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☼ sciel ☾ ([personal profile] searingbond) wrote2025-09-15 09:47 am
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attheendofthegame: (o11)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-15 10:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[Lune had thought... she'd really thought... Foolish, she knows now, to think her parents' expedition had succeeded and this year the Paintress wouldn't wake. Her parents are dead. She'll never see them again. But that doesn't mean their work is finished, only that she's the one who'll have to finish it.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she'll get back to work. Tonight she just wants to sit with her thoughts up in the Tower, where no one will find her.

She realises as soon as she arrives at the Tower's base that someone might have gotten here first. There's a bottle sitting forgotten at the bottom of the stairs, which she picks up curiously before peering upwards, as though she could see who might have left it. There's no one visible from the ground, but as she climbs, nearing her little hiding spot, she can hear someone speaking. And once she reaches the place, she peers in to see a girl about her own age, seemingly talking to no one.]


Do you mean this bottle?

[She holds it up.]
attheendofthegame: (oo7)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-17 07:46 am (UTC)(link)
[The smile surprises Lune. There doesn't seem to be much worth smiling about tonight, but something about this girl catches her off guard, charms her. There's something easy about it. Something that makes her almost want to smile in return.

She sits in the offered spot, opens the bottle, and sniffs. Oh, that's strong. She takes a sip and offers it to the other girl, trying – not quite succeeding – to smile back.]


My... parents.

[She tries to think of them, to recall their faces and not just the piles of books and charts and notes they left behind, but her mind rebels, starting to whir away of its own volition rather than face the feelings Lune was hoping to sit with tonight. She's had an idea about following Expedition Zero's trajectory, so she'll need to find any records she can on them, study what's known of the landscape of the Continent and how it may have changed, calculate their landing point...]

They were part of Expedition 46.

[The unspoken conclusion: and now I'm certain they're dead. And the unasked question: Who are you mourning?]
attheendofthegame: (o14)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-18 12:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Lune accepts the bottle and takes another sip. Her eyes dart across the city laid out beneath them, her thoughts too tangled to really process what the other girl's said.

She'll need to talk to that boy, the one whose sister Sol is dating. Gérard? Gustave? Grégoire? Something like that. He's an engineer, and about her age she thinks. He might have some good ideas on how to maximise the efficiency of pictos, and if he's planning on joining an Expedition, like she is, maybe— ]


I...

[Right, her parents.]

They were brilliant researchers. Now that they're gone, I'll have to pick up where they left off. There's still so much we don't know about the Continent, the Nevrons, the Paintress and the Gommage, what happened during the Fracture, what caused it in the first place...

[So many questions, and now they fall to her to answer.

She passes the bottle back, and finally properly looks at the girl sitting next to her. Pretty, with a lively spark in her eyes – her eyes look kind – and the tanned glow of someone who spends a lot of time outdoors. And pretty.

Not that she should be noticing that sort of thing. It's a distraction from what she needs to be focusing on.]


Do you want to talk about yours?
attheendofthegame: (o12)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-18 09:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[Her eyes are kind, and so is the hand on Lune's shoulder, warm and solid and gentle in a world that, all too often, is anything but. Her racing thoughts slow. Settle. At least for the moment.

Breathe.

She breathes. Her chest feels tight, despite the alcohol warming her from the inside, and her stomach is churning and there's is still an insurmountable road ahead of her, but she breathes. And, finally, she finds the wherewithal to return the stranger's smile, though hers is wan.

There aren't any platitudes she can offer. 'Sorry' or 'your parents sound like good people' are well-intentioned, but they feel... empty. Nothing like that is equal to the weight of the loss that they're sitting with today, and so Lune says nothing, just listens to the other girl describe her parents, selfishly wondering what it would be like to have a father who could be described as 'easygoing,' and feeling her mind start to hum away again. If she can do what her parents set out to do, if she can figure it all out, so many fewer people will have to grieve as they are now, so many fewer parents will be lost so young, it's all up to her now...

Breathe.

She starts to reach for the other girl's hand, but stops partway. It feels too forward, too vulnerable to offer that kind of comfort to someone she's only just met.]


Was it him you were talking to? [Some people say it helps to speak to the dead, that it keeps them alive in your memories. Lune's never tried.] When I was walking up here, I heard you talking to somebody.
Edited 2025-09-18 21:40 (UTC)
attheendofthegame: (o11)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-20 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
[There's a grim comfort in the idea of an afterlife, but Lune can't bring herself to indulge in it. It's the here and now that matters to her, what she can do to stop the Paintress and save Lumière. She can't bring herself to pin any hope on a hypothetical.

She can't find comfort in the possibility of an afterlife, the way her new acquaintance seems to, but maybe she can offer some comfort in the here and now. Her hand strays a little closer, fingertips brushing against the other girl's. It's tentative, careful, lacking the strength and steadiness of the hand that was laid on her own shoulder, but no less sincere.]


My brother and sister. Sol and Stella. I don't think they expected our parents to come back once they left on their Expedition, so... they've already done their mourning.

[She knows they'd offer her a tight hug and probably an admonishment to take some time off, but it isn't they same for them. They've gone off and are living their lives while she's had to stay behind and continue the work. They can't really understand what it means for her to have confirmation that their parents aren't coming home.]

And Tristan. He was apprenticed to my parents, so we grew up together. He's a friend.

[Her easy tone makes it clear that there's nothing to read into the word 'friend.']

Have you got anybody else?
attheendofthegame: (oo9)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-20 09:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Lune, [she says by way of introduction. Her fingers tighten around Sciel's, and she even leans in to the hand that brushes against the side of her face. It does surprise her, momentarily, to be so openly flirted with, but she finds herself unexpectedly craving connection. And she likes people who can surprise her, the exhilarating jolt of the expected that warms her insides even more than the drink has.]

I came here wanting to be alone. I spend a lot of time alone, with my books. There's always so much work to do.

[She doesn't look at Sciel as she speaks, her eyes fixed on the city below them, her hair falling in a curtain between them. Always so much work, no time for friends, or lovers. Her free hand rests on her leg, the heel of her hand digging hard into her thigh, betraying her exhaustion and frustration and grief and the complex web of feelings she has surrounding her parents even as her face remains impassive.]

The first time I ever went on a date, neither of my parents said anything, but I could feel how disappointed they were that I was wasting time on a girl instead of my studies.

[She looks back to Sciel.]

Despite how... overbearing they could be, I wish they were still here. I don't know if I can do all of this without them. And I... I'm glad I don't have to be alone tonight, after all.
attheendofthegame: (o14)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-22 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[We've got time.

She's done the maths; who in Lumière hasn't? She knows that on this day in thirteen years, she's going to die. And she's got twelve years to prepare for the Expedition she plans on joining. Twelve years feels like a lifetime, and it feels like no time at all. She can practically hear her parents in her head, admonishing her for even considering the thing she's considering right now — it's a distraction, there is no time for distractions, the work is everything and she's the only one who can do it now – but Sciel is so warm and her smile is so bright, and, if Lune's honest with herself, it's lonely being her parents' daughter. Maybe, for tonight at least, she can make the time.

For Sciel, she wants to make the time.]


I thought you'd be fending off a whole host of suitors. [Sciel is warm, bright, kind. Just a short time with her, and Lune can already feel the tightness in her chest easing. And the more she looks at Sciel, the more details of her face she notices, and each of those details adds up to a prettier and prettier picture. She's genuinely surprised Sciel's single.] I could... offer you feedback, if you're worried your kissing is that bad.

[Forward, and oh so very vulnerable. Her eyes meet Sciel's, trying to gauge the other girl's response.]
Edited 2025-09-22 19:39 (UTC)
attheendofthegame: (o15)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-23 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[The warmth of the alcohol suddenly feels like a candle flame in comparison to the roaring inferno the unfurls in Lune's chest when Sciel leans towards her with her lips parted.]

Good. Feedback strengthens collaboration. And collaboration, [she says, teasingly echoing Sciel's earlier words,] is an important part of everything.

[When their lips meet, it's a neat kiss that Lune gives her, by the book, a little rigid and careful. Maybe she's the one that that needs feedback.

She raises her free hand to touch Sciel's cheek, and she can't tell which of them is burning hot.

She tries to count the seconds – isn't it funny, how time seems to slow down in moments like these? – but quickly becomes so lost in Sciel that the time ceases to matter. For as long as she's kissing her, Lune's thoughts are quiet. There are no parents, no legacy, no siblings, no Expeditions and no Paintress, no books or charts or records. Her grief for her parents feels distant, her fear of failing them even moreso. No wonder some people choose to spend the day of the Gommage in a lover's embrace rather than at the harbour.

When she finally pulls away, face flush and a little out of breath – she's done this before, but it's never felt quite so intense – she has no idea how much time has passed. She smiles, curious and searching, as her gaze flicks from Sciel's lips up to her eyes.]


It's a good technique. [Enthusiastic, anyway. Whether it's technically good or not, Lune isn't in much of a position to judge. All she knows is she liked it. And she'd like to keep kissing Sciel, if Sciel would like the same.] But a little sloppy. You could use more practise.
attheendofthegame: (oo6)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-25 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
[As blazing hot as Lune feels, she finds herself wanting more. More affection, more closeness, more heat. It's as though a dam is cracking inside of her, freeing desires she's been unknowingly holding at bay, and every kiss, every touch, every time Sciel smiles, only makes the dam's breaking more inevitable.

As their lips meet again, Lune shifts in an effort to pull Sciel closer. It's an awkward sort of attempt to realign their bodies, but in the moment the awkwardness doesn't matter as long as she can feel Sciel against her. She notes the strength in Sciel's hands, the callouses on her fingers; Lune's hands, by contrast, are quick, lithe, agile, the hands of someone who works with pens and fine tools and guitar strings. One hand dances across Sciel's cheek, down the side of her throat, feeling the pulse there, around the back of her head and finally slipping through her hair, while the other settling on her waist, thumb stroking along the hem of Sciel's shirt in the hopes of finding the warmth of bare skin.

Finally, Lune pulls away again. It's unfortunate, but she needs to breathe.]


Practise does make perfect. [The smile on her face is positively goofy.

Her hand leaves Sciel's hair to brush down the side of her throat again, until her palm comes to rest on Sciel's upper chest, her fingertips lightly touching the pulse point in her throat. Lune can't help but marvel at the pounding of Sciel's heart, echoed by her own heart straining against her ribs.]


You're beautiful. [It's meant as an observation more than a compliment. Just a scientist noting objective reality.]
attheendofthegame: (o11)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-25 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[In another life, maybe Lune could spend years memorising the placement of every freckle and the exact shade of green of Sciel's eyes. In another life, they would have forty, fifty, sixty years to get to know one another, to decide whether this would be a casual fling born of mutual grief or the start of a lifelong romance.

In another life...

In this life, they have this, tonight, and when Sciel laughs another crack in the dam inside her forms, wider than the rest. God, she wants...]


Hang on. I've been practising something of my own.

[She scooches out from under Sciel and moves a few feet away so she's got room to hold out her hand and summon a blanket from pictos. It appears out of sparkles of golden light, laid out on the floor, heavy and soft and long enough for them to lay down on.]

There. That'll be more comfortable.

[She sheds her jacket without fanfare. It doesn't even occur to her to be seductive about it; she just wants the thing off. And then she holds her hand out to Sciel as she sits on the blanket, hoping to pull the other girl back into her lap before guiding Sciel's hand to the buttons of her shirt.]
attheendofthegame: (oo9)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-27 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
[Patience is important to every scientific discipline. A rushed experiment is a botched experiment, a hastily drawn conclusion is much more likely to be wrong. Lune imagines it's the same in farming; the seeds planted in spring can't be harvested til autumn, and there are months where you won't know whether your hard work will grow into something worthwhile or wither in the field. Right now, she feels right in the middle of one of those months, desperately waiting for something that she knows requires time to grow.

She waits patiently while Sciel unbuttons her shirt and slips it off, revealing the intricate gold lines of a tattoo curving over her shoulder and beginning to extend down her upper arm. She watches Sciel pull her own shirt off and toss it aside, revealing muscles rippling beneath sun-kissed skin. And she exerts a truly heroic amount of patience as Sciel's fingers start a tour of her body.]


I've been working on some elemental pictos. Starting fires, calling lightning, that sort of thing. It'll be useful, when I join an Expedition.

[Not something that feels particularly relevant just now. In this little pocket of time they've carved out for themselves, Sciel is the most important thing in the world.

Lune's hips twitch upwards of their own volition as Sciel settles fully into her lap, and she wraps an arm around Sciel's waist, hand sitting in the small of her back. All the heat in her is coiling tight and low in her belly, throbbing between her legs, and Sciel's light touch is nowhere near enough to sate her. She's only got so much patience.

She slips her other hand between them, brushing her fingers over Sciel's abs before dipping, with a curious, exploratory touch, beneath her waistband.]


Is this alright?
attheendofthegame: (o15)

[personal profile] attheendofthegame 2025-09-30 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
[Lune shrugs out of her bra, helping Sciel to get it off of her.

An affirmative mmmmhm is her only response to Sciel's question, though she also can't help a husky laugh at the joke about starting fires.]


We're both guilty of starting fires tonight, I'd say.

[She wants to ask whether Sciel plans on joining an Expedition too, whether she's got any interest in pictos, how useful she thinks chroma might be in farming, whether she—

Her breath hitches when Sciel's hand cups her breast, and she impulsively leans in for another kiss, trying to close whatever distance remains between them. One hand remains firm against Sciel's lower back. The other finally dips into Sciel's trousers, beneath her waistband and then stroking further down, finding her achingly wet.

That dam inside Lune finally breaks. There's so much she's been holding back, so much desire she's never allowed herself to indulge; even when her parents weren't chiding her aloud she could hear their voices in her head every time she so much as glanced at an attractive person in the street. There are more important things than relationships. Don't get distracted, Lune. You need to focus, Lune. You won't be able to concentrate on the work if your head is full of pretty girls. Perhaps her parents were right, because right now Lune's head is entirely full of one pretty girl in particular, so full that there's no room left for thoughts of anything else and all Lune can focus on is how badly she wants to lose herself in Sciel's arms. Maybe permanently.

In one quick, decisive motion, she attempts to roll them both over so Sciel will be on her back beneath her. Her hands settle on Sciel's belt, but she doesn't start undoing it just yet.]


I'd like to see all of you, too.

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