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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
Still, he tried to give him a smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes.]
Maybe. But if I hadn't been here, July wouldn't have happened. If I'd tried harder, Knives might not have ever started any of this to begin with.
[He glanced away again, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, where if he'd had enough energy left, he might have expected to start feeling the first small feathers beginning to form on his skin. That was beyond him, now, at least, so instead, it was just the old, normal feeling of shame that rolled down his back.
The Big Fall, the chaos as humanity tried to rebuild from the ruins of their previous lives, the Eye, the Gung Ho Guns, all of it, he could have done more to keep it from happening, and so many lives could have been saved. But there wasn't anything he could do to go back and change that, now.]
Thank you, though. I want to help, now that things have blown over. It's just a bit hard, with the bounty hanging over my head again.
no subject
and nothing the big man does will convince Vash. he lets his hand fall from Vash's shoulder, expression falling in turn.]
I know you want to help. I don't think you can 'what-if' your way into blaming yourself for this, either, any of this. You were a child. You think I don't think-- what if I never left the orphanage? Or my-- any of it?
[seriously, he wants to just. shake him!]
You do help.
no subject
He was upset with himself for making the man feel that guilt, bringing that to the surface because he was wallowing in his own self-pity, and he hated that Livio felt he was in any way responsible for what had been done to him, but at the same time, his words caused a strange little tussle in his head - He had been only a child, he hadn't known any better, but he'd still done things that directly contributed to the pain that was happening all around him, but how could he have known? He'd been so young, life had been so easy before Tessla and he hadn't had the frame of reference to recognize the decline Knives had begun, but shouldn't he have at least tried more to help when he knew he was hurting anyway?
He was quiet for a long while, emotions flickering across his face that hinted at a bit of the struggle he was having, making sense of it all. In the end, his expression settled on something that said the thoughts might not have really sorted themselves out yet, but at the very least something had come out on top, and the rest could be considered more later, when he wasn't dragging someone else down with his problems.]
I guess...I'm still just trying to find the answers, is all. But I hope you're able to find peace with what happened. I...I never really asked what your story was. Didn't feel like it was my place, and I know how hard it can be, to dredge up old hurts. But I know, as hard as life can be for other people, for the kids who grew up like you and Nicholas...it's like everything is stacked against you. [He gave him a small, sad smile, and at least this one seemed more genuine. He really believed what he was saying, even if he still struggled with his own guilt.] You've done the best you could. I know you blame yourself, but...you're still a good man, Livio. I couldn't have done what I did without your help.
no subject
he didn't mean for that to happen, either. Vash is always trying to make him feel better, even when he's miserable and hurting. his lower lip wobbles]
Vash, you-- [opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again--] I didn't..I couldn't--
[is he trying to make him cry or]
You too.
[someday, he wants to tell Vash about himself. maybe some day he will]
no subject
Look, don't pay too much attention to me, huh? I meant every word I said, but if you do, I'll just get us both crying. Leave that to me, I'm the big crybaby, right? Though I guess you didn't get to spend enough time with me to notice, before. Trust me. It's a whole thing, always has been. Show me a picture of a cute puppy while a sad song is playing on the radio, and I'm a goner!
[He's certainly cried over less. And no, he wasn't going to think too hard about just why that was the case. He's fine, just fine, he's just sensitive is all!]
Come on, let's make sure we don't miss anyone. [He turned, making his way deeper into the orphanage, beginning to poke his head into any doors he came across.] You'll probably know more about all the good hiding spots than I will. Where did you guys always sneak off to during playtime?
no subject
That ain't the point. The point's--
[he isn't sure what it is anymore. but he keeps frowning, worried, incredibly so, but in the end he nods]
I guess a couple of places.
no subject
Maybe it was better, with the current mood, that that particular memory hadn't been pinged in his head.]
Hey, a couple more than I would know, so that helps.
[He began poking his head into doors, pausing to listen and barely even breathing for a lot of the search. He knew, sometimes if kids were scared, even the sounds of friendly voices were enough to send them into hiding. It could be a great survival technique, until it ended up getting them overlooked when actual help arrived.
Still, from time to time he would call out, his voice friendly and soothing and gentle in a way that he usually only had when speaking with small children. "Is anyone there?" "Its ok to come out, Livio is here, we're not angry," Or the old rhyme Rem had taught him when he was young, the phrase that meant Hide and Seek was over and they needed to come out. Did kids still use it?]
Olly olly oxen free!
no subject
it's much better than this conversation, than dragging the recent-past back to his mind and almost crying. embarrassing himself. Livio looks around a little more frantically, ear perked in case of little feet, little breathing sounds, anything like crying.
nothing.]
no subject
It was probably pretty easy to see, when he turned and looked back at Livio and sighed, ruffling a hand through his own dark hair and then shifting to stand with his hands on his hips.]
Okay. No kids. And the rest of this place looks like...well...
[He glanced at the window in thought.]
If...say somehow they all did end up back in Octovern...[And he didn't even know how that could have happened, but all the signs pointed to that possibility. He groaned, throwing his head back in frustration.] What the Hell??? How is that even possible???
no subject
he nods at Vash.]
I've no idea-- you know as much as I do, which ain't anything. Whatever...happened to all this, transported them maybe?
no subject
[His brow furrowed as he mentally gauged how far Octovern was again, trying to remember how long the drive had take the last time, though he'd been asleep for a lot of it, so exhausted both mentally and physically that he hadn't even cared if something happened to him on the way there. He'd been able to tell Livio was a good person, at least, despite the circumstances he'd met him, and that had been all that mattered to him at the time.
He glanced back up at the big guy, his lip pulling to the side in a bit of an irritated frown.]
Well. I guess we can always see if the truck is back? I really didn't want to head back to Octovern right now, not with the place crawling with the Earth Feds, but...
no subject
[even if they can't get that far. he's also not looking forward to any authorities on their tails, but.
he also doesn't want to leave Vash alone]