On The First Day

[nml_mods]

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.]

Comments

[rejuvenation]

[ 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. ]

[el_llorono]

[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]

[ 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. ]

[rejuvenation]

[ 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?

[el_llorono]

[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.

neesan.... T_T

[dontdeserve]

[ Vash was going to freak out about so many things... later. About the state in which she was still... moving. About the killing intent, because there was only a limited amount of what he would do against her. About the state Wolfwood was in, that could not be good, either, and he had no idea how to restore him. About this. Wing. And the darkness and hopelessness of it, especially next to the soft white feathers in front of him.

But for a long moment, there was nothing but holding the broken body close, and letting himself try to radiate as much calm and soothing and love as he has in him. For her. For Wolfwood. Even for the seething cocoon.

(If he had heard those words...
... he would have told Wolfwood that it would have to be her choice. He understood every single aspect of what Wolfwood meant, but so many choices were taken from her, whether to live or die would have to be something she decided. He would...

He would abide by it. ]

Hello, big sister. I never thought I would be able to meet you properly.

My name is Vash, but Red brother also works, if you like it. The one who is apologizing is Nicholas D. Wolfwood, except this one is already dead, and a ghost. [ when he was saying that killing doesn't mean the pain would stop, he was not speaking platitudes, only specifics. ] This place is very strange, it has brought many people here that don't normally belong in one place. There is one other Nicholas D. Wolfwood who is alive, but he's not here right now. There is also my big twin brother, one who is very young, only a year old, and one who is much older. Perhaps he should be... white brother? I'm not sure. His name is Nai, and later Millions Knives. And now you are here, too.

Welcome to Noman's Land.

🧿💧

[rejuvenation]

[ She lays in his arms, face buried against his chest - and for the first time in her short life, she doesn't feel scared. Vash is like her, just like her and now that she's finally close to actually feel that, it's safer than the cocoon of her angry sisters. It still hurts, though. The pain doesn't stop like her fear does - it hurts so much that her little body trembles against his, hand desperately clutching the red coat. She should be dead a hundred times over, but she can't die and there's no mercy for her.

Never any mercy.

Even when the humans thought she was dead, and couldn't hear her scream as she was cut into so many pieces. ]

Vash... [ She whispers, listening to him as he speaks of ghosts. She doesn't know what a ghost is, and the invisible thing's apologies just confuse her. Some of the humans said they were sorry, but they still continued to hurt her, so what did 'sorry' even mean? Wolves and woods and things she doesn't know. At least she didn't hurt her brother, the thing was right about that. She would have broken more if she did.

Twin brothers, though? More like her? More like them? ] I want to meet... the N̠̦̜̖ͦ̕aͩi̷̗̦͈̠͛̈́̑̅. I don't like ̏̑́͛͋̀k̹̮̹̉ͩ̀̿ͩ̄ͫn̲̣̳̘͚̩̆̓̅̈ï̢͓ͬ̌̚v͍̣̬̜̰̯̩ͭͫͭ̓̆ͭͧe̛̤̖͙͔͛͑ͨͨ̓͊s̭̪̍̓͆̈͊͛ͥ̕. They hurt. [ She struggles to say through all the pain, and knowing that there's more of her kind that are not in pieces somehow makes it all feel so much easier. She's surrounded by so much love and peace from her brother that even the cocoon stills, the sisters finally relaxing a bit. ]

Thank you. Thank y͔̖̞̞̳͔͔͌́̍ͧ̂o̖͕͚̞̭̰͓͂ͫ͊̎u̴̯̹͙͌ͅ.

[el_llorono]

[He watched her clinging to him, her grasp on reality obviously terrible, but it made sense. He remembered, how the human way of doing things had seemed so foreign to the poor girl, even after over a century of following Rem, following Vash by proxy. If he had the energy to feel much more than exhausted, it would have made him feel so angry, the sight of her suffering and knowing what had gotten her to this point. Why was it always kids? Why did the fucking doctors always go after the kids?

But he needed rest, and he didn't want to risk letting himself slip into the void here, when he knew how easy it was for him to lose time there. It was a safer thing back at Rem's little home, but that in and of itself brought even more hurdles.

He turned his head so that when he spoke, sparing only the slightest amount of energy so that his voice was barely audible, he was speaking right into Vash's ear.]

Can't leave 'er out here, Blondie. But don't think she'd take kindly to mom...can't make the decision for you. Gonna need to rest soon. Tired. [And so he hopefully wouldn't worry too much, because that was just what he knew he did, a moment later he murmured out again.] Can get home, fine. We're not far out. But if I go quiet, don't worry. Takes energy to...stay present. Be heard.

[dontdeserve]

[ it was the silence, mixed with how faint the voice had been before, that made vash raise his head sharply, frowning in the direction it had come just before. then he murmured, ] Wolfwood. Rest.

[ then he bowed his head again, to press a soft kiss against soft blond hair. ]

Nai is adorable, and very little still, though he'll grow up eventually. And I know knives are dangerous and they hurt, but he... [ vash breathed out slooowly. ] He was so angry at the humans, all of them. And since his powers tend to metals, and he wanted to hurt all the humans - first because of what they did to you, then other plants also - he took on the name Millions Knives.

He is also... older than me. His power is nearly spent, but he knows how to use it better than anyone else I know. Perhaps he can teach me and guide me to use mine to help you. I ah... have helped a lot of plants, but they were always in their bulbs, or at least in their containers. Non were physically hurt. So I might need some of what he can teach me.

Will you let me try to ask?

[ could he have called out to him already? perhaps, maybe even without alerting anyone here though that was less likely. did he want to do something behind her back? absolutely not. people had made decisions about her until they left so little of her. he would not do that to her.

to anyone. ]

[rejuvenation]

[ It's hard for her to concentrate, but she feels better than she's done in a long time. She feels... safe, in a different way than in the cocoon of her sisters. Their sisters. She has a brother now. More than one.

One little like her. Would they hurt him, too? The thought makes her whine, clutching tighter to Vash like he's a lifeline, a balm to her pain with how he soothes her. It takes a while for the rest to register, but she had a big brother, too? Who was angry with the humans because of her and their bulb sisters.

What does being nearly spent mean? Was that falling apart, like she did?

The rest is a bit of a blur, but Tessla wants to meet her brothers. Vash says he can ask this Knife for help to help her, but nobody could help her. Could they? If they could, why didn't they help her before? It's a lot of thoughts, more than the anger and grief, and she coughs wetly against the red of the coat. ]

Ask the s̯̩̤̙ͬ̂͝h̅ͤ͋͋̆͢a͉͓̥̩̯̦͊̕r̡ͮ͂̄p̹̣̲̞̃͜ brother.

[ She says, her voice fainter. All of this is so, so much for her and she should probably go back to the cocoon to rest, but she doesn't want to leave Vash. She can't bear even the thought of leaving his arms. The sisters love her, but he is more than they are. ]

[dontdeserve]

[ The sisters are also so angry, understandably, justifiably angry, but anger takes energy, and Tessla is already so drained. Meanwhile, Vash lets her relax and not exhaust herself even more - and it's different kind of exhaustion than the one plants can help with, as such.

And he is also using some of his powers to soothe, not only emotionally, but physically, although the kind of pain that she is in can't truly cease without the wounds mending. ]

All right. [ A bit of silence. Then. ] He will come and help. Guide.

[ There is a flicker of something brighter and easier and at the same time sadder as he says that word, but it's drowned in the reality of here and now. ]

Big sister? Do you think the sisters here will help? I don't know yet where most of our sisters were taken - Delphinium says Octovern, but I haven't gotten that far yet, so I can't tell. And Na- Kn-- sharp brother is saying that the more plants help, the better.

[el_llorono]

[He was just present enough to give a small smile at the way Vash scolded him, so worried, so kind and concerned. For a moment in his fatigue, the joy of being able to be the subject of that care after so many, many years was overwhelming, reminded him how much he'd missed actually speaking with him, instead of at him.

But he needed rest, and he knew Vash needed to focus on taking care of her. Still...if things didn't end the way Vash wanted them to...he listened to him speak of Knives, of being able to ask him for help, and tried to file it away in his memory for later questioning, because wasn't that an important piece of information that he needed to discuss with him. But then he turned back to him, whispered again.]

Will be with Rem. I'll be fine.

[And then, louder, so that the small form clinging to Vash could hear, his voice as soft and reassuring as he could be.]

Tessla, Vash will do his best for you, but...if you find yourself in a big, dark place, don't be afraid, alright? Look for the bright light and go to it. It's safe there. That's the place I told you about. I'm supposed to take your brother there when it's his turn. Nobody can hurt you there. Just go to the light, and Vash will come find me, so I can take him to find you again, ok?

[Even if it was decades from now. He hoped Vash understood the unspoken instructions, left unsaid so they wouldn't confuse or frighten her and waste his own energy; if she dies, come back to Rem's. Once he was rested, the first thing he would do would be to check on them, and if she had passed, he would have Vash lead him back out here, so he could make sure she wasn't lost. Even if it meant heading into the light himself.

He turned, reaching out to let his hand touch, for just a brief moment, against Vash's shoulder. It hurt, a lot, and he sucked in a false breath at the pain. But he hoped it was enough for Vash to be able to feel him there, to be as much of a physical comfort as he could give, before he pulled away again, shaking the sharp vibrating sensation in his extremities, and began making his way slowly back to Rem's little settlement.]

[rejuvenation]

[ Anger takes so much energy, energy that could have gone to trying to heal herself, but Tessla doesn't know that; doesn't know anything other than said anger, pain and loneliness. There's so little left of her that it's impossible for a child to know where to even start.

Laying here feels so nice, though. Warm and soft and soothing, taking some of that agony and leaving unspecific but pleasant fuzziness instead. Feeling safe and cared for is so new to her that she's not even sure what to make of the feeling, only that it better than anger and pain.

Then she hears the other person again, and she twitches slightly in Vash's arms. A big dark place? That sounded scary... but so did a light. They had stuck a lot of lights in her eyes, and the sharp lights in the box made her sick. The Wolf said Vash would be there, though. Right? ] Okay. [ She finally replies, a little uncertain about it all.

Then her red brother speaks again, mentioning the sharp brother. ]

Ǧ̟̥͎̼̝̬̇̆ͯ͂ͬ́ͅū͚̦͌ͣ͒̄̈́i͍̊ͫ̈ͣ̑d̻̮̝͕͙͖̪̒͞e̡͙̾ͤͩͧ̏... [ She mumbles, wondering what that word means and why it made her brother feel a lot of feelings. It seems it will help, though. Because her red brother is made of helping. Asking another brother to come fix her.

She likes having brothers. ]

The sisters... they're part of me. I'm part of ț̷̩̖̺̱̦͓͊̾̈̚h͚̲̭͉̞̥͈ͩe̹̥̳̲̭̦͛̌ͪ̐̄̎m̗ͨͣ͟. They want to keep me safe. [ Tessla starts, and the cocoon sways a bit, a few wings stretching. The hole in the middle where she pulled herself free is also bleeding, an open wound in their half-assimilated shared body. ] They will help.

[ They've been helping ever since the crash, to stop her crying, to shield her body, to hold her tight every time her soul cracked and she screamed and screamed until there was no air left to fill her sick lungs. Protectors, nurses and avengers, creating a feathery hospice for a girl who should have been loved. ]

I don't know any other sisters.

[ She eventually says, and her voice is wet and unsteady, blue eyes hazy on the wing that hosts them. ]

[dontdeserve]

There are more sisters. I hope we can find them, there are so many more, and they are all wonderful. [ He knows. He's spent a very, very long time caring for them.

And he is doing as much as he can to maintain her state, rather than degrade, although the cocoon bleeding is worrying him. There is so much that he is not certain about, but calmer does seem to be better. He thinks. ]

If everything works out, there will be so much to show you. Some of it might be complicated, and some you might not want to see again, but ... if nothing else, there is Delphinium. She is one like the other sisters, only she will talk to us, from her bulb. She is very nice.

[ ... that might not mean much coming from him, but on the one hand, he means it - on the other hand, it is not as though she can tell. Yet. ]

[rejuvenation]

[ Laying in his arms like this, surrounded by his warmth through the coat and the softness of pretty black-and glowy feathers, Tessla learns a peace she hasn't felt since she was deemed large enough for the serious experiments. It's like he's taking away her pain a little bit, hiding the stabbing, ripping, tearing agony behind kind eyes and kind words. ]

I... would like to see more sisters.

[ Tessla whispers, her voice slowly starting to sound more like just her and not entwined with the other plants - but so, so much fainter. It hurts to speak, but she doesn't want to go back to the bed of sisters quite yet. With the edge of her misery dulled slightly, the little girl carefully turns her eye-wing to look up at her brother and then the sky.

She likes the sky. It has pretty colors. ]

You feel sad, red brother.

[ Tessla says, a tremor in her voice that ends in a raspy, wet breath. Her eyes slowly close, and her grip on his coat loosens as her consciousness wavers. ]

[dontdeserve]

You will see them, we'll find a way. Sharp brother says he knows this can be mended. And... I am a little sad, yes, but sadness is part of life - then you can appreciate joy even better. I'll show you that, too, I think.

[ His wing gently rocks her, but it's less soothing her to sleep - he remembers Knives warning against that - and more keeping her attention. ]

Hey... do you think it will be easier if you go back with the sisters? I will hold you even then, my wing can wrap around them and you, I think.

[ ... it's the first time he's had it, he can only guess. ]

[rejuvenation]

I'm always... always sad. Or was. N-not with you.

[ She mumbles slightly incoherently, and then her remaining facial features tense a bit as she's rocked. It hurts, despite how very soft the wing is. It does what is needed, however, and makes her open her dull eyes a little once more.

The cocoon of wings move, as if called by her declining health or by Vash's words, dragging itself forward with mutated wings and creaking, bone-snapping noises. It's almost the size of a truck, so it might be hard for Vash to hold it - but softer, straighter feathers reach for their tattered charge to be returned to them.

Once she's safe in their wings, she disappears into the mass of half-assimilated plants and the cocoon shudders. Sharper, deadlier feathers start facing outwards, a many-voiced growl telling that they are in a protective mode again.

...at least the wild mutated feather tumbleweed doesn't attack Vash, instead remaining still and keeping the front without their deadly defense for him to be able to stay close.

Tessla rests deep inside, able to relax a with the worst pain dulled for the first time in a very, very long time. ]

[nyctinasty]

[If there's any benefit to a desert, it's incoming vehicles can be seen from a long way off by the dust plume alone, and one is incoming. Knives doesn't broadcast his presence otherwise, but Vash knows he's on the way and that would hopefully be enough of a warning.

She might be a plant, but she's also a wounded, frightened child. He doesn't much want to make that worse, and he doubted she'd had much experience with vehicles, never mind loud stinking ones that kick sand and dust and pebbles everywhere. At least the feather ball is easy enough to see from a short distance, though the addition of a dark wing is .. unexpected and strange.

The only time he touches the brakes is within a quarter mile, slowing the sputtering, unhappy vehicle by degrees until he can drive closer with it without much disruption of dust. Only then does he too stop deliberately muting his own presence, in case that protective knot of sisters took offense to a 'human' on the approach. No humans here. Not even dead ones!

All his fury, all his hatred for humanity stirred up at the revelation of her survival like that is very carefully buried; it's not important right now even if he can't help but a brief look around for a potential target - if she'd appeared who wasn't to say one of her tormenters had? But there's no one. Just a tangle of sisters, and Vash. Who ... has black feathers, presumably feathers in a shape he's not used to seeing.

..... Worry about that later. There's blood on the wind and staining the sand with unspeakable giblets, and black doesn't kill immediately.]

What a mess.

[It's not loud, not over the rumble of the engine, but the wind might carry it anyway. He's going to have to make his approach on foot, by the protective stance of those countless wings.]

[dontdeserve]

[ He is doing his best, and even after she is in the cocoon - he cannot completely cradle it as he did her, but he can wrap his wing around it - he keeps giving as much comfort and healing as he can. And... he doesn't let go of one of her hands, if he can, as the cocoon stays partly open. All that he can give, all the comfort, she gets.

When Knives gets there, Vash is looking in that direction, and when his brother is out of the vehicle, he starts apologizing immediately. ]

I'm sorry, she's not awake now, but she is not getting worse. I think just... when it hurts less, she's just comfortable for the first time.

[ It is indeed a mess, but he's doing his best. He is. ]

[rejuvenation]

[ The rumble of a car is noticed, but it's far enough away at first to not mean immediate danger. There were wams around in the sands and even a grand one in the distance while they were raging across the dunes, and they only killed the ones that came to close. The cocoon does bristle again when the new presence makes itself known, but it doesn't go into death mode when their little core is calm and as comfortable as someone with her injuries can be. Not afraid, because she has a brother. Many brothers that are also the same brother.

The closer Knives come towards them, the more the wings fluff up until it's almost round. It could maybe be called cute if it wasn't for all the blood in the sand and on Vash's coat.

Tessla is quiet inside, still radiating more agony than any one normal person could handle, but feeling a little better thanks to the way Vash had taken some of her pain. The terror is also less thick in the air, and with that the anger has calmed to hot embers rather than a wildfire.

There's still tension from the semi-assimilated dependents, however. Even without eyes and their own individual consciousnesses, they're watching you, Knives. ]

[nyctinasty]

[Vash's best, with the primary direction being 'don't let her sleep', is not good enough.

When the primary direction was 'don't let her sleep because it could kill her', Vash's best could be a death sentence, and the look Knives gives him is one of disappointment, but not surprise. If that had been a human child, he's certain his instructions would have been carried out flawlessly. Had he even bothered to dull her pain, or was that left to the sisters?]

The fault is mine. I'll be more careful. Let's ... see what we can do.

[He should have known better than to rely on Vash, and if Tessla paid for it with her life, then the blame was entirely on his own shoulders. Perhaps he should have burned what energy he had left and taken to the air, less time for things to keep going wrong, enough time maybe to tell the sisters what they needed to do.

Faced with a defensive ball of puff that could easily turn deadly should they so choose, Knives ... doesn't do anything about it. They're acting as they should, and he could only meet them with his own sincerity and concern- for all that he hated humanity, his affection for his own kind ran just as deep. He is no threat. Not to a plant.

His words are both aloud, and ... not. An appeal to the heart as much as to the ears, as he brings the confidence and hope of experience with him.]

Sisters. I've come to help. I know how to fix this. Together we can end this pain. Will you let me show you how?

[Simple, clear and straightforward, the same way he'd convinced countless plants to stand by his side before. No deceptions, no lies, and all the gentle kindness that humanity has yet to ever earn.]

[dontdeserve]

[ Vash flinches at the disappointment, the pain of it cutting deep to the point where for the first time since he realized how important it was, the soothing and comfort and calm he's radiating wavers for a moment before he digs his heels in and steadies it. He doesn't matter. His pain doesn't matter. It never did, and it never would.

The night-dark wing remains wrapped as far around the cocoon as it will go, but if Knives needs to stand in front the cocoon, closest to where Tessla is, he will run his thumb along the small knuckles and let go of her hand, to place his palm against the soft-sharp feathers. ]

I'm still here.

[ But he doesn't dare offer more help to Knives. He already has, and he knows his brother will take from him if needed, but he hasn't earned that trust, clearly. ]

[rejuvenation]

[ There's a small whimper inside of the cocoon when Vash lets go of that feathered hand, but at least it's a sign that she's still alive. Tessla doesn't really know how to control the way she shares in their connection, it's all emotions and pain leaking out freely, just like the rage flooding the desert when the cocoon first arrived. Right now there's a hint of fear, because there's a new voice - but Vash and the sister's calm soothes her right back to just wary.

Said sisters start to soften the defensive feathers, folding threatening wings back - except for a few that have turned to directly face Knives. Their brother's earnest words and kindness have their attention, including Tessla's since they're all connected. ]

SA̜̗͍̮̪͎ͣ̿ͩͅV͇̜͈̉ͬ̐Ė̥̬̼̩̎̒͐͌ͣ̈́ͅHER.
TAKE THE P̘̉͊A̬͖̟̋̚I̶͈̣͇̜N͔̠̱ͧ͂̚
END IT. E̖̰͈̽̄̈́̏̾̀̃N̴̯̞͚̝̞̳̫̎͂ͬD͖͖̭̲͉̲ͩ͐́ IT.
SHOW US.

[ The cocoon peels away more wings, a myriad of twisted feathers and limbs until the core is visible again. Tessla is lying on larger feathers to support her, head tipped back a bit and the feather-filled blonde hair spilling over white. It's not a sight people can easily stomach; she's a horror of gore much like the twins remember from the containers, and even worse in a way since she's missing her lower half.

It looks like the assimilation has fixed her in some ways, probably out of desperation. Her hand and her arm are attached to more twisted wings, just like her eyes. Her brain is placed like it should be rather than floating in another tank. That's where it ends, though. That's how much a little, terrified child could do with the help of her sisters - and lying on her back like this rather than face down in her brother's arms, there are a few dark strands hidden underneath the blonde. ]

Sharp brother...?

[nyctinasty]

Don't get ideas about doing more than you're asked for and 'sparing' our sisters their part in this.

[The warning is quiet and firm, an undercurrent to that tiny whisper in the coccoon.]

It won't help, I need precision and predictability, not recklessly dumping power into a broken vessel. She - all of them, I don't know if I can separate them or if they'll want to be .. they will need help later and I can't do that. You seem always eager for a new way to sacrifice yourself, it'll do you some good to have something to live for instead. She'll need you.

[He can't do it himself. Not when he can feel the rot of dead power in every moment of every day. It could catch him later today, tomorrow, a week from now ... a year, there was no knowing. Where humans had failed to get rid of the menace that lurked in the dunes, time's relentless inevitability would see it to its final conclusion. He didn't think about it when he could avoid it.

Tessla, a gestalt or alone, deserved better than to be shackled to that. Vash was still vibrantly full of life, he could last a long time if he had a reason to care, a reason to not throw himself at every lethal situation. She didn't need to be another lost orphan alone in the desert like they had been. How much different would their own lives had been, had his original plan worked and Rem went with them into the endless wasteland? Experience has its benefits, as the shrouding ball of feathers begins to uncurl and he can easily hide and obscure fresh horror at the state Tessla's been left in, the smell of viscera, the echos of pain and fear. He knew how much she'd be hurting. He'd been there, twice. No plant should have to endure that, suffer like this, and Vash is given another brief glance.]

Give her a better life.

[This must not be all there is for her. It can't be allowed.

She shouldn't have black in her hair, so young. She should have had a chance to experience something other than suffering. If ever he needed a monument to human cruelty and callousness, it was here in this nest of feathers. Gently he reaches a hand for the feathers, for Tessla's ragged form, there's no blades to mark where he chose his name from. There was enough fear already.]

We will all save her. If there are remnants left in the sand, anything bigger than [image: a golfball] and you can reach them please bring them close. Dear sister, this will feel strange, but even if you are tired you must not sleep.

[Because it's easy to want to rest, to want to relax, when there's no pain anymore, and as soon as Knives makes contact with a feather, a wing, a bloody arm - that pain will suddenly end in time to spreading pale glowing lines at the point of contact. He'll take it and endure it instead, he's felt it before, worked through it before. He could again. Had to.

Without pain there's still other sensations, some might not be comfortable, like the press of rock and sand, the way air feels on open wounds without the suffering attached to it, the singing confusion of nerves expecting pain and making up a sensation to feel instead of it. For the tangle of sisters and Vash it might not be easy to see what he'd done, but feel it, and be able to reproduce it.. that's easier. He doesn't have power to use, but this isn't using his power, this is convincing power to work in a different way, the way he tells it to, and he can keep his voice mostly steady through it, though his smile is more wan than he'd care for if he knew it.]

Hello. After all this time, we meet at last.

[dontdeserve]

I wasn't going to interfere. You are the one who knows what you are doing. I will just keep doing what I am doing.

[ Calming, and easing the pain. Of all the cocoon. And something in Knives's tone made him brace himself, but it was not enough. The process is brutal, and vash's entire being aches for all of them. He doesn't cross what Knives told him - not for preserving his own life, what does he need it for anyway - not a thought to voice when their sister is fighting for hers - but because he wants to give her the best chance to be whole, after so long, and Knives is her best chance for that. ]