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Laughter filtered through the night air, carried by the sweet smelling breeze. From his perch on the roof of the tree-house he could see all the Valley rolled out like an exploded toy chest. The sky was dark, but pink and green ribbons shimmered around the mountain tops.
He set down the pointed leg on his pack, the other nevron parts spilling out of it along with his supplies. Pulling his knees up, he wrapped his long arms around them, gripping his forearms where the old pictos were carved into his surface. Looking out across the sparkling pools, he spotted his friends amusing themselves. Maelle frolicked in the pool with Sciel and a group of gestrals, while Lune lounged with a book and a bottle of wine. Verso and Esquié had flown off towards the caves, no doubt in search of sweets.
Verso had been giddy since they'd arrived, and even more so since they'd fought Osquio. It was good to see him happy again after so long. All day long Monoco had hardly been able to pull his gaze away from the light dancing in Verso's eyes. The years had weighed down on them both more than he'd realised. He tilted his face up to watch the balloons, impossible in their unending flight.
"The world of imagination is boundless…" He'd read it in one of Verso's books, centuries ago that felt like yesterday, back when he brought his devoirs with him. He pressed his mask to his knees, hugging them tightly. Something cracked inside of him, so loud in his ears he could have sworn his wood was splitting.
Sorrow clawed at him, raking inside his mask and wringing out his chest. He tried to breathe, a habit he didn't really need but had its uses. Over the long years the motion had sunk deep into his grain. It helped him keep rhythm on long treks, and the gentle purr that escaped him in the dead of night seemed to comfort Verso.
He hadn't heard footsteps on the ladder or the roof until Verso sat down next to him. "What you doing up here on your own, old chum?"
It took him a moment to think of a convincing lie, his throat tight and voice a smidge higher than it should have been. "Just wanted to think." It wasn't really a lie, in the end.
"That's not like you!" Verso rocked against his shoulder, his soft laugh filling the air. The gestral pulled his shoulders higher up his neck, drawing into himself and putting a breath's distance under the touch. "Monoco? I was only joking, you know you're my favourite philosopher." He buried his mask further in between his knees, shaking in the cool night air. It's just the cold. "Monoco, are you crying?"
"NO," Monoco sobbed. Verso touched a hand to his arm, and the warmth of skin on wood felt so familiar.
"What are you thinking about?" His voice was soft, all pastel tones and sweetness. It wound its way into his heart like the ribbons in the sky above, tightening, squeezing.
"Verso, I …" his breath hitched as he struggled the words out, "I miss it, I, I miss it so much… And now we're here and…" his words dissolved into bubbling cries, wrenched out of his chest. His heart hurt, his mask hurt, his joints ached with it. "It hurts, Verso."
"Sshh, hey, you're okay, I'm listening." He twisted towards the old gestral, rubbing his arm and tucking his bare feet in close, toes just touching his many-jointed ones. Monoco wanted to fold in on himself, curl up in the dark for however many years it would take for the feeling to pass. He'd done it before, it had worked. Eventually.
"I miss him, the boy you were, that you weren't. I miss his laugh, and the games we played, the music. And I am sorry Verso, I know it must hurt you to hear me say it. I don't want to hurt you. You're… you're so happy and…" He choked off the words as sobs echoed through his barrel chest, his mask tilted towards the floor. His chest squeezed, crushing him from within, the pain of long years howling at his mind. All laced through with the red hot traces of guilt, stabbing through the cold, dragging fog of his sadness. He felt weak, small. He thought his joints might pop, so hard he had squeezed his arms around himself, desperate for comfort of any kind.
"Hey, hey. It's okay. Remember what you told me?" Verso's other hand found his knee, brushing down from the gap until it met his clenched fists. "Loving someone deeply gives you courage, wasn't it? Maybe that's why you're so brave in the face of…everything." Monoco nodded, the words bringing him a flutter of affection; he always thought Verso was only humouring him when he started rambling. "Let me be there for you, for once. Yeah?" A hand slid around his back, easing him out of the crippling posture. Guiding him into his harbour, a toy boat that might capsize at any moment.
Verso's arms welcomed him, and his sap rose to meet them; it thrummed under his bark as he trembled. He folded into those arms head first, grasping at the soft fabric that rustled against his mask. He pressed against the human until he could feel his heart beating steady against his wooden cheek.
"You forgot the other part," Monoco mumbled into the purple fabric.
"Did I?"
"Mmm…"
Verso planted a soft kiss on the top of his mask. "Please, remind me, oh wise Monoco."
"Being loved deeply gives us strength."
Verso huffed a soft laugh. "Well, then. Is it any wonder we're both so strong?" Monoco wriggled closer, letting Verso's warmth squeeze through the gaps in his armour like he'd always been able to do. Verso always seemed to know what he was thinking, despite not having all the facial features humans could usually work with.
"We have so little time. We thought we had forever, but really its gone in an instant. And all the tiny slivers, the short days in long years. I still remember them, I shouldn't, the river should wash them away, but they're still there in the rings of my wood. I don't know why."
"Well, there always was something a bit funny with your chroma, eh mon vieux." He scritched his fingers in his fur and Monoco let out a shuddering breath.
"I was always wishing for a tomorrow, knowing we could never count on it. So many tomorrows, all full of broken dreams. Better to run, and fight, wasn't it." Verso hummed in assent. "I wish we could do it all again, Verso. That we could be young again together, you and I. And we could play like we used to, when everything was out there to be imagined. Before the world of reality had so many limits."
Verso nuzzled into the thick, stiff hair on the top of his head, "Now there's my gestral philosopher. You know I still remember that book?"
"You do?"
"Mmm, if I'm not wrong you stole it from me."
"I did, it's true."
The sat in silence for a moment. "It's not quite the same, its a memory, I can see it but I can't feel it." Verso's hands carded through his fur, and it sent tingles through his joints. The tightness in his grain relaxed under the lithe fingers as they rubbed and squeezed at his shoulders. Their legs were a messy tangle, all angles and feet. "Not like the memories I have from this life, the ones I've made with you."
"I know, I can tell." It felt good when Verso gave him a squeeze. "That's why, I wish we could be that awkward child and that gangly patate, just one more time. Before the end. Because once we leave here…" He left the rest unsaid, they both knew well enough what awaited them.
"What if we made tomorrow wait. Just for one more day?" Monoco twisted in Verso's arms, peering up at him, vision still a little blurry. "I know we don't look like those kids anymore, but since arriving here," he sighed, "I can feel it M'noco, really feel it. For myself. Does that make sense?"
He gazed up at Verso's shining face, shadows shifting on it in the light of the moon and the aurora. His usually grey eyes seemed to shimmer with flecks of blue, green, purple, reflecting the wonders around them. They were wet, as were his cheeks. Monoco reached for the tears, tracing their path down the scars on Verso's face. He could taste the salt of them through his fingertips, the tingle as they seeped into him.
"One more day?"
"One more. You and me. Let's make some new memories, together." Monoco buried his face in Verso's neck, where he seemed to fit as though the space were made for him, or he for it. Or maybe both. Verso wobbled with the force, and nestled against his fur. His nerves still jangled, but the rawness slowly gave way to warmth as Verso stroked his mane.
"There is one other thing…" he hiccuped against Verso's chest as he took a shaky breath, his voice came out a whine, "I really wanted that leg."
Verso chuckled. "You daft brush, come here!" He nudged him up before hooking his arm under his knee joints. Monoco was slightly stunned as Verso manoeuvred him easily into his lap. This is not usually how its goes. Don't mind it though.
"Give me your hand," said Verso.
Monoco obliged, holding his palm out towards him, worn smooth from the passing of time, memories heavy in its rings. Verso took it, rubbing his thumb in a wide circle around his wooden palm. A spark of chroma flared under his movements, swirling pastel shades the likes of which Monoco hadn't seen in decades. He felt it tingle through the small joints of his hand.
"Look at you, you're gorgeous." Verso's voice was soft and it filled Monoco's chest with pride.
Verso shifted his hand, sliding his long fingers in between Monoco's large ones. He squeezed and brushed his nose against the gestral's mask. Monoco hummed in return, the gesture pulling at his chest and sending a flutter through his trunk. Verso gripped just a little tighter, and there was a high pitched whine. A strange sensation emanated from Verso's hand, slipping over his surface like oil on water. He felt it creep out slowly from their point of contact. It felt like pinpricks of starlight, it felt like the warmth of home, like a fresh coat of paint. It raced across him, up his arm, over his chest, towards his other limbs. He could've sworn he saw the knotted surface of his wood shimmer for a moment. It rippled across his mask and he felt something shift, although he couldn't put a finger on it. Then he found something, racked neatly in his mind just like his corporeal collection of nevlegs. He could feel it, the coveted foot. He reached out, like he always does; the legs were more for intimidation than anything else after all.
"What… how did you?"
"It's different to the nevrons. Osquio's mine. I know his chroma like my own hands. Like I know yours."
"Mine?"
"Yes, yours. Of course I know yours, how could I not?" He brought both hands up to grip his mask, one on his temple, one stroking the outline of his lip with his thumb. "Yours has changed, its more than when he made you. So, so much more."
Verso closed his eyes, and Monoco pressed his mask to his forehead. He felt the heat of Verso's breath on his face, the human's usual scent of wood smoke overlaid with the smell of caramelised sugar and talcum powder from the flowers below them.
"I've never seen you do something like that before."
Verso shrugged. "I don't know, maybe its this place?" He gestured across the colourful landscape, teeming with activity even at this late hour. "I feel different, stronger."
Monoco tilted his head as he watched Verso's face. He felt something like awe. He'd always felt his human's strength, couldn't miss it in the way he danced on the battlefield, the way his will bent but never quite broke. But this, this was something new. Something different.
"Am I yours, Verso?" He ran his hands up the back of Verso's neck, tangling his jointed fingers in the messy black hair.
"Always." He pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist joint, making his bracelets jingle. "Until the end of this blasted Canvas. And then, after the end, when the dregs of our chroma are all that's left? We'll be together then, and… and not just us but Noco, and Alicia, and everyone!"
Verso wrapped his arms around Monoco's chest, pulling him close. The gestral absolutely did not let out a low whine as he rocked into Verso's embrace. He felt Verso's body tense as he kept pulling him backwards, and eventually gravity took over and they slumped back in tangled pile on the sloped roof.
Neither spoke as they looked up at the twinkling stars and the many Esquiés that wended back and forth between them. Monoco rested his mask on Verso's bony shoulder; the extravagant jewellery around the shell of his ear scraping against his wood. Verso shifted to stroke his mane. The sensation was deeply comforting, sending warmth all through his heartwood bones. Monoco let out a long, shuddering breath that turned into a deep hum. He heard Verso's smile in the way he breathed through his teeth, and felt it in the chaste kiss he planted on the edge of his mask.
"Better?"
"Mmm," he replied. He scritched his big fingers where they had landed around Verso's waist, the frills of fabric cool under his hand. "Verso?"
"Hmm?"
"Since the end is near, there seems little point in keeping things unsaid. You should know…" He paused only a moment to nestle closer into the mans neck. "You're the best friend I've ever had. Ever."
Verso turned his head to nose against his mask. "So are you, mon vieux. So are you." Verso squeezed the hand that was still clasped between them.
Monoco made the sound of clicking his tongue against his teeth, somehow. "Could've fooled me, with all these Esquiés around and not a single doppelganger of me." They huffed a small laugh together.
"Yeah, maybe I should rectify that tomorrow. How many copies of you should I make?"
Monoco made a fist in the gauzy purple shirt and shook it in a show of faux indignation. "And make me battle inferior versions for your attention? Spare me." Verso giggled and Monoco smoothed the fabric flat again, feeling the curve of his bones underneath. His mind called forth the injuries of old, the broken ribs long since healed.
"Monoco?" Verso voice had gone quiet, his cheek still pressed against his mask where they lay side by side.
"Mmm?"
"Since, you know, the end is near and all that… I know it's been a long time since, since I said it but…" He felt Verso's sharp intake of breath under his hand.
"It's alright, mon coeur, I know."
"You do?"
"Mmhmm…" He purred in response, contented. "Can feel it."
They lay there for some time, drinking in the place and basking in each other's gentle company.
"Do you think the trains go up as high as the stars?"
"I don't know, I don't remember," replied Verso.
"Hmmm…" He felt Verso relax into him as his body went heavy with the day's fatigue. "Do you want to go and find out?"
"Really?!" Verso squeaked, lifting his head before blinking up at him and stifling a yawn. Monoco reached to cup his face, tracing the shape of it with his big hands before shifting to pull him back in.
"Obviously you are only human, so you need your sleep." He tried to make his voice teasing, and rolled his painted eyes at himself when it came out dripping in affection. "But why don't I wake you before the last star goes out, so we can go and see for ourselves."
He felt the fine fingers curl into his fluff, sinking through his mane to swirl against the grain below. The sweet warmth of Verso soaked into him, coating his limbs in golden oil and easing his aching heart.
"Iss so nice up here." Verso's voice was thick. Monoco rubbed the back of Verso's hand with his thumb; and covered the weak spot of his solar plexus with the other palm. He felt the rise and fall of Verso's chest slowing as the days event's caught up to them. The sense of closeness enveloped him, settling on his woodgrain as the languid moonlight cast all their dips and hollows in shades of grey until he almost couldn't tell where he ended and his human began. He as Verso stirred against his shoulder.
"Love you, Verso."
"Mmm," he hummed a reply, "love you too, M'noco."