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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
It's still angry, all it knows is rage, but its not moving to shred the boy into pieces. Instead it's heaving, shaking like it is either in terrible pain or holding itself back. ]
G͔̱͉̎̏̂̉̅̆̏͡O͙̰͔ͬ͛͢ ͖̩͔̥A͇̣W̻̹̪͔À͚̼̬̦̤̒̇͐̽ͦY͔̭̙̠͕ͨ́ͬ̽! THEY WILL HURT YOU!
[ 'They' is echoed like there are several voices, and the snarl that follows sounds like it wants to bite at itself. ]
I WILL H͈͈̟̘̗͚̤̑ͫÙ̻̞̞͎̖͗̋ͫ͌ͮͬR͍͍̅̏ͧͥͩ͝T̩̭̪̋̋̃͊ͬ́ YOU.
no subject
Yeah, he’s not buying that either, but if it gets him out of this alive, he’ll try anything! ]
Why? Why do you want to hurt me? I didn't do anything to you!
no subject
DESTROY.K̥͙̋̓̄͞I̶̦̳͍̣̳̅ͅL̞͍͔̥ͤ̋̆̇ͣ͢L̷̠͚͕̼̿̔ͯ͑̓ IT.
NO. Ü̵͉ͭ͆S̏̐̐̄. IT'S LIKE US!
PUT IT OUT OF IT'S M̭͂͟I̪ͬS̵̹̠̼̘̟̪͎̋ͭȨ̐̂RY̸̲̯̹̥̯̤͍̓ͤ͗
[ More howling, snarling and strange rolling, like a folded-up towel with a very angry cat in it. Then it smashes to the side, blood and viscera splattering over the sand. ]
Ṛ̵̮͙̮̳̙̈́Ű͓̪̭̤̘̬ͣN̩̳͔̘̥̓͆ͫͯ̃ͧͪͅ
no subject
He's seen a lot of scary movies, but he's seen a lot of sci-fi movies too, and he knows that the person who gets turned into the scary space monster can be saved -- sometimes. As frightened as he is, all that blood means that this monster is maybe scared too -- after all, he gets scared when he's hurt! He could run away, but then this thing with his brother's eyes would still be out here crying and hurting, right?
Rem wouldn't leave it here to hurt all alone. Rem would be brave.
Squaring up all his courage, Vash shakes his head. He's not running. ]
I'm Vash. Do you have a name?
no subject
V͓͖̻̙͔͛ͬ͢A̼̱͙̗ͦŚ͆͌͊̐͐ͮ҉̠̟͖H̃͌ͮ́ͦ͋҉̲̝͕̠͕͔
I KNOW NO V̟̬̀Ă̼͎̳̩̘͇͎̐̂̉ͦS̡̥̣̱̈̓ͦ͂̓H̦͚͓̫̱͇͖̒̓̇ͮ̍ͤ͢
[ It snarls, any memories torn to pieces by anger and hate. It wants to tear, to rip, to chew, to end the little thing, but at the same time it fears, because he's not human, he's not. He's like it and somehow familiar. ]
NO NAME
ONLY A̰̗̭͂̍ͧͦN͕͗̽͌G̣̼̪̲͆͐̔Ḛ̶̘̼͓͖̦͙̎ͯ̈ͪͦͭR̛̹̩̲
[ The great feather cocoon heaves again, overtaken by the pain when the rage has briefly faltered. ]
HURTS
H̐ͨ̈͏̤̟̗̘U͓̦͙̗̱ͅR̛͉͇̪̙̫͒̾͊̋T̴̯̩̥̮̳̄ͥͬ̓S̥ͪͤ̌̄̋̽͑͝
WHY ARE THEY HURTING ME!?
no subject
He has to help it! ]
Rem... Rem says that nobody should ever give up! So whoever is hurting you... [ even if it's you hurting you! ] ...should stop it! [ Did you hear that, monster? ] Leave him alone!
no subject
SHE H̢̪͇̆͊U̧ͨ͛̌R̰̬̥̗ͧ̈́ͪṮ̷͙͚̟̃̾ ME, TOO! DON'T LISTEN!
[ The creature wails, a clawed fist hitting the ground and several wings rising as if it wants to make itself bigger and more threatening again. To protect itself, and maybe the little thing, too. ]
HUMANS HURT
I̭̩̊ͥͨ̋͋̔̿͜T̹͊̐͜ ͙̗̙̼̬͈̈́͑͂ͅH̦̖̥̻̝͍U̕R͔̞̰̲̖̳̽͂̉̐̂ͦ̋T͒ͩS̫̹̟̹̝̙͆̎̀̚
WILL HURT YOU TOO.
[ The small one should be afraid and run. When he is older, he can help it destroy everything. Humans, plants, ships, everything. ]
no subject
Rem? Do you mean Rem?
[ Feeling braver than he ever has in his life, Vash dares a step toward the monster, peering into the feathers to try and find those wild blue eyes again. To try and see the rest of the face. Something awful is starting to occur to him, something that makes him want to scream as much as this poor creature is screaming, but he has to be sure. He has to get closer. He has to see her face to be sure. ]
How did the humans hurt you?
no subject
P͉̈́̿͊̽̚O͂Ĩ̞͓̻̲͔͔̫̊ͩ͐̔S̭̦͙͍ͅͅO̸̖̖͒N̩̞̰͔̉
EVERY DAY
MORE PAIN
TESTING TESTING
GROWING I̡̽ͪN̡̳͓̞̰̤̈́͊ͪŞ̖̠̥̺̇̇ͮͦ͛͒ͅIͤ̓̿̓̈́D̈͏̰Ë̬̺̞͖̳̼́ͥ̾́ͤ
[ There's wailing again, slams of feathers against the sand and a rush of anger and agony sent like a psychic bullet through the dunes. ]
no subject
Vash thinks he's going to be sick, even before the poor monster sends out a wave of fear and fury that's finally enough to send him to his knees, gasping through his tears. ]
Tessla! You have a name, your name is Tessla! You're like me!
[ He'd thought that report -- that he read every page of -- was bad enough, but this? Bleeding, feathered, her eyes not even in her face anymore! What did they do to her?! ]
I'm your brother! I'm Vash, I'm your brother, I'm sorry!
no subject
A brother. Does it remember a brother? Does it remember anything other than pain and anger?
It curls around itself again, feathers rustling all around them both before finally, finally a face appears, eye-wing curving round it like a blindfold to make the false image of it still being in one piece. A lot of features are twisted with feathers, but it's still her face. What they had left of it. ]
I KNOW A Ț̴͇͙͔̼̖͈͂̇̂E͖̺̭̮̍̍̍̊͆͜S͍̩͉̘̅͡S̲̩̠͚ͦͬ̏̃L̴̟̬̮͙̦̞̏Ā̸ͦ̍̊̾͂.
no subject
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!
no subject
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.
no subject
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!
no subject
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!
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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!
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
Tessla... who is us? [ This time he's certain what he's seeing -- she really is fighting against her own wings. But why? ] Who's that other voice?
no subject
The sisters. They s̞̟̥̼̀̀̒̾͂͆̚ǎ̴͈̤̳̗̲̖̇ͫ̎́̐̚v̧͕̪̲̟̟͈͒̽ͮͪ͛́ė̒̊̀d͕̲̼̤̺͞ me.
[ Several other plants, melded together into protective hull around the pieces of their little sister. ]
They're angry, too.
no subject
Other plants? [ He's seen other plants before, of course, and even talked to them... if saying hello to a dozing being that speaks like a sleepwalker counts as talking. He's never seen one outside their bulbs before! Is this really what they look like? They're beautiful! ] Hey! Then you can help me too! Stop fighting and let's get all of her and put her back together!
no subject
They only know anger. P͒̀ͮ͐ͣr͉̠ͮo̰͎̥̭̤̗̗͌̓̂͆͐̏t͈͔̘̪ͧ̀̀̐͑́e̩̰̖̼c̜͉͕͉̙̥ͣ̈͂̌͘t͈̫͉͕̖͍̥̀ͭͬ͌̒͢i̝͇̼̣͙̰̗ͯ̐ͧ̀̚n̶̦̝͖̘̭̲̩̉̓͛͋̂g͙̾ͮ̾̃͊͌̚. Soothing.
[ Tessla explains, as more wings close around them, cradling them both in their gentle touch. Big sisters holding their younger siblings. ]
They already hold me t̘̻̋ͤ̊ͬ͆̚o̖̰͔̼̠͝g̡̬͖̳͗ë̦̟̰͉̫̟̇͡t̵͍͍̲̰̦̞͈͂̓h͎̯̥̰̻͙ͭé̼̟̦̻̞r̳̀͂ as much as they can.
[ The sisters do not care about anything other than keeping her safe and destroying everything around her to make that happen, and right now their wills collide a bit. ]
no subject
Thank you! [ For looking after her. For trying to defend her, even he doesn't agree with the way they're doing it. For holding her together. He knows only too well that it's nothing but chance, fate, good luck, whatever you want to call it, that it was Tessla in that lab and not him, or Knives. If somebody did this to Knives, Vash thinks he might want to kill them too. He understands. ] Thank you for helping her! But she's hurting!
[ She should be dead, he thinks, tracking from her eyes to the eyeless face behind. She shouldn't be alive. How much does it take to kill one of their kind, if this wasn't enough? How much more could she possibly endure?
He turns his feathery face back up to the gallery of wings above his head. ]
I can put her back together... I think. But I need your help! Will you help us?
no subject
It's a lot friendlier than a glass tube of pain, and a lot more deadly.
Tessla smiles - or at least she tries, but her mouth is a horror and she hides it even from herself under more wings. ]
They can carry me. Us. For the pieces. But it hurts so much to move, V̻͖̩̊̏͑̚͠ͅa̠̳͂̍s̴̈̓ḩ̝͈̳̀̏͒̍̒̄.
[ She says, then coughs wetly. It's more than she's spoken in a long time. The screaming is different, then it isn't just her voice.
The cocoon's consciousness, the one in symbiosis with her own, gently push the pieces of her into the middle by Vash, as if they're offering him a gory puzzle. At least that seems like an answer. A prayer. ]
SAVE H̥ͪ̂͛͆͜E̫͒͒̽ͦ̈͘Ṟ̔̉
L̖̝̭̟̮̩ͤ̌ͮͮ̑Ì̴̥̲͙̭͎̎ͮͥT̷͆̔ͫ́̑̍T͇͚̠͖L̠ͮͣ̈̽̃E͑ͨ ̜̳̤̝͖͂͗͑̉̓B͙̩͈̘͓̬̜̽ͦR̩̠̹͛̈́ͤ̽̾ͩ͐Ŏ̴̽̋T̴͈̼͔͚̫̟ͦ̐ͣ̄ͣ̾̚H̷͓̠̄͗E̫͇̙͙̗̫͆̏̃̒̇̏̂R̡̽͌̿̆̚
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