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. ]
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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. ]