It's not that Verso dislikes their company -- he finds himself missing the rest of the Expedition's company more often than not. Sometimes it seems like its not that different from his previous years on the Continent: its just nice to get a break from all the damn lies, and the only way to do that was to get away from everyone he has to lie to. But it's worse, and he knows it is, when this was the team that followed him to the end of the world, when this was the team that he remembers choosing to still fight by his side even after everything was pulled into light.
But they don't remember. Any of it. It burns worse and worse, makes all the lies feel that much heavier. Clea being gone shouldn't hurt, not when she wasn't at all the sister he knew and loved -- but it does hurt. And none of them remember meeting her, remember being there when they watched her drive blade after blade of her own nevrons through her own body. None of them remember hearing the anguish in his voice when he tried to call out to her.
The cold and the snow are comfortable, if anything. Verso's uniform isn't as warm as it could be, but the cold of the mountains is a mostly a fond memory, even if it makes him all the more aware of how he's not even keeping Monoco at his side. He hears someone else's footsteps crunching through the snow, but doesn't think too much of it -- he's not the only person who likes to quietly mill around the woods.
But then he hears it again, and closer. And again. Someone is here, on the same trail, or maybe on his trail? A few time he stops and squints through the trees, not quite seeing anyone, maybe movement, a shape, but the next time the figure is that much closer.
"-- Sciel?"
Huh.
Wait.
"Wait, wait wait waitwait--"
Too late. She's barreling towards him, utterly determined, and Verso barely has time to entirely process what's happening. He reacts on instinct, only just barely managing to catch her, his arms tight around her as her sheer momentum sends him tumbling back a few clumsy, staggering steps. It's less a graceful catch and into a spin, more of a man teetering on the edge of falling over, and he only just manages partially thanks to his boots somewhat sunk into the snow.
No waiting here. Sciel latches onto him mid-air, arms around his neck, one leg around his waist, her heart stopping momentarily as they lurch into a fast circle, her head spinning as she’s abruptly turned. Was this stupid? Oh well. If they’re both about to end up on their asses in the snow, at least she’ll get her comeuppance by breaking his fall.
But he manages, and she does take mercy enough to put one foot down, hopping a little on her toes to help slow momentum.
“Good catch!” she says, another laugh just off her breath. She gives him a thumping pat on the back, and cranes her neck back enough to get a good look at his face. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “Have to keep you on your toes, you know.”
And besides, if he can occupy her mind as much as he does, she’s not going to hesitate to press herself into his company in turn. Someone has to maintain a tether between them all, lest he drift off on his own entirely. It might as well be her.
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But they don't remember. Any of it. It burns worse and worse, makes all the lies feel that much heavier. Clea being gone shouldn't hurt, not when she wasn't at all the sister he knew and loved -- but it does hurt. And none of them remember meeting her, remember being there when they watched her drive blade after blade of her own nevrons through her own body. None of them remember hearing the anguish in his voice when he tried to call out to her.
The cold and the snow are comfortable, if anything. Verso's uniform isn't as warm as it could be, but the cold of the mountains is a mostly a fond memory, even if it makes him all the more aware of how he's not even keeping Monoco at his side. He hears someone else's footsteps crunching through the snow, but doesn't think too much of it -- he's not the only person who likes to quietly mill around the woods.
But then he hears it again, and closer. And again. Someone is here, on the same trail, or maybe on his trail? A few time he stops and squints through the trees, not quite seeing anyone, maybe movement, a shape, but the next time the figure is that much closer.
"-- Sciel?"
Huh.
Wait.
"Wait, wait wait waitwait--"
Too late. She's barreling towards him, utterly determined, and Verso barely has time to entirely process what's happening. He reacts on instinct, only just barely managing to catch her, his arms tight around her as her sheer momentum sends him tumbling back a few clumsy, staggering steps. It's less a graceful catch and into a spin, more of a man teetering on the edge of falling over, and he only just manages partially thanks to his boots somewhat sunk into the snow.
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But he manages, and she does take mercy enough to put one foot down, hopping a little on her toes to help slow momentum.
“Good catch!” she says, another laugh just off her breath. She gives him a thumping pat on the back, and cranes her neck back enough to get a good look at his face. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “Have to keep you on your toes, you know.”
And besides, if he can occupy her mind as much as he does, she’s not going to hesitate to press herself into his company in turn. Someone has to maintain a tether between them all, lest he drift off on his own entirely. It might as well be her.