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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.]
sleep is sadly important
That meant that Wolfwood was.
Oh.
For a moment, Vash sort of... deflated, the conclusion that he couldn't not reach taking the wind out of his mills. Was... was that how Wolfwood - the live one - felt about him? The sudden, sinking emptiness made up of what he had known was certain mortality and the absolute wish that--
But then he squared his shoulders, managing a smile.
"She's had to deal with a lot of things in a short time. This is not a world she's known at all! So a lot of things can be a bit much. I'm fine! If you're this used to it all, it's been a while for you, hasn't it?" Beat. Then he tapped the device. "Does this make it easier to communicate?" He could feel the vestiges of pain, happily receding, and the effort, the pulling oneself together to do one thing, and one thing more. He... didn't need questions answered, if it was at the cost of energy that he didn't know how this Wolfwood would recover.
It is but it's also laaame! It's too bad not having it makes us go nutty, booo!
He even began to, letting the sound of him speaking wash over him, knowing that he was finally being heard, that he was speaking to him. It sent a sharp, painful surge of so much joy through him that he gave a small, gasped sob, and his eyes snapped open, his hand reaching up to wipe away the tears that ran down his face. That...that was too much. Too much.
When he spoke again, the shape of it sounded as if he were smiling. But it was also sad.
Yeah. 'S been a while. But it's alright. 'S not so bad. It's...peaceful. He knew that Vash would be worried, and if nothing else came of the conversation, he hoped that he could at least reassure him of that much. If the man had to know he was dead, that he lingered after his death, then he wanted to make sure he knew that he wasn't suffering. Things're different, though, yeah. I'm not sure how I got here, to be honest. I was...somewhere else. Another you. I'm watchin' out for 'im, so he...we were walkin' in the desert, on the way to...probably Home. I never let 'im know I'm there, don't want to upset 'im, so I'm never quite sure, but...after you've traveled a road enough times, you start to recognize where you are, even if you aren't told...
Anyway, somethin' happened, thought it was just an earthquake, but it made even me fall. That doesn't happen. An' when I stood back up, he was gone, an' I was...wherever this is. Well, not directly here. I wandered for a while, then I found your mom's little joint, here. She said you'd be comin' back soon, and...I thought I'd found 'im again, but you're not him, obviously. No offense'r nothin'.
He looked down at the device for a few seconds, thinking. It had certainly been physically easier than talking, yes, but...well, it was a lot easier for his words to get jumbled when he was typing them, and he'd already seen how spectacularly that had gone the last time.
I'm not great with typin' on it. It's easy enough to press the buttons, sure, easier than talkin', but...I never did get used to usin' a typewriter. It's kinda strange, words just come out different when you're talkin' than when you're typin' them out. 'S how I scared your mom, I forgot important bits I wouldn't have if I'd just been talking.
Didn't exactly help that I thought she was the Rem where I'm from. She would've known who I was when I tried talkin' to 'er. We met before. Your mom obviously didn't, so she wasn' ready to suddenly find herself...literally dealin' with... He gestured at himself, even if Vash couldn't see him. This. People don't like bein' hit in the face with an existential crisis.
GAAAH
"I'm glad that it's peaceful. I think... all in all, you're among the people who need peace the most. Not that there are many in this world that don't need it..."
A soft sigh.
"The... the Rem you knew before. She was..." 'All right' was probably not the right way to ask, but it was closest. Instead, he closed his eyes. "Not heartbroken?" He always... wondered. What she would know, and how it would affect her.
no subject
The thought that he was one of the people who deserved a peaceful existence the most was a thought that was...strangely detached from himself when he considered it. It had simply been his existence for so long, and time had given him the mercy of letting so many of the pains of his life dull into dim memory that it no longer held any sort of emotional or logical connection to him, anymore. But he didn't think that would be very comforting to Vash. This wasn't an easy conversation, in more ways than one. He didn't need have to have the memory of what it actually felt like, to feel the existential dread and anxiety that had been so normal for the living, when the topic of death came up, to know that this was heavy, for Vash maybe more than anyone else he could think of.
So he was quiet for longer than he maybe would have meant to be, chewing on his thoughts, even after the question about Rem came up. And didn't that make it even more complicated, in the end? Maybe it was easier to answer, though, in some strange way. His smile turned fond but sad when he thought back to her, to those short, strange months in the beginning, before she'd moved on.]
Your mom was...proud. [Because he knew what he was asking, even if it was too much for him to articulate properly. The smile faded a little, though, the sadness settling more firmly. He wouldn't lie. Vash deserved better than that. But he took a moment to carefully consider how he continued.] She loved you so much. But...she was a little sad, knowing what you put yourself through. What you felt you had to do. She just wanted you to be happy.
[Maybe that was why she'd latched onto Nicholas so quickly, when he'd died. She had made no attempts at hiding the fact that she was treating him like someone special, talking about how important he was to her son, how proud she was of Wolfwood because of the man she said she'd seen him become as she followed Vash along, the same way Wolfwood was, now. Maybe taking care of him, making the transition from one realm to the next one had been her way of trying to take care of what was important to her son, the only way she'd felt she could show how much she loved him when she was gone. He hadn't known her long enough to really ask.]
Things where I'm from were...real bad for a while. That's why I'm here, now. I almost made it through to the end, but...it just wasn't in the cards for me, I guess, and when I came to on this side, after-...she was there. She'd been followin' you around for as long as people'd been on this rock, watchin' over you. Said she wanted to be here, waiting for you when it was your time, and to see things through to the end. But then...it wasn't long after I...what happened to me...that everything finally came to a head, and...a few months after that, we found...there was someone who joined us on this side that she knew needed her, too.
[He wouldn't say it was the man's brother. He didn't know anything about what this Vash's life was like, what he'd been through. He could make assumptions, but for all he knew, they could be completely wrong. So he would do what he could to spare him the shock of a miscommunication about something he didn't even need to worry about, especially not after he'd made that mistake with Rem.]
She said it would make you happy, if I was the one to meet you when it was your turn. Asked me to tell you she loved you, and she would be waiting for you on the other side of the light. They're in Heaven, now. She's where she belongs.
[His voice was soft, a gentle happiness in his tone that might have sounded a bit strange, from the perspective of someone who was still living. He remembered how the concept of passing over had been frightening, before, that promises of Heaven or Paradise always spoken of with an air of grim truth, people telling themselves the thought made them happy as a way to deal with the horror of what was unknown and the grief of losing someone to that scary abyss. It was different, on this side. Whatever existed on the other side of that light, whether there was some all-knowing creator waiting, some terrifying judgment that would see some of them sent to an eternal reward and the rest to an endless torment, it didn't cause the same dread. People were waiting for them, there. He'd watched them go, promises had been made to see each other again. It wasn't some unknowable thing shrouded in a fear that at the end, it may not even have been real at all. There wasn't anything to fear from that. He knew when the day came that he took Vash Home to his mom and his brother, even if he couldn't be with them wherever they were, it was going to be a good day. A wonderful, joyful end to a long, sad story. Vash deserved that much, he had no worries about where he was going, and Wolfwood had stopped worrying about what his own eventual fate would be, just knowing that the man he cared so much about would finally get to have a happy ending after carrying so much pain all those years.]
no subject
Still, he listened, raptly even. Ther was so much that he wanted to know, so much that, well. He might never get to experience. Given everything with the living Wolfwood. ]
You don't have to doubt it. He will be happy.
[ There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice, neither on what the effect would be, nor on the fact that Wolfwood would be able to do what he had waited for so long to do. Somehow, it would work out. Surely the sisters would make it so.
He smiled a little. ]
And I hope you won't have to watch things get that bad here. There must be a reason why we were brought in, right? So we can help and it won't be like that.
[ Vash hummed, considering it all, as much as he could. His knowledge of things beyond death was limited because so much of his existence was geared towards keeping people from dying that he had not really paid too much attention. So he might... be more ignorant about that than was his usual. He suspected that ignorance would never be a good thing, all things considered. Still. ]
So... other than hopefully getting back to where you belong, what do you need?
no subject
I hope so. He'd been having a hard time even before I met 'im, and it got a little easier since then, yeah, but [Things were still hard, and he was still outliving everyone he met, and Wolfwood knew it weighed on him.]...I know he's still tired. I want 'im to be happy.
[What little comfort he felt at the reassurances, though, chilled a bit at the question about why they'd been brought together. He hadn't had a chance to get news from the parts of the planet that were populated. He had no idea what was going on. He hadn't thought about the fact that all of this might have been a sign that things were going tits-up all over again. It wasn't a pleasant thought, now that it had.]
What use would whoever is responsible for this have with me, though? What's the point? [But then the concern that had flared up sputtered to a stop at Vash's question, and he blinked at him, bewildered for a moment before he laughed, still confused, but...well, even if he never would have expected him to just come out and ask like that, it was so like the man he knew, to immediately start looking for something to fix even in a situation that was impossible to fix. It was, honestly, kind of adorable. More open, maybe, than the man back home, and with how much younger he was, he was suddenly hit with a wave of affection.]
Need? Oh, Güerito, I don't need anything. Kind've...beyond that, you know? But I'm fine, really. Thank you. You don't have to worry about me. Just...gotta find him again. Whatever happens after that? [He shrugged, and then when he remembered it wouldn't come across in his voice, made a sort of noncommittal sound to convey the gesture instead.] It's outta my hands, really. I'm just here for the ride.
no subject
So a reunion, even beyond it all, would be a relief on its own; a reunion with Wolfwood...
Well. He'd said what he'd said.
The words of the concern, and even the affection, made him smile, but thoughtful, too. ]
I... am not sure that the things we knew before are still valid here. Being brought to a different place and time is something I would not have possible, and yet here we are. So perhaps there is something that you alone can do, here.
As to needing... I can't know, can I? But also, you exist. Even if you physically don't need things, that doesn't mean that you as a person don't.
But I was asking like. You know. Everyone needs something to keep them going. Food, or plant source stuff... I've not known ghosts before, so I've no idea what keeps you going?
no subject
But then Vash's insistence on finding something to help him with, reframing it the way he did, took what had been the beginnings of a tiny paradigm shift and tossed it right over the edge. If he didn't mean physical things, then what? Emotional? Spiritual, no pun intended? Was there anything he had ever..."needed?"
He was quiet for a long while, and if Vash had been able to see him, he would have looked absolutely bewildered, as if he were struggling to understand a big, important concept that had never occurred to him. Instead, he struggled with the realization that...the concept made perfect sense, of course it did. People needed things. Food, water, rest, companionship.
But the thought of applying that concept to himself, now that he was actively thinking on it, was...foreign. And the part of him that knew it should have been a simple thing suddenly felt a little anxiety over the fact that something he thought must have been a thing he'd pondered plenty enough times before was now ephemeral and just out of reach.]
I don't...I don't know. [His voice was soft, confused, and he was too stuck in his own head to notice the very slight touch of anxiety that tinted his words.] I don't need sleep, I can't eat. I just...am. In the early days, sometimes I would try to interact with people in ways that made me feel tired, but it's different than needing to sleep. [Though the act of resting for him wasn't necessarily too unlike taking a nap, only without losing consciousness. But that was quibbling over details.] I guess I haven't thought about it in...a long, long time.
[What could he possibly want? To find his partner, to know he was safe. But Vash had mentioned that already, it wasn't what he meant. Vague feelings, things he remembered wishing he could have again tickled at the back of his mind, long-forgotten and laid to rest, now that they weren't needed and were impossible to have. He...he wanted...
Companionship? Again, that was Vash. The sound of his voice, the closeness of the man he'd spent endless hours speaking to, even if the words never reached him, the man he gravitated towards like a flying worm to an incandescent light.
Again, not helpful.
He wanted...he missed...
Touch. The feeling of skin touching his. A handshake. The weight of an arm around his shoulders. The feeling of fingers grabbing him by the hair and yanking him around in a little half-hearted display of irritation at some little argument that had seemed so important at the time. He couldn't even remember what it had been about, now.
It was all beyond his reach, now. He could..."touch" things, insomuch as he could focus enough to exert a bit of force against them, but it was different. Like the pressure given off by a little jolt of static electricity; it could be felt, but it wasn't tangible. He hadn't felt actual touch in...
.......]
I don't know. But it's fine. Sometimes things just...change...on this side, when you're not...physical, anymore. It's hard to explain. [And he suspected that putting voice to the one answer he'd been able to come up with would have been upsetting for Vash. It wasn't something he could change. There was no sense in making him sad because of something so trivial. Nicholas was fine.]