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Apr. 30th, 2025 11:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
demainvient
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demainvient๐๐๐๐๐๐ โน ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ โน ๐๐๐๐๐๐
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Date: 2026-02-20 08:17 pm (UTC)From their vantage point high above the cobbled streets, up on the empty rooftops not too far from the Hanging Gardens, Lune and Gustave have a perfectly picturesque view of the warm glow of lanterns and candles dotting the alleyways like ribbons of light, converging at the main plaza and leading all the way down to the harbour. It's beautiful, because it's so alive. Faint notes of music and laughter drift up to them, the sound of people thrivingโ celebrating once more, even though it's an ordinary weekend night. And why not, when they finally have ordinary days, weeks, months, years, nothing but time stretching out ahead of them, without the fear of Gommage.
Perhaps they should be down there amongst the rest of their people. But sitting here side by side, just the two of them, taste of wine and affection on their tongues, holds more appeal. Time enough later to seek out their friends, if they wish. The detritus of a modest picnic sits spread on the blanket beneath them โ some cheese and bread, a bottle of red โ nibbled on occasionally between kisses and conversation. Lune shifts a little on her hip, and rests her head on his shoulder.
"I can see why you'd like hanging out up here." There's a smile in her voice. The view really is wonderful. The smile on her lips hitches at the corner, audible as she teases, "Are you sure you don't want to throw a rock?"
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Date: 2026-02-21 10:04 pm (UTC)But he got off them, in the end. His friends saved him. Lune saved him.
Hard to say when her warm weight against his side started to feel so familiar, so natural; when it was that he realized how perfectly her head fit into the curve of his shoulder. He puts his arm around her now and chuckles, leaning onto his metal left hand as his gaze follows hers out over the city. "Why, would you let me up if I did?"
Teasing her back, the smile that's hardly left his lips since they stepped off Esqiue's back and onto the cobblestones of the harbor plaza deepening the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. They don't always fade away anymore, those lines. They're starting to sink into his skin, marks he can't wash away. Wrinkles that will only deepen as he ages. Now that he can age.
He turns his head to press his lips to her hair, taking a deep calm breath. Strange to smell good soap and shampoo on them both again, to be wearing something other than their uniforms. Her hair is soft and silky against his mouth, catching on the wiry hairs of his mustache and beard. He never really thought he'd ever feel this kind of contentment again. "Besides, I'd just hit someone down there if I tried. Not that I think any of them would feel it, just now."
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Date: 2026-02-22 08:22 am (UTC)Several of the accounts in the Expedition journals they'd found have stuck with her, but the one from 51 comes back to her frequently. They'd done thisโ what was left of 33 had done what seemed impossible. And there is no explaining all they'd gone through to anyone else, nor the bond that connects them for the rest of their days. Gustave and hers intimacy didn't deepen just because of the Expedition, but it would be impossible to discount the affect of their experiences, either.
Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder like an affectionate cat, she closes her eyes for a moment when his mouth presses into her hair, a humming chuckle escaping at his teasing.
"No," Lune agrees airily, warmth suffusing her tone. "No, I would not."
As if in emphasis, she slips her arm across his middle to hold him in return, happy to entangle with him and evidently not in a hurry to change that circumstance. She draws in a slow breath, sighs as she exhales; so this is what it's like to be contented. Happy.
"Considering you no longer have a target..." Since the Paintress is gone. "Maybe you need a new hobby?"