escapeartiste | IC Inbox

From:

[as a matter of principle, gustave tries not to stare at people. it's plain bad manners for one — and past that, even he had gotten sick of the pitying looks he'd received before his apprentices had presented him with his replacement arm.

but he's still getting his bearings here, having only really popped briefly by his room to clean up a bit before setting out to orient himself in his new temporary home. his heart does a stutter-step when he sees maelle stargazing on deck — his mind hasn't quite fully wrapped around temporal shenanigans yet — and he stares as he approaches quietly. the blatant disbelief that it's her is there in his voice, like he's certain he's about to embarrass himself by speaking to a stranger with insanely striking but absolutely coincidental similarities.

maelle has never been caught in a fire, after all.]

You look— just like someone I know.

[he's trying SO HARD to play it cool because

this absolutely can't actually be maelle? right???? he just needs that confirmation, thanks!]

From:

escapeartiste

[Wholly distracted by the vastness slowly drifting by, Maelle doesn't really question or react when she hears anyone come near. She's been interrupted before. People just seem magnetized to loneliness around here. It makes quiet moments to think fleeting. Which is probably for the best, in a place like this.

It's when he speaks that her attention instantly diverts. Her peripheral is shot, her right side is blind, she has to twist around to find him. She doesn't actually listen to what he says, or catch a glimpse of the doubts in his words. She just hears him.

Unlike Gustave, her disbelief ends with the sight of him. There's a strangled rasp that's supposed to be his name and a hopeful step toward him. Even if she wasn't listening to his words though, she knows what she looks like and she doesn't look like Maelle. She can see the hesitation and the doubts and while she tries to reassure him, 'it's me, it's Maelle' it only comes out in more painful hoarse rasps of air.

Well, she's already crying, thanks.]

From:

superniceone

[it's enough to confirm gustave's worst fear: that something has happened to her after he'd died, that they couldn't protect her the way she needed protecting. he has a million questions — who did this to her, why — and anger bubbles up in him so hard he can taste the bitterness of it in his mouth.

but there'll be time for that later, because she's crying and his eyes are hot with a stinging pressure of their own. yes, she looks different, but her mannerisms aren't, and it only takes her one step toward him before he's moving to close that distance entirely.]

Hey, hey, it's alright, I'm sorry. [he starts to reach out to her, freezes — how fresh are the injuries? and will he be kicked out of his role of warden if he dismembers whoever is responsible for this?] I just got here.

From:

escapeartiste

[Even if he freezes she does not. She's already holding him tight as if letting go might risk him disappearing in front of her.

She doesn't get to ask if he's real this time, she's desperate just to believe he is.]

From:

superniceone

It's okay. I'm not going anywhere. [it's soothing, not reprimanding, and he does his best to suppress the tremor in his hand from the dump of adrenaline in his system as he catches her. voice gentle:] And here I was, worried I was going to have to miss you here.

From:

escapeartiste

[It takes time before she can look up and give him the bravest of smiles she can muster.

There's finally a step back to let him go, once she's confident he's really here. She wipes at her eye and digs into her pocket for her device.

She kind of hates this, but it's better than nothing.

She types away before offering it to him.]

I can't really talk so

this works? Mostly.

[Her gaze stays elsewhere. She's not really sure what to do if he starts staring again.]

From:

superniceone

Yeah, it works. [gustave is staring, but only because he's overtly worried. he reaches to catch her hand, giving it a squeeze.] Why don't we— let's find a place to sit down.

IC Inbox

Expand Cut Tags

Page Summary

Active Entries

Style Credit