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nomans_land2023-05-02 05:02 am
nml_mods) wrote in nomans_land2023-05-02 05:02 am
Entry tags:
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.
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.
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.]
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.
[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.]
no subject
He never had this kind of conversation with Nai. And... he suspects Nai won't let him have it, either. But it's always... different, when things are said outside your head.
After a moment, he nods. "I'll have to find them myself. That makes sense. And - whatever you think I should know?"
no subject
The same way it always does, and it never matters. He wasn't important enough.
What he thought Vash should know is ... a lot of things. Too much, and most of it wouldn't be heeded. Tiredly he raises a hand, one finger raised. "Wams are intelligent and a hive mind. Not a collective like plants, but similar. The bigger and older the wam, the smarter it is. Make friends with Zazie, if she's still alive, she's one of them. Make friends with the wams. It's their world, after all, and she's less my 'servant' than an interested third party." Important to know, even if the wams had decided to try to brainwash him, and he made them pay for it. Another finger. "Learn to use your natural gifts. Without that knowledge you're a victim waiting to happen. If you can't control yourself, that means someone else can, and will. Someone like me. You won't have a say in what happens afterward, so learn. Quickly. Even if it's uncomfortable, or frightens you, take control of yourself so nobody else can."
Third. "Trust your guide. He was sent for a reason, and as far as I know he's never betrayed you, even when it seemed like he might have. Don't let him fight alone, that's going to go badly and you'll blame me."
Fourth finger. "If time continues forward from your point, stay out of July if it .. somehow is still there. And Augusta. I will handle it myself, if need be. Do not go alone if you must go. If you go alone, these cities will be destroyed because you didn't follow point two."
Fifth. "You'll eventually encounter a man named Legato. Blue hair, yellow eyes, utterly faithful. He'll try to kill you. He won't succeed but you're not going to have fun in the meantime. He is also part of that other issue of control. He may .. MAY listen if I tell him to stop, but it's unlikely; it's possible I can turn his devotion to including you as well." There's a pause, and Knives frowns. Actually, of every being in his entire life, the only one who ever prioritized him.. "Actually, how do you feel about being worshipped?"
no subject
Vash listens, carefully. He nods at the first point, winces slightly at the second, his left hand flexing unconsciously, but he listens.
Then the third one just makes him hunch, looking down, a frown etched on his face. But he listens.
"I think I've seen Legato, one time. He was in a car riding around the sand steamer that went haywire. Was made to go haywire. And I don't think worship will happen? I don't know, I tend to overstay my welcome far too quickly to know. I'd think it will be uncomfortable. And the guide - his job was to bring me to July, and we were almost there. In this place, July is... rubble. And he - he thinks we're all dead and this is hell. So he left already."
And Vash is miserable about it but that doesn't matter. He looks away. "I'll work on my powers." That's the only one he thinks he has any control over right now. He has no idea where to start, but he understands Knives' point. "I didn't even think I had any until years and years after the crash. When I opened my Gate with my left hand and you had to cut it off so it wouldn't suck everything and everyone in."
Yes, his gate goes in, not out. Think on that, Knives.
His certainly did.no subject
"I don't expect so either, but I won't eliminate the possibility." Legato was a peculiar being even for a human, and singularly focused on what he believed. Altering it, even at Knives' request, would surely be a challenge. Especially given Knives has moved on, as has the world. He didn't remember anything about a steamer, which meant it wasn't ever particularly important, but if Legato's already been encountered then he was sure to turn up again. "If he brought you that far, fought by your side, probably fought with you and all those other things friends do, do you really think he'll consider the matter over even if everyone WAS dead?" He glances back over his shoulder, one black eyebrow raised. "Surely you have a better sense for his temperament by now than I do, I'm decades out of date."
That Knives might have more faith in Wolfwood than Vash himself does strikes him as both terrible and ironic, and laughing is probably a bad idea so he strangles it down. "July should be rubble, but if the flash I saw is a sign it's less a debris field and more a hole. Isn't that interesting?" And he shouldn't talk about the loss of tens of thousands of people like it's a diverting interesting thing to puzzle over instead of some terrible tragedy, but he can't see it as a tragedy even now. "But besides that. Don't give up so quickly on your human. He's more tenacious than that. And so are you. I always felt it was a good idea to fight for the things that really matter. If he really matters..." Then fight for that friendship, clearly. It's Vash's decision, it always was, but oftentimes his brother needed a push to get moving.
He does certainly remember cutting off Vash's arm, but it wasn't because of that. It's a good thing he's facing the other direction, because it makes it a lot harder to see how puzzled that makes him before he buries it. Well, perhaps Vash has decided what happened wasn't what happened and merely invented one that sounded better. That his power included localized black holes, given Knives knew damn well what those little horrid bullets did, made perfect sense. But what a bizarre juxtaposition, combining that with being dismembered.
"If it makes you feel any better the first time I tried to use my own power I put a blade right through my leg and pinned myself to a swivel chair for two days." Something he would not admit to, in another situation. There was this .. ongoing oppressive gloom that shrouded Vash. Perhaps he could pierce it, a little. Nobody was perfect.
no subject
Vash blinks, and hunches even more. "I don't have 'my' human. They each belong to themselves." Just as the plants do. "He did have a job. Under duress, unless I'm mistaken. He did it well, but then again, that's probably why he was chosen. I'm hardly more than that. I can see why he'd want to walk away as soon as he can." He knows Wolfwood's temperament, yes. Being forced to do things would not endear the one he was supposed to take care of to him. And Vash's self-esteem is in the negatives, assuming he's somehow an exception does not occur to him.
But 'if he really matters' certainly hits its aim. And now Vash feels guilty on top of upset. Par for the course. But also yes, he'll... reassess his estimation on whether Wolfwood would accept it.
... then his eyes go very round. "Two da-- when did I or Rem leave you alone for two days?!"
Nai had his powers manifest before it all came down so... even if he might have forgotten, or made to think it was normal, for Nai to hurt himself with such a power, they were rarely apart for more than an hour at a time?!
no subject
It's a long way away yet. But something is there.
Knives hadn't manifested his abilities that young. It took time and some level of physical maturity. He'd always leaned towards the metallic. Had he been in a bulb, what would he have been used for? "I'm not giving away all my embarrassing secrets. You'll have to guess, if you don't know already."
He doesn't think of alternate realities, that was even more ridiculous a notion than time travel was, therefore there must be an excuse, a reason, for all discrepencies.
no subject
Earnest, and honest, and sweet.
And Vash at least... is thinking alternate realities because the Vash he saw was different from himself, so that already means differences. And he knows what he knows bout JuLai, so time travel is already a sort of given. Maybe.
"A guess! Only a guess. I'll need to learn a lot more before I can know." Go to December and get your doctor regulated ... cocktail of what not AND headaches that are the triple Vashes, Knives. That will answer the multiverse question. "... and you said that as though I'd figure all that many things out before you do!"
no subject
But maybe some other Knives and some other Vash would have it better, with a little determination to change things.
"Ah, I'm sure you'll learn plenty of things just through idle experimentation. It might be the best way to learn to not fear what you are capable of." And perhaps, in the middle of a town, so when a black hole gets loose, chaos follows! .. Hm, no, that would probably be bad in the long term. "Barring that, if Bill Conrad still lives, or your .. little ship of uncrashed survivors, they may be able to help as well." He reaches down, stopping briefly, and picks up a pebble. "Visualization might be easiest, ordinarily, but if you trend towards making small black holes the way I favor metal, that's best done out here."
no subject
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?
no subject
There's a sidelong glance back at Vash, and what sounds awfully like a put upon sigh. "When I use this area as an example it's not a demand you start right now, little brother. This sort of emptiness is where you should practice, not necessarily this very moment; there's nothing here to harm." And inevitably there would be another tragic spiral of angst and misery should Vash accidentally kill one of his precious humans while attempting to learn his very nature. "...But very small. Very.. One could squash the entirety of this planet down and only get a hole maybe two centimeters across."
A speck. Less than a speck. Those tiny less than a specks had been enough to disrupt everything Knives had been doing. "Or bigger ones, and use them to ... I don't know, carve your name into the desert floor. Add another eye and a smile to the fifth moon."
Probably not good ideas.
no subject
Embarrassed, a little, but also he doesn't know how soon he might need to use his powers. So in some ways, the sooner he starts, the better. But what Knives says makes sense, and never mind that this time, 'little brother' makes him feel something soft and warm inside, something he'd mostly given up on feeling ever again.
He swallows, then laughs quietly. "He probably would, he does rather work with you, well, he does where I am from. You would tell him to take a plant, and he would collect it."
Beat, and Vash looks up, making a face. "What happened to the fifth moon, anyway?"
Because his one is certainly not like that.
no subject
Safer. Gentler. More up Vash's alley than something that can cause abject harm immediately. But it would be a start too, and it would be hard to close the door to knowledge once it was opened. "Not willingly, I'll admit. He didn't have much choice, when it was join me or join all his dead friends. If he thought you were a good avenue to both save his own life and spare humanity he might well choose to switch sides." Knives didn't think it likely, Vash was earnest but wasn't particularly persuasive when up against something like his younger self.
Automatically he glances upwards, as if the moon would be visible right now. If it was it'd be a bare crescent, faint in the light. "We happened to it. It's the secondary reason why I want you to practice control. When I was your age I was reckless and naive, and thought it was a brilliant idea to force you to use your power when that had gone so well previously, as surely THIS time you'd understand. You didn't, and well." Now the moon has a hole.
He rubs his chin with a slow thoughtful frown. "I'm not sure how long it'll take you to get enough precision to carve a proper smiley into it. We should probably table that for now."
no subject
Then Knives answers his question and he can't help but flinch, and then stare, wide-eyed, the questions there... well, he can't even voice them.
Then he looks up at the moon and stubbornly hunches his shoulders.
"I am not destroying parts of satellites to doodle smiley faces!!!"
Listen. He might consider it if the world is a place that is good and kind and just needs a bit more fun.