I don’t know how much to share without violating Gustave’s privacy. [Or Verso’s, for that matter.] But he and I have been friends for a long time. We’ve been through a lot together… very, very difficult things, but never anything like this.
I haven’t handled it with as much tenderness as I should have. We didn’t talk enough.
Please don't. I'm... Working on not doing that myself. Not to him, but, you know, in general.
(Which is the bare minimum, she's aware. It is just very contrary to what she is used to, and it takes effort, and it takes thought. At least Sciel hasn't ever made her feel all wrong for learning now, so that's nice, she supposes.)
I don't know how you dealt with him, but you know. The feeling is probably, —don't quote me on it, I didn't look, he didn't talk to me—, but I assume of not knowing what kind of place there is to occupy now. Belonging is everything, from safety to identity.
No, no, of course I won’t, I just… he’s sensitive, you know, and I feel like I’ve been both extra cautious and also careless.
[She pauses for a second, just to figure out how to answer that.]
I think you’re right. I know you’re right. So much has happened in such a short amount of time, and we’ve had to move so fast. We’re still moving so fast! Figuring out where we stand with each other has been difficult in a way I haven’t felt in years, but… worse.
(Hindsight and experience are just such funny things. She could have done things differently, certainly, and she could have spoken. What for? The easiest reintegration was to step back onto her shoes. When she first got to Etraya, she first felt it. Memories that aren't hers. People who know her, but don't know, well, her, and it boggled and depressed her for weeks.
Normal is not horrible, but of course, she can only think in her very strange, specific point of familiarity.)
Music to my ears, but... In... Years? What do you mean? Wasn't the Expedition super quick?
[Some context is needed, here. She shakes her head and backs up:]
So. Years ago, before the Expedition, Gustave was dating my best friend. They really were meant to be, but sometimes it’s hard to accept an imperfect life when you have so little of it left. Maybe you can imagine why. But when they split, it was a little uncomfortable between us, for a bit. Not to the degree it is now, but it’s all connected. For me, at least.
[Sciel smiles, a little sadly, even if she can’t feel anything but joy at the thought of Sophie, unapologetically Sophie. She puts a hand on this Sophie’s arm, grip bracing.]
Yes, that’s Sophie. For a while I had to choose between them, and she needed me more, and he knew that.
[So it was uncomfortable. Both of them could be so hardheaded, and for a while she’d refused to entertain that such a good thing could be ended in a way with both parties still walking around in the world, having decided not to be together. But that’s a whole thing, and only part of it is hers to tell.
Sciel finds herself pausing again, anyway, lips pursed. There’s so much history there. For a split second she feels the immense draw of the ability to just pluck someone’s stories out of their head, to never have to explain the whys or hows or all the ways it links up. A ribbon stretches back through time, connecting her and Gustave and Sophie and Pierre at Aquafarm 3, and it knots off and leaves people behind periodically: in a terrible open sea, in a breeze of ashes and petals, on a cold dark shore. It would be a disservice to dump all that pain and misery and joy into anyone’s head, as if it is merely data backing up some conclusion. She doesn’t know where to start on this connection, how to make sense of it, but at least she’s got a start, just like a new one with Gustave.
She laughs breathlessly, and adds:]
Our lives are so short, but it’s still so much to explain. How far back do I go for this to make sense?
(Sciel had been the first to figure out how to talk to Sophie. Words that she doesn't need, emotions she can feel as her own, and all so very natural to her as breathing — she isn't opposed, it is her most natural state. To skip through her awkward little moments of discovery and confusion by taking a trip through the synapses of Sciel's mind is much more comfortable, but Sciel actually said something that made her reconsider listening in.
She said 'talk'. This is what she wanted to do, and Sophie... Well, Sciel very well knows what she can do, or at least, the superficial version of it. She'll offer, but either way, Sciel has Sophie's eyes on her, and her full attention.)
I... I mean, do you want — you know how to guide me, so if you want, I can just look.
(She taps her temple as she takes a sip, her eyes glowing white and a shrug.)
But I guess... For you, it's not the same as talking, right? I'm here for what you need, so. If you want to talk, you can talk as much as you want. If you want to skip the backstory and just give me the trailer cliffnotes, I'll do my best to follow either way.
I appreciate it, but no, thank you. [She sets her wine glass down.] So much of this is my perspective versus his, and what you see is so vivid –– I wouldn’t want my recollection to feel like reality. It’s better to talk.
[And Gustave will likely never tell Sophie. There’s so much Sciel hasn’t spoken about with him yet, herself, and so many conversations in their future that will be hard won. But the possibility exists, and there’s no sense in setting up some of the most painful parts of his own life to be a rerun to someone else, a show she’s seen before, told through someone else’s eyes.
Okay. Further back:]
Long before the Expedition, and before they broke up, it was the four of us –– Gustave and Sophie, me and Pierre. [It hurts to think about him right now, but she has to.] My late husband.
(It's actually better this way, although Sophie feels... Wholly unprepared to give the support Sciel might need without a little help. To each, their own delights and dismays of being who they are, and Sophie is so dependent on her telepathy to navigate the world that she feels a little naked herself. She pays attention — for exploitation, mostly, and that's never been her goal ever since she found herself in Etraya. This is confusing.
Sciel is being vulnerable with words, she finds, and she's being vulnerable by respecting it. Turns out, it's not just words that are said that allow one to be seen. She bullshits with honesty all the time. This is different.)
I — I didn't know, I'm sorry to hear. I don't know much about you, do I, Sciel? ... Was it the gommage?
[It’s upsetting to think about, sure, but Sciel feels remarkably calm despite it; compared to actually being in the fog, or the misery of that night that had sent her to Sophie’s doorstep, this is so little, especially with a friend.
And it’s worth it, to give Sophie a conversation like this. Something real, separated from the web of her own mind.]
We haven’t had a lot of time to get to know each other, but this is part of it, isn’t it? [That’s fine. Everyone finds out eventually.] But no. It was a sailing accident. I don’t think I would have survived the year after without Sophie, and Gustave.
(How fucking shitty is that? Not only do they die year by year, counting the days they might have to breathe, planning for shorter and shorter futures, and then something like this happens.
She can't blame Sciel for saying what she does. How devastating would that even be? A short life, cut shorter.)
Cripes, that fucking sucks, Sciel... It makes sense, though, and then they... Broke up, and you were displaced?
[She nods, her expression growing a little more sober.]
Yes. Obviously their break-up had nothing to do with me, but at the time I thought it was a mistake. I felt angry with them, in little ways.
[Still does, occasionally, at very odd times. What wouldn’t she do, what wouldn’t she find a way to live with, just to have Pierre back? But for her part, at least, she can say that the loss made her more willing to embrace her worst thoughts for what they are.]
I could have drifted from Gustave entirely, then, but I’m glad I didn’t. There will always be space for him in my life, no matter what happens. But right now, we don’t know what shape our lives will take, and how to fit them together.
You know, that's actually... I guess, for lack of a better word, kinda usual? It's easier to digest and go through things if we hold onto a different emotion.
(So, let's not look at the loneliness, grief and fear, anger is easier. Actionable, even.)
Do you think he blames you for leaving? He doesn't seem the type. And I suppose, you don't know what shape your life is going to take because you have a life to have now, right? You're not going to just, poof? Isn't that a lot to consider, regardless of each other? From what I heard, you guys were super ready to die, what was it again? 'When one falls, we continue'? I don't think there is an answer other than just, you know, continuing.
[Anger felt good, for a while. Necessary, even. But it can’t linger forever, not when it starts to burn away good things, too.]
I don’t think he blames us at all for continuing. We had to. But we definitely made a lot of choices that he wouldn’t have allowed, and maybe some that we wouldn’t have, either, if we weren’t reeling from losing him.
... Do you need to? Answer, I mean. Look, I'm sorry, I'm trying, but to me? Looking back never did any good. You were grieving, tasked with an impossible mission, fucked over in every way, and it's impossible to answer for everything in a way that makes sense to anyone else but you. It's done, isn't it? Isn't it... Better to just think forward?
We will have to, for some things. But some of those choices are a little too recent, for that. I’m fine with being taken to task for them. [A sudden twist of the corner of her mouth.] Definitely not fun, though.
[It will be hard. She’s certain of that. She’s also certain it’s worth enduring.]
In the fog, I had a vision of Gustave. I’m trying to decide if it was created to press on my bruises, or if it was my creation –– my fears about what he thinks of me.
(As much as she wishes she doesn't. She's pretty sure she can summon enough questions for Sciel not to turn the questioning around, so.)
Professional opinion, as someone who could make that fog illusion myself? It doesn't matter. If you're wondering if those were your fears, then there's a part of you that fears it, and if you didn't before, then you might now. The important thing to remember is that the brain is biased, Sciel.
[Sciel could, being quite adept at avoiding any conversation she doesn’t care to have, but she lets it go. There will be time for that, when Sophie’s ready.]
That’s true. But for me, it’s different if it came from my own mind, or something else. If it is a reflection of my deepest thoughts… it’s a rather depressing portrait of both of us.
I have my theories about what the fog was doing. I don't want to bore you with all the details, but what I can tell you is that it's not a good idea to take anything it showed you as an absolute truth, regardless of the source. What did he say?
(It's just things that she learned so she could achieve the same results — that she was taught, most precisely.)
I know it’s not the truth, it just feels wrong that it happened at all.
[It feels cruel to say what, like it might take on a life of its own in Gustave’s character, even with the note that he never would say something like that to her. It makes her feel uncharacteristically flustered for a moment, but she led the conversation here, so:]
He said that I’m not loyal. To the Expedition, or to Pierre.
(It makes no sense to Sophie. Up to everything that Sciel's told her, loyalty has been a theme. To her feelings for Pierre and her difficulty in moving forward. To Sophie. To Gustave.
I was split off from the Expedition early, in a fight we couldn’t win. I ran. We met back up later, but that’s where that comes from. But to Pierre…
[She draws a breath in. How to put this?]
Gustave never moved on from Sophie. Not for even a heartbeat. He just buried himself in work, and the future of Lumière. And for me, the only man I want to be with is my husband, but I can’t just be alone, either.
[It’s strange, being widowed. There’s no new memories to make. She’d had to let the potential of more of him go. She’d had to accept that she’d absorbed every bit of him she could, and that she would lose parts and forget things, but they will still be with her, like lyrics to a song she hadn’t heard in a decade, ready to burst forth when the music starts to play. What do you do? Never listen to music again?
She looks at Sophie, bottom lip pushed up for an instant.]
I think it’s fine for me to find comfort in someone else. I know Gustave wants me to be happy, too, he really does want the best for me. But I’m sleeping with someone he has reasons to dislike, and it makes conversation between us very complicated. I haven’t made the best choices in that.
(When Sciel clarified that she wanted to talk, Sophie hesitated. She made it clear, or so she hopes, that this is not exactly where she shines, although that's not wholly true. Being genuinely helpful, without hidden plans or agendas, and without the aid of streams of thought, is the issue. She's not trying to sway Sciel one way or another, gather, or use. There's no cheating of knowing exactly what to say and how to say it, and she's lost on how to help. Is talking truly enough?
She assumed, as the conversation unfolded, that she wanted to understand the fog. Sophie knows how tos — same effects, same feelings, a deeper understanding of the inner workings of the mind, and she thought that perhaps this had been the reason why Sciel asked her to talk. It doesn't seem to be it.
She can just listen, but is listening truly enough? She's so behind on this personhood thing, and when she's stunned like this is when she realizes it most.)
... Okay. So, let me put all the facts together, paint a picture of the whole thing. You have a late husband, who was friends with Gustave, who is in love with a woman he had a falling out with because the whole existing-in-your-world is depressing. Gustave died, you are sleeping with someone he doesn't trust, which is making you think about how Gustave sees Sophie — and you're fighting? Or, well, you're fighting about it?
... Do you have reasons to trust the person you're fucking?
[This is raw, but it's a bit of a gamble, too; she can see Sophie struggling a little to keep up even before she recaps it all, but this is human, this is human conversation. There is no dumping it all into someone's mind, fully-formed, not when it means losing out on getting to know a person.]
Right. And more than that, it's making me think about how much our lives have changed, often outside of our control. He's always had big dreams for the future, and he wants the best for others, but it doesn't always work out that way. And I've made that harder, in some ways.
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[Okay, so the gist. That’s enough to go on.]
I don’t know how much to share without violating Gustave’s privacy. [Or Verso’s, for that matter.] But he and I have been friends for a long time. We’ve been through a lot together… very, very difficult things, but never anything like this.
I haven’t handled it with as much tenderness as I should have. We didn’t talk enough.
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(Which is the bare minimum, she's aware. It is just very contrary to what she is used to, and it takes effort, and it takes thought. At least Sciel hasn't ever made her feel all wrong for learning now, so that's nice, she supposes.)
I don't know how you dealt with him, but you know. The feeling is probably, —don't quote me on it, I didn't look, he didn't talk to me—, but I assume of not knowing what kind of place there is to occupy now. Belonging is everything, from safety to identity.
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[She pauses for a second, just to figure out how to answer that.]
I think you’re right. I know you’re right. So much has happened in such a short amount of time, and we’ve had to move so fast. We’re still moving so fast! Figuring out where we stand with each other has been difficult in a way I haven’t felt in years, but… worse.
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(Hindsight and experience are just such funny things. She could have done things differently, certainly, and she could have spoken. What for? The easiest reintegration was to step back onto her shoes. When she first got to Etraya, she first felt it. Memories that aren't hers. People who know her, but don't know, well, her, and it boggled and depressed her for weeks.
Normal is not horrible, but of course, she can only think in her very strange, specific point of familiarity.)
Music to my ears, but... In... Years? What do you mean? Wasn't the Expedition super quick?
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[Some context is needed, here. She shakes her head and backs up:]
So. Years ago, before the Expedition, Gustave was dating my best friend. They really were meant to be, but sometimes it’s hard to accept an imperfect life when you have so little of it left. Maybe you can imagine why. But when they split, it was a little uncomfortable between us, for a bit. Not to the degree it is now, but it’s all connected. For me, at least.
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Wait! That's Sophie?! I know there's a Sophie.
(She's even holding Sciel's arm because woah, groundbreaking news. A mystery solved.)
Wait, no, rewind. Connected how? From my understanding, these two things are separate, no?
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Yes, that’s Sophie. For a while I had to choose between them, and she needed me more, and he knew that.
[So it was uncomfortable. Both of them could be so hardheaded, and for a while she’d refused to entertain that such a good thing could be ended in a way with both parties still walking around in the world, having decided not to be together. But that’s a whole thing, and only part of it is hers to tell.
Sciel finds herself pausing again, anyway, lips pursed. There’s so much history there. For a split second she feels the immense draw of the ability to just pluck someone’s stories out of their head, to never have to explain the whys or hows or all the ways it links up. A ribbon stretches back through time, connecting her and Gustave and Sophie and Pierre at Aquafarm 3, and it knots off and leaves people behind periodically: in a terrible open sea, in a breeze of ashes and petals, on a cold dark shore. It would be a disservice to dump all that pain and misery and joy into anyone’s head, as if it is merely data backing up some conclusion. She doesn’t know where to start on this connection, how to make sense of it, but at least she’s got a start, just like a new one with Gustave.
She laughs breathlessly, and adds:]
Our lives are so short, but it’s still so much to explain. How far back do I go for this to make sense?
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She said 'talk'. This is what she wanted to do, and Sophie... Well, Sciel very well knows what she can do, or at least, the superficial version of it. She'll offer, but either way, Sciel has Sophie's eyes on her, and her full attention.)
I... I mean, do you want — you know how to guide me, so if you want, I can just look.
(She taps her temple as she takes a sip, her eyes glowing white and a shrug.)
But I guess... For you, it's not the same as talking, right? I'm here for what you need, so. If you want to talk, you can talk as much as you want. If you want to skip the backstory and just give me the trailer cliffnotes, I'll do my best to follow either way.
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[And Gustave will likely never tell Sophie. There’s so much Sciel hasn’t spoken about with him yet, herself, and so many conversations in their future that will be hard won. But the possibility exists, and there’s no sense in setting up some of the most painful parts of his own life to be a rerun to someone else, a show she’s seen before, told through someone else’s eyes.
Okay. Further back:]
Long before the Expedition, and before they broke up, it was the four of us –– Gustave and Sophie, me and Pierre. [It hurts to think about him right now, but she has to.] My late husband.
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Sciel is being vulnerable with words, she finds, and she's being vulnerable by respecting it. Turns out, it's not just words that are said that allow one to be seen. She bullshits with honesty all the time. This is different.)
I — I didn't know, I'm sorry to hear. I don't know much about you, do I, Sciel? ... Was it the gommage?
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And it’s worth it, to give Sophie a conversation like this. Something real, separated from the web of her own mind.]
We haven’t had a lot of time to get to know each other, but this is part of it, isn’t it? [That’s fine. Everyone finds out eventually.] But no. It was a sailing accident. I don’t think I would have survived the year after without Sophie, and Gustave.
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She can't blame Sciel for saying what she does. How devastating would that even be? A short life, cut shorter.)
Cripes, that fucking sucks, Sciel... It makes sense, though, and then they... Broke up, and you were displaced?
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Yes. Obviously their break-up had nothing to do with me, but at the time I thought it was a mistake. I felt angry with them, in little ways.
[Still does, occasionally, at very odd times. What wouldn’t she do, what wouldn’t she find a way to live with, just to have Pierre back? But for her part, at least, she can say that the loss made her more willing to embrace her worst thoughts for what they are.]
I could have drifted from Gustave entirely, then, but I’m glad I didn’t. There will always be space for him in my life, no matter what happens. But right now, we don’t know what shape our lives will take, and how to fit them together.
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(So, let's not look at the loneliness, grief and fear, anger is easier. Actionable, even.)
Do you think he blames you for leaving? He doesn't seem the type. And I suppose, you don't know what shape your life is going to take because you have a life to have now, right? You're not going to just, poof? Isn't that a lot to consider, regardless of each other? From what I heard, you guys were super ready to die, what was it again? 'When one falls, we continue'? I don't think there is an answer other than just, you know, continuing.
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I don’t think he blames us at all for continuing. We had to. But we definitely made a lot of choices that he wouldn’t have allowed, and maybe some that we wouldn’t have, either, if we weren’t reeling from losing him.
[She looks at her wine glass and sighs, softly.]
It’s difficult to answer for choices I’ve made.
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(She's asking so genuinely.)
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[It will be hard. She’s certain of that. She’s also certain it’s worth enduring.]
In the fog, I had a vision of Gustave. I’m trying to decide if it was created to press on my bruises, or if it was my creation –– my fears about what he thinks of me.
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(As much as she wishes she doesn't. She's pretty sure she can summon enough questions for Sciel not to turn the questioning around, so.)
Professional opinion, as someone who could make that fog illusion myself? It doesn't matter. If you're wondering if those were your fears, then there's a part of you that fears it, and if you didn't before, then you might now. The important thing to remember is that the brain is biased, Sciel.
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That’s true. But for me, it’s different if it came from my own mind, or something else. If it is a reflection of my deepest thoughts… it’s a rather depressing portrait of both of us.
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(It's just things that she learned so she could achieve the same results — that she was taught, most precisely.)
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[It feels cruel to say what, like it might take on a life of its own in Gustave’s character, even with the note that he never would say something like that to her. It makes her feel uncharacteristically flustered for a moment, but she led the conversation here, so:]
He said that I’m not loyal. To the Expedition, or to Pierre.
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(It makes no sense to Sophie. Up to everything that Sciel's told her, loyalty has been a theme. To her feelings for Pierre and her difficulty in moving forward. To Sophie. To Gustave.
Choices.)
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[She draws a breath in. How to put this?]
Gustave never moved on from Sophie. Not for even a heartbeat. He just buried himself in work, and the future of Lumière. And for me, the only man I want to be with is my husband, but I can’t just be alone, either.
[It’s strange, being widowed. There’s no new memories to make. She’d had to let the potential of more of him go. She’d had to accept that she’d absorbed every bit of him she could, and that she would lose parts and forget things, but they will still be with her, like lyrics to a song she hadn’t heard in a decade, ready to burst forth when the music starts to play. What do you do? Never listen to music again?
She looks at Sophie, bottom lip pushed up for an instant.]
I think it’s fine for me to find comfort in someone else. I know Gustave wants me to be happy, too, he really does want the best for me. But I’m sleeping with someone he has reasons to dislike, and it makes conversation between us very complicated. I haven’t made the best choices in that.
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She assumed, as the conversation unfolded, that she wanted to understand the fog. Sophie knows how tos — same effects, same feelings, a deeper understanding of the inner workings of the mind, and she thought that perhaps this had been the reason why Sciel asked her to talk. It doesn't seem to be it.
She can just listen, but is listening truly enough? She's so behind on this personhood thing, and when she's stunned like this is when she realizes it most.)
... Okay. So, let me put all the facts together, paint a picture of the whole thing. You have a late husband, who was friends with Gustave, who is in love with a woman he had a falling out with because the whole existing-in-your-world is depressing. Gustave died, you are sleeping with someone he doesn't trust, which is making you think about how Gustave sees Sophie — and you're fighting? Or, well, you're fighting about it?
... Do you have reasons to trust the person you're fucking?
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Right. And more than that, it's making me think about how much our lives have changed, often outside of our control. He's always had big dreams for the future, and he wants the best for others, but it doesn't always work out that way. And I've made that harder, in some ways.
[As for Verso...]
But yes, I do trust him. He has a good heart.
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