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Quadrature
The harbor was still silent at this early hour. Lune stood out on the dock, the waves showering her with their salty spray as she looked out across the vast body of water. This was what she had done every single day since her parents' expedition had departed, that morning after the Paintress had fixed the number 46 on the Monolith.
A year had passed in the blink of an eye.
Soon, the city would come alive with preparations for the Gommage at sunset. Flowers would be doled out, performances given, goodbyes exchanged. The members of Expedition 45 would don their uniforms.
Lune believed, no, she knew that all of it would be for nothing. The Paintress would not wake. The Gommage would not come. The next expedition would have no reason to depart. Even if everyone else in Lumière had lost faith, she knew that her parents could not have failed. All those years of long days and sleepless nights and blood, sweat and tears could not have been for nothing.
Nouvelle
｢Her｣ fourth birthday marked a turning point. Suddenly, there was no more time to play, or at least not as much as there had been. There were more important things now.
The sounds of Sol and Stella playing with Patte reached even through the outer walls of the house and into the lab — shrieks of laughter, playful barks. ｢Lune｣ looked up from where ｢she｣ was copying the letters of the alphabet onto the writing slate with a stylus. It was difficult. ｢Her｣ little fingers weren't yet used to the level of dexterity this required. That's why ｢her｣ parents had said ｢she｣ needed to practice.
"Mama." ｢she｣ began, then hesitated.
｢Her｣ mother looked up from the report she had been reading. "Yes?" she asked.
After a longing look at the window, which showed the beautiful weather outside, ｢Lune｣ continued with, "Can I play with Sol and Stel and Patte?"
A small frown crossed over ｢her｣ mother's face, as if she really had to think the question over. Her gaze drifted over to the wobbly letters on the writing slate.
"You're not done yet." she said.
"I don't want to practice anymore." ｢Lune｣ replied, feeling a hot surge of emotions bubbling up inside of ｢her｣ — a tantrum in the making, even if ｢she｣ had no such knowledge of ｢her｣ own emotions yet.
"｢Lune｣, this is important." ｢her｣ mother said, the sternness of her tone indicating that she was serious. "Writing and reading are fundamental. There will be time to play later."
｢Lune｣ cried only a little. Then, ｢she｣ went back to copying the letters. What else could ｢she｣ do?
By the time ｢she｣ had finished ｢her｣ lessons for the day, ｢she｣ was too tired to do anything but curl up on the couch with Patte, running ｢her｣ fingers over the dog's fur as he slept.
Quadrature
"I can't believe you're working today."
Lune tore her gaze away from the reports she had been organizing and turned her head to see Tristan standing by the entrance to the laboratory. She hadn't even heard him come in.
"I just want everything to be in order for when my parents return." she said.
Tristan was silent for a long moment before he replied with, "Yeah, of course." His tone had an edge of pity, as if she were a child who had just said that she hoped her beloved pet dog would soon return from the farm where it was playing with the other old dogs.
Lune resented this, though his attitude was nothing she wasn't used to. Not even Sol and Stella believed their parents would ever return. They clearly thought she was wasting her time carrying on their research, even if neither of them said it in so many words. Their parents' research had never held any interest for them. Then again, they had had a choice in such matters. She had not.
"I don't think they would mind if you took a break, though." Tristan said, the sound of his voice pulling her out of her thoughts for the second time that day. "We could go to the concert. I could introduce you to some of my friends."
Lune shook her head. "Sorry, I can't. Too much to do. I'll be at the docks at sunset but no sooner."
Even if she didn't look at him, she knew he was looking at her, considering her. Then she saw the movement of him shrugging from the corner of her eye. "I'll see you then." he said, and left.
Nouvelle
"How many fluctuations in the chroma did you sense?" ｢her｣ father asked.
｢Lune｣ had to think about it for a moment. "Five." ｢she｣ said.
｢Her｣ father made a sound of approval. He scribbled a new point on the chart. The line drawn between all the points was making a sharper ascent every day.
As ｢she｣ waited for the next task, ｢Lune｣ looked over to the other side of the lab, where ｢her｣ mother was showing the new apprentice how to read the labels everything in the lab was marked with. Tristan seemed like a bright boy, even if he was clearly a bit overwhelmed on his first day here. ｢Her｣ mother was firm but not unkind with him.
He was here to do the work that ｢she｣ had outgrown now: arranging things, fetching books from the courier stations, cleaning up any messes. And he would only be here for several more hours.
All six year old children only spent a few hours a day and a few days a week at their apprenticeship — the amount increasing as they got older. All six year old children, except for ｢Lune｣.
That was what it meant to be a prodigy.
Quadrature
The laboratory looked just like it had on the day her parents set sail. Lune had taken great pains to make sure everything remained as it had been for the past year. She half expected her parents to walk through the door at any moment, having returned from a walk or a visit to their fellow researchers.
It would be nice to have people in the house again. The only person who had been under this same roof in the past year had been Tristan, but he went home at the end of every work day and he only came around on the weekend to lure her out of the house. Both Sol and Stella had moved out several years before Expedition 46 departed. They had their own lives, their own homes.
Lune put her hands on her hips as she looked over the lab one last time. She was sure her parents would approve of how she had taken care of the place in their absence. They could get right back to work if they wanted to. Though, she supposed there would be no need to rush anymore. They would have all the time in the world.
Nouvelle
｢Lune｣ glanced at the door to ｢her｣ room, checking that it was indeed locked, as if ｢she｣ hadn't locked, unlocked and relocked it twice over already. It was a rest day today, which meant ｢she｣ had the afternoon off. And ｢she｣ had begun that afternoon by secretly borrowing one of Stella's dresses. It wasn't stealing because ｢Lune｣ intended to return it, yet ｢she｣ felt like ｢she｣ had committed a crime anyway and ｢she｣ acted accordingly.
Before ｢she｣ could think better of the whole thing — before ｢she｣ could chicken out — ｢Lune｣ took off ｢her｣ usual waistcoat and dress shirt and trousers, and slipped the dress over ｢her｣ head. ｢She｣ had never worn a dress before in ｢her｣ twelve years of life, even if ｢she｣ had secretly wanted to try it for over half of that life.
The looseness of the fabric brushing ｢her｣ knees and ｢her｣ thighs felt strange but not unpleasant. The way it swayed as ｢she｣ moved was nice.
Stepping in front of the mirror, ｢Lune｣ stared at ｢her｣ reflection in awe of how this little change made such a big difference in how ｢she｣ saw herself. The dress was too big in places: ｢her｣ body didn't have the right shape to fill it out and have it sit right on ｢her｣. It never would, unless ｢she｣ took action — a realization that had started to dawn on ｢her｣ more and more as ｢she｣ got older.
Now, ｢she｣ looked at ｢herself｣ in the mirror and found ｢herself｣ beautiful for the first time in ｢her｣ life. Something about ｢her｣ reflection just felt so right. ｢She｣ saw ｢herself｣ as ｢she｣ was and as the woman ｢she｣ could be. It delighted ｢her｣ as much as it frightened ｢her｣.
But there was the work, and ｢she｣ had no time for the things ｢her｣ parents called frivolities, so ｢she｣ returned the dress to ｢her｣ sister's closet and kept ｢her｣ wishes and dreams private.
Quadrature
The last little sliver of the sun was just starting to disappear behind the horizon when Lune arrived at the docks. A solemn silence had settled over the city after a day of festivities. Those wearing garlands had made their way to the place where she had stood every morning for the past year.
Lune idly wondered how that tradition had started. She supposed the docks simply had plenty of space and a good view of the Monolith. Not everyone followed tradition, though. Plenty of people stayed home or found different places to spend their final moments.
As she looked around, she could see Stella and Sol among the crowd. Tristan was here too. He even noticed her and waved at her. She waved back but didn't approach him, still a bit annoyed at him for this afternoon.
Soon, he would see that she was right — they all would. Soon, all of Lumière would celebrate. Soon, Expedition 46 would return and be honored for their sacrifices and achievements.
If asked, she would have said that she was here to see everyone's joy, to join in the celebrations, to welcome back their saviors if they arrived on this day. She knew she was also here to see the looks on the faces of everyone who had questioned her convictions, to see the condescension and pity wiped away by shame, to receive their apologies for them doubting her parents and the expedition. To tell her parents that she, unlike everyone else, never lost faith in them.
Most of all, she wanted to see their reaction when they saw her again. Would they comment on how much she had changed in the past year? Or would their reaction be as understated as it had been on that last day?
Nouvelle
With ｢her｣ heart pounding in ｢her｣ chest, ｢Lune｣ stood in front of the closed door to the lab. Behind it, ｢she｣ could hear ｢her｣ parents rummaging around and packing things up as they made their final preparations.
Neither of them had bothered to attend the Gommage or the Festival afterwards. The latter was still ongoing, though the other members of Expedition 46 would surely not be surprised by ｢her｣ parents' absence.
They would depart tomorrow. It was now or never. ｢She｣ likely wouldn't get another chance to tell them before they left.
｢Her｣ parents barely even noticed that ｢she｣ came in. ｢She｣ had to softly clear her throat before ｢her｣ mother looked up from where she was reading through the notes that ｢she｣ had compiled for them in the last few days. It was silent for a long moment as ｢her｣ mother regarded ｢her｣ with the faint curiosity of someone who would rather continue her work than be interrupted.
"I need to tell you something important." ｢Lune｣ said. "Both of you."
"Go on." ｢her｣ mother said. Behind her, ｢her｣ father turned away from his knapsack to look at ｢her｣.
Now that the moment had arrived, ｢Lune｣ was almost unsure of what to say exactly. Where to begin? How could ｢she｣ convey the way ｢she｣ had felt all those years? Would they understand ｢her｣ feelings of admiration and envy towards Stella, who got to wear the pretty clothes and style her hair in the way she did? Would they understand the way ｢Lune｣ had felt when ｢she｣ had taken one of Stella's dresses and put it on: like ｢her｣ mirror image looked right for the first time in ｢her｣ life? Would they understand that this was the reason ｢she｣ had been trying to grow out ｢her｣ hair for the past few years?
Surely they must have noticed the way that all signs of the expected puberty had failed to manifest on their youngest child for several years beyond their expected arrival? The Pictos ｢she｣ had had inscribed on ｢her｣ skin to facilitate this were usually hidden under ｢her｣ clothes, but surely they could make the deduction? Did their silence mean they didn't care? Did their silence mean a disapproving refusal to acknowledge?
Before ｢she｣ could drown in ｢her｣ doubts and questions, ｢Lune's｣ reeling mind found a foothold in one truth ｢she｣ had learned: ｢her｣ parents responded best to direct and unambiguous words with little lead-up.
"I'm your daughter, not your son." ｢she｣ said, ｢her｣ voice trembling so much that ｢she｣ almost couldn't get the words out. "I want to be called Lune from now on."
Finally, once she had spoken the words and the name aloud, it was as if it had become entirely real for her. This was who she was, and everyone was allowed to know it. The weight off her shoulders was unimaginable.
Her mother made a soft sound, a little "Hm", as if Lune had just shared a mildly interesting fact like her favorite color and not bared a vulnerable, raw part of herself to them. Her father simply nodded with a little smile on his lips.
"Was that all you wanted to tell us?" her mother asked, sounding rather distracted. "Or was there something else?"
Lune felt herself deflate. "No, that was all." she said.
"Very well. Your father needs your help packing. We're running out of time." her mother said.
Without another word, Lune approached the desk her father was standing at and started piling rations into the knapsack.
Her parents left the next morning. They never spoke of it again.
Quadrature
And then the Paintress got to her feet like she had done dozens of times before. The golden 46, nearly the brightest thing in the sky now, was extinguished with a wave of her hand. An equally brilliant 45 took its place. The storm of petals started in an instant, drowning out the remaining light.
It was as if the ground disappeared from beneath her feet. Lune was falling, falling, falling into a void that she would never return from. Ice crawled along her veins. She was vaguely aware of a terrible sound — a loud keening. Belatedly, she realized the sound was coming out of her own mouth.
Her senses returned to her at that. Her voice petered out. She saw that many people nearby had turned to stare at her. Sol and Stella and Tristan too. Her siblings were picking their way through the crowd to get to her. Tristan was already halfway.
Lune turned around and ran. She couldn't face any of them right now. Not now, with her world shattered so completely into pieces that she had been cut up by the shards of it. She needed to be alone. She needed a place where no one could find her.
Nouvelle
The first month after the departure of Expedition 46 passed quietly. Not much changed in the grand scheme of things. The work remained, even if her parents were no longer here to guide her.
The things that had changed were for the better: a new name and new clothes. Sol and Stella were happy for her. Tristan was too. Every time they spoke her name — the right name — a warmth bloomed in her chest.
One morning, Lune was in the middle of some calculations when she sensed eyes upon her. She looked up to see Tristan looking at her, and then quickly pretend that he wasn't doing that.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing." he said, clearly lying, though he seemed to think better of it because he quickly added, "I was just looking at your hair. It looks nice like this. Well, it always looks nice, but especially like this."
Lune absentmindedly touched the braid dangling over her shoulder. It was one of the several hairstyles Stella had helped her practice with. Her older sister was of the opinion that it was a waste of such beautiful long hair to do nothing with it.
Tristan let out a nervous little chuckle at her silence. "Sorry, I'm trying to say that you look good — you look happy. It's nice to see. That's all." he said.
As she let out a soft sound of acknowledgement, Lune considered his words. The truth was that she was happy, or happier than she had been before she dared to tell anyone who she actually was. Her days were easier and less tiring, her nights lighter and no longer filled with thoughts of what could be.
"Thanks." she replied.
For a little while, the only sounds in the room were the turning of pages and a pencil scratching across paper.
"You know, my friends and I are having a get-together tonight…" Tristan said at length, drumming on the edge of the table with his fingers. "It's nothing fancy, just dinner and some drinks after. I think they would love to meet you."
Something about this proposal made her hackles raise. If prompted, she wouldn't have been able to say what it was, but it made a hot surge of irritation prickle up her spine nevertheless.
Her reply came out cold and snappish. "I think we should focus on our work." she said, to which he immediately replied with an affirmative sound and a cough.
They spent the rest of the day in silence.
Tristan went home the second their work day was over. Lune remained at home until she could no longer stand the silence. Then she climbed to the little room in the Crooked Tower that had been her sanctuary for years and spent the evening there listening to the sounds of the city by herself, as she had always done.
Quadrature
The metal steps of the stairs leading up to the little room in the Crooked Tower creaked unmusically under Lune's feet as she ran up and up. She panted with the effort, her lungs burning, but she cared little about the pain — welcomed it, even. Anything but that icy numbness that was spreading through her.
If she had been dealing with less, she might have noticed the way the door was improperly closed, so that it slipped open with the slightest push. But she didn't, so she barged in and crumpled to the ground with exhaustion. Only after she had caught her breath, she noticed that she wasn't alone.
The other occupant of the room was a young woman who sat on her hands and knees on the makeshift daybed — constructed from a broken old table and several layers of pillows and blankets — and who had clearly not noticed that she was no longer alone. She was crying so hard and so openly, with great heaving sobs and wet streaks running all down her face from her eyes and her nostrils, that Lune was almost embarrassed to look at her.
But there was something else, too, something stronger than her numbness and her need to be alone and her embarrassment: the sense that this stranger was almost like a mirror, like a kindred spirit, even though they didn't know each other. This young woman's ocean of grief nearly had a presence in this room, like it radiated off of her, while Lune's own was still iced over. It would not hold. Cracks were starting to appear when faced with so much naked grief.
Lune got to her feet and shakily wandered over to the daybed. The cushion was soft beneath her as she sat down on the edge. She turned her head when she heard the young woman grow quieter. Their gazes met. Little teardrops were stuck to the lashes framing those striking green eyes. The loss she saw there was her own.
The ice broke. There was no stopping the torrent of emotion pouring out of her.
Suddenly desperate for comfort, Lune blindly reached for the young woman who was a stranger, found that she did the same. They collided, bodies pressed together, arms wrapped around in a clumsy embrace.
And then they did nothing but weep for a very long time.
Darkness had long since settled over the city when Lune blinked blearily, her head throbbing and eyes sore. The ocean was gone. Only a hollow space remained. Her cheek still rested on the young woman's shoulder, skin against damp fabric. There was a similar wet spot on her own blouse, where her companion-in-grief's tears and whatever else — she tried not to think about it too much — had settled in.
"I'm Sciel." the young woman murmured. Her voice had a soft, gentle quality even when it was thick and raspy from too much crying.
Lune had to clear her throat a few times before she could get her own voice to cooperate. "Lune." she eventually managed.
Sciel let out a cracked little laugh, seemingly almost in spite of herself. "The moon and the sky. No wonder we found each other here. It was meant to be."
There was no such thing as fate, Lune was sure of that, but she was too wrung out to start that conversation — especially with someone she had just met.
The soft, warm body against hers retreated, and for the first time she saw the face of the other young woman with a more placid expression. Sciel was beautiful. Lune felt her heart skip a beat at this realization. It skipped another beat when, after having wiped her own face with her sleeve, Sciel cupped Lune's face with both hands and used her thumbs to wipe away the tear trails there. The sheer intimacy of this gesture made Lune hold her breath.
Sciel was looking at her, searching her face for something. Then she leaned in.
Lune shuddered at the feeling of soft lips pressing against the corner of her mouth only for a moment. It was an almost innocent gesture, but the way it made her feel was definitely not. For just that moment, she wasn't thinking of the aching hollow inside of her chest.
When she pulled back, there was a glint of something reckless and heated underneath the weariness in Sciel's gaze. Those were the emotions Lune found reflected in herself. She wanted to stop feeling the grief, the numbness, even if just for a little while. She wanted to feel good, and she knew the other young woman felt the same.
It seemed almost inevitable then that their lips met again, truly and unabashedly this time. Which one of them had leaned in, Lune wasn't able to say. Perhaps they both had.
Kissing Sciel felt like freedom, like releasing a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding all her life.
Lune moaned softly when Sciel deepened the kiss, a gentle press of a tongue requesting entrance, which she allowed. The few times she had seen people doing this — the couples surreptitiously tucked away in alleyways late at night while she was returning from her hide-out — it had always inspired a faint disgust in her, as well as a curiosity how anyone could like that. Now, she understood completely. She stroked up Sciel's side, up and up until she reached the shaggy brown hair and buried her fingers in it. This seemed to encourage the other young woman more.
Perhaps Sciel pushed her down. Perhaps Lune let herself fall back. Either way, Lune found herself with a warm and pleasantly heavy weight on top of her. Sciel let out a little giggle and shifted, pressing one of her thighs up between Lune's, which left one of Lune's thighs also pressed up between Sciel's.
Lune inhaled sharply at the solid pressure, heat rising to her cheeks as pleasure tingled up her spine. Being touched there by someone else felt very different from doing it herself. And she could feel the heat of Sciel's arousal through the thin fabric of her skirt and stockings.
It was overwhelming in the best way: the feeling of hands stroking her body, the kisses, the slow roll of Sciel's hips bringing them both pleasure, her own exploration of the other young woman's body. Lune drifted on an ocean of pleasure and thought of nothing else.
Nouvelle
Not for the first time, Lune found herself annoyed by her older siblings. Perhaps she should have suspected something was going on when Sol and Stella combined forces to try and persuade her to come over for dinner at Sol's house. And though she had much to do, she relented when they complained that they hardly ever saw her, and didn't point out that nothing was stopping them from coming over to their parents' house to see her.
When Lune arrived, she found that more people than just her two siblings were there. Emma, Sol's girlfriend, lived with him so her presence wasn't that strange. Camille, Stella's partner, was a more unexpected guest. And the young man who looked a lot like Emma was the most surprising of all. Sol introduced him as Gustave.
As the evening wore on, this whole get-together seemed more and more like a thinly veiled excuse to set Lune up with Emma's twin brother. Of course Sol denied it when she pulled him aside to whisper-argue between the entrees and main course, but he did pat her on the back and muttered something about her being so lonely and needing to meet new people as he retreated to the kitchen to help Emma.
Lune was furious but managed to keep her temper in check. With as pleasant an expression as she could manage, she listened to Gustave talk about his work when prompted by Emma. He wasn't a researcher but he was an engineer — a distinction without a difference, according to Stella — which was about all they had in common. She reluctantly told the table about her work too, though she saw several expression glaze over in boredom, to which she kept talking to spite them.
Once dessert had been finished and Sol and Emma started clearing the table, Lune fled to the balcony for some fresh air and solitude. Darkness had settled over the city. Only the shadow of the Crooked Tower was visible in the darkness, where the massive shape blocked out the stars in the sky. She longed to go to her hide-out and forget about this whole night.
There was the soft creak of the door opening and closing behind her. She didn't look who had followed her out and came to stand by her side, as if by ignoring them she could make them go away.
"It's a beautiful night." Gustave said, putting his hands on the balustrade.
Lune didn't reply because she wasn't sure she could be nice to him — or anyone, really — right now. Sol and Stella would give her grief about it forever if she started an argument now. She was almost annoyed enough to damn the consequences. Almost.
Gustave sighed and briefly ran his fingers back and forth along the metal of the top railing. His smile was audible in his voice when he spoke next: "They're not exactly subtle, are they?"
"No." Lune ground out, despite herself.
"Should we say that I'm walking you home to look at your laboratory so we both have an excuse to go?" he asked.
She glanced at him. There was no double entendre she could find in his words or his expression, only the commiseration of someone who had also had this sprung on him. The prospect of being able to leave so soon did make her anger deflate somewhat. She nodded stiffly.
Gustave did all the talking to get them out of the door, which she was grateful for. Sol and Stella both seemed rather thrilled to see the two of them leave together.
To complete the picture in their minds, Lune let Gustave help her into her coat and also took his arm when he offered it to her once they were outside.
The walk back to her parents' house was spent in companionable silence. Lune didn't withdraw her arm from his even when they were long out of sight.
Gustave waited politely as she fumbled with her keys. Once she finally had the door open, she hesitated.
"Did you really want to see the laboratory?" she asked.
"Of course." he replied, a glint of eagerness in his eyes. His interest in what she had had to say during dinner had not been feigned either, then.
Lune gave him a brief tour. It felt strange to have someone in here with her who was not Tristan or her parents, but Gustave listened to what she had to say with rapt attention, so it wasn't a bad feeling. And, despite her resistance to the idea, it was nice to talk to someone new.
Back at the front door, Gustave extended an invitation to come by his workshop sometime to let him give her a tour. He also extended his hand for another handshake — the way she had greeted him at her brother's apartment — and she took it. Merely shaking his hand felt a bit cold and distant after she had said goodbye to everyone else with two cheek kisses, as was her habit, but she appreciated that he made no assumptions about their closeness.
"Goodnight, Lune." he said, "It was nice meeting you."
She found it in herself to smile. "Likewise. Goodnight Gustave."
As she watched him walk off in the direction they had come from, she considered the events of the evening and didn't find it all bad.
Quadrature
Afterwards, Lune and Sciel lay on their backs side by side, panting.
Even if she felt sweaty all over and sticky in places, Lune still coasted on a wave of satisfaction. There was no doubt in her mind that she looked disheveled: the top few buttons of her blouse undone, her skirt all rumpled from being pressed between two bodies, her hair half out of its braid.
It was the first time she had done something like this — with someone who was essentially a stranger, no less. She had no idea what to do now. To disguise this fact, she started fixing her outfit, and re-braided her hair.
But in the end, she didn't have to know, because Sciel turned to her and took her hand and asked Lune to stay here with her a little while longer. Lune would have done anything to spend more time in those arms. Her staying here wasn't even a question.
As they curled up together, Lune tried not to think about what the morning would bring.
Gibbeuse
Life changed after the Gommage and the start of Monolith Year 45. The clock Lune had thought stopped by her parents was still ticking, the guillotine blade slowly descending upon her neck, and about a dozen years before her own Expedition might not be enough time if she didn't dedicate herself fully.
So from then on, there was only the work. It was occasionally broken up by fleeting distractions Lune could barely even remember under the weight of all the knowledge and responsibility she had to carry: Tristan dragging her out of the lab on holidays, moving the lab out of her childhood home and into a large workspace to be closer to the engineers and other researchers in hopes of improving cooperation, meeting Sophie, being faintly aware of Gustave and Sophie falling in love.
Pleine
And suddenly, Lune was a thirty-two year old woman staring at the golden 33 on the Monolith and she found that her too-short life had passed her by. There had only been the work. She had done nothing she thought she might when she was still young.
Sciel, meanwhile, had lived a whole life in the thirteen years since they last spoke — one Lune had only heard fragmentary parts of through Gustave. There had been a wedding, many projects, and then two funerals separated only by a few weeks and a stay at the hospital.
Gustave had been there for Sciel through all of it. Lune hadn't.
At the time, she had convinced herself it was because she had too much to do and couldn't afford distractions. The truth was that she didn't know why she had avoided Sciel all that time, and still did, even at the Academy and the Festival.
Gibbeuse
The hospital room smelled strongly of the alcohol used to clean wounds and faintly of blood. Lune took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold.
Only one of the beds was occupied. It had to be Gustave who lay in that bed, but it barely looked like him. His skin had a pale cast, nearly gray. His hair was matted with sweat, strands plastered to his forehead. His left arm — the one on the right from her perspective — abruptly ended just above where his elbow had been. What remained was mostly wrapped up in clean-looking white bandages. His chest and face were covered in scrapes and bruises. He was asleep but it looked to be rather fitful.
A redheaded child was curled up on a chair next to his bed, her chin resting on her chest as she slept. Lune recognized her as Maelle, the little girl he and his sister had taken in, and who often came around to the workshop near the end of the work day so that she and Gustave could walk home together.
For some reason, Gustave's apprentices and the apprentices of the other engineers had all come to the conclusion that Lune would be the perfect person to deliver their drawings and well-wishes to him. Even she could not deny the sea of little faces looking up at her with puppy eyes. So here she was, with an armful of crayon pictures and some flowers.
What had happened to Gustave was a freak accident, by all accounts. Some ancient bit of Pictos work that had been set into a feedback loop and exploded. He was relatively lucky that he had only lost his arm. Two others who had been with him had been blown to pieces.
Lune set the drawings and the flowers on the bedside table. Then she spent a few moments debating on what to do. She didn't want to wake either of them. They both seemed like they needed their rest and she wouldn't know what to say to Maelle anyway. It would probably be best to leave them alone.
As she walked towards the door, she ran into Emma, who looked very surprised to see her.
It had been a couple of years since Sol and Emma broke up, after which Emma had moved back in with her brother. Lune hadn't seen her since, but it wasn't like they had seen each other every day anyway.
"Lune, what a pleasant surprise to see you here." Emma said, in a hushed voice. "Are you headed out already?"
Lune gestured vaguely over at the bedside table. "I just came to drop that off." A silence fell before she belatedly added, "How is he?"
"Stable for now. He lost a lot of blood, but the doctors said he should start improving over the next couple of days." Emma said. She looked exhausted, worry-lines creasing her face all over.
"That's good." Lune replied. "I'll leave you alone."
Emma didn't move out of the way. She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment.
"Actually, could I ask you for a favor? I want to put Maelle in bed but I don't want Gustave to be alone if he wakes up. Lucien will be here in a few hours to watch over him tonight but…" she said, and gestured at the way the girl was sleeping.
"That's fine." Lune said.
"Thank you. You're an angel." Emma said, with a genuine smile.
Lune didn't feel like much of an angel as she sat down a little awkwardly in the unoccupied chair. She watched Emma scoop Maelle into her arms and carry her off.
And then there was only her silent vigil for a while. Gustave eventually woke, just for the briefest moment. She showed him the drawings his apprentices had made, and he drifted off again with a smile on his face.
Pleine
The losses had come so fast and so close together that Lune had had almost no time to process them. She couldn't afford to wallow in her grief. They had to continue.
Only three members of the original Expedition 33 remained. Alan was dead. Tristan was dead. Gustave was dead. The fact that she was still here with Maelle and Sciel almost seemed like a miracle. Sciel had called it fate. Lune still didn't believe in that.
They had new allies now, of course. With the help of Esquie, Verso and Monoco, they had traveled to Old Lumière, and even made it all the way to the island of the Axon Visages and claimed its chroma after a grueling encounter.
Sciel had proven herself the better person and given Lune grace. It was more than Lune thought she deserved for the way she had treated the other woman. They had settled into an easy friendship, a closeness that was untainted by the past. They would talk during the nightly watches. Sciel would listen to Lune play her guitar with a rather dreamy expression on her face.
It was through this closeness that Lune noticed quickly that something was going on between Sciel and Verso.
Lune almost didn't believe it at first when she saw them talking and then sneak out of the camp together. When they returned, it was obvious what had happened between them.
It would have been much easier to bear if she could have just hated Verso for this. But she liked him, even if there was still a small part of her that didn't trust him. And she supposed she had to grant that he was handsome and considerate, which was the least anyone could wish for in a lover. Despite herself, Lune understood why Sciel had approached him, understood even better why Verso had taken her up on her proposal.
At least they were somewhat discreet about it. It was almost easy to ignore their dalliances. Even so, every time they left camp together, Lune burned with jealousy. It caught her by surprise the first time. She had thought herself beyond such emotions. She hadn't felt jealous of Pierre at the time, but then again, she had only learned of the man's existence when he had already passed.
The truth was that she wanted Sciel to look at her that way, to kiss her, to invite her to a quiet spot to make love, not Verso. But she had been too preoccupied, no, too cowardly to make this clear to Sciel.
Like so many things in her life, she had let the opportunity to say something pass her by until it was too late.
Gibbeuse
Sol's final year was marked by his restlessness and anxiety. He briefly got back together with Emma, then they broke up, then they got back together again. It was a pattern that repeated for a couple of months before Emma got sick of it and broke up with him for good. After that, he moved out of his apartment and back into their childhood home, where Lune had lived alone since their parents' Gommage.
Lune welcomed him back with a sliver of hesitation, but eventually she found that she enjoyed his company, even if he was rather clingy. Despite their occasional friction in the past, he really was a good older brother. They spent as much time together as they could.
Whereas he had spent the few weeks before the Gommage bursting into tears at random intervals, a calm had settled over him on the day itself.
For one day, Lune put down her research. Stella and Camille came over. The four of them spent the whole day together — taking walks, playing card games, cooking Sol's favorite food. People they passed gave him flowers for his wreath. Others left flowers at their door.
When the sun was nearly touching the horizon, the four of them went outside to the small garden that lay behind the house. They sat down near the stone that marked Patte's grave. Final words were exchanged. They held him when the time came. They kept holding him until the petals had all dissipated and he was gone.
The next morning, with sore eyes and a heavy heart, Lune went right back to work.
Pleine
Lune would never know if she was still the same person after the final Gommage and her resurrection. The question would always remain. Whether Maelle had simply reformed her from pure chroma or made a copy that merely thought she was still the original, she wouldn't be able to say. She didn't know if it really mattered. The person she was before was gone either way. The person she was before had been murdered with the others in Lumière.
And despite all the revelations, life continued. They had a mission.
It was on the first night after that Lune found herself sitting side by side with Sciel. Across from them, on the other side of the campfire, Maelle was curled up against Esquie. Both were fast asleep — the newly revealed Paintress completely tired out by the events of the day, no doubt. Monoco and Verso sat further away, their legs dangling over the edge of the cliff there.
Lune only had the briefest urge to shove Verso over the edge. It wouldn't do any good but it might give her some satisfaction. The worst of her anger had cooled for now, though evidently not all of it.
Sciel shifted, craned her head back to look at the sky. "What are you thinking about?"
"Everything." Lune said, with a sigh. "It almost doesn't seem real."
"Yeah… It's a lot to take in." Sciel responded.
It wasn't every day that one's entire world view was flipped on its head. The three of them were still reeling from it.
"Do you remember anything from when we were gone?" Lune asked.
Sciel shook her head briefly. "No. I was on the docks one moment, and the next we were here."
"Yeah. Me too." Lune said, and chewed on the inside of her cheek.
It hadn't been at all like what she had expected. The Gommage itself hadn't hurt. It had been more like a numbness spreading through her body, which was almost more frightening than pain might have been. There had been no awareness of the time they were gone. Not even a void or an afterlife. It was like falling asleep and then waking up, with no idea of how much time had passed.
But they were back and that was what mattered most. The shock of everything that had happened after their return to Lumière had made Lune very aware how limited her time still was, and how easily she could be unmade. She didn't want to die with regrets. If there was ever a time for brutal honesty, it was now.
"You know what the worst thing was?" she asked. Now that she had started, there was no way back.
Sciel said nothing but looked over to show that she was paying attention.
"My final thought was that I would never get to see you again. That I would never get to tell you how much you mean to me." Lune said, steadily meeting the other woman's gaze.
Sciel smiled, a soft and fond expression making her even more beautiful. She let her head come to rest on Lune's shoulder and intertwined their fingers.
"You wouldn't need to use any words for me to know that." she said. "But I'm glad you did."
Lune thought her heart might burst with the emotions running through her. She let her head droop down to rest against Sciel's in a quiet show of affection.
Sciel's voice was as quiet as a whisper when she spoke next. "I feel the same way about you."
Gibbeuse
Stella's final year was marked by her creative frenzy. Since a young age, she would always be busy sculpting or painting or drawing something, but the masterworks now seemed to pour out of her, as if she had saved them all up for this moment.
When Lune came over to Stella and Camille's apartment to see them the day before their Gommage, she saw that the walls were completely covered in art works, and every bit of space not taken up by furniture was crammed full of sculptures, and every horizontal surface was covered in little clay knick-knacks.
Stella and Camille seemed ready. They would be spending the day of their Gommage together, just the two of them. There was something beautiful about being the same age as one's partner like that.
Their apartment would be inherited by someone in Camille's family, which was fine by Lune. She had her own home and no need for this one.
When it was time to depart, Stella took one of her paintings down from the living room wall and gave it to Lune. There was little doubt about why her sister had chosen this one: a nighttime scene of Lumière, with a bright full moon hanging over the buildings — the heavenly body watching over the city in a silent vigil. The canvas was a small thing which fit easily in both her hands, and the texture and detail and the depth of color were breathtaking.
Lune held Stella and Camille in her arms for a little while after that, because she would not get to do it tomorrow.
Then she left, never looking back.
Pleine
Verso had promised to earn back their trust and Lune had held him to that promise. Finding the last resting place of Expedition 46 had done much to soften her up to him again.
When they got back to camp, after she had talked to Verso, Lune had taken the journal to a more secluded spot and cried her heart out. There was one sentence she kept reading over and over again: Her daughter Lune will finish their work…
Even with the weight of expectation placed upon her, this final sign that her parents had truly accepted her for who she was — even if they had not shown it at the time — brought her to tears over and over again. It made her wish she had told them sooner. It made her wish she had found the courage to live as she wanted before they were gone.
But it was still something.
The soft rustle of foliage and the sound of footsteps approaching across the rocky ground made her quickly wipe her eyes and her nose. It was Sciel. She must have wanted Lune to hear her approach because she could move completely silently if she wanted to.
Lune shot her a watery smile as Sciel sank down to the ground next to her. Sciel said nothing, just wrapped her arms around Lune and pulled her in for an embrace. Lune buried her face in the crook of Sciel's neck, breathing in her scent.
When they parted far enough so that they could look at each other, Sciel reached out and gently wiped away the tears on Lune's cheeks. The years had not made this gesture any less intimate.
"Stay here with me?" Lune asked.
It was a question echoing back across the years, the phantom shape of the room in the Crooked Tower around them, the imprint of their younger selves staring back at them, a different kind of grief filling them.
"Of course." Sciel said, and kissed her.
Tomorrow would come, even if none of them were certain what it would bring. And for now, this was enough.