𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

[demainvient]

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ⊹ 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒚 ⊹ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍
 

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[betenoir]

[Renoir is entirely the opposite of Gustave, hands grasped as one, brought together in a vigorous grip as he stifles the urge for movement or expression. You haven't been in the position to hear people call it stifling, have you? He wants to ask. But he cannot find the energy. It would be pointless.]

Perhaps you might. Necessity is the mother of invention. [He doesn't have it inside himself to be too critical, but with the Gommage ticking down...] But anybody's work is a waste of time so close to the end. I would think yours is best spent finding some kind of peace.

[Go home. Don't waste your lives. Appreciate what time you have.]

[demainvient]

[ He shakes his head: no. ]

I will find no peace until we find Maelle.

[ She's his focus now; finding her, keeping her safe. Part of him still wants to try to bring her back to Lumière, where she can be safe behind Renoir's Shield Dome. He could... come back after that. Finish the mission once he knows she'll be all right. ]

But the Lumina Converter... that, that really might be my legacy, in the end. I spent so many hours... days, really, weeks... working out every detail of its design, and it works, Renoir.

[ There's a flash of pleasure, of satisfaction; the almost disbelieving joy of an inventor who has flicked a switch and brought his creation to life. ]

It'll give us the edge we need.

[betenoir]

[Part of him, the husband and inventor who had existed before the Fracture, is aroused by the possibilities. But even then his invention had been a necessity, not a labour of love.

But it had become one. The same barrier protecting his wife from those who would deliver harm. And now he finds his interest piqued but for reasons other than what this man might assume.]

Really? Would you offer a demonstration?

[He has been avoiding Luminare these past years. It does sound like something new and dangeorus. But dangerous for the wrong people.]

[demainvient]

The next Nevron we kill, [ he promises.

He can feel the slight weight of the Lumina Converter where it hangs from his backpack, swinging gently with his every movement. He hadn't known, not really, not until he and Lune were crouched beside that Nevron and he pulled the converter out for its first ever run in real conditions. ]

But the basic idea is that it draws the chroma from the Nevrons and converts it into usable lumina for us. With every fight and every Nevron we kill, we'll get stronger.

[betenoir]

[Interesting.

The promise of a new solution to an old problem. He could never exist every place all at once, not even with his gifts, especially now he must endure this alone. His posture suggests a heightened interest.]

It takes intelligence to construct a device like this.

[Did he just offer fatherly praise to this man to get his trust? Like father, like son.] Innovation.

[demainvient]

It takes a lot of experimentation.

[ He's not being falsely modest, and he's not immune to the thrill of Renoir's compliment. It nestles deep in his chest, a warm coal of approval. ]

But considering the direction we were moving with our Pictos and the sheer amount of chroma locked up in the Nevs, I thought it could work. And it does. Already we're getting stronger, more able to do things we never could before.

[betenoir]

[Experimentation. Renoir considers all their conversations up to this point; realising this man enjoys the process as much as the discovery. It might make one believe he is easily led by the nose. But he has a sharp intelligence that deserves to be respected.

Which he does. Father to father.

Except each must put his own family first. So he reads between the lines, about what happens to all that chroma that should be redirected towards his wife.]

And this strength can only improve the further you push on. [Making it a problem best handled swiftly.] You should be proud of such an achievement.

[Should. His emphasis just isn't there.]

[demainvient]

I am. And I'll be even happier with it if it helps the rest of—

[ Quick, thoughtless words that stumble to a halt. The rest of the expedition doesn't exist anymore. There is him, and Lune, and — please, please — Maelle, and...

And that may be all. The 33rd expedition over before it starts.

He swallows, shakes his head like he's shaking away a buzzing insect, and takes a quick, steadying breath. ]

If it helps us stay alive.

[betenoir]

[Renoir directs his gaze towards Gustave for a moment.

He thinks of Expedition Zero and how their journey had come to an untimely end. Killed by the truth much as by a stranger who resembled his daughter. It had been a peculiar situation, and the thought redirects his focus back towards the fire. The embers and sparks are both a grounding and disturbing sight.

For a moment, he looks empathatic.

Keeping people alive. Keeping his family alive. He is willing to be scorned and hated, so long as his children are alive to hate him.]

You truly love that girl, don't you?

[Maelle.]

[demainvient]

Yes.

[ It doesn't feel like enough. Maelle is the flickering candle flame that's lit his life and Emma's ever since she came to them. She was his little shadow, following him to the Hanging Gardens, around the house, around Lumiere, always happy to chatter about her day or his, always willing to tease him out of any blue moods gathering like storm clouds about his head. He'd lost Sophie and the life they might have had, but he still had Maelle.

Still has Maelle. He has to believe she's somewhere out there, safe and alive, that his failure to protect her hadn't cost her the rest of her already too-short life. ]

She's my sister. [ His expression flickers, scrunches: that's not quite right. ] My daughter.

...Both, sort of. I can't...

[ His head tilts to the side, glance sliding away. It's always been difficult for him to find the words he needs when he's trying to talk about someone, something, that really matters. His hands lift, moving back and forth through the air, as if he could more accurately illustrate the words that are escaping him. ]

She's— well, my sister and I, we, uh—

[ He grimaces at himself and lets his hands drop to hand loosely over his knees. ]

Yes, I do. I have to find her.

[betenoir]

Tomorrow.

[His voice has an authorative tone, pushing the limits until he discovers when this man will cede his authority. Because he needs to get ahead of this small team, ensure he can lead them down the right path, if not the correct one.

He frowns at the fire and remembers the team he had before. The other teams he had guided before. All towards that same fatal end. It always happened that they would be lost.

Always]

You should focus on your rest.

[He doesn't explain why he is willing to stay away overnight to mind the camp. His immortality is a... rather sore point.]

[demainvient]

[ His head tips forward in a motion that isn't quite a nod, shaggy hair shifting in the light breeze, but it's all the acknowledgement he offers for the moment. ]

Tomorrow. You're sure?

[ He's like a hunting dog that's caught a scent, tense even in this outwardly relaxed position. It's in the line of his shoulders, the way he twitches his thumb, anxious. Maelle's been on her own now for days. Has she had food? Water? Shelter? What if she's been threatened by Nevrons? She's wickedly skilled with her blade, but she's still used to training against other expeditioners, not the things themselves. ]

[betenoir]

[This man does not understand. But he can acknowledge the idea of living in an illusion, of having some external force tear down the walls of the reality you thought you knew.

He continues staring into the fire. All the fires he has set over the years, all the journals he had destroyed, all the evidence he has dismantled and picked apart until everything was hidden and nothing was recognisable.]

You might not find her tomorrow. But you will if she knows how to stay out of danger.

[Or how to stay put.]

[demainvient]

[ The breath that punches out of him tries to be amused, rueful, but he can't stop the swirl of guilt beneath it. ]

Maelle? Not much chance of that.

[ His fearless sister? The one who ran over rooftops as lightly as a bird in flight? Who took to the rapier like she was born to it? Who would rather duel for dominance than settle an argument with words? ]

...I should never have agreed to let her come. I should have tried harder to get her to stay in Lumiere.

[betenoir]

Daughters are complicated.

[Sons too. But when he considers the challenges one faces daily, he cannot deny he has a fondness in his heart for one of his daughters.]

Of course, it's better that she stays around you. That way you can keep your eye on her.

[If you can't lock her inside a manor for most of her life, at least have her nearby. Right?]

[demainvient]

She'll probably think it's more imperative that she keep an eye on me.

[ Maelle's always been just as protective of him as he is of her. If she really is all right, safe, then she's probably just as worried as he's been. What would her last glimpse of him have been? A slumped, motionless figure on the beach? ]

But you're right. Of course, you're right. I'm sure you know exactly how I feel.

[betenoir]

[The spark of understanding is a light behind his eyes: cold and guarded against the interference of the outside world. Imagine the things he has seen. Those things he wishes he had never seen at all.

He will fall silent after the last words he has to share, but share them he will.]

Nothing is more important than family.

[Relationship level increased to 1!]