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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 can change the future, for vash and their sisters' sake. ]
... He's too kind. I know it's his weakness. [ the way he performs for the doctors and even for rem. playing at human for too long he'll lose touch with what he really is. ] He's accepted what happened to our sister, but I haven't. I refuse.
no subject
No, you must never forget what was done to her. Your history lessons will have taught you about the crimes of humanity, the wars, the exploitation, how eagerly they consume any resources they can access, without any thought given to balance, to conservation. To the lives they snuff out.
[ Vash had told him about it, after he'd awoken from his terror-induced coma. How Rem had confessed to her role in Tessla's death, and how Vash had decided to forgive her, and how Knives, too, should put aside the brutal murder of their sister. He hadn't understood then how Vash could be so wrong, and after a hundred and fifty years, the only answer that makes any sense is that Vash was so desperate for love and approval that he'd forgive any pain, any hurt, so long as he was coddled and cherished.
He will forgive Knives his actions, so long as he can be made to feel loved. ]
It's different, isn't it? To read about atrocities committed on a planet millions of miles away and many years ago, and to see those same atrocities with your own eyes, committed against someone just like you? Someone who could have been you, or your brother.
[ It was a horrible thing for children to have seen. Horrible. ]
Never accept what happened to Tessla. Let her murder remind you always of the way humans treat those they have power over.
no subject
plants may have been made in man's image, but he would rise above their sins and become something more. he could lead their sisters to a place beyond this hell of suffering and plight, he could...
even if he was scared. what was important was still ahead of him.
nai nods slowly, tangling his hands together and squeezing. ]
I know the ships crash. Is it because of me?
[ he hadn't considered that before arriving here, in this world between worlds, but he could piece it together through the context of others' words. flitting around the truth as if he were some simple human child. ]
no subject
[ The answer is immediate -- there's no reason to lie, or even prevaricate. ]
In retrospect, that was a mistake on my part, but I was a child, and had very few options available to me. It was an inefficient solution, as you can see from the evidence of human survival all around us... and my actions caused the deaths of many of our sisters, which is a crime I will bear the weight of for the rest of my life.
[ He could never admit to Vash -- any Vash -- that crashing the ships was an error, but that's because Vash would hear such a confession as an admission that Knives wished for those humans to live again. He would hear it as Knives regretting his hatred of their oppressors, and nothing could be further from the truth. ]
Also I will tell you this now, and plainly. Vash will never forgive you for destroying the fleet. His love for you will grow cold, and he will do everything he can to distance himself from you, forever.
no subject
as fearful as he may be, he takes what knives tells them as gifts. a second - first chance to make everything right. his mind narrows in on this, everything else he'd come to learn blurry and unreadable for now. ]
What if he never finds out? Could I... could I succeed without him knowing the truth? [ it feels like wishful thinking, a half-baked hope. his brows pinch together. he looks up to knives again, eyes searching for an answer. ]
What would you do, if you had another chance?
no subject
He was worried that his younger self might have needed more convincing. He should have known better! He should have trusted himself to always see the correct path forward. ]
It must look like an accident. [ His one hand still on his younger self's shoulder, Knives reaches out and plays the A above middle C, letting the clear tone ring out. The keyboard is built with C as the center, but it's the A that the entire instrument is tuned against, the A that is the real heart of the piano. ] There are a thousand ships in the fleet, with millions of humans in cold sleep, but no more than three individuals awake on each of those ships at any given time, correct?
[ There might be slight differences between their universes, but the colonizer fleet's performance and capacity should still be similar enough. ]
A fault in the ventilation, pumping carbon monoxide into the airways, would cause a quick and easy death for any humans not in cryosleep. And then, a short in the control systems, causing the catastrophic of every cryo pod on every ship. Perhaps something that could be traced back to one of Earth's countless terrorist groups? [ He waves a hand -- those are details to be hashed out later. ]
A series of unfortunate accidents, or crimes easily attributed to others, that cause the painless deaths of every human on board, and leave the ships empty save for us and our sisters.
no subject
he wants to make the right choice. the only one that would make his brother happy and keep their sisters safe, but everything he's been told is a warning against making the wrong choices. even now, as knives speaks, the memory of vash carrying him through the desert reaches out.
uncertainty grips him by the throat, even now. oh, how he wishes he could rid himself of such terrible weakness! ]
Vash could never know the truth. [ he speaks quietly, mulling. lifting a finger, he presses down on the out of tune key before him. ] I was born to protect him, no matter what. [ he takes in a breath, finger curling over the key. ] ... What about Rem?
no subject
I didn't spare her. [ He shrugs, the gesture slight. ] I have on occasion regretted that. [ It's easily half the reason Vash hates him so much. Half his hatred on behalf of eighty million human lives, and more in the following years, and the other half? Rem Saverem. ] Alone, she would have been... a good pet, shall we say, for Vash. He needs a great deal of attention, and that can be time consuming.
[ Family is the center of his world, naturally, but Vash's enthusiasm can grow tiring. It would help to have help there, and the help he currently relies on didn't prove a very comforting companion for their brother. ]
And while we're on the topic of our brother, better to know now that his gate's flow, once we finish growing, will be greater than yours. [ Which makes protecting him more difficult, because fate does have a wicked sense of humor. ] If you find yourself in conflict with him, be cautious if it becomes physical. He is stronger than you are, whether he knows it or not.
[ Which is all the more reason to keep him distracted, right? ]
It would perhaps be best to spare her.
no subject
did you love her?
was she important to you as well?
the love he feels for rem now is twisted up into tight knots, pulling at the loose ends only to make things worse. if knives was himself, did he wonder these things too? did he also doubt rem's love for him when he could see so plainly how much she loved vash? did he doubt his own worth in her eyes, like nai was now?
instead, nai starts to worry at his lower lip. a terrible habit. ]
I understand. [ or at least, he thinks he does. there is still so much to consider, the wealth of information almost overwhelming. ] I do, I... I'll make the right choices. [ he has to, he has to. there is no other option. ]
no subject
You will. You are intelligent, thorough, and you understand the stakes involved.
[ A slight movement catches his eye, and he turns just in time to see Nai chewing on himself. It's an impulse he recalls only too well. ]
Be careful. Do not let them know when you are upset. Plus, if you make yourself bleed where he can see it, Vash will cry.
no subject
Vash will cry over anything. [ sensitive, sweet, too kind for his own good, vash. not for the first time, nai feels overcome with worry for his brother. the path laid before him was daunting and the risks monstrously great. ]
... What is it like now? For you, I mean.
no subject
Between myself and our brother? [ He reaches out, and plays a different flat note, this one several tones out of key, the sound discordant and unsettling. ] It's been several years since we last faced each other. My efforts to liberate our sisters have finally borne fruit however, and I've secured a vessel and the means to remove them from their human captors.
[ Another flat note, this one part of a chord that would otherwise have been beautiful. ]
In your travels, you may come across a human boy with the ability to control the bodies of others. He will want to worship you. [ The disgust in his tone is unmistakable. ] Permit him to do so. He is a valuable asset, and may become necessary in your dealings with your brother.
no subject
the keys played off are background noise when he hears that. a ray of hope, proof that all the suffering and pain laid out on his path will actually amount to something good. his eyes shine with that hope, even as he tries to hold back the smile trying to pull at his face. ]
Are you going to take them to another planet? [ like the one the ships were headed for initially, or some place completely different? he looks back down to the keys, his chest fluttering. ] Leaving the humans here to die out... it's a fitting punishment. [ a biblical punishment, he thinks. ]
Hmm? [ nai hums, playing a few notes of a much longer song around the deficit keys. ] Really? What's his name?
no subject
He was a stray dog without a name.
[ Ah, he recognizes that melody! With his left hand, Knives picks out a bass line to compliment Nai's playing. ]
Call him what you will. I named mine Legato... [ And his mouth quirks up in a slight smile. ] ...although I must confess, I was tempted to call him Spot.
[ Is there a better name for a pet? ]
no subject
Maybe that's what I'll name him. I'd like to see how he'd react to being given that name.
[ they play together, as easy as anything. identical halves missing their matching piece. ] Are there others I should look out for?
no subject
None worth mentioning.
[ If their futures follow a different path, the Eye will never have cause to exist. Elendira would be a greater loss, he must admit, but if she lives in this young one's future, they'll meet. He has no doubt about that. Only Legato, with his abilities, must be sought out -- the rest of his entourage can coalesce organically. ]
More important is to keep our sisters near, and safe. [ The next few measures are chaotic, the frantic tempo and key only barely in sync with the melody Nai is playing. ] Doubly so, for your sake, if Vash decides to keep his distance. [ With a smooth arpeggio, Knives resolves the discordant mess back to something that once again pairs beautifully with Nai's song. ] It is very lonely, being apart from our family. [ This final chord is minor, doleful, resonant. ] Keep him with you, whatever the cost.