#this scene was barely below 1k. and now it's 1.6k. which now mneans this *is* a 20k word fic. gotdamn

[gible-love-nibles-archive]

Eternal Diva Fic (Part 13)

This is where all the Softness (tm) is folks; this is the "Clare is indulging" part lmao. Then again, this entire section of the story is me indulging. This entire fic is me indulging. You signed up for this at this point.

No warnings here, pretty sure! Just a nice soft penultimate chapter :]

Word Count: 1.6k / Previous / Next

“What are you up to?”

I jerked in surprise. It was Descole again, leaning on the doorway.

It had been a couple of days.  At least that was what I guessed.  Time was hard to gauge when there weren’t any windows, and I was lousy at keeping track of time anyway.  

Despite Descole’s advice, I had barely gotten any sleep.  Believe me, I tried.  But my eyes wouldn’t stay closed or I couldn’t settle down.  So most of the time, I took out my notebook and just doodled away, hoping that would help.

“Drawing,” I said simply. “Can’t sleep.”

"Again?" was all he said as he came in. It didn't sound accusatory, but I took it that way.

"I've been trying to sleep, alright? It's just been with... everything! All of this!" I let out a short sigh. "I know that's not your fault, but..." I trailed off.

The masked man just stared at me. I might've been seeing things... but he looked a bit sullen.

"I'm not going to force you to sleep. If you can't, you can't. Simple as that."

There was a stretch of silence. Neither of us moved (not that I could move much anyway).

I could tell Descole didn't want to leave just yet. He had been doing that quite a bit, finding random things to talk about to stretch out these visiting times. I didn't really get why; none of it seemed useful to him at all.

“Could I see what you’re drawing?” He finally settled on that as he sat and settled on the other side of the bed.

I blinked. "You actually wanna see my art?"

"It's something you're passionate about, no? You carried a notebook with you to an opera house of all places, and you're fast at it. How long have you been drawing?"

"All my life, basically? It's just something I've always done."

"Fascinating..."

“…I… guess you can look. If you really want to.” I passed the notebook over to him.  I didn't have anything to hide; it wasn’t like there was anything embarrassing or weird in there. “Just don’t expect to be amazed or anything.”

He thumbed through my notebook quietly.  He just made quirky little expressions at my work and didn't say anything. After a little while of flipping back and forth— enough to almost make me nervous— he handed it back.

“Hm.  You were right.  I wasn’t amazed.”

“Gee, thanks—”

“Because there was nothing of me in there.”

I gawked at him for a moment. “Really? That's your only takeaway?”

“The only negative takeaway. Your style is charming and extremely expressive, your linework and handwriting is neat, and you somehow do it so quickly. I'm very impressed, dear."

"Wait, you... like it? Like, really you like it? You're not pulling my leg here?"

His smile softened. "Absolutely." But that softness went away fast for slyness. "But! If you want my opinion, your posing could use improvement."

"And drawing you will help with that. Totally not because you want free art of yourself." I couldn’t help but snort. “No thanks.  Your hat looks awful to draw.” I pushed it down over his mask so it would cover his eyes.  He chuckled as he fixed it.

“I could model for you, if that would help.” His smile may have been smug, but he was serious.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than be my model.”

“No, my schedule’s all free now with Ambrosia discovered. I'm very open and very available.”

“Well, I heard there’s another lost city out there that I’m sure would be a real head-scratcher for you.  They’re calling it Atlantis.”

“You--!” He playfully shoved me a bit (though it was more of a nudge), and we both couldn’t stop from cracking up.

~

Another random day, I couldn’t sleep again and Descole visited again.

“Is there anything that will help you sleep better?  You’re really starting to worry me.”

Asking the masked man why he was fretting over me so much never got me a straight answer.  I just dropped it after a while.  

“I dunno.  Time’s just… weird down here.” I was about to say it wasn’t that bad, but I swallowed it.  Of course it was bad; if I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t healing (or at least healing with nothing else happening).

He hummed for a bit, then seemed to get an idea. “When I was a boy, my mother used to read me a bedtime story every night she could.  I was out cold right as she finished.  Maybe the same will work for you.  Besides, it must be dreadfully boring here with only one thing to do.”

“...You have got to have something better to do than read me a bedtime story.”

"Please, dash your concerns.  You’re my guest; of course you’re going to take up my time. I'm not going to just leave you alone like some caged animal.  And besides… I want to.  So, do you want to hear a story or not?"

I was taken aback a bit.  He wanted to, genuinely? “Um… sure.  Why not?”

A warm smile slid onto his face. “Thank you, dear.”

I liked seeing that smile. Certainly better than... all that on top of the robot.

He went over to a little bookshelf I hadn’t noticed in the room before.  He dragged his finger across the spines, looking for just the right one. He gingerly pulled out a smaller book. “Ah, here it is.”

The cover was mainly blue with a blonde boy standing on the moon with yellow stars in the night sky.  The title:

“The Little Prince?”

“Have you read it before?”

“I’ve heard of it.  I’ve always wanted to read it, but I could never find it anywhere.”

Descole’s smile grew wider. “Well then, I’m honored to be the one introducing it to you.”

And that was how the next few days went: Descole would sit on my bed, reading The Little Prince.  He had a voice ready for every character, and it always got a laugh out of me. 

Eventually, I’d always fall asleep (most likely leaning on him because I peered over his shoulder to read the words or look at the pictures).  He didn’t leave me settled there forever (or maybe even very long), as every time I woke up, he was gone.

~

"Hey, Descole?"

"Hm? Yes?"

We had just finished a reading of The Little Prince, and the masked man looked exhausted. From context clues, it seemed like he was working on another plan for some ancient site or city or what-have-you.

I figured he wasn't going to tell me anything about it, so I didn't say a word. I was probably going to get roped into it somehow anyway, knowing my luck.

But something had been nagging at me this whole time, nibbling at me. I felt like if I didn't get it out soon, I was going to explode. So... might as well while we were both still awake.

"...How do I say this...?"

"Really, is it that bad?"

Ok sir, this attitude was not helping. "N-No, it's not bad! It's-- the opposite of bad actually."

"And you're having this much trouble getting it out?"

I sighed, and then steeled myself, gripping my blanket. "I just... wanted to say: your voice on top of the Detragan was... really nice...?"

Silence. You could've heard a pin drop.

...Why had I said that? Why did I say that?

Augh god, he was going to be just insufferable now! He was never going to let me hear the end of it!

But, to my surprise... it was still quiet. I hazarded a look at him.

Descole looked stunned. He was staring right through me, all sorts of gears and cogs turning in his head. The great mastermind Jean Descole looked... flustered.

Once he noticed me staring, he puffed up like a startled cat and pretended to cough into his sleeve. For a split second, it looked like his cheeks were flushed. But I wasn't sure.

He stammered. "Yours was... as well."

Silence once more. After a few seconds that felt like a few hours, Descole suddenly darted for the door, not saying a word.

"H-Hey!" was all I could get out before the door shut. I let out a short sigh. "Bad idea. Of course it was."

~

I settled into some kind of rhythm eventually: eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner; find some way to pass the time in between meals with or without Descole around; and once night came along, listen to him read. 

Every meal was cooked by Raymond, though Descole sometimes told me that I ate some of his cooking offhandedly.  I always told Descole that I could tell which parts he cooked: the worst-tasting part.  It was just me teasing him, and he recognized that.  Honestly, I couldn’t tell which parts he cooked, if any at all.

The masked man and I had pretty easy conversations at the start, but things started to get more… awkward as time went on.  Genuine compliments that caught either of us off-guard, and then Descole would hurriedly excuse himself and leave.  Words way too sweet for their own good.  Eventually, we started talking less and less. 

After we finished The Little Prince, he didn’t pick up another book for us to read. He'd just hand me one he'd thought I liked and hurried off again.

It felt… hollowing.  I wanted to say something about it, but I couldn’t just force him to talk if he didn’t want to.

Raymond reassured me during all this. “He’s… lost a lot, lass.  I suppose he’s just steeling himself for when you leave.  He’s enjoyed your company, and he’s preparing himself for when it’s all over.”

It… didn’t make me feel better.

Eventually, I was finally feeling better and could move about the sub.  Which of course, meant it was time for me to leave.