's always honest and she loves how that applies to her questions about the world, nature, or simply life in general.

This question, however, is a personal one. She tips her head to the side, red hair slipping over her shoulder.]

So... did you ever want children of your own, or did I kill that desire?

[It's said jokingly, as if Sophie hadn't stopped to talk to her on her way to the harbor. It's said as of Maelle doesn't know for a fact that Gustave wanted children, and that's why he and Sophie went their separate ways.]

[ It's such an unexpected question that his first reaction is an exhalation that's almost a laugh. ]

Uh—

[ He licks his lips, gives her a bemused half-smile, half-frown. ]

Why do you ask? Did you lose some kind of bet with Sciel?

[Almost a laugh, a half-smile, but she can tell he's not especially happy about her prodding. Maelle feels a little bad for it--he wanted children, Sophie didn't, and so that was that. Sophie had made him happy, she knows. And she remembers how heartbroken he was when they ended things, but he hadn't given her the specifics. Yes, she'd been younger then, but for it to never come up? It was a deep hurt. Some things were just too difficult to speak about.]

I was just wondering. [Thinking about the Gommage, the time left to him, if they take too long to reach the Paintress--] You would have been the best father.

[A thing Maelle can say without hesitation. She would know best.]

Maybe [if] when we get back. You'll be famous, after all.

Famous.

[ He's chuckling, not realizing the way he's folded his arms over his chest, having finally set aside the journal. ]

Maelle, what are you talking about?

[Maelle thinks she's being pretty clear, and he's avoiding answering the actual question. She sits up straighter, looking at him quietly for a long moment. She wonders, if he had children, if she would have stayed behind. If the responsibility to look after his flesh and blood, all that's left of him, would have kept her from joining the expedition.]

You wanted them, didn't you? Children. It just... didn't happen?

[For the best, the cynical side of her whispers. Even she would orphan them, eventually. Still, the hopeful part of her, the part Gustave has planted whether he knows it or not, mourns. He would have been a wonderful, loving father. He would raise bright, goofy children. The world would be better for it.]

[ Whatever devil has possessed Maelle to bring this up now, it doesn't seem to be giving up anytime soon. He unfolds his arms and leans forward to curl his fingers over the dull stone of the ledge, grounding himself before he looks over at her. ]

Yes. I wanted them.

[ More than almost anything he can ever remember wanting for himself. He'd dreamed of a life with Sophie, with their children, with Maelle and Emma, all of them creating a little family, a world all their own. He remembers fondly imagining placing a tiny warm bundle of humanity into Maelle's arms and telling her she was an aunt.

But that had been years ago, and that dream, too, had vanished, drifting away like the flowers and ash of the Gommage. His glance falls away, and his head lowers. ]

But Sophie felt it was irresponsible... or worse... to bring a child into this world when it could only end in grief.

[It aligns with what Sophie herself had said. Maelle leans forward as well, mirroring Gustave, and looks into the inky darkness past her feet. The confirmation brings a pang of jealousy that surprises her. Sharp, right there under the ribs, against her heart. Immediately, her brow creases. She knows the miserable thought of am I not enough? comes from a little girl that was afraid this home would not work out, just like the others.]

Do you still want them? [Wanted, he said. Maelle glances over at him, giving him a small, sad smile. He had to give up on a dream then, but if they stop the Paintress, it doesn't have to remain lost. He could have the family he wanted. Somewhat. ] Like I said, you'll be famous. Gustave, inventor of the Lumina Converter that allowed Expedition 33 to do what no one else could. All the ladies will want to get to know you. Maybe...?

[Sophie will be gone, still, but there's no returning those they've already lost.]

[ He always gives weight to her questions, gives them real thought when they're serious, but this...

It's a long moment before he answers, and he's still not even sure he has an answer. ]

I don't know. Maybe.

[ Is that a dream he could brush off and bring back up into the light? He'd buried it so deeply inside himself, he's not sure he can even find it anymore. But that doesn't mean it's gone. ]

But, you know... Sophie. And it isn't like I've spent much time in the last few years trying to meet people who weren't coming on the expedition.

[ He glances sidelong at her, mouth tugging into a rueful curve. ]

And I think you might be overestimating the effect of the Lumina Converter on women.

[He really did love Sophie. Maelle sighs softly again, feet swaying.]

Yeah. I'm just saying... [Her words hang for a moment. What is she saying? It feels strange to think about a future, because that implies a win, here. A win, and they both survive to make it home. It seems daunting to think about a life without an expiry date. At least not anytime soon.

She's not prodding a bruised part of his heart just for fun.]

I'm just saying that if it's something you still want, I hope you get it. You would have some lucky children. And--I'm sorry it didn't happen with Sophie.

[... even if Maelle agrees with her.]

...Thanks.

[ He hadn't ever talked to Maelle about this before, first because she was too young and then... he hadn't wanted to talk about it to anybody. A few quiet conversations with Emma had been the bulk of his discussions; most others he'd allowed to think what they wanted about why he and Sophie had broken up.

But he remembers how sweetly Maelle had tried to cheer him up in his heartbreak, and that memory conjures another, softer smile. ]

But I'll be okay even if it doesn't happen. I already have you, don't I?

[He does have her. Still...]

It's... different when it's your own blood, isn't it?

[Right? She can only assume. The jealousy threatens to bubble up again. The bond Gustave would have with his flesh and blood would fulfill something he's longed for. She thinks he deserves to have it. He deserves everything he wants.]

[ His brow furrows as he watches her, taking in the way she holds herself; as he listens, really listens, to her questions. ]

I wouldn't know.

Maelle, are you... worried about this?

[ The second it passes his lips, he's certain of it. ]

Do you really think there's anything or anyone in this world that could make me love you any less?

No.

[The word comes out quickly, as does the red to her cheeks. Called out, Maelle. She shakes her head and looks out at the expanse before them, impossibly long and dark in the night.

Love her less? No, never. Would he love his own children more? Would that hurt? Probably. Maelle shifts in her spot, uncomfortable.]

It's just. Natural, I think. And I'm essentially grown up, anyway.

[ Hmm.

He taps his fingers against the rock of the ledge, thoughtful, then tips his face up to cast his glance up to the stars, giving her a little privacy. ]

Back before Sophie and I broke up, when it was still a possibility, you know what I was most excited for?

[ A casual sidelong glance before he looks away again. ]

Introducing your new baby brother or sister to you, and getting to see you holding them in your arms. Knowing how lucky they'd be to have you there to follow around and imitate and rely on.

Seriously?

[The word is a laugh, embarrassed still, but pleased to hear it. Even if he may just be saying it to make her feel better. It's silly.]

I'm a terrible role model. Your children would end up calling you an old man before they ever called you papa.

[Papa. The word alone feels strange to say, stirring up some other emotion Maelle doesn't want to dwell upon for too long.]

[ He just smiles, shrugging, and taps the heel of his boot against the side of the cliff. ]

I could think of worse fates. More of you could never be a bad thing.

More like more of you, actually.

[She takes a breath, cheeks cooled, and glances over to Gustave with a sheepish smile.]

Sorry. Probably not the conversation you wanted to have... ever.

[ He shrugs and pulls one leg up, looping an arm around his knee as he looks over over the dark, shattered world between them and the Monolith. ]

No, it's okay. I probably should have talked to you about it before, I just...

But I don't mind.

[ He glances over again, checking to see if her shoulders have relaxed, if she's still worried. ]

How did you even guess?

[What little they've relaxed is erased at his question. The look she gives him somehow manages to be even more apologetic.]

... it wasn't really a guess. I mean, it would make sense. [He's loving and enjoys teaching and mentoring and simply having a family. One day, Maelle would realize that likely meant he hoped for kids of his own some day.]

But... Sophie said as much. At the harbor.

[It's amazing she sat on it this long.]

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