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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.]
Location: just outside of Some Rando Town
Settlements appearing. Entire cities disappearing.
Delphinum and her boy suddenly popping in where they definitely weren't a few minutes before, just on the outskirts of some random little town she didn't recognize, is as disorienting to them as it was to anyone in any of those displaced cities. In the late sunset light, a towering muscular brown hulk of a man (who might be somewhere in his early twenties by his scarred face, youthful and sweet in a visibly easily distracted sort of way) sets down his burden, a rather small plant bulb somehow dwarfed by the human who'd carried it, the plant inside looking around in obvious surprise.
Across her bulb are a series of wires and little touchpads, a speaker bolted to the top. She's not the glowing-lined sort of plant, she's got too many limbs and too many bodies for that, but even at a distance the movement in the little bulb is awfully deliberate and aware, long fingers tapping the little touchpads. The voice that comes out of the speaker is tinny and artificial.]
Where is this?
[The bulky young man rubs a hand through his dark hair, frowning.]
Don't know. I'll look for a sign.
[And then off he boldly goes, tromping towards town with a determined look on his face. There's a static squeal from the speaker as several buttons are mashed at once, but he's fast enough that by the time the plant manages a coherent sentence he's already out of easy hearing range.]
Don't leave
Tom!
[Well. He'll be back, but by the way she crosses two sets of long, thin arms, alien expression set to mild annoyance and frustration, this is ... not even remotely the first time this has happened. There's a moment's long hesitation, and the speaker's volume is carefully ratcheted up bit by bit. Staying out in the hot sand, even with the suns working on setting, wasn't going to be comfortable soon.]
Hello?
no subject
He hears a voice among the rubble, something....strange, unfamiliar, not quite cold, but.]
Yes? Hello, is someone hurt? D'you need help?
no subject
[Exactly the same as the first. Somehow robotic tones never quite match the warmth of life, but she makes do with what she has. Had she stayed in a settlement, her communication equipment would be superior, but that was the price to pay for travel, and so it's tinny electronic voice and stilted communication, and the confidence that arises from knowing while people might steal and kidnap a plant, nobody ever hurt one.
So surely whoever just spoke up was going to be helpful!
But it means forcing coherent sentences out of her outdated equipment, and she studies her available buttons before choosing several.]
Can you help? I'm okay. It's hot.
no subject
he steps a little closer, and little quieter, and when Livio turns the corner he sees a....bul...b..
uh]
Do you need...water?
no subject
The small plant in the equally small bulb orients to consider her new arrival openly. He's nearly bigger than her and the bulb combined, that had to translate to power. If it's a trap it's a pretty good one, and there could be people with guns lurking EVERYWHERE. Who wouldn't fall for the bait of a free plant?
Except nobody leaps out to attack.]
No.
[She can make water if she needs it! The keys she has available are considered for a long moment before she begins her new message. That tinny little speaker is her only way to communicate.
She ... she really needs more buttons than this.]
Put down. Sand is hot.
[One of her hands points downward, where her bulb is indeed safely nestled in sand to prevent rolling. Technically she could wait it out, sunset was very soon and the sand tended to cool quickly, but ... but it's uncomfortable noooow.]
You are strong? Help.
no subject
and if this is a trap, he's got his punishers at his hips. with a nod, he tips his hat at her politely, like you do when you're about to grab someone's home, and wraps his arms around her bulb]
Okay. I can get you a little further down. Or on something?
no subject
Yes!
[..Wait, that was an either-or not a yes/no question. She hesitates a moment, cursing a bit more the clumsiness of mobile communication interfaces, and tries again, several sets of tiny wings fluttering briefly in agitation. Way to go, not paying attention and sounding vapid...]
Not on sand. Rocks are okay. Town is okay. Thank you.
[And if he thinks he can move her bulb then he really IS strong enough, which means she's going to have to think of a good thank you.
Or a good bribe. How does one normally convince a human to stick around?]
no subject
[he doesn't lift her right away, at least not much, just getting a feel for how heavy this'll be. he can do it-- she isn't too heavy. not like the bigger plants he's seen. so after a tiny grunt, he does lift her, bulb and all, and staggers around until he finds the perfect cropping of rubble to set her around-- a few rocks, but no hot sand.
gently, gently, he sets her down, keeping on hand braced on the glass of the bulb while he shifts some rubble around her more securely]
Whew! How's that?
no subject
A quiet tink of glass on stone, and she's now somewhere a little less uncomfortable. Stone at least had gaps around it and would provide air flow, infinitely better than sand. She inspects her new position carefully before giving a slow, thoughtful and very human nod.
Sometimes mimicking their gestures is useful, like the thumbs-up that follows.]
Good. Thank you.
[There's a lot of words lacking in this interface, which she frowns at. A good turn deserves another, it just encourages people to be helpful..]
Strong. Repay?
no subject
oh, she knows how to-- oh. wow. this is all so strange, Livio can barely fathom it]
Hm? No, no I don't need any repayment. I'm just glad to help. Are you gonna be okay alone out here?
no subject
I want to.
[One good turn deserves another! And besides, it's just the right thing to do. Someone helps you, you help them, and if she were completely honest she wasn't keen on losing her new company, even if only for a little while. But she nods again anyway; she'll be okay! Nobody hurts plants. Right?
The lack of nuance to her interface draws another frown, before she gives the interior of her bulb a tiny weak punch then puts her hands on the glass; something like frost rapidly crosses it, in delicate little spirals. In this, she quickly writes, but she's clearly not used to it because many of her letters are backwards. It's still more or less legible, though it doesn't last long under the warmth.]
Tom, my caretaker, is in town finding out what it's called. He's strong but not very clever and left me behind.
I am sorry. The sound interface is not detailed. I want to help, you helped me. Anything?
no subject
He's relieved to know she isn't exactly alone out here. Not very clever-- he laughs]
Sounds like you guys are close. I'll wait until he gets back, but I hope he doesn't think I'm going to do anything. [a thoughtful pause] Uh, do you have any water? Only if it doesn't-- trouble you.
no subject
Tom is friendly.
[Back to the machine, it can cover that much. It's.. not very detailed really, it didn't explain that her boy could and would absolutely protect her with considerable violence if needed, but it wasn't needed so everything's clearly fine!
...Water, though. That's easy. Too easy. She considers for a long moment about how to make it a little fancier. One feather uncoils like a long white tentacle, eeling its way straight through the glass of her bulb without actually seeming to break it in any fashion before setting down a large leather-looking, silver-studded bottle that absolutely had NOT been there a moment before.
It's cold to the touch.]
(no subject)
no subject
Given his encounter with his younger self, he hadn't been able to keep himself from heading back to Octovern, even if it was going to be the big hotspot for people who were on the lookout for him, now that the Earth Feds had taken over running the show as much as they could. But Octovern was a good way away from December, and his legs may have been long, but they were only so long, so still he found himself traveling between towns when he heard a strange, electronic voice calling out.
He glanced up and around, his eyes catching on the glimmer of the twin suns shining off of a reflective surface yarz away, and he turned to walk in the direction before finally coming close enough to tell what he was seeing.
While she was undeniably different in her bulb's construction, the sight of one of his sisters was unmistakable, and the second he realized what he was looking at, his feet picked up speed, rushing him over to the Plant before dropping his rucksack to let himself press his hands to the glass.]
You're a long way from home, sister! [He reached out with his mind at the same time he spoke, already making the mental connection on pure instinct alone. Why was she out here? Where had she come from? What were the devices attached to her bulb? So many questions tumbled from his mind, though he was used enough to sisters that had trouble communicating even when one did have the ability to connect telepathically with them that he didn't expect much of an answer. Already, he was glancing around, wondering if he had missed a caravan or something similar that might have dropped her on accident.]
no subject
It could, she suppose, be a lot worse. He'd be back eventually, and until then she could just keep pushing 'Hello' and see if anyone ever answer--
There's the muffled sound of approaching feet, and red and black motion, and she reorients neatly, all the tiny wings on her multiple bodies lifting in a ripple of surprise. It actually worked, someone came! Someone. Someone that..
If there was one advantage to being a plant, it's knowing her own kind when she sees them, even .. if this one had far too few limbs and bodies and wings, and that peculiarity makes her stop and stare for a moment, lean forward a little, pause again, and then place one hand over the spot he'd touched, eyebrows rising. She knows her own kind, but this other plant is definitely not in a bulb, and what's more, he looked a lot like a normal human.
Everyone knew about the independents. They were just so rare, and it takes a moment to process that's what she's seeing. The surprise fades quickly to unmistakable delight.]
There was an opportunity to travel so I took it!
[Her telepathy isn't the painfully abstract collective consciousness of this world's plants, it's sharp, it's clear, and while it's unmistakably tinged with the foreign imagery and color of alien, she's very much a thinking and sapient creature, one who seems to vibrate a moment in place with glee.]
Oh it's been SO long since I've been able to talk to anyone without this clumsy interface! I have so many questions! Call me Delphinium, I--
[She breaks off suddenly in a blur of distorted images, as her pupilless gaze sweeps over this exotically rare sibling's form, some of her enthusiasm dimming. Dark hair. So much dark hair. And when the touch of her mind comes again, it's tinged in sorrow, one small feather creeping out between the molecular bonds of glass to attempt to coil gently around his wrist. It's as close to a comforting touch as she's capable of. She must try, as any would for any other of their kind.]
You're all dark. You've ...had a time of it, haven't you?
no subject
You're so talkative, none of the other sisters can talk like you can! Have you always been able to talk? Where are you from, who gave you the buttons? What do they do? [As much as she babbled, he was no different. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt a little bit like an overly-excited, curious little kid again, seeing someone like himself but also not, someone that he never even had a reason to think could be possible.] It's nice to meet you, Delphinium!
[And then the bright, bubbly happiness that bled out of her and into him stuttered to a stop, and he seemed to wilt just a bit on the outside of the bulb. He was almost confused by the shift in tone before he saw the little feather slipping through and wrapping around his wrist. He watched it, turning his hand up so that he could return the touch in a mixture of curiosity and appreciation for what he could sense was an attempt at comfort.
The reminder of his hair settled his emotions back into the more familiar, constant ache that was his perpetual baseline, but he smiled at her again, a sad look that didn't quite reach his eyes as he reached up to anxiously tug at one of the locks of hair that always refused to stand up near his temples.]
I'm alright. It happened during all the fighting, but it's ok. Were you one of the Plants still being stored in Octovern? I was headed back there, to check on everything after what happened a few days ago. Did you feel it, too?
[Was she one of the plants who had sent out the call that was familiar but not? He still wasn't sure what had happened, exactly, just that his sisters had been involved somehow. Maybe Plants like Delphinium were the missing puzzle piece, the big difference between what he had lived and what that had been, that set everything into motion.]
no subject
If it's not okay, we're here, you know. It might be hard for us to find you, you probably get around a lot quicker, but we'll all do what we can.
[That's what they did in other worlds too, not that she knows it. Answering the call of a distressed Independent ... unfortunately, not the one on the side of life in general.
It's carefully put aside; she'll maintain her delicate grip if allowed to, it might be a thin comfort but it's surely better than nothing, better than being alone. There would be other times to press questions about fighting and why it was so fierce it turned him into a veritable poppy, all crimson and black.]
I left New Miami maybe .. two ... years ago? We've never been to Octovern, it's a bit big for me, too many people. You can't learn their faces and needs when there's so many.
[Hanging around a tourist destination for most of her time on this planet had soured her a bit to large metropolises, some loved them, she preferred smaller places. It's followed with a very human nod, just awkward enough that it's clearly a learned gesture over an inherent one.]
The ground shook, and someone ... maybe several plants, were begging for help. I didn't get a good sense of where it came from exactly but I figure if my boy and I keep sharp attention we'll catch a rumor sooner or later. [She rewinds mentally a bit, the echoed-memory of his own earlier words playing back like a recording.] As far as I know, everyone can talk. But humans can't speak like this, so the interface helps with communication. If I was stationary, they could make me a far more detailed one, but this is the best you can get if you want to migrate. It's low energy, but that comes with the cost of precision.
[A button is pushed, resulting in a tinny, artificial "Hello!"]
no subject
No, he wasn't okay, even if he tried to say he was. He hadn't been okay for a very, very long time. But he smiled at her, anyway, brushing his thumb over the little feather that continued to hold his hand.]
I know, sister. I know. You don't know how thankful I am for that fact. [Because in the end, that was what they had done, wasn't it? Yes, they'd come to Knives' aid when they'd felt him crying out for help in the fear and pain that had driven him over the edge, but they had also reached out to Vash, as well, called out to him and for him and the rest of the planet and said under no uncertain terms that they wanted to help him.
He let out a small sigh, pressing his forehead against the bulb, the way he was so used to normally doing when he spoke with one of his sisters, helping support the mental connection with just that much more of a physical one, unconsciously seeking out a little of the comfort she offered, that he had always felt when interacting with one of them, as far back as he could remember.]
So you weren't there with the Ark? Were you never called with the others by my brother? [It was an interesting thought; He knew the Plants in New Miami had been taken. Unless there had been Plants still trapped and hidden in the more isolated crash sites littering the planet, every Plant on No Man's Land had been taken when Knives had waged his warpath. Her story made him sigh again, his eyes shifting to focus on a spot on the horizon through the glass of her bulb even as he nodded awkwardly from where his face was pressed against it.] That was the fight, in Octovern. It was supposed to be over months ago, but then...[He listened "quietly" as she explained the buttons, how it wasn't just her who was able to communicate this way, and his brain began piecing out a theory, his brow furrowing.]
Delphinium...none of the sisters where I'm from can communicate like you can. You're the first I've met like this, and I've met so many. [Images of times he's visited them, sat with them, talking at them, drinking bottles of alcohol to numb his emotions when things hurt the worst, connecting as much as he could to their minds even though there was always a vast chasm between them that kept true communication and connection at a distance. The little, artificial "Hello!" made him stop and give a small laugh, refocusing on her face and giving a tiny wave.]
Hello! [And then, through the thought-voice again,] I think...Mmm... [Easier to show in images, probably, and honestly closer to the way he's used to communicating with his sisters, which makes it a bit more instinctual than what they'd been doing. His fight in Octovern, the sisters calling out, connecting with the humans, their voices crying out for help and urging the humans to seek him out, their Red Brother...
And then the memory of walking the path to visit Wolfwood's grave in December when the other, twinned call had hit and shaken the planet, but it was different and newer than the other memory.
Different calls, different but the same. Meeting a younger version of himself who had just lost Wolfwood and wasn't "all dark", as if it hadn't happened months before, even before the first call, seeing the damage from the fight at the orphanage as if it had just happened. Her stories, of Plants who were able to freely speak with the humans, who could travel and have preferences on where they lived. Things so alike but also different...]
I...don't really know exactly how...we work. Where it comes from. I never used our powers much before... [He gave a tiny shrug.] The Big Fall happened before I was old enough to learn too much about our kind, and the humans had lost a lot of the knowledge by the time I was able to...[Get away from Knives. Be taken in by the residents of Home, cared for, nursed back to health, allowed to begin trying to fit in with the humans again after 80 years of just him and his brother wandering the desert by themselves] I just know it's...dimensional? It's connected to other...places? I think...maybe something happened, the Plants in some other place like ours did something that...
[He didn't know. He wasn't a scientist, even if he had managed to learn a great deal over the years, more than most humans and certainly more than any humans who were the age he looked. He was just throwing the ideas that had begun forming in his mind for the past week out into the void and wondering if any of them stuck.]
Do you think that could happen? Could they have broken through and brought us together? That's why I'm going back to Octovern. If they're still there, maybe they'll know. They reached out once before, they spoke to us once before, maybe we can again! Relocating them back to their proper towns had taken months, and if they did that, if they brought us all together and they're still there, maybe they won't have been moved out yet. I have to know. It was my fault this all happened. If something's broken, I need to fix it.
no subject
No. I've heard rumors, of course, but.. There were two! And he'd called for help as well, and there was an ark.. And the fighting. The fighting had been against this brother.
Plants didn't fight each other. It was an odd thought, one she mulls over carefully. There would of course have to be a dire reason to even consider it. Unspeaking plants, a brother scouring the world for them and saving them in an ark, humanity cowering in terror. It's a dreadful series of images and feelings, horrifying in their own way, and carefully she detatches her own feelings from them so his memories don't blur into her own. It happened to someone else, in another time, not to her, and that tiny fragment of distance is enough to weigh Vash's explanations with the sobriety it deserves.
A second feather sneaks out to join the first. He really has been through it, she'd been right.
Nothing like fighting of the sort to make a plant go dark. The cities I know are as ... at peace as we can make it, with the natives and the climate being what they are. Sometimes there's echos of something going on with our kin in July, but it's so far away I only catch hints. I think the other Independent ones are there too.
Delphinium isn't a scientist either, but she knows how her power works. As she thinks, tiny wings flittering again in consideration. And then she reaches out to the connection to all of her siblings, the undercurrent she'd been used to all her life of thoughts and images and commentary, other plants and other lives - and finds it oddly diminished. There, certainly there, and one or two she recognizes instantly, but .... less than it should be. To them, over vast distances, his questions are posed. And then relayed on to the others further out, and posed again. And again, and again. Where one mind fails, many might have the answers.
As close as he is, Vash may well be able to feel it, the reach, the distant link to nebulous others without being the abstractions he's best used to and took what comfort he could from.
I would teach you, poppy brother, but I'm not sure it would be safe to. You'll lose days with each thing you make. she rests the palm of her lower set of arms on her chin, thoughtful. How to explain what they do, to someone who neever has? But to make it easy, there is this place, the physical. You can touch it, breathe it, bite it if you want. A bullet, or a bun, or a star. And there is a place where the physical is an idea, and energy is everything. A plant stands between them, and we can with a little help of machines, take the idea of a physical thing, take the energy of it, bring it here, and make it a thing. I gather it with my feathers, and shape it with my thoughts. If I don't want to I can make the machine shape it for me.
There is no demonstration, he's surely seen plants make things before. Moving a thing, or a person, from one place to another is just moving energy around again at the root of it. I couldn't do it, but it might be possible if many of us got together and tried on one thing at the same time. But please listen, younger brother.
Delphinium leans close, nose and forehead to the glass, pupilless eyes wide. If our sisters have brought us to this place, at this time, there is a reason they did it. Something was broken, and it's being fixed right now, by us being here. If you find the ones who called, and who managed this, don't ask them to send anyone anywhere yet. We have work to do first. And she was going to have to find herself a nice town to settle down in quicker than expected. In spite of that, she smiles, an almost human gesture except for it having too many teeth and showing the barest edges of her mandibles. It's almost impish. It's a good thing, being here. I will ask those I can reach, and we'll coordinate. Humans have radios but we're better.
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There-...there are no Sisters in July. Or Independents. Not where I'm from. And it took everything in him not to let the memories of that city cloud his mind, the horror of it still too fresh after having them forced back into his head only a little over a year past. He didn't think he'd ever recover from that truth, knowing that all those people he'd cared about, all the people who had been kind and welcoming and loving towards him, were dead and that he had been the one directly responsible for their deaths. But it was still a hard memory to mask, it weighed so heavily on his soul that despite himself, there was a spike of self-loathing that curdled through his mind.
He watched her silently as he felt her reaching out, felt the call go out to the Sisters, but he was sobered, refusing to think about the implications of a July that is still standing when he's still connected to her, and it was taking quite a lot of his concentration. He had learned the hard way, with his other self days past, that he had to be extremely careful with the thoughts he let pass through his mind. He'd been so careless in the past, hadn't stopped to consider what he was capable of, and time and time again, that carelessness had been the source of so much pain and suffering.
When she expressed concern over the thought of teaching him how to use his powers as readily as she could, he shook his head again, glancing up at one of the small tufts of hair in front of his face again in silent acknowledgement. I've never wanted that power, anyway. It's dangerous for me to...be different, where I'm from. Humans are afraid of me when they see that part of me, and...I get people hurt. And he is so, so tired of making people hurt, watching people die, causing trauma and despair and violence everywhere he goes. He wouldn't take the offer even if it he hadn't been stretched thin enough that to do so would almost assuredly cause his death the first time he dared to try.
Even still, her answer confirmed what he'd been thinking, but her reassurances that he should leave it be for the time being so that they could try and fix whatever had been broken this way didn't seem to sooth him any. But what if people are dying? Seperated from their families, never get to go back to their homes? What if more of our Sisters than just you were brought here? What about their homes and the people who needed them? Your little Poppy Brother is, obviously, prone to worrying about every worst possible situation, Delphinium. He may not show it on the outside, most of the time, but his default state of being had long-since become a perpetual chorus of anxieties and worries and fears chanting all of the ways things could go horribly wrong at any given moment inside of his head.
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July is quiet, she acknowledges, not precisely pleased with the information. What happened there? She'd find out ... sooner or later. Now it wasn't very important to do so, there were other matters to attend. But I can reach .. a few. Not as many as there should be. We are in Augusta, November. I don't know this town, but it has a windmill. And ... others, further out, but not like us.
Not the clear sharp minds of alert, sapient creatures. Intelligent in their own way, but different, noticeably different, even across the long relay of minds to reach them. Was communication really that strange here? Who spoke for the voiceless, if they couldn't speak for themselves?
A concern to worry about later as well, when she solidified her reach a little and could discuss better with her kin what was going on and what to do. Humans were prey long before they were hunters, and part of their instincts never forgot it. New things are frightening and dangerous. Her smile is brief and a little sad. But they can adjust, with time. The humans I know are not as afraid of a plant's nature, but they knew us like this from their smallest days.
Vash needed to find humans that were used to the idea, so he didn't have to hide. How could pretending one's whole life be comfortable, or good for the mind and heart?
But what if people WERE dying? Her wings snap closed, and she takes a big breath. Philosophy wasn't her strong suit, but she understood being driven to help. It would make her find somewhere to settle down, sooner or later. They all felt it. And if they are? Life ends, eventually. Even for us. Maybe a sandstorm will come and bury a town, maybe my bulb will break. Maybe. But thinking about it all the time doesn't help. Don't worry about the ones you can't reach, worry about the ones you can. There is enough hardship in life without borrowing more about what we can't hope to affect. There are lives here that can use a friendly hand, and their lives are worth something too. She looks around at the barren emptiness. We can't always help where we're seeded, but we can grow there all the same. There are plenty to help within reach if we look a little.
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There are probably a lot more unlike you than otherwise. And if I'm right about what I think happened with the earthquake, then they're probably all still in Octovern. It's a good distance from here. He smiled, though, happy to hear some of his own thoughts and philosophies whispered back at him through that connection. It was such a relief, to finally speak with one of his own kind and to hear that he wasn't alone in that thinking. That's what I keep hoping for. My brother didn't think that they could change, but I saw it, over and over again. There are so many of them who are good people. It's not their fault they're in such a bad situation.
No, it was his, and it was Knives'. And if he could make up for that even just a little, by making sure they were safe, then maybe it would go a little towards making amends for what had happened. But then her words became...more detached. And he pulled away slightly, disappointment and sadness flickering across his face before he could school his features into something neutral. He glanced away, shaking his head.
I try. Every day, I try. I helped cause this, I helped put them in a place that's so harsh and uncaring and dangerous. If I'd just done better, if I'd been more vigilant, if I hadn't let my brother go rooting through old files where we weren't supposed to be, if I'd just told Rem how far he was spiraling, if I hadn't followed those humans and left him in the desert...! I could have stopped it at so many points! But I didn't, and now they have to live here, where life is so hard, and I just keep trying!
He was spiraling, himself, even as he fought to keep his memories contained. The things she said made sense, logically, but they didn't line up with reality, they couldn't absolve him of his own guilt.
No matter what I do, it seems like people get hurt because of me. Everywhere I go, people die because I couldn't help them, or because someone wants to get to me, and they don't care about the colateral damage! I've been trying for so long, and I'm just so-...!
He grimaced and shut down his own thoughts before he could finish them. He didn't deserve to be tired. He didn't have to worry about surviving as much as the humans did. His body was more resilient, he could handle the hardships, he could take the damage, it was his duty to take those burdens off of them! He didn't get to be tired.
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But it wasn't, and she couldn't change the past. Even people arriving out of time didn't change the past, it only altered the future they found themselves in.
You forgive humanity for the things they've done to us. Even the world I know, we suffer abuses sometimes. It's how it is. But you forgive them, through terrible events and wonderful, through death and life and suffering and misery and hope and joy.
She taps on the glass with one long finger.
So why aren't you forgiving yourself the way you forgive them? Are they incapable of making choices, and you the only one who can?
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Because I could have stopped it. Because I'm not human, I can do so much more than they can, I can help, I can take the abuses! They can be so much better, I know they can! Things are just dangerous for them here, they don't have enough resources to go around and it makes things harder for them, and people don't think right when they're scared or in need. It's not their fault! They just need someone to help guide them, and if I was just better at it, maybe it wouldn't be so hard!
Bit of a messiah complex there, wasn't it? And on some level, a tiny part of him knew that he was taking on more than he could handle. But it was all he knew how to do, when things were so out of control and people were hurting so much. He had to do something, and he was able to do so much more than any human was, even having used up the last of his power.
If he could just help one person, then it helped him feel like he hadn't completely failed them, hadn't failed Rem and Wolfwood's death hadn't been for nothing. And if that person helped another person, and another, if all of those peoples' lives were easier because he'd saved one, then it was worth it, no matter how much it hurt him in the process.
Even if sometimes, he really, really just wished that he could finally just...stop. For good. He just wished that he could finally rest.
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She knows the answer already, but that's not the point of verbalizing it. She wouldn't, she already knew, cut through what felt like over a century of trauma and pain, that would take time.. a lot of time, and perhaps more voices than just her own.
But the impulse to help was hardwired into every plant, wasn't it? What they chose to do with that impulse varied, as was who or what they chose to help..
They can guide themselves, they have since they first walked out of the forests and onto the savannahs. You can do more if you want to, but you can't change what you've already done, or in some cases not done. And those you choose to aid will know your aid comes at the price of this pain you keep inside. Does it help them? It doesn't help you.
You're just one. But there are many plants. We are meant to work together, and share the weight of our work. You haven't been sharing very well, from what I can see.
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