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nml_mods ([personal profile] nml_mods) wrote in [community profile] nomans_land2023-05-02 05:02 am
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On The First Day

It had been months.

Months of terror, of families ripped apart, refugees racing against the Ark in the sky, against the Plants that had once been their only source of survival on the world and had now been turned against them, raining lightning and death down on them like the hand of a vengeful God. Humanity pushed to the brink, fleeing their homes and communities, waves of refugees fleeing across the sands as more and more towns and cities fell to the reign of destruction that had been biting at their heels every step of the way.

And then, as the last descendants of the survivors of the Big Fall clustered in the city of Octovern, spiilling out into the streets, every available, livable space filled to capacity and beyond, what felt like the final days of humanity began. The sounds of artillery fire filled the air, the sight of the Ark and its grotesque ruler loomed overhead, and in the distant sky high above, the previously-inconceivable reinforcement ships from Earth took up orbit around No Man's Land. Throughout the night, explosions lit up the sky, thundering with deafening reports through the air, and yet the civilians below had settled into a still, terrified, anticipatory silence. They couldn't see, from their perspective, the figures atop the ruins of the Earth's space destroyers that had already fallen to the ground, locked in battle for the future of the people far below. But the sight of Millions Knives high above, terrifying and grotesque with the power of the Plants he had absorbed, was omnipresent, a never-ending threat, the harbinger of doom, biding his time until he could make good on his promise to wipe every last one of them off the face of existence.

And then something had changed.

Electrical currents rippled through the air above the downed ship, carrying screams on the wind. To the people below, Millions Knives' massive form had shifted, writhing, bellowing with unholy rage and pain and despair. And then it begun to unmake itself, shredding, crumbling, tearing itself apart at the seams and floating to the ground in tiny, shining, white particles. Tiny, white feathers drifted on the wind, closer and closer before, one by one, they began to settle to the roofs of the buildings, to the tops of cars and to the streets, and to the heads and faces of the humans staring up from below.

The instant that contact was made between feather and skin, a connection was made; between Human and Plant, between each person standing side by side, minds thrown open in bursts of light and expanding consciousness, and through the doors sprang multitudes of memories spanning hundreds of years. Suffering, laughter, pain, sorrow, joy, enslavement, death, pride, love. The Plants had made the connection to their creators - their keepers - that they had been silently pleading for since their first containment, and with it every man, woman, and child on the surface of the world began to see and feel and hear their stories and their cries for help. They did not want this war, they did not want this destruction. They had seen the promises of vengeance and a paradise for their kind atop the bones of humanity offered by Millions Knives and they had felt the hopes and dreams carried by Vash the Stampede of a kinder, more loving world, and they had made their choice.

Of course, but...what would he do at a time like this?


I wonder if he'll laugh again


I wonder if he'll follow his ideals again.


I see. You all know him as well. That young man with a gentle smile.


Little Red Brother.


Let there be love and peace in this world.


In the chaos that followed, as the bodies of the Plants began tumbling to the ground in a writhing mass and the screams of shock and confusion began to rise from the sea of humanity below, something rippled in the air, a last gasp of those silent voices before the connection was lost.

Help Us. Help him. Please.


This was...different. New. As if reality had taken the distraction caused by the calamity below to shift itself sharply to the left, and then snapped. It started at the core of the mass of angelic bodies as men and women began to rush to their aid, a shockwave in the fabric of creation that rumbled silently in the atoms of the world and ricocheted outward, along the ground, through the air, until it had enveloped the entire planet. Time froze for an instant, and to the eyes of all who had the capacity for sight, that leftward shift became manifest, the world doubling on itself as the ground shook beneath their feet.

Wails of confusion and fear rose into the night sky, and for a brief moment, it felt as if the world were about to unmake itself on the molecular level. But then, just as suddenly as it had come, the distortion snapped back into place with a loud, ear-splitting CRACK, and in the stunned silence that followed, only one thing could be certain; things were not the same as they had been mere moments ago, as if everything and yet nothing at all had changed, all at once.

The world of No Man's Land was as it should be, but all across the surface of the planet, pockets of reality had split open, sending the inhabitants of mirrored existences tumbling through wide, unseen rifts. People and places outside of time and space found themselves staggering to their feet in a world that was both foreign and familiar at the same time, found themselves face to face with their own reflection made flesh, tossed about by the pleas of a race reaching across the fabric of creation for aid in putting a stop to a war that had been fought time and time again, across reality after reality, without fail.


Thus began the new chapter in the history of No Man's Land.



[Wherever your character was, whatever they were doing, when the rifts in reality opened, they will have found themselves rocked by a massive earthquake that lastes a few short seconds before settling with a loud crack, like thunder. While no damage will be left in its wake, the characters themselves will realize that though the planet appears to be the same, it will quickly become evident that they are in an alternate reality of the place they call home. Are they standing in the rubble of a once-destroyed city now remade whole? Is the bar they had been taking refuge in suddenly gone, leaving them tumbling to the sand with nothing but their drink in their hand? And what of the friends that had been standing by their side seconds before? This is where your stories begin.]
el_llorono: (Crying)

[personal profile] el_llorono 2023-05-22 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[Oh God, of course, of course he was hesitating! If the horror of what was right in front of him weren't in control, Nicholas would have felt a sudden nostalgia for the amount of absolute frustration Vash had always made him feel, constantly refusing to harm anyone, even at the expense of his own well-being!

But the sight of those limbs, the face, body parts broken, shredded, the thing screaming in his head, was enough to distract him from all of that, was almost more than he could stand. But he refused to stop, not when it was hurting this badly, not when he couldn't stand the thought of the suffering continuing, not if it were Vash. Even as the feathers flailed wildly, phasing through his body in a way that made him feel like his molecules were being shredded for brief seconds of pain, he pressed on, his voice sobbing, desperate to be heeded.]


No, listen, I promise, please listen! I can take you somewhere the pain will stop! It's why I'm here! You mom asked me to stay! She moved on with your brother, but she asked me to wait for you! They're waiting for you, please let me take you home, Vash!

[But the mass of viscera and agony wouldn't stop, was lunging for the other man, and he panicked, running after it. He could stop it, he had to! He could-...he could possess it! He'd done it once before, so many years ago! He'd never done it to a Plant, but it might work!

Or...or the feathers! Memories, he could share the memories! Could he? Would it work? Maybe if he focused everything he had on reaching out, forcing enough energy into making just a little part of himself corporeal, he could make contact with those feathers and show him, the way the Plants had done in Octovern as Nicholas had been forced to stand by and watch the war waging around them with no way to help, the way Vash had accidentally done when he'd been panicked and hurting as Hoppered tried to take revenge on him for July.

Worried that if he didn't act, the still-healthy and whole Vash would die, and willing to risk what might happen if so much raw energy overpowered him when he tried, he moved, focused his hand, reached out, and dug suddenly-solid fingers into one of the only places he could find that was feathered but appeared to be at least somewhat whole.]
dontdeserve: (Cry)

[personal profile] dontdeserve 2023-05-22 08:31 pm (UTC)(link)
You're still alive. And yes, there is always pain while one is still alive. Even alone. Especially alone.

[ Vash heard Wolfwood, his eyes blurry but widening a little, but even that...

He could not stop trying. So few people tried for them. Any of them. Wolfwood was one of those few, and he was also trying in his own way. It's why I'm here, ghostly words etching themselves into his heart in blood, a fresh would less immense than the feathered one in front of him, but just as unlikely to heal or be forgotten.
]

But you are in more pain than you need to be. We plants, we survive a lot. But it hurts. It hurts the most when nobody does anything, or they make it worse, because then it goes on, and on, and on.

But it can be helped, some things will make the pain less. I have gotten good at patching, over time.

Or I can hold you for a while. That sometimes helps, too.


[ He did not say out loud that he was not going to let this one destroy everyone, everything. Threats were the last thing that was needed. And he was not trying to dodge.

People - humans, but not only - could do, and did, horrible things when they were afraid.

Vash was not afraid.

Not for himself, at any rate.
]
cowgoesmoo: (angry - with a fresh black eye)

[personal profile] cowgoesmoo 2023-05-22 08:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The monster -- who isn't a monster at all -- brings a bunch of her wings together, and Vash retches at the sight of her mutilated face. He'll never get the image of her in those jars out of his mind, and he'd thought that he'd never see anything as horrible ever again, not for the rest of his life. But here, seeing those fragments held up in the shape of a person, he's realizing how wrong he was. ]

I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I... [ He can't seem to catch his breath. ] I know... I know what they did to you, I'm sorry. [ His small fists punch the sand, grief and disgust and anger warring for control. ] They shouldn't have done that!
louboutinjudas: (Sad - eyes hidden)

[personal profile] louboutinjudas 2023-05-22 08:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Out of rocks, but not out of anger, Wolfwood was just about to get up to find another pile when the impossible happened. First, one of the rocks he’d thrown knocked itself against that big boulder -- and while he could dismiss one time as being the wind or whatever, three knocks was something different! Three knocks was somebody knocking, that was intentional. And then, if that wasn’t enough to get his attention, the fucking rock came flying right at him, landing at his feet! Wolfwood scrambled back to get away from the somehow living rock, but after a few seconds when it didn’t move any further, he cautiously advanced on it. And that’s when he saw the letters, and fell to his knees.

“Livio?”

Of all the ghosts he thought he’d meet here! Also, shit, if he’d needed proof he was dead -- or near enough -- here it was, with him talking with a goddamn ghost. Wolfwood reached out one shaking hand, and traced the L of Livio, just like he used to show the living Livio how to make his letters, so many years ago.

“Why did you follow me?” He’d always been more comfortable with anger than with sorrow, and so the question came out as a furious snarl, but the tears welling up in his eyes made his tone a liar. “How stupid did you have to be to go with those fucking cultists on your own? Didn’t I teach you anything?

An abrupt slap of his hand wiped out the mocking OK, and Wolfwood scribbled the truth beneath: D E A D.

“You’re not okay, idiot. That blue haired asshole shot you in the head. You’re dead.” And while dead might be preferable to being in the Eye’s employ -- a thought Wolfwood had certainly had more than once -- it was still a long ways from okay. “I couldn’t keep you safe. You’re dead.”
el_llorono: (Hey!)

[personal profile] el_llorono 2023-05-22 08:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Ahhh, shit. He'd worried about this. You start moving things around, you start trying to talk, and people got squirrely. He watched him fall to his knees, and at first thought that the repetition of the name was simply him acknowledging what had been written.

But then he kept talking, dashed away the O K and spelled out D E A D, and while he wasn't technically wrong, he was off by a few years if he was still alive, and the fact that he thought Nicholas was Livio made him groan and roll his eyes so hard that his head tilted up towards the sky.

"Aaaaaah, chingao! This is why I don't interact!" Why...did he feel like he'd been saying that a lot today?

But fine. Fine. He'd already done the damage, he might as well rip the band-aid off. At least this way, maybe they could figure out why they were both here. He drew in a deep, unneeded breath, before focusing all of his energy on projecting his voice loud and clear.

"I'm not Livio! And Legato didn't shoot him in the head! Vash made sure of that! That wouldn't have killed him, anyway!"

That done, he harumphed, flopping back into the sand and crossing his arms to sulk for a few seconds before sighing and reaching back over, knocking the D E A D out of the sand as best he could (lots of small grains were more annoying than a single large rock) and then rewriting the O and the K.

He even added a little >:C next to it, for punctuation. He'd probably been spending too much time following Vash around, if he was doodling goofy little faces on his written messages, now.
louboutinjudas: (Ehhhhh?)

[personal profile] louboutinjudas 2023-05-22 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm not Livio a voice -- a disturbingly familiar voice -- boomed out suddenly, and Wolfwood discovered that he could in fact crabwalk backwards a very long ways. His back hit a rock wall just a few yards out and he froze, eyes wide and mind blank, trying to decide if running away, throwing rocks in lieu of bullets, or just wordlessly shrieking was the best response to a suddenly unfamiliar, and somewhat angry sounding, ghost.

After several long seconds of staring dumbly at the new OK that wrote itself out in the sand, his mouth made the choice for him. "Who th'fuck are you?!" What he wouldn't give for his gun! Or a crucifix, even... or was that just for vampires? How did you fight off a ghost, anyway? "If this is some kind of joke I'm gonna rip your fucking head off and kickball it all the way to December!"

There. That'll show 'em!
rejuvenation: (5)

[personal profile] rejuvenation 2023-05-23 04:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It hurts, it hurts it hurts and the weird presence keeps yelling and crying but the feather creature doesn't know a Vash. It doesn't know anything at all other than pain and fear and anger. Home? He wants to take it home?

Home is pain and horror and cutting and sickness, home is even more fear. Why would taking it home make the pain stop? It doesn't understand, frustration mixing in with the rest of the typhoon of emotions. Why does the presence care? He doesn't know it. Vash, Vash, VASH!]



S̢̳͍̦̬̺͇̝͊ͤ̃͋̽ͯ̐T́̍̐̓͞Ò̳̺͎̠̀̄͗ͩ̀P̩̺̙̬͢ IT!

[ It yowls, trying to push Wolfwood away with thoughts and pain and rage. Yet then there's a touch and... memories. Strange ones. The kind that hurts but doesn't at the same time, because it's not alone? It's not alone!

Vash.

It doesn't stop - if anything it now speeds up. ]


IT HURTS
IT HURTS
H̢̗̯̜̒̊Ȩ̫̮̫͗ͤͯ͆Ļ͕̗̔ͦ̾̀̎͌P̴̜̲̰̯͔ͨ̒̂͂̎ US


Help me!

[ The last pleading isn't a cacophony of horror, it's a young girl's voice. Feathers and wings lessen their flurry, shrinking down - and then the twisted, grotesque form of humanoid pieces reaches out their hands - one barely hanging on - and jumps toward Vash's arms. ]
rejuvenation: (1)

[personal profile] rejuvenation 2023-05-23 04:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She sinks back into her ball of feathers, hiding everything but the blue of her eyes. The little one is so sad, so angry. Why? Was it also being hurt?

Rage and fear blooms inside it again, and it reaches out twisted feathers to start covering up Vash as well. ]


THEY C̶̟̟ͤU͎͔̝̣͔͎͑̑ͦͅT̾̓̍͋͏̥̰̣̰ ME
CUT Ư̺͚͎̇ͭͨ͋S̼͕̗͖̓̊
I WAS STILL ALIVE
THEY COULDN'T H̊͑̎ͬ̄͏̯Ĕ̯̂ͯͫ̓͝A̪̯̜̖͠R̞̙͚̥̙͓͗̅̀ͥ̚ ME
SCREAMING SCREAMING S͕͍̻̠̼͚̠Ç͖̍͒͗͆̍̂ͯṘ̞̺͆ͨͩE̴̟AM̢͖̥̜̪̫̊̍ͦ͗͋͆I͓̲̥̚͢N̶̦̬̎G̷̝͓̹͖̭ͩ̓


[ The voice - voices - seems to come from all over, wings shaking with anger. ]

THEY ALL NEED TO D̢̯͚̠I̶̙͉̭̫̥͙̅͂E͔̟͓̥̜̦̻ͬ́͌͂͐.
cowgoesmoo: (angry - with a fresh black eye)

[personal profile] cowgoesmoo 2023-05-23 04:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Those bloody, gnarled feathers spread out over him, but it's not frightening at all. It feels safe, in a horrible, sad, broken kind of way. It's hard to feel anything other than grief and anger, but having those feathers surrounding him pulls at something inside, something in his arm and chest both, something that feels... big. Like if he could just catch hold of it, he could pull it free, like... like a cork from a bottle, or a pin from a grenade. ]

No! [ Still kneeling in the sand, Vash looks up at those very blue eyes and shakes his head hard. ] Stop them, we'll stop them from ever hurting anyone again, I'll help you! But we don't have to kill them!

[ He knows what Rem did was awful, but she's changed! He's here, alive, as proof that she's changed! Please don't try to kill his mom? ]

Killing them won't change anything!
rejuvenation: (3)

[personal profile] rejuvenation 2023-05-23 04:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The fluttering on wings is loud, but none of them come anywhere close to hurting Vash. Instead they try to tug him further in, cover him up more like Tessla(?) is trying to protect him from the world.

She meets his gaze, and there's so much pain and anger in her eyes, pupils nothing but slits and teeth bared on her face further behind them. ]


THEY WILL HURT Ý̟̩͍̹̻̉̎O̷̠ͯ̿͆ͪU̮̳͚̭̯̜̤͛̽͐ͨͭ͛͘ ̲̠̮̇T͍̜̞̜̪̺̰ͭͣ͋͂̋͆̈́͠ÒͭO̯͎̠͎ͮ̂̾̔̏̔͑.
PUT POISON IN YOU
̷͇̙̖̻̱̺̭͑T̬͐ͪ͊̉̀ͭ̚͞A̧̜͎͉̠͛̂͂͐L̷̟̞͎̝̯̆̈́K̤̂ͭͯ LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE Sͪ̅A͖̘̬̫͙̰͆͑̈́ͅY͕̋̄́I̞ͭ͊̆͑ͥ̐͆N̜̣̙G̸̑͂͛̇̾ͬ
AND THEN
CUT C͙̥̳ͫͪ͛̓ͪͯ̀Ú̹̗̣̦̽̀̽T͔ͦ̅̆ CUT!


[ Everything will change if everything was dead. All humans, all ships, all plants. If they're gone, nothing will hurt anymore. Maybe they would finally let her heal. ]

YOU DON'T KNOW YET
I'LL S̵͕̙̯̦͚̿̈̉̐A͖̥̞̳͈̩͑͒ͨͯV̮̩̣̱̠̩̰E̩̜̾̍ͅ YOU!
cowgoesmoo: (miserable and starving)

[personal profile] cowgoesmoo 2023-05-23 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ever since he and Knives had found Tessla, even since they'd read the whole awful report of her very short life, Vash has had nightmares about that very thing. He's dreamed about being exposed to radiation, injected with solvents, dreamed his teeth falling out. Imagined looking up to see Rem's face behind the scalpel. He knows. He knows exactly what was done to her.

The feathers pull him in, and something inside him slips and unlocks as he reaches up to touch them. He stares, wide-eyed, at the tufts of soft down that erupt painlessly from beneath the skin of his arm, tiny baby feathers that reach out for her larger ones. Her voice is so much louder now, loud enough that he wants to put his hands over his ears, but instead he grits his teeth and reaches up even further. He's not sure what he can do for her, but when he's hurt, being held makes him feel better. She's... she's all in pieces, but he has to try.
]

Let me help you, please. How can I help you?
rejuvenation: (2)

[personal profile] rejuvenation 2023-05-23 05:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The little one is sprouting feathers now, but they're so small, so soft. Its not going to protect him from restraints and injections, from headgear shooting pain into his head, from tumors growing in his body until he can't breathe.

He's going to be cut apart, pulled apart just like her. A little brother, a little thing she can protect.

...but he asks how to help her, and she doesn't know. The others are quiet now, pushed back and placated after bites and hisses and fighting, and it's just them. ]


You ċ̛͈̫͕̓ḁ̬ṇ̦̯̤̖́̂ͩͮ'̪̍͗̑͗͗͐t̫̬̤̫͔̆ͦͨ̉̓̚͡ help me. [ Softer now, just a girl. ] The pain never ends. I'm torn apart and I can't heal.
cowgoesmoo: (angry - shocked into silence)

[personal profile] cowgoesmoo 2023-05-23 05:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She bites at herself, and he wants to scream, to tell her to stop, isn't she hurting enough? But then he hears her voice, so much softer, gentler, and he hones in on it. ]

Then... then we put you back together. [ It shouldn't be possible, he knows that, but if she's still alive like this? Then maybe she could be reassembled! Right? ] I can get bandages, and my brother, he's smarter than me, we can help you, we can!

[ His feathers are small, yes, just a baby's soft fluff, but the longer they talk the more they stretch out, fledging into tiny, but more fully formed, feathers. And it feels like they could be more, like there's still something big inside him. Could he have feathers as big and powerful as hers? Is that what he's feeling? ]

We won't let anyone hurt you, ever again, I promise!
el_llorono: (Hey!)

[personal profile] el_llorono 2023-05-23 06:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[The pain and rage and screaming buffeted at his mind, only causing his panic, the despair he felt at what he knew he had to be seeing, to dig its claws into him deeper. And he wasn't good at this whole "memory sharing" thing, he'd never done it, certainly not from this side of things, so when the touch connected and he felt his mind opening, it threatened to drag him down with it into the thing's mind. He let out a ragged scream, every part that was left of him focusing on maintaining control of himself, sending out his thoughts, showing the peace he promised, showing the people he knew Vash had loved the most, standing in front of him with the bright, yawning light behind them.

Rem, smiling at him, motherly but sad, and Knives beside her, stern and still intimidating but so tired. "He'll need someone to wait for him, Nicholas, but I can't stay, anymore. I won't make Knives go by himself. You understand, don't you? He'll be so happy to see you, and you can tell him for me. Tell him we're waiting for him. Can you do that for me? For us?" There was sadness in the memory, but also love, so much love, and a strange kind of joy that had only grown over the years. Memories of following Vash, chattering at him as if he could be heard, as if they hadn't lost a day, months, decades to Wolfwood's loss. And those first small, grey hairs amongst all the black that even now were so few and far between at Vash's temples, a sign that gave hope and happiness in what should have been something that brought a deep sadness.

The problem with being only a spirit and trying to stop something with that much force from barreling into someone was that there was no weight to it, nothing to really slow them down. He could only cling to the form as it screamed and lunged for Vash, dragging him behind in a way that would have threatened to yank the bones in his wrist apart if he'd still had them. And he felt himself losing his strength, he'd overexerted himself, used too much of his energy in speaking and touching and manipulating the world of the living around him. It was threatening to drag him back to the void, that dark place between perception of the living world and the light. He couldn't let himself slip away, yet, he had to stay here, he had to stop what was happening!]


STOP, PLEASE!

[His voice sounded weak even to his own ears, and for a moment, so did the screaming, horrible voice that rang out between him and Vash, and he worried that he was losing what constituted as consciousness.

But then the voice changed, no longer rage and fury, but a sad, scared little thing, a familiar thing from almost as far back as his last memories of life, someone he hadn't thought about for a very long time. But the recollection made something fall into place, his horror shifting to take a different form. The memory of a tiny little thing, hiding just on the edges of perception in the in-between, following Rem and himself for the few short months they'd gotten to know each other. The story Vash's mother told, when she knew that he had noticed. So much sadness, so much guilt, so much sorrow.

Memory of sitting down, quiet, pretending to whittle a little thing and just waiting for the tiny, blonde-headed girl to creep out and come closer. The thing with kids who are that shy, that frightened, is you can't come to them. You've got to make yourself smaller, put yourself on their level, and let them come to you, like coaxing a kitten out of hiding. Humming off-key to himself. What would a child who'd never gotten to experience love and protection find interesting? Something as immensely intelligent as a Plant, but so very young, so isolated, so traumatized that all she had known was pain and fear? In the end, it had been the simple act of the whittling itself that had done the trick, simple curiosity just barely peeking out from underneath the distrust in her eyes as she finally crept out of the shadows.

"Hey, mija. You wanna see?" He'd decided to make what had worked in the past. A tiny bird, though its wings were a little more skilled than that first one, its feathers inspired by the ones he'd seen on Vash so many times, on his sisters the few times he'd seen one up close. Held out in his hand, this figment of a thing that didn't really exist for anyone except them, manifested from his own energy, until her tiny hand had reached out and taken it, oh so gingerly.]


Te-Tessla?

[Not Vash. Not Vash, his big sister, but still hurting, still in need of help, the baby who never got to live, who he'd sat and quietly whispered to for days before finally convincing her that going towards the light meant she didn't have to be afraid, anymore.

His fingers lost corporeality and he tumbled to the ground, dazed, the connection gone and his mind reeling. She could still hurt Vash, she could still cause harm to the people around her. He tried to pull himself to his feet, but the world around him was grey. It was taking everything in him to stay present, stay conscious.]
dontdeserve: (Wing)

[personal profile] dontdeserve 2023-05-23 07:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh...

Oh.

Back... back when they found the files, she had seemed so -- he had no words. They had been scared of the parts of her that were still kept, at least Vash had been. But now she seemed so impossibly young, and the terror, even the hatred, all made sense. If Vash had not lost the battle with tears much earlier, he would have done so now.

He did not flinch as she moved closer, and as she reached for him, as he could feel Wolfwood breaking apart also, as memories from both of him flooded him, he stood, steadfast, still in the eye of the storm. He reached for her, careful, oh so careful to not let his arms fall where it was more obvious she hurt. And in his need to protect her from as much pain as possible, right this moment, his body reacted, a single wing of darkness sprouting from his back to gently wrap around her, so soft, to keep as much of her from touching the sand as he could. He... was probably going to panic about that later, along with everything else. But for now, it let him hold her without the clumsiness and the limitations of his hands and arms, and even extended sightly towards Wolfwood, but then gently retreated, remembering that touching a plant was painful.

He wished he could help both. Right now.

But he... had to rely, to trust, that Wolfwood had had enough experience to hold himself from falling apart. Because his sister had never had the chance to learn, about comfort, about help, and she needed him more right now. Or at least he thought so.
]

I'm here. You're not alone anymore. I'm here.

[ How many plants had he said those words to, over the decades? He didn't need to count. But he knew, now, that in a way he had always been trying to tell her what nobody else would have, what he couldn't have, when he had been so young he hardly knew where he ended and the world began. ]
el_llorono: (Smile)

[personal profile] el_llorono 2023-05-23 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)
He stared as the other him scrambled backwards a few yards, dimly wondering if he had been as jumpy as this one was when he was that age. Not that he'd ever dealt with spirits. Hell, he'd barely believed in the metaphysical at all, priesthood notwithstanding. And honestly, now that he thought back on it, the thought that there could have been the spirits of people who'd died lingering around him at any given time would have probably been a bit unsettling, yes, especially with his body count.

So hey. Fair play to the pipsqueak. Though he would give him credit for having the balls to bluster like that when he was obviously shitting his metaphorical pants.

Still, that got a sigh out of him again, because he really didn't want it to have to go that far. He should have walked away when he found himself staring at his own dumb mug having a temper tantrum in the middle of the desert.

"Well...I guess since you asked so nicely." It took a moment, and when the image of him finally coalesced into view, it was like looking at him through a mirage in the distance, only fainter. He gave a resigned little smirk and a sarcastic wave of his hand from where his elbow was resting on one knee. When he spoke again, the energy required to both speak and manifest himself made his voice softer, like he were speaking from a distance. "Would it be in poor taste if I said I'm dead serious? And you don't need to do any kicking, my head's already in December with the rest of me."

His focus was distracted for a moment, though, a thoughtful look crossing his face, and he started to waver out of focus, his voice trembling on the currents of air.

"I mean...it should be...last time I saw it." Which was, admittedly, decades ago, when he'd stood by, feeling numb and hollow as he watched Vash burying his body, grieving over him for what precious little time he had before the morning. "I don't know what it means that you're here, though. You'll have to kick your own head to be sure, I guess."
louboutinjudas: (Surprised)

[personal profile] louboutinjudas 2023-05-23 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
It was him. Oh god oh fuck oh christ, the ghost was him. He rubbed a hand over his face to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing, but the dim figure of a somewhat older him never wavered.

What could he do but laugh? A little too loud, and definitely unhinged, and Wolfwood immediately slapped his hands both over his mouth to stop any more of that crazy noise from happening. Because this was crazy. It was impossible.

Damned if he was going to avoid the city of December for the rest of his life, though. Assuming he survived wherever this was.

“This isn’t possible.” The ghost didn’t move -- it didn’t attack, or spit green snot or anything, so Wolfwood scrambled his courage together and cautiously hauled himself to his feet, a pebble secreted in his hand. “I’m seeing things.” He looked around, as though expecting his own body to appear in the sand nearby. “I’m dyin’ up here from no water for too long, and I’m seein’ things, that’s the only explanation.”

Quick as anything, he flicked the pebble right at the ghost, aimed for center mass. Was it solid after all?
nurturing: (rippling waves across the waking world)

[personal profile] nurturing 2023-05-23 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He will always be her boy, no matter the horrors. Maybe that makes her a flawed being, to love a monster, but how can she not? Her boys have been through so much, and she didn't manage to give Nai the help he needed. She's guilty, too.

(In so many ways.) ]


I know. We can stop him together... and there's always a third way of doing things. It's not only kill or die. We can figure it out together and bring him home.

[ If he would have talked to her, maybe they could have made a paradise for everyone. Nai was so, so bright, and his ideas could have made humanity better. Instead he was too frightened and now everyone's suffering.

Including him. ]


Together.

[ Rem repeats, gathering Vash in her arms. He's so much bigger, so much heavier and oddly teenage-knobbly in places than her little one, who fit so well. Vash still belongs right there, though. Held tight. ]
dontdeserve: (sheepish)

[personal profile] dontdeserve 2023-05-23 08:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Vash blinks at the first part, then can't help a small laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess you're also right." Even if he knows that Knives knows what he meant. But then the amusement fades. "It's never enough. No matter how much I change, and improve, and accept, there is always... something too big for me to handle. Something that nobody can fight against."

At least that is not resentment against Knives, in Vash's quiet voice. Just resignation and also pain that really does not fit being described as. Young.

Then he shrugs it off, focusing on the teaching. "Doctor Conrad... I don't think he would be willing to teach me much of anything." He doesn't know the man, but from what he has seen, he seems rather. Dedicated to Knives's cause.

And Vash blinks, because. Now? Here? Really? And yes, he can admit that he's more than a little scared, given that the first and last time he used his powers, well.

But Knives pointed out that the consequences of not learning about his powers are, or can be, far worse. Still. Give him a moment.

... no, he still shudders first. Then takes a deep breath. Fear never is a good advisor, in his experience. Nobody's fear. So he does need to try.

"Small... black holes, huh? ... how small is small?
littleblades: (14)

[personal profile] littleblades 2023-05-23 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ nai wiggles away an inch from vash's poking finger and huffs, folding his arms over his chest. ]

No, even compared to you and Rem, he's still strange. I don't care for him at all. [ but he can see how much his brother(s) care about the man, so there must be something redeeming about him. ]

And, he smells bad! [ it's the cigarette smoke, but nai doesn't have a name for the scent yet. ] You do too, but I can accept it from you.
rejuvenation: (7)

[personal profile] rejuvenation 2023-05-23 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The presence says her name with such sadness but she doesn't know a ghost, doesn't know a Wolfwood. Doesn't know any humans that aren't cruel. He had hurt her, too. Tossing sand in her face. It's what they do... even when dead.

She's struggling, now. The others are protesting but she had seen it thanks to that feverish memory the thing shared, she had somehow seen it and he's just like her. Suffering, pieces cut away because of humans. He would understand the fear, the grief, the pain. The anger.

He would help her kill them, wouldn't he?

She still falters, though, almost crashing into the sand before other feathers join in - black and sparking prettily, keeping her safe. A brother's wing. It means he agrees, doesn't it? ]


DON'T T̩͎̺̺̩͕͈R̶͙͇̙̬̖̎̃ͅU̥̹̗̘̳̅ͪ̂͛͊̊̈ͅS̨͇͎̝̝̟ͨ̄T̺̩̠̝̱̼̠͛̓͋̌ HIM.
DESTROY THEM
THE T̸͉̫͍ͤ̏̽H͎͖̹̥̟̱̯ͯ̅̿ͣ̎I̺̤͎̫͔͚͊ͪͥ̉͒̓͝Nͫ͂͢G̦̾̈́̉̂̅ͦ̑ HURT YOU
LIARS LIARS LI̖͉ͮA͍̬͙̱̼͉ͩ͋͋̉̕R͏̜͖͕̲͍͓S̶̉̾͌̒͗


No. Please.

[ She wants them to be quiet for once, but they want to protect her, and it's a warring mess of voices inside. One hand finally reaches to grasp at a red coat and there's a disgusting crack, and slippery, bloody sound as Tessla breaks free from the rest of the plants.

She can't last like this, there's so little left of her, but she needs... she just needs a moment.

In the end, it's half a girl in the Stampede's arms, bits and pieces barely attached with twisted bones and feathers. Behind her is the cocoon, bristling in anger but lacking voices without their core. ]


Red... brother?
Edited 2023-05-23 21:03 (UTC)
el_llorono: (<_<)

[personal profile] el_llorono 2023-05-23 09:13 pm (UTC)(link)
The smile on his face faded, though to something more neutral, maybe a touch concerned, and not anything malicious. He got it, he did. even if he'd been the one who had decided to start this whole exchange.

"Sorry. Wish I could say you were right." Well, wait. Maybe not, hold on. His brow furrowed, though less for the pebble that whizzed right through his chest and skipped across the sand behind him, and more for what he'd said. "Why haven't you be drinking water? You're not immortal!" Well...obviously.

He wanted to say more, but the talking and being visible was draining, so he let out a soft huff and let the vision of him fade. It would take a while still for him to rest enough to feel back to his full strength, but he was too invested now, to let the conversation end just yet. At the very least, without stretching himself too thin, his voice was a bit stronger when he spoke up again.

"Why are you even out here to begin with? I don't remember some of the things you were prattling on about."
rejuvenation: (4)

[personal profile] rejuvenation 2023-05-23 09:16 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't know, I don't k̛̜̰̗̜͗̇͗̽̂n̴̫̲͙̣̞͈͉͂ͬͭo̫̣̣ͬ͐͒͛ͤ̕ͅẁ̘̉́! [ She sobs, shaking her head. It's a weird thing to watch, when the eyes do not follow the movements. Instead they're busy crying even without tearducts. ] I lost... I lost pieces. In the sand. My legs.

[ Not a lot was left to hold that piece to her, and it was easier to move after they had ripped away. It had hurt so, so bad, but that wasn't new. It was even easier when she was the one doing the hurting. Her choices.

A hand peeks out from the feathers and she grasps Vash's, linking their fingers together - letting his growing feathers meet with her own. ]


People will always hurt us. Y̫̣o̮̮̺̜͉̎ͮ̓ͅṳ̯͌̃ͫ̄̀̊ͨ.̰̦͇̭̇ They need to go away.

J̺̱͓͕ͬ̿͝Ō̰ͥI̪͍͚̲̙̘̣̐̃̿̿̅̚N̊̽̈ ͙ͧ́ͤ̓̇̂Ṳ̉̎ͪS̵̖̦̭͐̑̃̀

No! Don't s̯̪̅c̖̬̻͕a̧̰̗̓r͉̩̞͙̊̎ͫ̏ͫ́ę͉̖͙̻ͤ̈͋̑ͅ him!

[ The young girl smacks a wing into another wing, fighting with herself. ]
littleblades: (54)

[personal profile] littleblades 2023-05-23 09:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[ there is at least one thing nai is quite sure of, after his collective experiences spent on this planet; his brother is an absolute mess. as he watches vash fumble and bustle around the different shelves, collecting items as he goes along, nai watches him with an ever-growing expression of inquiring concern. there was so much left unsaid between them, but nai had fit the pieces together before he could stop himself, and the picture sitting before him was one that made him rocking with nausea.

he stands by the doorway, waiting patiently for vash to return to his side to take his hand. his gaze flickers over the items stuffed under his brother's arm, then up to vash's face. if only he were younger, he'd wipe away the worry lines with a tenderness only privy between them. but the disconnect between them is as large as vash is as tall now, and nai is still trying to come to terms with that.

a feather floats by his face just as the vision of vash and wolfwood enveloped together by wings comes into view, the spectacle of it leaving nai awestruck. the details and specifics of their species, especially independents, were largely unknown to him. every day was a new discovery, and now here he was faced with yet another glimpse into the future. it was exciting. he reaches out with his free hand to carefully grab one of the feathers that drifts by, careful not to crumple the soft wisps.

it takes one glance back up to vash to remind him what it is he needs to do. fortunately, nai holds none of the hesitation his brother has to disrupt this precious moment. ]


Hey, Vash! Dumbwood!

[ nai raises his voice purposefully, tugging vash along by their held hands. he'd inject himself into this moment without an ounce of shame. ]

If you made my brother cry I'll make sure you regret it, Wolfweenie.

[ despite the warning, when nai is close enough he aims a sharp kick to the back of one of wolfwood's kneecaps. ]
el_llorono: (Pensive)

[personal profile] el_llorono 2023-05-23 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[The sight of Vash's wing, so different from what he was familiar with but still breathtakingly beautiful, even as his perception of the living world tried to dim around the edges, was enough that for a moment he almost forgot the horror of what he was seeing. He almost reached out when it stretched as if to pull him into the hold, his hand turning up before he watched it pull away.

The voices, though, snapped his attention back to the matter at hand, and even if they couldn't see him, he shuffled closer, watching as she dragged herself out of the mass, only half a body, broken, horrifying in ways he had rarely seen even in the most violent, enhanced fights. The memory of Livio and himself slaughtering each other in front of the orphanage wasn't as grotesque as this, and he had lived it.

Even if not for very long.]


Y'gotta let 'er go, Needle-Noggin. Come on. She doesn't deserve this...[Words not meant to be heard, because he was groggy enough that for a moment he forgot that it was a thing he'd been actually doing for the first time in so many years. He stepped closer when he did remember, until he was close enough that he could have felt their body heat if he'd been in a physical body, almost close enough to touch, the raw energy of whatever made them up just tingling at the edges of his perception. Close enough that when he worked up the energy to speak again, they could still hear him, even though his voice was incredibly faint.]

I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't want you hurtin' your brother. I won't do it again.

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