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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
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
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.
🧿💧
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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...?
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[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.
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[ 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. ]
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Not even when the humans thought she died.
No pain leaves such a raw sensation, she can feel every grain of sand stuck in her mess of gore, every feather around her and on her, and the heat of the suns. ]
Hello. [ Tessla says softly, almost just a whisper. She had to fight the complete exhaustion that falls over her, every part of her begging to sleep. ] I'm h-happy to meet a new big little brother.
[ While she speaks, another part of her and the sisters gather what they can of the mess, scooping it up on a larger wing for safekeeping. It's mostly unidentifiable pieces, for better or for worse. ]
WE LOST THE O̬̮̜̫̽̆̊̔̀͒̊Tͤ̔HE̛͓̋̿ͪR̴̟̀͐̈́͗̃̇͊ HALF OF HER
IN THE S͌̑̀ͯ͒̓ͥ҉͎Ā̸͎̬͇̰̳̺̤͒̏N͋̑͒D͇̈̾͗̂
TRAPPED
͓͚̝̩S̲͕̺̲̺ͅT͕̥̭̗̏̋̕U͓̥͋C̗̭͊ͬ̐ͣ̐̿Ḳ͎͇̱̋̎̀͋ͤ͌̾
WE HAD TO BREAK FREE
[ The sisters apologize, one wing reaching out in the direction they had come from. It's fairly easy to see their tracks, being a giant ball of wings. Somewhere out there was the lower part of a little girl, hopefully not being the dinner of some hungry wam.
Tessla looks at Knives and then back at Vash again, before holding out her little hand to the older of her little brothers. Her voice is stronger now, clearer when not dulled by pain - as is her mind. ]
You can really make me better? Not take me somewhere dark or give mercy? The other unseen thing said red brother should give me that and I... don't know what that means. The people always lied about mercy, s-say I'm given mercy, say I'm dead and nobody heard me when I screamed for them to stop cutting me apart. [ She sobs, tears wetting the feathers. ] I'm scared!
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[And it may be needed again one day in the future, though he hoped not, and if so, that Vash would remember the price and that the more plants were involved the better it was for everyone. It was the best he could hope for, for now, with the ordinarily bulbed Sisters scrounging for what meat they can, and the apology of some left in the sand. The other half .. that's significant. There was enough power here that they could bull through it regardless, but it would be a better heal if the larger pieces could be found, more time spent on fine detail over gross requirements of blood and organs.
He doesn't switch tones to speak to Vash OR Tessla from the reassurance he was doing his best to offer to her, taking the offered hand in his own, rough and calloused by time but still careful, but there's a brief look of question or pleading to Vash - somewhere out there is legs, or more. They needed it.]
I can! I've been hurt like this before, and it was terrible, but I got better.
[It's true, and the lack of a lie is an evidence of its own that he allows to bleed through. They can survive this, and worse.]
Healing is mercy too, the ... unseen thing probably simply didn't know how to help in any other way. You don't have to be afraid anymore. We'll always come, if you call. And if anyone tries to cut you apart again... [He keeps it buried, carefully, ever so carefully, but there's a brief edge to his voice he can't hide.] Then I will do to them what they've done to you, and I will be certain they are awake when I do it.
[It eases quickly, now isn't the time for bloody revenge.]
It may take our brother a minute to find something for us, so if it's okay, we'll wait just a little bit. He's good at finding things, though.
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I will be back soon.
[ And he sets off across the sand. Perhaps if he were a decent driver, he might have taken the vehicle that Knives arrived with. As things are... that would probably be a less than great idea. And potentially slower. Though after a moment he does realize he has a whole wing on his back. It makes the running thing more awkward, but perhaps... perhaps he can use it as an actual wing?
Even as he moves, he tries to maintain the soothing and pain-easing aura, but there will come a point where that will be too far, and the full extent of pain will likely return. He is sorry. He is sorry....
Even as he moves, he hears Knives's admission, and winces.
There are not many things that can damage Knives to that extent. In fact, he thinks to what Wolfwood had said - that both himself and Nai had died at JuLai. It...
It was probably him that did it to Knives.
He just keeps struggling to make his wing work. Flying would be faster than running... ]
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After all, what could be worse than the hell she was already in? Not even a year old and she suffered like an animal at the hands of people who had been given a gift, not a test subject. So when Knives words turn slightly sharp about her tormentors, the little waif of a girl does not hold back her anger at all; she doesn't even know how.
The rage of a small child is somehow still all-compassing and sets the sisters off as well, hissing sounds and shrieks mixed into it all. She's so, so angry and she grasps that hand even tighter. Earlier while being a shrieking feather terror in the sand she had wanted to destroy everything around her, no matter what it was - and while an innocent being, she's more than earned the right to hate.
Just like a little Knives, it's all fear underneath it all.
Even emotional tantrums are draining, though, and Tessla's eyes grow a little hazy again. ]
...we'll wait for red brother. He is made of helping and a lot of sad.
[ She finally says, a few wings curling around her like a blanket.
Half an hour out in the sand is the other half of a little girl, some of the wam buzzards circling over it and smaller wams picking at the gore. It's a large chunk of the puzzle that is the horror of Tessla, but it can save a lot of time to rebuild with familiar pieces.
After all, she wasn't almost vaporized by an angel arm. ]
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wall of text. TW: descriptions of inside bits.
wehhh
continuing the body horror
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THAT WAS MY MISSING It oops
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oops!!
Ah well.
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