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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 label says 'peanut butter'. whether it lives up to the label is up for debate. ]
Try it.
no subject
Yuck! [ It's bad enough that he scrubs at his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to get the taste out. ] It tastes like moldy cardboard!
[ It looks okay, the rest of the bar that's in his hand. But when he sniffs it, ugh. No way, it smells disgusting! ]
That's so gross! [ He holds it out to Knives. ] Here, you try it!
no subject
No way. I don't eat that stuff.
[ or anything. ]
This is all that's left here. I doubt anything else we find will taste any better.
no subject
Vash scowls at the remaining bar, then, with an air of great resignation, folds the wrapped around the open bit and sticks it in his pocket for later. ]
Then let's figure out how to get back. I'm gonna starve if I have to eat that stuff.
[ Which brings them back to their earlier conversation, doesn't it? Where are they, exactly? ]
I don't even know how I got here, though.
no subject
I don't know, either. The first time I came through my gate, but the second time... [ he shrugs a shoulder as he looks around for the radio he had spotted earlier. should he call that woman vash had told him about? ]
We should stay close together, just in case.
no subject
Duh.
[ Of course they should stick together. That's a silly thing to say -- why would they split up? ]
Well I didn't come here through my gate, probably. [ Probably. Who knows how gates work, anyway? That's advanced plant theory, and he's not there yet in his schoolwork. He's barely past fractions. He-- waitasec. ]
You've been here before?
no subject
[ he flashes vash a half-smile, confident in what he knows from his own experiences. he points down at the floor in front of the shelves. ]
Now get on your knees right there.
no subject
When were you here? Am I tall? Am I taller than you? [ The ground is dusty down here, ugh. What's he doing, anyway? From his knees, he cranes his head around to follow Knives with a million questions. ] How'd you do it? Were you in a bulb? Where'd you go? Were we on the ship still? Did you see Rem?
no subject
[ he lets vash's incessant questioning go on, humming again as if that's the response his brother wants to hear. ] I walked through my gate and ended up here, out in the desert somewhere. Then your future self found me and we... hung out together until my gate came back. [ he trails off there, mind wandering as he recalls that time. even now the taste of apple pie lingers. he never got the chance to make it for vash, did he?
nai shakes his head, dispelling that train of thought before raising a foot to step on vash's back. ] Okay, stay still.
no subject
Through your gate?
[ They can do that? At least, Knives can do that? Vash drops to hands and knees as directed, still grinning at Knives over his shoulder. His brother just might be the coolest, smartest, bravest....!
And then Knives steps on Vash's back, like a big jerk, making Vash's breath catch and driving all thoughts of how cool his brother is right out of his head. ]
Ow. [ It doesn't actually hurt, he's just whining. ] I coulda given you a boost, you know! [ ...Butthead. ] What's up there, anyway?
no subject
[ and not at all an accidental fluke that he has no idea how to recreate, definitely not! he'll just soak in his brother's praising, awestruck gaze until he changes tune again. ]
A radio! [ vash could have given him a boost, but this is much more efficient! using vash as a step stool gives him just enough leverage to hoist the old radio off the shelf, sending a flood of dust down upon both their heads. nai coughs as he holds the radio over his head while trying to step back down without falling backwards. ] Supposedly, we can call for help on it.
no subject
Call.. [ achoo! ] ...who?
[ Ugh, gross, wrestling in the street was funny but this is just gross! He needs a shower, ew. It's all in his hair and down his collar and everything! ]
no subject
Um, someone n-named- [ sneeze! nai shakes his head, little bits of dust falling off his hair. ] Luida? She lives on one of the ships.
[ a pause, nai looking down at the radio. did vash know about the big fall? does he know what happened? he turns to vash. ] Does that name mean anything to you?
no subject
Luida? Nuh-uh. [ How's it work? What's that button do? Why're there so many knobs? ] She's not one of the crew on our ship, so I dunno. [ What's that wire sticking out of the top for? ] Will that thing really talk to the ships? It looks old.
no subject
She was on another ship different from ours. Supposedly, she can help us... if we can reach her.
[ he trails off when he notices that the cable to plug in for the radio is cut off, exposed wires telling a story that someone took to it with scissors or a blade. upon this realization nai groans, sitting back on the floor with an aggravated noise. ] Damn it!
no subject
Were you on another ship? Where'd you meet her?
[ The radio's busted, so does that mean he can play with it now? ]
no subject
I've never met her, but the older version of you told me about her. He said if I was in any trouble that I should try and contact her.
[ but there is something nai notices, quietly. maybe vash doesn't know what happened... the ships falling, everyone dying, the chaos nai - knives - brings upon this planet. he needs to be sure not to let any details slip without triggering his brother's attention. ]
This one is broken, so we gotta find another one.
no subject
If I told you to find her, then she's got to be nice. [ Is there anything...? Aha! That bit of broken metal will work perfect! He's gonna get the screws off the back of this thing, and then they can see about replacing that cut cord, right? Not that they have a replacement cord, but one step at a time! ] You think she's a chef, with a restaurant? That's the kind of help I'd like!
no subject
[ nai watches vash fiddle and fuss with the radio, eyes half lidded. he gives a sigh, rolling his eyes. ]
All you ever think about is food. Is there anything else going on inside your head besides eating?
no subject
If you ate, you'd get it.
[ He can't help it if he's hungry all the time! Maybe Nai's energy comes from breathing and being a jerk, but Vash needs actual fuel to keep moving. It's been hours and hours since breakfast, and that gross ration bar in his pocket is getting saved for a true emergency. In the meantime, he's going to dream about tuna fish and fried eggs and apples. Oh man, an apple would be so good.
With a final twist of his makeshift screwdriver the back of the radio pops free. Now he just needs to unscrew the wire leads from where they connect inside the thing, and find a replacement power cord, and they'll have a radio! ]
no subject
... We'll find something better than old energy bars, Vash.
[ wishing now more than ever he had a slice of apple pie, for his brother.
nai watches vash work, chin propped up still. he lifts his head when vash gets the back popped off, an idea coming to mind. he looks around again, maybe if they can find something with a not-broken power cord they could swap it with the radio's busted one... ]
no subject
D'you see anything else with a cord like this? [ He's got the cord disconnected now, so it'll be easy enough to take it around and compare the plug at the other end to any electronics that might be in the store. ] It's a funny looking plug!