@goosetave liked this post [ x ] for smooches

Lune was meticulous in keeping her personal and professional lives separate, ensuring that nothing would get in the way of one another. Though in truth, she rarely allowed herself a personal life to begin with. Her main purpose remains steady, to provide whatever means she could to ensure a path of success for the Expeditions.

If they failed... life would cease to exist.

She cast aside most personal attachments, her focus unwavering on the task at hand. And yet… feelings are not so easily ignored especially in close proximity and with an open bottle of shared wine.

Her lips gently pressed against an unfamiliar pair, hesitant at first before more intently. She had always wondered what it would be like to kiss Gustave. Perhaps, it would push away these damn lingering feelings if the kiss was mundane except it was not. Warm, tender, and electrifying... enough to get addicted if given the chance.

As quickly as it started, it ended.

"Merde..." Lune swore as she pulls away, quickly standing and setting her glass of wine aside. "I..." Her hand covers her mouth, feeling the warmth flushing her face, as she tries to compose herself.

"I shouldn't have done that..."

"Since when is 'for science' not a valid excuse to do nonsensical things?" Verso asked with a sardonic grin. As loath as he was to admit it, Monoco had been right when he'd said Verso was starting to get attached to these Expeditioners. And despite the fact that Gustave had thrown a wrench in his plans by surviving, Verso was glad that he had.

The man was adorable when flustered. Verso would have been content to leave things at just banter and light teasing, but today. Today, it seemed they were on a different wavelength.

Clea's gaze narrowed ever so lightly. Feigning ignorance, or had Alicia decided not to divulge the truth to him? For the caretaker Alicia bonded with, he was rather... unimpressive at first glance. Clearly he was important if Alicia went through the effort to drag his arm from his corpse to be placed beneath the tree Clea and the real Verso had made all those years ago. A respite from war, a safe place.

Either Alicia was learning to manipulate, or it was easier to keep him ignorant.

"We never had a reason to meet." Clea waved off his question, and her gaze wandered to the other Lumerians going about their daily life. "And I never bothered with this place. Only when Alicia--Maelle, in your case, was growing up. I'm her sister."

Clea kept the disdain from her tone, if only to see the worth of this creation. That he had fashioned a functional mechanical arm was decently impressive, compared to the prosthetics in Paris. But of course, the laws of reality functioned differently here. There was more leeway for such marvels and gimmicks.

Regardless, this version of the canvas is not the same as when Aline had painted it. Containing shades, marks of their chroma upon its landscape. Each Dessendre leaving an impression behind.

Renoir know that this adoptive brother of hers was killed at once point by his own painted counterpart. Gustave-a man who was important, nay, instrumental to Maelle's upbringing within the canvas by taking her in as a foster child. There is no ill will, nor any bad feelings towards a man who prioritized Alicia's safety over his own. Renoir's gaze, though unreadable to a certain degree, is not hostile. There is a minute warmth to it even as he approached the man, hands resting atop his cane.

❝I know you care for her. I wish we had met under better circumstances.❞ He begins, then backtracks. How much has Maelle told Gustave? How much does anyone know of the battle for this world and the nature of it? ❝You may not recognize me, or, you may think me your murderer. I am different from the man on the cliffs. We actually met within the manor. I helped your camp.❞

Perhaps pointing out his role as the curator sets a better tone. ❝Ali-Maelle is my daughter. I am . . . at present unsure of how much she's explained.❞

"I think one of the prerequisites of being awoken is that one has to be asleep." Verso snorted as he stopped before he walked completely past the significant annoyance Gustave. "The stream is more of a pond downstream. I was going to go swimming to clear my head." Now that he was closer, Verso could tell that the engineer looked haggard. Sleep had evidently abandoned him tonight as well.

This Expedition was too full of extraordinarily perceptive people.

Granted, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out who the journal was describing. There were only two men on the continent who had been cursed with the ability to survive fatal attacks, and only one of those people could ever be described as charming. All it took was one pitying look from Sciel for Verso to turn and walk away, back towards the safety that Esquie offered.

Verso should have destroyed that journal the first time he found it. He had no problem erasing Claude, Dion, and Louise's journals (and no problem killing them either), but Julie... A sick, twisted part of Verso must have liked the pain of hearing her voice after all this time. Her accusations hurt worse than the torture, especially when...

He was pulled out of that spiral by Gustave's aborted reach for him. Verso flinched back all the same. "You're too quick to forgive. A mistake is putting salt instead of sugar into a pie. It's... reserving a box for the wrong performance. What I did... It goes so much further than a simple mistake."