Chapter Text
Noon - Day 1 - Lune
The repetitive banging on the white chipped paint door had the glass windows of the cottage rattling in their frames.
"Are you sure we should be here?" Lune said carefully as she watched Verso hammer the near-to-breaking door with his fist.
The banging stopped for a moment as Verso turned to answer her. "Oh she definitely knows we're here," as he pointed an accusing finger at the door, "she just wants to be annoying."
"Pretty sure she kicked you out last time for being too annoying," Monoco's gruff voice chimed.
Verso huffed before crouching low to look through the gap in the curtains behind the glass panes of the door. He stood up and promptly resumed his banging on the door. "I literally see you moving in there! Open the damn door!"
The pale blue cottage was in the middle of a small clearing encased by a forest of tall birch trees. They had to trek through the forest for an hour to reach the shack. There had been no trail, leaving the expedition unsure if they were going the right way. Only near the cottage had gentle paths of trampled grass appeared. It looked run-down and abandoned. If it weren't for Verso's excitement and insistence, Lune would have assumed that this cottage was some kind of trap or ambush. His repeat assurance that this place was safe wasn't enough to stop Lune from keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.
"Will you please tell us what we are doing here?" Maelle practically begged.
Yesterday, the expedition had been exploring a range of barren grassy hills far east of the Monolith. In truth, the hills were giant and more mountains than hills. They had traversed the slopes with Esquie till he was tired then they walked until nightfall. Truly exhausted, the expedition had picked a lone hilltop and barely managed to put their sleeping rolls down before they fell asleep. When the Lune awoke, Verso was whispering to Monoco and animatedly pointing down into a nearby valley populated with a dense birch forest. He then, one by one, asked each member of the party if they would like a three day vacation.
Not one day, not two, and not even a week. But exactly, and specifically, three days.
And you know what, after everything they've been through, they all agreed to the three day specific vacation. Lune had hesitated, but Verso's obvious excitement made her curious enough that she conceded the next three days for some relaxation. Maybe she could even pick up her guitar again, maybe write a song again.
Since then, he had not answered any of their questions. Even as his behavior got more erratic and more questionable.
A glimmer of movement from the forest on the left caught Lune's attention, but before she could even call attention to it, there was voice shouting from the edge of the clearing.
"HEY! LEAVE MY FUCKING DOOR ALONE!"
Everyone turned to watch the woman stomp her way across the grass to the cottage. Lune mentally noted a few observations about the cottage's owner:
- She dressed rather simply, not at all prepared for battle. Her hair flowed from under wide-brimmed straw hat with a long dress made of undyed fabric that covered her arms and legs. The dress would only protect against the sun, not Nevrons or other dangers.
- She was pissed. Lune wouldn't be surprised if their vacation never started because Verso managed to piss her off in the first few minutes.
"You don't get to come over here and start destroying the cottage!" The cottage-owner argued as she approached them.
"You were expecting us, so why weren't you here?" Verso asked in a snarky tone. His words didn't make sense to Lune, but even she knew that he was adding fuel to a fire.
The woman ascended the short stairway to the porch where the expedition had congregated. While passing through them she said, "The door is unlocked, you fucking dumbass." Making a show of it, she twisted the door knob and swung the door open. She grumbled something about being over hundred and still stupid. Then, when the expedition remained standing on the porch, the cottage's owner hollered at them to come in. One-by-one, all shooting Verso annoyed glares, they entered the small cottage. It was less run-down on the inside but clearly lived in.
A comfortable red sofa and blue chairs welcomed them in, bringing color to the dark floor and white walls. Shabby light bulbs hung from the ceiling, wiring exposed. Anywhere there was wall space, there was either some framed artwork or a completely stocked bookcase. The wooden shelves bowed under the weight of the many colorful and hefty tomes shelved on them. Rugs scattered around the main room. In the entryway, Lune stood on a emerald green rug with a dark floral pattern completely worn out in some places.
Behind the sofa, and to the left, was a dining nook. Beyond the sitting and dining areas was a small kitchen, where the woman was now unloading a basket.
"Don't let the critter out," she said absentmindedly as she placed small bundles onto the wooden counter. Lune had just turned to look for said critter when a bundle of white fur leapt from a bookshelf to the open door. Luckily, with one hand, Verso caught the creature midair and wrapped it close to his chest.
"And just who is this little cute thing?" He cooed as he scratched the little head of the creature. Verso didn't mind the fact that the creature was hissing at him. He took a seat on the ruby sofa, leaning back comfortably as he continued trying to tame the thing.
"Named her Moxie. Thought about naming her Verso 'cause of the white hair, but I didn't want to insult her." The lady bustled around the kitchen before looking back at the group awkwardly standing around. "You guys can sit, anywhere you want," adding on, "Monoco, I got your chair set up how you like," gesturing to the blue armchair stacked with an egregious amount of pillows.
"You are the best, my friend."
The woman didn't respond.
Lune took the other blue chair, while Sciel and Maelle joined Verso on the couch. Nobody said anything, their only source of entertainment was watching Verso get bit by the fluffy creature. It was a strange thing, about the size of a pumpkin, with floppy ears and orange eyes. She noticed a slight striped pattern with light ginger fur, continuing down the creatures body into a long fluffy tail. Even more strange, were the small hands that the creature had wrapped around two of Verso's fingers as they fought. She had seen nothing like it on The Continent. Lune was already forming theories, but she would have to ask for permission for further study the creature.
A body blocked Lune's analyzing eyes. Eerily silent, the cottage-owner held out a plate, which that Lune cautiously accepted. On the plate, there was a sandwich with some kind of fruit on the side. The woman was already presenting a similar plate to Sciel. Around she went, giving plates of food, with Verso last. With one hand she took the creature, which immediately snuggled into her chest, and once Verso took the plate she spoke again. "I wasn't expecting a harem. Introduce them."
Verso pouted. "You're always so crude. Over there," gesturing with his plate to Lune, "is Lune, a researcher. That is Sciel," another sweeping arm gesture, "former farmer and teacher. And finally this is Maelle."
"Maelle." The woman repeated with a furrowed brow as she focused the young girl's face. "I- hmm." Either stumped on words or deciding not to further the topic, the lady's hands fiddled as she turned to face all of the newcomers. She said her own name and continued, "I guess I am your host for the next three days," a pointed look to Verso before continuing, "The bathroom is back there, and up that ladder is the attic where you'll be sleeping." She pointed to the corridor behind the kitchen.
The hostess gave her pet a quick kiss to the head before putting Moxie down on the floor.
"You've got a nice house!" Sciel blurted before the silence could return.
"Ah, they helped me build it," she waved to Verso and Monoco. "It's kind of inspired by Baba Yaga."
"Baba Yaga?" Maelle questioned before Lune could.
"Old folklore. A witch, her house has chicken legs and moves," she was wringing her hands together. Seeing Maelle's even more confused expression and sensing the obvious follow-up question, "The cottage, doesn't really have legs, but it does, uh, move." She walked away grabbing her basket. "I'm going back to my foraging, Verso and Monoco can probably answer any questions you have."
Within a blink she was gone.
Monoco looked at Verso, "I told you she would've been happier with the cottage if it had legs and feet, especially feet."
Verso just rolled his eyes as he took a bite of his sandwich. She watched him carefully, making sure he didn't spit it out or turn blue before taking her own bite from her sandwich. It was an amazing sandwich, the last time she had something as good, she would've been in Lumiere, but was the food there even this good? Food was scarce in Lumiere, it would've been difficult and expensive to get half of the ingredients on the sandwich.
Sciel practically inhaled hers without breathing. "So like," Sciel licked her fingers clean, "what are we even doing here? I get we all need a vacation but why here? With this lady?"
"She's an old friend," Verso answered and promptly got kicked by one of Monoco's long legs, "...sometimes more than a friend to me."
Maelle scoffed with a mouth full of fruit. "Only sometimes?"
"Only when he's not a fool, so rarely," Monoco answered.
"So let me get this straight," Lune leaned into the circle, putting her empty plate on the coffee table. "We are vacationing with your sometimes-girlfriend? Why would you bring us here?"
Verso's face got solemn as he put his own plate down. "This will probably the last time I'll be able to see her," he said admittedly. Lune noted with some surprise, that it was one of the rare moments that Verso was probably being honest with the rest of the expedition.
"But we defeated the Paintress! And Renoir! I can help, it doesn't have to be the last time!" Maelle eagerly said, trying to fix Verso's now soured mood.
He spoke sternly, "Don't say stuff like around her. She doesn't want that kind of help."
The young girl's face bunched up as she thought, "I don't get it."
"She's like you, isn't she?" Lune tested her hypothesis. Her dress was too simple, meaning she didn't fear danger or death on The Continent. And since the woman didn't live in Lumiere, she probably doesn't even age.
Verso only shrugged in response, and Lune was close to recreating their host's earlier rage. "Can you stop being cryptic? Help us understand our hostess so we don't unknowingly insult her." Lune thought that if Verso did actually care about the enigmatic woman, she could appeal to his protective nature.
And it worked.
"Fine. Yes, she's immortal like me," a hand ran anxiously through his hair. "Unlike me, she has memories of life outside The Canvas. She's a Writer, friends with Clea and... Verso. Anyway, Aline somehow got it twisted that she was to blame for the fire - even though she wasn't." He sounded so sure, but Lune couldn't stop the doubt creeping up her spine. "So Aline painted her here, to oversee the stories of The Canvas and not be able to do anything to interfere or stop the story."
"Maman thinks she caused the fire?"
Verso spoke slowly and chose his next words carefully. "She told me that, in the outside world, she helped tutor Alicia, you," he corrects himself with a nervous glance shot towards Maelle, "on writing and stuff. She thinks that was enough for Aline use her as a scapegoat for the Writer's Council."
Maelle, and the whole party, turned silent for a beat.
Lune leaned back and crossed her legs, "And what exactly does it mean to 'oversee the stories'?"
Verso just gestured to the wall of books behind Lune's chair. "All of those books, are someone's story, at least the ones she likes. She keeps them out here, so these ones can be read. Don't," he points to a door near the entryway, "go into her office uninvited."
Lune stood to take a closer look at the books on a nearby shelf. On the leather spine of each book is a name and a number. Running her fingers along a series of spines, she takes one from the middle. Distantly, she hears Sciel say something about checking for a bathtub.
The name of the book reads 'Fleur Rivierre.' She opened it, expecting some kind of bibliography but instead got a story that one would expect to be fictional. But, if Verso is being honest, this is someone's life story. But why would Fleur Rivierre's life story be written like some kind of romance novel? It starts in the midst of some school fight at a prestigious academy in Lumiere. Then the story introduces some other characters such as Fleur's sister Mary. Next, there's some love triangle and a heated love confession. And then Fleur and the guy going to Fleur's room and oh- she should not read the rest with Maelle present.
It really reads like the romance novels that would get passed around by the teenage girls of Lumiere. How can this be someone's life? In the mind of 'The Writer', do people's lives just get reduced to the dramatic parts?
She picks up the next, 'Mary Rivierre' the sister of Fleur. At least The Writer alphabetized her shelves, Lune could appreciate that. Expecting the same thing, Lune opens it to the middle of the book. It's poetry. Stanzas fill the page, the current poem about being overshadowed and forgotten. Lune flips a few pages, another poem about being a bridesmaid and being the second-choice. She flips to just before the end, the poems becoming about regret, despair, and grief. Turning the page again, she expects to see another poem, just to see a few typed letters before a sudden cut off. The remaining eighth of the book is blank, only on the inside of the back cover is there more writing. This time it is not printed but handwritten, it reads: 'Mary Rivierre died in the Fracture.'
Was Fleur's death recorded too? She picks up the previous book, immediately flipping to the back cover. 'Fleur Rivierre died in childbirth.'
What did Verso mean that their hostess 'likes these books' these were awful. Knowing that each story was a person, and yet they all died at the end of their stories. Lune shoots a glance over her shoulder looking back at Verso and Monoco. They appeared completely relaxed in the home of their 'old friend' Verso even picked up that creature again and was letting it clamber onto his shoulder.
"I think Verso would've been a great name for you. What do you think? Want a name change?" Verso whispers as he teases the little animal. It hisses into his ear then promptly curled up around his neck, looking comfortable enough to take a nap.
Monoco is already asleep, or meditating as Gestrals do. Maelle is picking at the dirt under her fingernails, not overly concerned about their current situation. Lune's anxiety levels are rising higher and higher. What if The Writer's plan is to get them to relax then write their deaths in perfect handwriting in their books? She turned back to the bookshelf and brings her nails to her teeth.
Verso sighs behind her before saying: "Relax, Lune. Other than being incredibly harsh at times, she is my friend. Sure, she can be unsettling, a little unnerving - but she's not going to do us any harm."
"There are about twenty books on this shelf, eight shelves, and three bookcases in this room. That's like five hundred books. Why does she have them, how does she have them, what does she do to them?"
Verso has a soft laugh before he answers, "The stories write themselves, literally, she doesn't interfere with anything, she can't interfere with the stories. Not in this place."
That helps somewhat, but what about... "How does she write their deaths? It's in her handwriting not printed like the stories."
"I've never asked."
Lune picks up another book and decides that she's not going to trust this lady.
Mid-afternoon - Day 1 - Monoco
Monoco would go to war for this lady. Lounging in the most perfect chair that has ever cupped his ass, he has never been this content. Paintress defeated, Renoir defeated, and in the company of some good friends.
Late-afternoon - Day 1 - The Writer
Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were expecting Verso and Monoco, you know them, they were easy to keep happy. Comfy chair, good food, and occasional sex (only with Verso, Monoco had never asked), easy enough. But three strangers? How were you supposed to entertain them? It's been years and years since you last encountered an expeditioner. And even when you did see them, you froze like a deer in the headlights then ran and ran when they inevitably chased you. There had been a few close calls, but you learned that climbing trees would get them to run right past you.
Only three days, three days and you would kick them out. Verso knows the rule, he wouldn't try to stay longer, right?
Fuck, this onion was being difficult. There was a wild onion patch about ten minutes from the cottage. The patch was mostly untouched because you had been trying not to pull all the onions at once. But with five and a half mouths (Monoco always liked to have a small plate of food - even if he doesn't eat) to feed. You would need all the onions you can get.
Perhaps they'd be interested in some faux sparring? Or was that too violent for the unfamiliar house-guests? They might get offended, considering their party defeated the Paintress and Renoir, that you would consider yourself to be on par with them. The onion suddenly jerked out of the dirt and it sends you flying back onto your ass. With a red face, you sweep the dirt from your knees and stand up.
On the walk back home, with a basket of onions and net full of fish, you caught the sound of Esquie singing a Lumiere-classic lullaby in the breeze. With some time to spare, you veer off course to the old yellow marshmallow. He has managed to claim a pile of boulders in the clearing for himself. His giant form is precariously perched on the largest stone. Even from far away, he sees you and he waves you over. You wave back, having also caught his contagious joy. "I've missed you Esquie," you rushed to confess once you reach his pointy feet.
His owlish face tilts from side to side. "Hello, little Writer! I've missed you too," he dragged in his signature Esquie-drawl, "Any interesting stories to share?" He asked hopefully, but you would have to let him down. Everything had been quiet in your neck of the woods for a very long time.
"I would say that you and your expedition are the only ones with an interesting stories right now... Once dinner is done, would you like to tell me all about it?"
He didn't hesitate with his answer in the slightest, "Of course! I will tell you all about it! It would make me happy to!"
"Thank you Esquie, it will make me happy too." Both you and Esquie waved goodbye before you turned and continued to the cottage, bracing yourself. Just opening the door felt like a herculean task. You can do this, you can do this. The door swings open easily enough, but-
"You cannot be serious," your jaw fell to the ground as Verso not-so-subtly runs over to try and block your vision. But you had already seen the damage. Perfectly shaped like the tip of Monoco's staff, and just above his chair, there's a gaping hole in your ceiling. You weren't even gone that long! "A few years pass and you forget one of the main cottage rules!" You start shouting.
"It was never an official rule!" Verso defends, as he stepped left and right, blocking you from getting around him.
You set the onion filled basket down and point to a cross-stitch on a nearby wall neatly titled 'Official Cottage Rules' and number two was in fact 'No fighting in the cottage, take it outside!' Number one was obviously, 'Yes, you really need permission to go in the office!'
"Okay, well how do you even know we were fighting? Maybe it was an accident."
Doing your best to peer around Verso's shoulder you peek at Monoco. "Was it an accident?"
"No, he started it."
Your eyebrow is raised smugly at Verso, but rather than continue arguing with you, he turned around to call Monoco a snitch. That started a whole new argument about morals, that neither you or the other expeditioners join in on.
While Verso was distracted, you were finally able to slip around Verso and head to the kitchen. "Whatever," you dismissed the debate, "You can make up for it by prepping the fish."
Verso trails behind you, ready at attention with a fake salute and everything. "For you, I would do anything."
Unloading your basket, your eyes level his from across the counter. "You willing to talk about the expedition?" You don't specify your curiosity about the Paintress that had resided on the Monolith, but Verso has already raised his shoulders and looked away. "I've already got Esquie to agree."
"I can try..."
Your attention shifts elsewhere. Trying to pry through his cagey answers never helped you in the past. "Hmm, tell as much as you want. Keep your secrets as much as you want," you said breezily with a nonchalant flick of the wrist. "I just want a break from reading stories."
As you counted your onions, you didn't notice him come close until he pressed the sides of your bodies together. "That sounds manageable," his eyes peering down into yours.
Stepping away, you push him the fishing net. "Fish duty, now."
"Yes, ma'am!" He grabbed the fish and immediately disappeared outside to clean them.
The tiny kitchen is all but ripped apart as you gather ingredients. While pulling it open, the stove's rusty hinges creak with disuse. You rummage around to get a decent fire started, and about halfway through - a lick of fire catches your wrist. Pushing past the pain, you continue to add the rest of the wood. When you're finally able to pull away, quietly cussing all the while, your skin is red, puckered, and angry with betrayal.
Moving to the sink, you cooled the burn with cold water. It stings but you hold it there for another minute, and in the meantime you curse yourself for not stopping and getting a fire poker. With a sigh, you remind yourself you'll be fine in a minute. It's just some pain. You check the burn again, this time, your body's chroma has already started regenerating the skin. The redness would fade away before anyone noticed.
"Are you alright?" someone asked from behind you.
One of the expeditioners, Sciel, stood on the other side of the kitchen. She has kind eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine now," you say because it's true, your skin is smooth again, only tinged with a slight pink. It still hurt, but that wouldn't stop you from making dinner.
"Okay..." she changed the topic, "Do you want some help with dinner? I'm not the best cook, but I can help."
You don't spend much time considering the offer. Four hands would help to get the cooking done faster. And if the cooking is done faster then the eating is done even faster. And if the eating was done faster, then the faster you can hide outside and listen to Esquie's perfect rambling stories. "Yes."
"Cool, so what do you want me to do?"
Oh, you hadn't thought that far. You were still undecided on what, besides the fish, to have for dinner. Your gaze returned to the piles of ingredients, eventually deciding on handing Sciel several potatoes. She cradles the potatoes against her chest.
"And what should I do with these?"
After giving her some instructions, you're both quiet as she carries on rinsing the dirt from the potatoes. In under a minute, she broke the silence, "You know... you've kinda got Verso wrapped around your finger."
"I don't have anything wrapped around my fingers."
She laughs, "No I just meant that-"
From a cloud of steam the girl, Maelle (not Alicia. Don't call her Alicia), exits the bathroom. Immediately Sciel beckons the girl over. "Pull up a chair! I'm beginning my interview." Sciel sounds a lot more excited than you feel. Avoiding their eyes, you shove your face in the icebox and try to pick a vegetable to go with dinner. Behind your shield, you hear the rickety stool clatter as Maelle sat down across the counter.
Regardless of how much you try to hide, the interview begins. "So, how did you and Verso first meet?"
"Which time?" You ask, now resigned to the fact that this 'interview' would inevitably have to happen.
There's no sound behind you. And you use the chance to pick the first green thing you see. Your eyes land on a cabbage. Mentally relieved with the choice, you close the icebox and face the others who are looking at you in confusion.
"What are the options?"
"There's time I met him outside The Canvas, it's just a planted memory, but it would technically be first. Or, there's the time I actually met this Verso with this body."
Maelle answered, "Both, please."
While rinsing the cabbage, you decide that you don't want to share too much. You never liked talking about your memories, it always made your skin itch. Just a bit of the story will have to satisfy their curiosity. "Outside The Canvas, we met as kids that had to attend our parents' Council meetings. Or more like, linger and wait outside the doors while the meetings actually happened." Shaking the cabbage off, you moved back to the counter to slice it. "We learned to entertain ourselves. But to be honest, I got along better with Clea. Together, we would tease him," you trailed off, slightly ashamed of the truth. You wished the memories were nicer.
"Come on," Verso whined. "Let's do something fun!"
"We are having fun," Clea said plainly while she sketched the same figure for the tenth time. Both of you had your respective sketchbook and journal up to your noses. The cold hallway chilled you to your bones so you were glad that Clea sat close to you, her temper always ran hot enough to keep you warm, granted you didn't provoke her.
Verso paced in front of you both. "Nooooo... Let's go explore! There's got to be something cool around here."
You didn't look up from your journal, too engrossed in the pencil-written poem in front of you. Next to you, Clea whipped out her half-gone eraser again.
Verso stopped pacing but continued whining, "Alicia is funner than you both and she's just a baby!"
"Funner, isn't a word," you correct. "You should say 'more fun.'"
Verso groaned, "I am going to have more fun somewhere else!" He stomped off indignantly.
"What rhymes with bone?" You twirled your pencil.
Clea hummed, "Crone?"
Ooh that could work, you finish in the line and read aloud, "The mischievous guardian of the trees, his whistles will lead you to your knees. Laughter echoes within a head made of white bone, he fears none other than the forest crone."
"Not bad," Clea praised, then "What do you think of this?" She held out her sketchbook to show a monstrous beast with far too many hands.
"Absolutely horrifying."
She cackles, "Perfect."
"Don't worry, I still tease him," Maelle replied, trying to relieve you of some of your guilt. It made your brow furrow in confusion because she's referring to painted-Verso. They're not the same. Verso is a different man than the one that boy grew up to be. You are not the same woman that girl grew up to be. She's young, so you'll excuse her words. Alicia- Maelle, you correct yourself, could learn later.
"The other time, in The Canvas" you continued with their request. "I was sitting by my evening campfire. Along came an expedition, drawn in by the smoke. They were curious, but bad things tend to happen when I interact with the expeditions. I grabbed my essentials, ready to flee. When I spared the expedition another glance, there he was. It was like two ghosts seeing each other."
"That's cute," Sciel commented. You cringed because the story wasn't really over.
"The expedition was decimated two seconds later by some giant flaming Nevron. He and Monoco had to track me down a few weeks later, once they were done burying and mourning the expeditioners."
"Less cute."
You hummed in agreement before putting the cabbage in a pot to boil and Sciel's potatoes in the oven to roast. Now with all your cupboards open, you now started fussing over the chipped dishes and bent cutlery. There wasn't a single matching piece in the set. The various pieces had been collected in your travels around The Continent. It never bothered you till now. Hopefully none of the expeditioners were too keen on their dining etiquette.
"Hey Sciel, where's Lune?" Maelle asked.
"I think she followed Verso outside."
The plate in your hand nearly slipped away and onto the floor, but you hugged it to your chest just in the nick of time. It hadn't really occurred to you until this moment that Verso could be... involved with Lune or Sciel. There was never anything official between you and Verso, more so a casual relationship that made the decades in The Canvas more tolerable. You two never felt the need to clarify but... You held the plate closer and shake your head to send the thoughts flying. It would be an issue for the sleeping arrangements that you had planned, but those could be fixed if he was in a relationship with either of them. It was a bigger issue for your heart as it kept sinking lower and lower.
Stay calm, use your words. "Is Verso..." that didn't sound right. "Are they..." no that doesn't sound right either. What about "Does-"
Sciel thankfully seemed to catch onto your line of thought and rescues you from your blabbering, "Nope. Verso is not interested in fuc- kissing anyone, other than you that is."
"What?! He kissed me last night!" Monoco shouted from his chair.
Ignoring that. "...Thanks."
"Next interview question: why are we only allowed to stay for three days?" Sciel was pointing to the 'Official Cottage Rules' cross-stitch, where rule three read 'You must leave after three days!'
"I found that three days keeps Verso on his toes," you shrugged. "The rule doesn't extend to Monoco, but don't tell Verso that."
Monoco sighed wistfully, "Remember the summer we spent on the beach? I've never felt so relaxed." You sighed too, that was a good time. For a few months it was just you, Monoco, beautiful sunsets, and some bootleg wine you had made.
"That was a non-answer," Sciel called you out and it snaps you out of your reverie. Damn, you wonder if she called Verso out on his duplicity too, you learned it from him after all.
"We did spend a lot of time together, in the beginning. We traveled around The Continent and we built the cottage together. Eventually, every year he would try and convince me to help the expeditions and then storm off when I said no. Then, every year he would come back oozing with melancholy and spend weeks reading their stories." It was then that you made cottage rule one to try and protect him from the stories you could lock away in the office. It didn't work perfectly, and after some arguments, some fighting, and some experimenting, rules two and three were made. "If he only has three days here, he spends it with me and not them," gesturing to the books.
Maelle's eyes had turned critical, and you read the look as her saying: 'You're so selfish.' Your head reels when you realize that her eyes are the same eyes Aline would glare at you with. You have to drag your gaze away from Maelle to listen to Sciel, "I think I get it," she said. "If giant flaming Nevrons attacked every time you were around an expedition, we probably wouldn't want you around anyway." It's blunt and exactly the point you argued to Verso for years. Sciel's reasoning even made Maelle's glare dissipate. You like Sciel, she has kind eyes, a smart brain, and she can call you on your bullshit. "It's cool that you and Verso both got the whole 'Tortured Souls' vibe."
You barked a laugh. Tortured souls, pretty accurate descriptions of you both. You've changed your mind. You like Sciel because she has kind eyes, a smart brain, can call you on your bullshit, and she can make you laugh. "Is the interview over?"
"For now, you're free of our questions," Sciel answered but you were pretty sure Maelle grumbled something along the lines of 'I didn't even get to ask anything...'
Perfect, because at that moment Verso appeared with six clean cut fish.
You wrung your hands together while inspecting the fish. You hum appreciatively, "You got better at this."
"Look at him, his ears are pink!" there's some giggling coming from across the counter and it doesn't sound like just one person.
You decide to let Verso deal with the ladies' teasing on his own while you get the fish roasting. When you open the oven door, a rush of steam flies outwards and up your healing wrist. It took more than a wince and a curse to stop yourself from dropping the pan of fish. The sensitive skin now hurts tenfold over. Regardless, the fish have to get in the oven, so you brace yourself once again and start to reach the pan out- but another hand takes the pan away from you.
Verso easily slid the pan into the oven and shut the whining door. Afterwards, he fixed you one of those looks you think he saves just for you. The look is a perfect blend of affection and truly exasperated disappointment. Ready to accept whatever injury you present him, he holds his hand out, "What'd you do now?"
The burn doesn't visually exist anymore but the skin still stings when you place your wrist in his palm. A roll of bandages appears in his other hand and that's how you spend the next few minutes silently getting your wrist wrapped. The other expeditioners have all left to the dining table, but they talk in hushed voices and try not to look at you or Verso, but every thirty seconds you catch one of them failing. As he's finishing he asks a quiet, "Why do you always do this?"
You almost answered with the truth, 'Because it doesn't matter.' The words didn't leave your lips though because you don't want to start an argument only a few hours into his visit. In your constant and unwavering life, your only constant and unwavering company has been pain. Sometimes the pain is the only thing that gets you up and out of bed, and you suppose that's better than not getting out of bed at all. Pain, at least, has been a better friend than time, who either stays too long or slips away all too quick.
Instead of answering, you peck a quick kiss against the back of his hand. If Verso's annoyed that you treated the question rhetorically, he doesn't say anything.
Everyone sat around the dining table with a display of food that doesn't look half bad. Verso sat to your right and with a slight nudge and whisper, Verso asked, "You got your journal ready?" Immediately you summoned the personal book and quill, adjusting it to an open page, you got ready for the one story you've waited sixty-seven years for. Verso cleared his throat to get the attention of everyone else around the table, "Is anyone willing to tell our host about the disaster expedition?"
Sciel and Maelle began with the start of the expedition, which you found to be similar to all other expeditions you've read about. Regardless, with one hand you scribbled down their various details, your other hand did its best to bring food to your lips - only sometimes succeeding. All the expedition members talked circles around each other, it led to frequent arguments about who killed what and who found what. You could help but notice there were certain parts of the story that everyone omitted, they made it obvious with their stuttering and shared glances. But it wasn't your place to pry. It wasn't until you heard something about Renoir that you perked up from your notes to interrupt their conversation. Your questions came quick, "You killed painted-Renoir? Before the Paintress? How?"
To kill a painting designed to be immortal was a feat that you more than occasionally dreamed of. It was astounding information that they passed over way too quickly, as if they didn't seem to understand the gravity that knowledge. Or maybe they understood the gravity in a way you didn't because just when Maelle was about to say something, Verso cleared his throat, "It's a long story, we can tell it tomorrow."
That was Verso-speak for 'Let's drop this topic immediately and never talk about it again.' Your brain catches the missing thread, painted-Renoir was still Verso's father. Family's complicated but, "I'm sorry," you apologized with your eyes averted. "How's your sister?"
It's obvious to you that Verso is concealing his true emotions when he answered, "She said that she's at peace with what's to come." You had never met painted-Alicia, and Verso never offered to introduce you two - so you didn't know if the words were true, but the heavy weight that lingered in his voice made you believe they were.
The conversation is picked up elsewhere, during their epic battle with the Paintress. Your hand is taking a break from writing while you watch their reenactment of the fight. Monoco is pretending to be the Paintress while Sciel is Maelle and Maelle is Verso. Its then that Lune asks the question that's been on the tip of her tongue the whole dinner. "Are you glad the Paintress is gone?"
There was nothing you could say to change the fact that, "It was inevitable."
"So was inevitable fate the reason the Paintress had to die before Renoir?" The way her eyes dart back and forth between you and Verso, made you feel like the question is less of a question and more of a test. A test for her trust and a test to verify whatever lies Verso undoubtedly told them on their journey. There was a chance your answer could fail one or both tests.
"No it wasn't fate, but it was the only way," you answered. "Renoir would've never left The Canvas without Aline. Even if an expedition did defeat Renoir, he and the Gommage would've returned later." Her gaze was less harsh than before, but you change topics before you make a mistake that gets both you and Verso in trouble. "Fate, dictated that a device like the Lumina Converter was necessary to defeat both Painters."
"The Lumina Converter? How do you know about our Lumina Converter?" Lune was getting up from her spot, eyes narrowed with scrutiny. She rose from her seat across the table, "The Lumina Converter was made by Gustave and I, so what do you know of it?" Her quick fury was making quick work of making everyone uncomfortable.
Carefully and slowly, you rise from your chair, as to not aggravate Lune any more than she already is, and head to the office. Right now, Lune reminds you of a mother lioness trying to protect her cubs. The office door swings open, then you find the large book exactly where you left it on the desk. It was next to another smaller book, the engineer's manual, but you know it would be better to keep that book hidden. The door clicked shut on your way back to the table. Still moving slowly, you hand the book to the lioness.
"Lumiere's Greatest Inventions: After the Fracture," Lune reads.
"The Lumina Converter was the last filled entry. At least it was when I checked." You went back to your seat beside Verso, and you might have hallucinated the small smile on his face. "It does credit you and Gustave. It's a decent book, I was able to recreate the Lumina Converter for my own experiments."
You don't bother saying anything more for the rest of dinner. Only telling Verso that he was in charge of cleaning and you didn't care how he delegated the task. As you went outside you heard him telling Monoco to get off his lazy ass.
"Mon amie, are you ready for my story?"
"Yes, Esquie. Lets talk till your heart's content."
Late Evening - Day 1 - Verso
"She's going to think you're a creep," Maelle teased from the couch. It didn't matter to him as he watched her sitting and smiling with Esquie. The sun had long since set, but there were several summoned lanterns floating around the pair in the dark.
He answered with a grin, "She already knows."
"She got jealous, earlier when you were outside with Lune, she thought you guys were dating and her face got all scrunched up."
"And a scrunched up face means she's jealous?" Verso did not follow but his heart did feel more secure knowing that she cared enough about him to get possessive of him. It was nice to be coveted for once.
"It means that she does not like thinking about you with other women so yes." Maybe the sixteen year old did have a point. Maelle was getting more and more observant, Verso realized. He wondered how much Maelle would glean from their vacation; perhaps she would learn enough to sway her from re-painting everyone. He could only hope.
Leaving his post of watching from the window, Verso sat down across from Maelle on the couch. Moxie appeared out of nowhere to hop onto his lap. She still hissed at him before curling up in his elbow. "Since when did you get good at relationship advice?"
"Since I had to watch everyone in this expedition struggle to admit their feelings. And I'm just saying there's only enough room for three people to sleep upstairs. Lune and Sciel already called the big bed, and Lune said I get the little bed."
Oh really? If she hadn't fixed that, it must mean she intends for him to sleep in her bed... or he would be sleeping on the couch. It wouldn't be the first time. "Well you might find me on this couch in the morning, but let's both hope you don't." He says with a smile, leaning back further. It wasn't a bad couch, with a decent enough blanket he would easily sleep through the night. It wasn't even close to the worst place he's slept.
Maelle shared his smile and then promptly yawned.
"Go to bed Maelle, I can wait for her on my own."
She sleepily nods, "By the way, where's Monoco? He just disappeared after dinner."
"There's a hammock out back that he likes to meditate in. She spoils him, with a chair and a hammock and I don't even get a designated bed!"
"Stop flailing, jeez you're so dramatic." He could hear her eyes roll, "Goodnight, Verso."
He peaks from behind the elbow draping over his face. "Goodnight, Maelle."
Verso knew he would still be waiting for a while, so he decides to kill some time around the cottage. First, he straightened all the pillows on Monoco's chair and 'accidentally' lost one of them. Then, he spent some time looking at the bookshelves, but he didn't feel like reading right now. Finally, his eyes landed on the kitchen. Maybe he could bake something. After all, she did make lunch and dinner, and no one can resist The Famous Dessendre Family's Cookie Recipe. He scratched his neck as he headed to the kitchen.
Verso looked through the cupboards for chocolate chips, and he found them right next to a large note card that read 'Copy of The Famous Dessendre Family's Cookie Recipe.' His eyebrows raised to exceed their maximum height. It was one thing to know the secret recipe, but to put it on a card for anyone to read was a violation of trust. "Did you know about this?" he interrogated Moxie on the kitchen counter, she of course, refused to comment. Verso shoved the card into his pocket to confront the cookie-recipe-thief suspect later.
Verso doesn't doubt that if he looked outside right now, the moon would hang in the middle of the sky. But that was when she finally deigned to come back inside, all the while brushing off the spare strands of green grass that clung to her dress. She looked stunning, with her frizzy hair and rumpled dress. Verso smiled, "You were out there for hours, I didn't think Esquie had that much to tell."
"I didn't realize I was out there for that long," she said softly. The words made him frown as he realizes her time-blindness must be worse than ever. If he asked her, she would probably only say she was out there for ten minutes. Before he can ask her, she continues, "Esquie did talk a lot. He also wanted to talk about his rocks and Francois." Drawn in by their delectable scent, she's lured to the plate of cookies, just like he planned. She's reaching for the stack-
He slapped her hand away, "You don't get a cookie till you explain this," he pulls the recipe card from his pocket. "This recipe isn't even correct! It doesn't have enough butter and it has too much sugar." There were other details wrong with it, but other parts were technically correct enough. Verso watched as an embarrassed blush grew across her face.
"It's good enough," she answered bashfully, then with a wicked glint in her eyes, "In fact, maybe this recipe is slightly better than The Famous Dessendre Family's Cookie Recipe."
He grips his chest just right above his heart. Old age has finally caught up to him and he's having a heart attack. "How can you say something so cruel, you wicked woman."
She shrugged and used his heart-attack as the opportune moment to grab three cookies at once. "You were so cruel in insisting I never know the recipe, and yet you only come around rarely. A lady had to learn to make her own cookies." She pours two glasses of milk, pushed one towards him, and then sat on one of the stools that teetered too frequently for comfort.
"Fine, I'll tell you tomorrow. But you can't write it down," he teased solely to get her riled-up.
"Do you even know who you're talking to right now?" She starts to argue, but Verso wasn't really listening. He just watched her face scrunch up as she rants, "A Writer. It's literally who I am." Her three cookies were already gone, and so was half of her milk. Verso sat next to her on an equally rocky stool, watching her grab three more. She still liked the cookies, a huge relief, but of course she did. Even after five decades, somethings just don't change. She smiled, "That's like asking you to not be annoying. Or like asking you not to snore in your sleep."
They were both having fun doing their never-changing song and dance. "I'll have you know, that I am purposefully annoying. And I can stop snoring anytime I want!"
"I'll believe you when I don't hear your snoring all through the night. I even hear it in my dreams." She comically shakes herself, as if his snoring turned her dreams into nightmares. She finished her cookies and milk, and then points to his, "Are you going to finish that?" He shakes his head and she promptly chugs the glass of milk before dusting her hands on her grass-stained dress.
"Ready for bed?" he asks, so curious of where she will let him sleep. She's definitely planned something, she always has a plan - even if they're never good. Without answering, she walked toward that door near the entryway, opened it and left it open. Verso doesn't need any more invitation. Following her, and closing the door behind him.
The office is usually a mess. Usually, there's opened books scattered everywhere, floor included, and the bookshelves are in disarray. But tonight in the dark, everything seems organized, sure there's a few silhouettes of stacks of books leaning precariously, but other than that, Verso isn't tripping over anything. The desk is still pushed into the bay window and every available wall space occupied by a bookshelf, so despite the jarring cleanliness - it really looked just as he remembered.
To his left, is the door that leads into her bedroom. There were various rustling sounds and occasional thud as she dressed for bed. Despite knowing every inch of her body, he waits outside to let her undress privately. When he does enter, she's already tucked into the right-side of the bed with the patchwork quilt pulled up to her chin. The soft lamp light helps him find his drawer at the bottom of the green-chipped-paint dresser.
Just because she's shy, doesn't mean that he is though. While undressing, there's the heavy weight of her gaze on his back. Maybe he imagined it though, because when he turned, she's facing away from him and fiddling with the lightbulb of the lamp next to the bed. He slides under the crisp blankets, murmuring, "Any chance tonight?"
Her answer was plain as she turned off the lamp, "Nope."
"That's alright, I mainly just missed this bed," he said and snuggled further into the pillowy mattress.
He didn't imagine the kiss to his temple or her whispering, "Go to sleep, dumbass."