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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
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...?
no subject
[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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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!
no subject
[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.
no subject
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... ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
Later, maybe. When she's healthy. When her entire small colony is, and they're able to defend themselves. The hissing and shrieking is exactly what he wanted to do most of the time when he had to endure human company. It was a strange sense of kinship, forged on fear and brokenness, but he'll cherish it all the same, and fold his other hand over her small, viselike grip.]
It's alright. You can hate them too, they deserve it. [Knives is never, ever going to tell another plant they shouldn't hate humans. Learn to harness that rage, perhaps. Make it useful - but now? Right now?] But they're not here now. And I won't let any of them near.
[He wished with a bitter ache that he could do as Vash did, and add feathers and wings to the mix, but he couldn't offer that simple basic comfort almost any other plant could. He had to do nothing that a human couldn't, the bare minimum of a gentle grip and presence.]
...He is, isn't he? But if you can get him to smile the sadness goes away for a little while.
[There's a moving red spot in the sand, but Vash might not be in sight much longer. He watches it for a moment, fogged by old memories, then shakes his head as if to clear them away. More importantly, the small flock of fury..]
Tessla. My sisters. I have to ask.. do you want to stay together, all linked? You can. It'll make all of you stronger, safer, but you don't have to if you don't want to.
[He missed it, in some ways. He hadn't been alone, then, even through the abstractness of their communication.]
no subject
Hatred could not bring about anything but pain. Fear could not bring about anything but choices with no future.
But Tessla. Tessla had the right to hate. The right to fear. It just hurt him all the more. But it was her choice. As it had ever been Nai's.
Vash pulled himself up and took to the air once more, hurrying as much as he was able. He shooed the small worms gently away, gathering as much of what had been left behind as he could, quickly and carefully. He had no idea if without the... core? Of what a plant was it would matter, but he extended what healing he could towards this as well, even as he took to flight again, in as straight a line back as he could. Hurry, hurry, hurry. The faster he could go back, the sooner she would be in less pain. ]
no subject
...and speaking of- ]
I don't want to leave them. [ Tessla says softly, almost afraid at the thought of being separated again. Her other hand reaches to touch a wing that doesn't belong to her, small fingers curling in the feathers. It reaches for her as well, agreement radiating from the plants around her. They love eachother so much, parts of a whole. ]
WE WILL ALWAYS P̶̬͖̪̪̦̘̲R̨̻̜͖̘͂̅̿̃ͣ̇OT̲̩̰͕̻ͦ̉Eͤͨ̊C̣̦̘͓T̼͈̫̬͇̏ͣ͛͆ͬ̊ HER.
[ A small smile ghosts on the tiny girl's lips when she hears that, warmth replacing all the rage and fear she spread before. A child held lovingly by her older sisters, safe while her older brothers watch over her.
Her body is struggling, though. Ripping free from the cocoon had greatly diminished her energy and health, and with the pain gone it's like her body thinks she's dying. Again. ]
...I'm very tired. It's so odd, sharp brother. Everything feels different.
no subject
[It was true. That sort of affection all of them had for each other was a little foreign but welcome to catch the edges of, its unhesitating, all-accepting embrace. She'd need them, need protectors, one way or another. And they'd grant her power beyond what an individual plant could do, he'd just have to find a way to gently warn her to not especially trust the Terrans, as they had ways of breaking the gestalt.
Her tiredness though, the pain he'd taken, it warned that if they weren't getting to healing soon it may not go so well. He looks for Vash, that distinctive spot of red amongst all the paleness of the desert, and that ominously beautiful black wing.]
Soon it won't hurt at all without me doing anything. You'll be able to stand, and run, and play if you want to. You can sleep then, too. Just... a little bit longer. I'm sorry we're making you wait.
[But for a good cause. Easier healing, faster recovery..
..There. Red, gold and dark, and the smile that crosses his face is brief but bright and an equally quick surge of happiness, there and gone or buried. Such an expression doesn't suit him well, better worn by slightly different features and a mole on the other side.]
See, I told you he can find things easily. Things will be much better very soon.
no subject
that's why he had allowed her to rest a little while Knives arrived, she needed to conserve her energy...This is the second time a strong emotion more or less knocks Vash off the air, and he tumbles down, rolling a bit across the sand with his precious cargo cradled safely against his chest. Then he stumbles back upright and runs the rest of the way... trying to keep a bit out of Tessla's view to show to Knives... a silent question on whether it's all right for her to see. Then again, he already knows the answer.
And yes, he's taking over the pain soothing and calming as soon as Knives lets him, but also there is more affection added now. That surge of happiness... even brief as it is, he's not been the cause of that before. He could bask in even that brief moment... were there not far more important things to handle first.
He bites his lip slightly, as he approaches enough to feel it. ]
Sorry, I'm sorry, I went as far as I could... [ The tip of his wing, the most far reaching part, caresses the side of the cocoon. ] Sisters, can you open up a little to take this part in? It will be safer inside, so she can be made whole.
no subject
Still, she's starting to struggle a bit. Now that she has a goal, a possible future, it's like her own body is betraying her. She's getting bleary-eyed and pale, struggling to make sense of what the sharp brother is saying... but she thinks the red brother has found her lower body.
The sisters hurriedly reaches for her final part, gently folding it in with the rest to push together the mutilated pieces of Tessla - or at least 70% of her mass. The rest is lost to scalpels and the sand. ]
C-can you put me together now? [ The little girl asks, struggling to keep herself conscious and her grip on her other brother loosening a bit from the desperate hold. ] Me and our sisters. Always. Please.
Please.
P̛̥̳͚̹͋̍̔̑ͮL̺̣͎É̼̤̳͎͚̩Â̤̘͞S̮E͍͈̻̼͖̺͚ͨͩ͆͂
wall of text. TW: descriptions of inside bits.
[When sleep is a more lethal risk than staying awake..]You succeeded, so no more apologies, you'll wear them out.
[It's grisly, this gathering of what amounted to organic debris that was still alive and should be in horrific pain had he not muzzled that. He'd seen humans torn apart in that fashion countless times, been the perpetrator nearly as often, but it hit so much differently when it was his own kind. It was, of course, utterly different to him and always would be.
He sets it aside. Compartmentalizes emotion, puts it away with the rest.
Doing is one thing. Teaching others how to do it is another, especially in the middle of this kind of situation. He nods regardless, they can put her together again now. Legs weren't explicitly needed, but it helps. Healing thirty percent of a person is much less taxing than healing 70%. And with him right here, the chances of Tessla slipping away and dying were close to zero.]
Of course. We have everything we need now; I will need to take a bit of everyone's strength. You won't get it back, but it will heal Tessla. I can't- [He can't just force it anymore, he didn't have that power.] ..assist directly. What I will show all of you will work for every plant, but be careful doing it alone. The more help you have, the easier it will be. Touch makes it easier too. It may look scary, there will be smoke, maybe light, but it's safe. Pay attention if you can. If you can't, it'll be over in a couple minutes.
[It's nice they're all in contact already but that's part of instruction, stating the obvious so it's no longer implied, it's an out loud fact. He doesn't say it'll work on humans, he's never tried and doubted it would, there wasn't the same fundamental biological connection. Even mentioning it would likely upset the small flock regardless.
Granted power, he's deliberately slow at first in taking it in a fine, minute strand of his own waning abilities and directing it, moderating its flow and strength, allowing very little of Tessla's though it was needed to form a connection at all, somewhat more of Vash's, and putting the heaviest metaphorical lifting on their numerous intertwined sisters. Their greater numbers were their advantage, and there is the barest echoes of muted puzzlement is the only mark that Knives has to take a moment to figure out exactly what Vash's power is, and then how to best make use of it. That wasn't ... how it was supposed to be, what it was like before.
A puzzle for later, he can still make use of it.]
Start with bone. It knows where it belongs, give it the power to be there, and rebuild itself. While it does, organs need to be put back into place, bone usually protects them.
[Like so, the needle-thin direction of their combined strength set to fueling the rapid regeneration and healing of severed joints, broken bones, and missing bones, and close them over organs gently pulled back into place by threads of flesh and the subtle tug of microscopic specks of gravitational force. At the edge of rebuilding bones is the light he'd warned of, the fine spiderweb of plant-glow and discharge of unwanted matter mixed in such as sand burnt off in a thin haze of white smoke.
It would be terribly painful, if Knives allowed any of them to feel the pain. In the absence of pain, there's much more bizarre sensations. Once he has a sense of them understanding what he's directing their powers to do, the process speeds up, mending blood vessels before they can hemorrhage, an intertwining rootlike network of veins and arteries, bones encouraged to produce more blood. It's a drain, tangibly, for any he's taken power from. And none of the power being used is his, there's just emptiness where there should have been Knives' own plant abilities.]
Work from the inside out. Once everything is in place and held together even a little bit, then the rest can follow. Skin is always almost last, without a cut there's no bleeding to worry about.
[The only real problem is it does rely on a body's innate sense of what it's supposed to look like, the number of limbs or digits and so on, and that might be ... blurred, connected directly to ordinarily bulb-bound sisters. Power seeks out broken and torn bone and flesh there too, in amongst the feathers. Damage is damage and they are a whole.]
wehhh
He doesn't speak, only stands there, radiating what cmofrot he can, his wing wrapped around the cocoon as far as it will go, his hands buried among the feathers, and forehead leaning against the frame of a wing.
He will be needed. He must not throw himself away to the process of reconstruciton.
It helps anchor him away from self-loathing and into the love he has for his siblings.
Both of them. ]
continuing the body horror
Ribs reform with a glowing light to shield her lungs again, and the happy murmurs and soft coaxing from the plants continue as their wings are healed, the bloody rip from Tessla breaking free stops bleeding... it's a shared rejuvenation.
A small heart is given a shield by a sternum reforming to protect it, and several feet of guts no longer has to drag in the sand. The spine needs more time, slowly reforming to connect with her lower half. Once the pieces meet with a pulse of light, Tessla gasps and clings tighter to the feathers around her. She can't really physically feel it, but just knowing she's not half a girl any more brings back more of that fragile hope.
However, just like Knives predicted, Tessla does have a very fractured sense of what she is supposed to look like, even without the addition of the many-limbed strange normality for the plants. One arm is finally restored to what could be considered normal, while the one that had been in a separate tank is still having some issues. It was connected to a wing in the attempt to save her, just like her eyes, and there's some difficulty for them all to put it back right.
The eyes are simpler and not at the same time; a face is easier to understand, and there are spaces for them in her mutilated face. The wing that assimilated them wrap around her head like a blindfold, using both the healing and the shifting form of gestalt to try to transfer them.
It does mean that Tessla is blind for a while, but that's okay - she's been blind a lot of times back when they did experiments on her.
All through out this, the feather cocoon is shrinking slowly. ]
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[As long as things worked, pain free and easily, did it matter if Tessla shared a look with her clustered sisters instead of starkly human? Knives didn't think so, a plant was beautiful no matter how many eyes or limbs she had. The outline Vash offers of a different kind of sister, without multiple torsos and dozens of limbs, is strange and unfamiliar, but they too are beautiful. He could force the issue, sever things not quite lining up and reattach them -- but he doesn't. That's unnecessary trauma added to already enough misery, so he simply tugs with a thread of Vash's power to try to lure the wayward arm (and wing..) in the proper direction, properly oriented. Any debris left of sand and stone should be burning in earnest, sloughed off and discarded as unworthy and useless into the ground.
He still had her hand, the intact one that hadn't gone on its own little journey, but he lets go with one of his own to tap lightly against the blindfold of wing. These eyes belong in a head, not a wing, move on, little blue eyes.
And an alternative, silently offered: simply grow more and leave those ones where they are, is there harm in more than two eyes? It's not part of the plan, of any kind of sister or a humanlike form, but if she felt more comfortable with it, that mattered more.]
Try to take a deep breath, and try to speak. Does it still feel, hm, rough?
[An important thing to know, before muscle closes all of that up and would require cutting to re-arrange. Easier, to encourage flesh to knit together in other places, across her mutilated hips and mending guts, mend all the small pinpoints of damage hungry little worms had begun. With some encouragement, she should at least have a strong pulse, if her lungs worked right then that was the fuel muscles needed and he could begin with the process of crawling skin layer by layer over the damage that had otherwise been stitched back together, crisscrossing angry red muscle and a thin layer of fat with skin that has the pallor of never having seen daylight. It'll flush, when the blood vessels connect.
There was more delicate work to do, to hunt for and if found repair the tearing in every throat that can happen from too much screaming, too much pain.]
Please reach out with the arm I'm not holding. Flex your fingers if you can. Little brother, if you can reach her feet, we need to be sure sensation's returned there. Touch should be plenty.
[Things were well enough along to test range of motion and returning strength, sensation and reflexes before everything was put back together so much that it would need to be rebroken to heal another way.]
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If anyone expected Vash to comment or complain about her appearance not matching the human form, they might be disappointed. He would like her to not be in pain, to be whole. She can't go back to untouched by here those who hurt her, but she can be new kind of whole. He does watch the shrinking of the cocoon with some alarm, but for now that means his wing can wrap around more of her/them, and he'll take that. Knives did warn that sacrifice must be made for her to get healed. This. Was better than the alternative that his brother had outlined.
His own offering doesn't waver, for whatever they are not certain about.
He still doesn't speak with his voice, but his emotions do resound with a soft, beautiful. She is not done still, but he means it. ]
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It feels... strange. N-not bad, but... [ Tessla starts, voice raspy and wet before she coughs and things even out a bit inside the mess of a raw throat and horror mouth. She has teeth again, weird and foreign when they return inside. ] I can feel everything moving... it's very new. [ Maybe that is rough in a raw, new way. Like things are newly born and not ready to face the world. Still, things seem to work without issue; nothing is coming in wrong.
Even it was... she's so young, she'd adapt anyway.
Skin is starting to cover her midsection now, guts nicely tucked away as vessels attaching to bring it from nearly death-grey to healthy and flushed. At the same time, there's a larger glow of light constantly gathering under her (and out of sight) where tissue clumps are disposed of; tumor after tumor cleansed from the remaining parts of her body. Scrubbing away all the damage the experiments left on a defenseless child. Tessla wasn't only in pieces, she was also very sick, and that sickness had to be removed or it would all be for nothing.]
Breathing isn't so hard any more. I can hear my heart. [ The young independent says with a weak smile as the wings embrace her further. The sisters really did want to remain a part of her, sharing everything and leaving pieces of themselves to guard her. Wings around her shoulders like a cape, around her hips, around her neck, by her eyes, on her head like a feathered halo. Blue eyes have returned to where they are meant to be, unseeing at first but then light returns to Tessla's world.
If there are extra eyes hidden behind the wings at her cheeks, well... her big little brother has good ideas. ]
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Good. It might take some getting used to again, how things are supposed to feel and move.
[Like having all of her teeth back, and how that alone can affect speech. With the bulk of the healing tended to, and certain the already set instructions would continue to be followed, he has one matter left that needed to be addressed.]
This here. [A faint touch, somewhere deep in her mind, all the places where a brain sensed pain. Important for the sisters to know, for Vash to know, in case someone else or they themselves ever needed it again.] These are the places that need to be stifled so you can't feel pain. When all the new skin is in place, you can let them reset back to normal, you won't want to leave it off forever, because pain tells us we're touching something sharp, or something too hot, and to pull away before we get hurt badly.
[As much as it would be nice to ... never have to risk pain again, it served its purpose in all life forms. But they'd know how to mute it if it was too bad, or caused by someone else's attacks. With that final note made, he carefully withdraws the thin thread of his own influence, certain that his instructions and the combined outline of mending would be followed until she was healed.He'd still be there, patient and alert for any signs of trouble.
Trouble was certainly not the shroud of comforting wings.
The smile returns, faint but a little relieved. There wasn't enough of a power drain to kill anyone, today was a good day.]
And if you'd like, you can finally sleep if you want. It's safe now. We can put you in the vehicle and take you with us.
[That.. that bit is a tiny amount of misleading, he intended to bring her wherever Vash was going. He didn't have somewhere to take her to, and settling in with someone as likely to up and die as he was, would be unnecessarily cruel.]
THAT WAS MY MISSING It oops
He takes a deep breath. ]
There is... Delphinium. She is a bulbed plant, but she can communicate clearly, with us and even with people, though that takes her more effort. She lives with humans, who will do what she tells them to, but more than that, beyond that settlement there is a city of plants. Of Independents. That might be a good place to get used to being whole again, for you. [ He means the entirety of Tessla as she is now, Independent and Sisters all together. ] Safe, and provided with anything you may need. Including food and water, if you need them.
[ And no humans. He thinks that will be an important part of recovery, to find herself again, rather than have to deal with that too soon.
It's mostly a question for Knives, if he agrees with his judgment on that, but also to Tessla, as much as she is still awake. ]
<3
Tessla tries to reach out inside and follow what her brother meant with that spot in her head, but it's terrifying to imagine all that pain back again, when she's been saved from it for less than a few hours. What if it will hurt just as much? What if it will always hurt? Yet another thing to feed her anxiety in the middle of all of this, despite the soft soothing from Vash.
Then finally, last stretch of her healing is nearly complete; a whole little girl, if a little bit peculiar. There are more fingers and toes that what is considered normal, because she couldn't really remember how many you're supposed to have, but they're all functional. Wings are still there, but she can pull them together to be out of way way, and her legs even briefly wiggle happily as she's slowly helped to sit up by a sister's wing.
The cocoon stays around her like a soft blanket, shrinking down even more to the point where it's more the size of a bed. It's no longer attached to her, however, and as the last of her delicate skin knit back together she briefly glows white and it all disappears, leaving just a feathery girl in the sand. A little seraph. ]
Wh-where did they go? [ Tessla's blue eyes look around a bit, and then curls her own wings around herself. ] I can still feel them...?
oops!!
... Later. Like so much else, later. He'd hoped his brother would care for Tessla directly, but it seemed that wasn't in the cards, and he was reluctant to just cut her loose and hope for the best.]
I have enough of a home that if you want to stay with me, you can. If you don't want to try this Independent city.
[But now that he knew another option was there, would he remain so close to humans?
It is a relief to see the last bits of mutilated flesh ease away into unmarred body, even if there wasn't ... quite .. the normal number of fingers, or if feathers and wings remained. She was whole, and if this was the new whole, then that was fine. It was better than the image that lingered in his mind even after so long of her corpse floating in preservation fluid. Infinitely better. Rare was it these days that Knives can simply be happy about something, but this was certainly one of those rare moments.]
They're still with you, just out of sight. If you need them, they're there.
Ah well.
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