impractical | open post 2025

[ When they first catch sight of the Continent, it feels like a dream. Her stomach is in knots from where she hangs over the edge of the ship, gripping the railing tight in anticipation, and Maelle only removes her eyes from the approaching beach when the others call for aid in preparing the ship to lay anchor and send the boats out to shore.

Even when they approach and the sun recedes in the middle of the day, she's filled with excitement more than anything. Even when the fog rolls in to obscur the horizon and seep purple haze out over their landing site, she marvels at the novelty of it all as she accomplishes her tasks. When Maelle joins Gustave in a boat and they begin the short row to properly land, she's nearly grinning with breathless excitement.

They disembark with an overall wariness as Alan calls out orders, his voice tight. The youngest Expeditioner heeds those directives, of course, but she's also glancing around with wide, bright eyes to try and make out the shape of-...well, anything in the shrouded environment.

She doesn't see the ruined ships not far off in the fog, or the piles of bodies that are heaped up not far off. None of them do, yet. And so they start to fan out on the beach, following landing protocol and assessing threads, of which there seem to be none.

Her guardian quietly suggests she stay close, and Maelle acquiesces (even though she's itching to wander and get a better sense of their surroundings, and to see if she can spot Lumiére back across the sea...). So far, so good.

Nobody sees, yet, the figure hidden in the distance. ]

[There is a routine that has become a ritual. Every single year, his journey transports him from the manor towards the southern landmass close to the island. People research the same records and that together with their mission makes them predictable. But what makes them simple to track is watching from his vantage point - from where he can intercept the direction their ship is heading.

He arrives at the beach and diverts his gaze from the ruined hulls and sails littering the shore. His infiltration of the landing site avoids the shadowed creatures, which do not intimidate him when he rounds a destroyed ship and veils himself in the darkness. But soon those he is awaiting are here and the sound of his cane echoes on stone. He emerges from the shadows and assesses the assembling crowd in a single glance, showing neither anxiety nor fear as he immediately secures their attention.

Their commander is the man on point. His second is the one behind who stands closer than the others. The former has his arm extended across the others, holding them back until the beach is secure. But his gaze wanders past him towards the young girl hidden behind her guardian. What makes these people different enough that he has decided to approach them?

The question is not what makes this expedition different. The question is who.]

[ A man emerges from the shadows and the group stills in surprise. After all, no one had expected a human, and certainly not-

Maelle sucks in a sharp inhale. He's old? The sight is shocking, of course, and though Alan remembers himself quickly and begins conversing with (or at) the man, everyone else stares blatantly at the impossible sight before them. ]

How is he... [ The young Expeditioner breathes, eyes wide. When she turns them on Gustave, though, she realizes that her guardian is just as stunned as everyone else. The engineer seems to notice something that she doesn't, though, and shifts slightly to obscure her further.

Frowning, Maelle looks past him to the distant figure and notices his gaze...is cast their way.

A chill runs up her spine.

Their commander steps forward, all questions and suspicion as he tries to interrogate the stranger. Some of the others regain their composure and stand at the ready, hands poised to summon weapons if need be, with so many questions pressing in from all sides.

Maelle holds her position near the back, unable to look away from the first aged face she's ever seen in her lifetime. ]

[The commander harangues him with observations and questions; his inquiry fishing about surviving the continent and the Gommage in a single line. But the old man answers nothing and levels his gaze on the same members of the expedition. The engineer puts himself between that isolating stare and the young girl he safeguards, his natural curiosity fleeing in the face of his fear of danger.

Those questions are soon reversed. Instead of the issue being his age, it becomes a reason for his survival. His appearance is less peculiar than the girl travelling with them. She cannot be a day older than sixteen, seventeen at a push. But his daughter had been her age when her world had changed.

His gaze leaves her and focuses on their leader.]

These shores are dangerous. You should have landed anywhere else.

[Their snippets of conversation barely reach the expedition. Either he is isolating the commander - he doesn't care to learn his name - or keeping them from panicing. Or perhaps he simply doesn't view them as important.]

[ They don't catch much of the conversation at this distance, but it becomes clear in short order that the old man is looking at her. Talking about her, too, because whatever he says causes Alan to half-turn, his eyes now also in her direction.

Her pulse quickens with uncertainty, and it only speeds further when their commander comes back, leaving some of the others to watch the stranger's every move. Without a word, but with a sharp and serious look, he takes Gustave by the arm and a few steps away, in spite of her guardian's protests, to confer in hushed tones.

Maelle watches them go, meeting Gustave's eyes for a moment before returning her attention to the man in the distance.

Why? What's happening?

Gustave returns quickly, expression clouded, and Alan nods in their direction once before moving back to the old man. ]

He was talking about you. Interrogating Alan on why we'd brought you along. [ Gustave speaks low, sounding more irritated than his usual. Maelle knows these are questions he's asked himself -- asked her -- but to have them weaponized by someone they'd just met? ] ...I don't understand.

[ That makes two of them, at least. The young Expeditioner chews on this information as she stares, watching the interaction continue between Alan and the man. ]

Where, exactly, are you suggesting we go? [ Alan asks, his tone dry and still laden with warning. ] What about this area is more dangerous than any other part of the Continent?

[Alan and Gustave confer. Renoir listens to every word, showing no expression while his emotions darken to match the shores that bear the same name. This place is no place at all for a single one of them.

But Alan returns (he doesn't care to hold his name to heart) and interrogates him as though his presence is a threat. He holds his stare once and does not blink once, bored more than anything else.]

Do you not see the shadows move?

[His words reach beyond the commander, carried by the silence to the expedition behind him. Behind his own position, across the shores, shadows move between the boats and along the shore, seeming to have lives of their own.]

[ Alan scowls, casting his sharp gaze across the sands. Indeed, as the man indicates, there is something lurking just out of sight. The kind of thing that only shifts once you look away slightly, catching your attention, but only just. ]

Come with us, then. We can speak on the ship.

[ If there really is a threat to be wary of, then they'll (hopefully) evade it back on their vessel. If there isn't, then...maybe it's best to continue the interrogation somewhere this stranger will be more confined.

Maelle watches this conversation continue, but when their commander looks off in the distance, she follows his gaze. A chill pricks at the back of her neck at the sight of...whatever it is that's creeping through the fog, possibly closing in on their group.

She reaches out, laying a hand on her guardian's arm. ]

Gustave... [ It seems the warning is unnecessary, though, because he's looking in the same direction with an expression of unease. ]

I know. I see it. [ Nobody dares move until they're directed, but every expeditioner has a hand at the ready, poised to summon their weapons...whether against an unseen threat, or the one before them. ]

[The suggestion is phrased like a demand - and demands made of him go nowhere unless made by his wife. But much as the command frustrates him, he endures it as surely as he bears the burden of the coat resting upon his shoulders.

But there is no uncertain amount of suspicion in his gaze as it observes the expedition. He remembers commanding a group like this. He remembers the crimes expeditioners like these had committed against his family. There is only one path at the end of allowing himself to be confined to the lion's den. Anger clenches his hand around his cane and coldness creeps up his neck. Should following these people be the price he must pay to protect his family, so be it.

He looks towards the young girl and her guardian, though. Because they are more interesting than the commander for reasons that are no fault but hers. His eyes are cold and calculating as they ask a silent question:

Are you still here?

The shadows are encroaching at increasing speed. He can be away from them in an instant. He can deal with them in an instant. But he would rather not reveal much about himself at this moment.]

[ Alan watches Renoir stand in place, looking increasingly agitated as the shadows creep closer and their source of information stalls, unmoving. ]

Go, dammit. We don't have time for this. [ But he is their commander for a reason, and he's able to tell with ease that the old man is fixated on their youngest member, partially-visible though she is behind Gustave. Alan's face is a mask of mistrust, and as he turns back to Renoir, he slowly materializes his weapon. ]

I won't tell you again. [ Comes the low threat, his gaze flitting from the stranger to the encroaching threats. ] You're the one who said we couldn't speak here, so move along before it's too late.

[ Maelle, meanwhile, meets the old man's gaze again with another thrill of anxiousness. Even peeks out a bit more to try and get a better look, though Gustave is quick to ensure she doesn't get any closer, his own expression one of wary protectiveness.

She doesn't understand what Renoir means in his silent question. But...maybe, if they're going back to the ship, she'll have opportunity to ask.

If she can sneak around Gustave and Alan and all the others, that is. ]

[Renoir keeps levelling Alan with his gaze; a cold and calculating stare that pins the man where he stands. The silent threat of his blade is unwelcome for reasons none of the expeditioners understand. He is expecting them to attempt to corner him once he boards their ship. They will treat him with the same as they had his children. He reminds himself he is doing this for them and acknowledges the threat with all the respect it deserves.

The encroaching shadows become more of a problem, creeping towards their position, but when he turns his gaze off the girl his eyes show signs of regret. Strangely, there is a warmth and understanding that feels colder than the ocean. He strides past her commander towards the only working vessel and allows one of them to assist him in climbing aboard.

Better to hide what he is capable of so they cannot imagine him as a threat. Hours are spent in conversation with their commander, who tries fishing for facts only to be met with vague explanations. Interrogations about who he is and why he has survived.

What catches his attention and spreads throughout the expedition? The fact he was the commander of Expedition Zero.

Later that night, he can be found standing at the head of the ship, looking across the ocean with a thoughtful expression. It has been a while since he was surrounded by a crew this size, by all sorts of people he has no interest in supporting any longer.]

[ Thankfully, the man acquiesces. Moves to their ship without another word, leaving the 33s to follow quickly, their eyes on the lingering darkness at the edges of the field.

This is how they avoid the slaughter of another lifetime at the hands of Renoir and the hellish Nevrons that would soon have closed in.

They shove off back into the sea, though their course is not set. There had been urgency to moving away from the threat on those particular shores, but it isn't clear where their next destination should be, since that had always been the target. Assumedly, this is one of the pieces of information they'll be able to extract from the stranger who -- apparently -- had led Expedition Zero.

This changes everything. Alan and some of the others interrogate him for hours, finding him frustratingly evasive in almost all the questions he's posed. And though they allow the man -- Renoir -- to wander the ship, there are several sets of eyes that follow every step as they permit a brief reprieve from their trying to extract answers from him.

Maelle finds herself staring at him from where he stands on the prow, still with her own queries for the old man on the beach who'd been watching her. Fortunately for her, then, Gustave is otherwise occupied with their fellows, trying to reexamine maps, draw up new plans, and make heads or tails of the wrench that had appeared so early in their mission.

Though Catherine gives her a look as she passes, Maelle is able to approach their 'guest,' albeit while keeping her distance. ]

...Hi. [ Those light eyes are boring holes into him with all of her burning questions. ] What...are you doing?

[ Taking a break, obviously, but...honestly, she isn't sure how to start the conversation otherwise. It's all so wildly disarming... ]

[Renoir continues looking at the night skies, stars scattered across the heavens in familiar and unfamiliar patterns. Their light shines out of the darkness and occupies his mind for a time - leading anyone to assume he is blind to their presence. But his true thoughts are turned towards assigning everyone on this ship their place.

Those who would cause harm are separated from those who would not. But he cannot believe they would never and treats both the same. She is the only exception. Children are not prone to acts of violence the like had been meted out to his own child.

He turns away from looking at the skies to look at her, affording her his attention that in the moment is warm and welcoming much as it seems cold.]

Picturing things as they were.

[His mind paints an image of the world as it was before the Fracture. When rain only descended from the heavens and trees lived nowhere except in soil. For a man who loves to tell his family to see things as they are, he finds himself always looking towards the past.]

[ Looking at this old man with his white hair and wrinkles is like...seeing a mythical creature. The teenager glances across these unusual features with blatant curiosity, taking in the cane, the somehow-regal bearing in spite of his years.

What does it feel like, to be old? Will she get the opportunity to find out? It seems like their chances are better than ever, with him as a possible ally, even though things...have gotten off to a shaky start. ]

Are you really from Expedition Zero? [ And should she be addressing him differently, if so? If he really is the commander of the original expedition...

Maelle doesn't wait for an answer to press further. ] And...how did it look? Back then.

[ Their records, as her comrades could tell you, are limited. Those who go to the Continent don't come back. Though she knows the others have -- and will continue to -- ask Renoir these same questions, she hadn't been privy to the interrogations, and wants the answers for herself. Surely there's no harm, right? ]

[Those bright and pale eyes that resemble his own shine with curiosity. His lack anything of the sort and appear to be gazing through her into another world - a what he observes draws him back inside. But her words bring him back to earth and make him frown at the memories she invokes. He remembers she is a child and her curiosity is forgivable compared to that of her companions.

He softens in expression and manner and offers her honesty. His face reveals him as a contrast to the world she knows. Hell, his clothes are older than anyone has been alive.]

Everything was different. The world was safe and open to explore.

[Everyone was different, he thinks. People were safe and he was sure they would not harm his family. But he continues.]

But when we made landfall, we realised how small our world truly was.

[Well, that realisation came later. But at least the emotion is true?]

[ She's heard stories. Everyone has. Whether they were the sort of vague fairytale-like myths during childhood or the more historical reports of the decades past that the expeditions review, there is a lot that's been said about their recent, stolen history. Of course, no one's ever heard from a primary source (as Lune or Gustave might call him), so there's a natural intrigue that comes from just being in his presence.

Let alone the whole...staring-at-her bit. ]

What happened? [ From his perspective. Because, again: stories are stories. What he's sharing is -- assumedly -- the truth. ] ...I mean, I know what we've heard. What the old journals say. But...

[ To have been there? It's difficult to imagine, for someone who comes from an even smaller world than Renoir speaks of. ]

[Renoir scrutinises her for a moment, deciding whether to talk, and then choosing what he should introduce to the conversation.]

It is not something one can easily describe. [How can one describe the destruction and chaos that followed?] I suppose a mademoiselle such as yourself would have enjoyed riding one of the airships.

[Before the expedition stole those remaining and crashed against the cliffs - and by crashed he means he blasted them out of the sky.

In any case, he is notably avoiding talking about his own personal experience. But given what that experience was, is it understandable he is reluctant to talk?]

Right. [ "Not easy to describe," he says, and it makes sense even if it's a non-answer. It's probably really difficult, she assumes, telling someone about how different the world used to be when it was more or less a completely different place. It isn't as if he could just tell her the oceans had been...purple instead of blue, or something straightforward.

What he does tell her, though, has her perk up a bit. ]

Airships? [ Flying has always been one of those fantastical things, of course, that exists only in stories. In the sparse birds that make their home within the Dome because that is where they were born. This naturally appeals to a girl who'd wanted nothing more than to fly the coop that was Lumière, and so she steps a little closer, peering up at Renoir with interest. ] Really? What...was it like?

[ Getting to see the whole world from way up high. Getting to go wherever you wanted... ]

Liberating.

[His single word is chosen with care, crafted to appeal to a child who has never seen the world. But she can experience the kind of freedom those in the canvas can never experience, were they to learn the truth behind reality. It is something his daughter accepts and laments in equal measure, and thoughts of her pouring her emotions into her poetry pauses his considerations.

Let them think he lost his loved ones. Better he keeps her safe than risk her suffering all she did before.]

Humanity has always desired to soar like the birds, no?

[Getting to see the whole world from way up high. Getting to go wherever you wanted.]

[ Maelle nods at the sentiment. Of course, she's not the only person who's ever dreamed of getting out of the town they were born in, but compared with most of her peers, Maelle seems to suffer from an especially keen feeling of wanderlust. ...No, that's not it. It hasn't been a desire to see the world: to travel, to explore, to learn. It's merely been an urge to get away. To run along the horizon line and never look back.

Gustave says it's just that she's at That Age. Maelle usually rolls her eyes, annoyed, insisting he's wrong. ]

What...happened to the airships? [ The Fracture had obviously done a lot of damage to the world at large, but she can't summon to mind knowledge on what exactly had made this form of travel no longer viable in the new world. ] Nevrons? Or...?

[ It's somehow easy to imagine this man on an airship. He has an...important bearing, with the coat and the cane. Maybe some of it's due to his age, too, but she feels it's more an intangible thing that lends itself to him having the air of a person who'd stand at the helm of a flying ship and direct it onward into unknown lands.

...Oh, right. He is -- was -- also a commander. Well, even so. ]

[Her first suspicion are those monsters that scour the continent for signs of humanity. He understands why her mind goes there, because it is easier to imagine monsters killing your family than to accept it was somebody just like you. Someone with a home and family of their own.

Not that that had ever stopped him when it came to his family being in danger. She is not his daughter, but she is Aline's.]

We never gave it much thought. [Had they been pulled together with earth and water towards the monolith? Had they been thrown across the sky to smash into cliffs and through the ocean?] We were too busy preparing our defenses and searching for our families.

[The worst of times that would have sent others fleeing in the opposite direction, and he and his son had sprinted into the fire.]

But their remains are out there. Somewhere.

Oh. [ Strange, she thinks, that they wouldn't want to know what happened to such a useful resource. That they wouldn't have tried to rebuild them. But...resources are finite, and were so even back then. Maybe even more, considering the chaos after the Fracture. So Maelle nods in understanding, eyes drifting past him and over the sea.

They live in a more controlled chaos, now. A predictable one. ...Before setting off for their Expedition, anyway. ]

Did you find them? Your family.

[ This is obviously an important subject to her, considering her bond with the man who'd shielded her from Renoir's sight on the beach. Again, she tries to remember what she's been taught about Expedition Zero, but it's all a little hazy with the intensity of the day. Besides, its commander is here to tell her himself, so why bother with half-remembered facts when she can hear it from him directly? ]

[Her question draws less silence on his part than he might have offered. Her curiosity - that urge to satisfy her need to learn about the world - has driven her away from her home away from home. Of course she would ask about his family. Of course she would relate to his through her own. It follows reason that she would remain close to the one person who makes her feel safe.

Alicia. He resolves to meet his daughter once they make landfall and ensure she feels the same. Until then, he observes this version of her watching the sea, eyes drifting nowhere else.

But her question does not stop him remembering that day the world tore apart.]

Not all of them.

[His words hang heavy on the air, interrupted by nothing but the rhythm of the waves.]

[ It doesn't take a genius, or any further questions, to understand what he means by that. Her expression softens appropriately, gaze drifting again from his face to their surroundings.

The ship has begun to rock a little, suggesting they're properly on their way to...wherever their next stop may be. ]

I'm sorry. [ Maelle offers, but there's not much you can say, and she herself has heard too many condolences for her young life. He's probably sick of them, too, she reasons. So the teenager doesn't dwell, instead ruminating only briefly before asking: ] Do you...want to talk about them?

[ That's better, right? Or at least, she thinks so. To talk about the people you love as they lived rather than dwell on their tragic fates. ]

[Three members of his family survive but live like they want to die. He cannot comfort all at the same time but he must and so will.

The movement of the ship disturbs his thoughts. He turns his gaze towards the helm of the ship, where the commander is keeping one eye on him and the other on the ocean. But if he builds enough of a connection with these people, he will not pose a problem, and can easily be removed from the equation.]

Not today, mademoiselle. [There is a pause as he weighs conflicting thoughts.] But thank you. It is enough that you ask.

[His voice is low and gentle in letting her down. Some people want to talk, others wish to hide. He finds himself caught in the middle and having to choose the optimal path - and instead chooses the third option of putting off that choice until tomorrow.]

Edited 2025-11-22 16:44 (UTC)

'Course. [ She's quick to reply. It's understandable that it'd sting to talk about the lost, even many years later. They live in a world of death, but that doesn't mean the population has become desensitized to it.

Maelle moves to stand closer to the railing, at the old man's side, staring again out at the inky waves before flitting her attention back to Renoir. ]

...I saw you staring. [ It's a statement, and with an underlying question. Is it because of her age? Maelle is used to defending her choices against those who think her too young for an expedition, so she adds, before he answers: ] I'm as ready as anyone else. I've been training hard for years.

[ Like all the rest. Besides, they wouldn't let her become a member if she didn't have what it takes. There's no reason to bring anyone on the expedition who might be a liability. ]

open post 2025

for betenoir

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