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She watches the siblings (and isn’t that a thought) square off and folds her arms over her chest, wincing at every inaudible but all-too-angry word they shout at one another between blows. Two infinitely powerful beings, brought to their limits by grief and pain and loss and…

She understands.

She thinks it would be impossible not to.

It isn’t long before Verso comes out of their clash victorious, holding Maelle in his arms like he had his mother not all that long before. Sciel watches his face, heart thudding at the mixture of relief and misery that paints his beautiful features. 

He got what he wanted. 

There is no Esquie to save him.

Not all that far away she can hear Lune muttering to herself but she can do nothing but watch as Maelle disappears into a beautiful cloud of golden petals, given an ending that is as familiar to Sciel as breathing. 

She can’t blame her friend for her anger. They’re both all too aware of what’s coming now that Verso can do the one thing he’s been longing for. She has enough empathy to understand that Lune allowed herself to hope for something different. Needed something different.

After a quiet moment of consideration, Sciel moves closer to the canvas, taking a deep breath as she hesitates on its threshold.

Esquie and Monoco do not linger in the same way, preceding her inside with a certainty that she admires. She watches as they embrace Verso, fondness catching in her throat and threatening to choke her. They are nothing more and nothing less than the much-loved creations of a young boy, here to comfort him at the end.

And then they are gone, too.

When Verso sees her step through, his broken expression crumples further. She chances a look down at herself and barely holds back a gasp - she hadn’t reckoned with the fact that the gommage would affect her so quickly. Red and white are swirling in the air around her as she moves forward, and he instinctively steps back.

“Sciel…”

She shakes her head, reaching out a hand to meet the one that he chances to extend. They may not have always met precisely in the middle, but it feels fitting to do so now.

She never thought that she would be the one gommaging in front of a man who knows her this intimately. Pierre was supposed to be first, breaking her heart one year before she followed after. It would have made heading out on the 33rd expedition easier, in theory. 

But then… would she still have met Verso? Would this still have happened, her comfort in knowing Pierre awaits her enough to help her bond with such a broken man?

His hand feels warm beneath her own, despite the fact that she is swiftly losing track of what it means to be. She steps closer, and when he opens his mouth to speak again, she shakes her head.

There is nothing to say, nothing to apologise for. She can already see the first petals around him as well.

She kisses him because she can, because it is a comfort that they both need. His lips move against hers just as they have so many times before, and when she touches his cheeks they are warm and damp with sweat, his hair a vicious tangle that her fingers can’t keep up with.

“Sciel…” He whispers, when they part for their last breaths.

She smiles, kisses him again. “Verso. Until next life.”