“It’s true,” she says, firmly, and it feels like the same sort of optimism that brought Lune back to them. Maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s simple luck, but whatever it is, it feels just as easy as reaching out and tagging them between the shoulder blades with a card.
She wished she felt nearly so confident about others.
“And you know, Maelle, any time you need to talk, or want a hug, I’m here. You don’t need some old, smelly, purple-haired braggart for that.”
"So old," Maelle agrees quietly, voice strained from emotion. It shouldn't make her want to cry anew, the offer and the reminder, but it does, and she can't help the way her shoulders jerk as she sucks down a sob.
It shouldn't remind her of standing in that clearing of red and gold and feeling like the task of stepping away from Gustave's grave was impossible. How Sciel, so easily, had stepped in with a touch and an offer of comfort. A thing she needed, but never would have sought out on her own.
These things probably shouldn't be so hard.
"... thanks, Sciel," she says with another heartbroken sniffle.
Sciel shifts so both arms are wrapped fully around Maelle, closing her eyes as she rests her cheek on the top of the girl’s head once more. It’s miserable, feeling every shaky breath rattling her skinny little frame, but Sciel’s glad she can let it out.
“Any time,” she murmurs. “I’ll be here. And we can stay here as long as you need, d’accord?”
"I don't want Gustave to see me like this," she says. Either sad about Verso, or crying in general, or maybe both. "He's been upset enough, and I... I don't want to add to it."
“Then if your tears aren’t dry before then, or we tell him that you’re sleeping over and I can take you home in the morning,” she promises, voice soothing.
Maybe he’d worry, but she has needs too. He can survive a night.
Maelle doesn't like to be away from Gustave longer than she must. It feels wrong to avoid him because of Verso, and so Maelle gives a little shake of her head.
"I wish I could," she says with a joyless laugh. It's so hard to just cry when given the space, to feel it all, because every time she has it's felt like death. She hates it.
"I just... I just wish things weren't so complicated."
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She wished she felt nearly so confident about others.
“And you know, Maelle, any time you need to talk, or want a hug, I’m here. You don’t need some old, smelly, purple-haired braggart for that.”
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It shouldn't remind her of standing in that clearing of red and gold and feeling like the task of stepping away from Gustave's grave was impossible. How Sciel, so easily, had stepped in with a touch and an offer of comfort. A thing she needed, but never would have sought out on her own.
These things probably shouldn't be so hard.
"... thanks, Sciel," she says with another heartbroken sniffle.
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“Any time,” she murmurs. “I’ll be here. And we can stay here as long as you need, d’accord?”
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"I don't want Gustave to see me like this," she says. Either sad about Verso, or crying in general, or maybe both. "He's been upset enough, and I... I don't want to add to it."
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Maybe he’d worry, but she has needs too. He can survive a night.
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"I don't want to upset him."
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“Then let’s get it out,” she says. “You have all the feelings you need, mon biquet. It’s safe.”
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"I just... I just wish things weren't so complicated."
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She exhales into Maelle’s scalp.
“What will we do, hmm? We’re in for some rough times.”