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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
That may have been just one more mistake in a long lifetime of mistakes. But if Knives didn't come here to be angry at Vash, then how is he here? ]
I'm sorry. Something strange is going on, and I don't understand why.
[ He can't leave Knives here, not by himself, and he can't bring him with him to Octovern, can he? Nowhere is safe right now, especially for the child version of Million Knives. Vash rubs hard at the back of his neck, trying to get his thoughts in order enough to see a way out of this. ]
Are you okay? You're not hurt?
no subject
[ ending up here, yet again. just when he'd started to wonder if his initial adventure was some kind of dream or some intricate play of his imagination. yet it seemed the universe was far from finished toying with him.
one terrible disappointment after another. vash's question earns him a scowling look. ]
No. [ to both questions! ]
no subject
[ Knives is still clearly furious with him, though, and Vash wishes that he had the time to sit down with his brother and let him be furious. He looks back at the orphanage again, and shakes his head. He can't ask Knives to stay here. Not alone. Not without knowing what's going on. ]
I can't stay here. There's somewhere else I need to be. [ He holds out a hand hopefully. ] Will you come with me?
no subject
I don't have a choice, do I?
[ he thinks he could be on his own here, no need for food or water to worry about withering under the elements, but he doubts vash would be so keen to agree. ]
no subject
And then he opens his eyes and all he can see is death. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He falls into step with Knives, just outside of arms reach to prevent his brother from feeling crowded, his gaze fixed on the road before them. ]
You found her.
[ It's not a question. ]
no subject
humans did this. they hurt her and they would be next, vash would be next and here he'd been wasting his time playing pretend with predators.
he feels waves of sick wash over him every time it comes to mind, which now feels constantly. ]
You knew. [ his voice is tight, eyes burning. ] How... How can you forgive them?
no subject
Knives cannot be allowed to know about his younger self. ]
It's not a matter of forgiveness.
[ His voice is tight, but steady. It's a good question, though. Someone hurts somebody else -- what should you do about that? He can't help but think, not of Tessla, but of Livio. Livio, who acted as he thought was best, who did what he thought he was supposed to do. Forgiveness would mean dismissing everything he'd done. Justice might look more like revenge, and neither of those paths led anywhere Vash wanted to go.
So what's the third option? ]
I don't forgive them. But I understand why they did what they did.
no subject
[ gritting his teeth, nai's grip on the book trembles. even here he can feel tesla's unrelenting eye watching him. ]
I don't care... whatever their reasons, it doesn't matter! [ his anger feels juvenile and messy, unable to collect himself into the proper posture he tries so hard to maintain. nai shakes his head, his steps slowing without realizing it. he knows they're in a hurry, but how can he move when he feels like his chest is about to cave in? ]
I can't... [ he sniffs, hot tears sliding down his cheeks. ] I don't understand it... Vash...
no subject
Humans made us. They just didn't understand that something they made could be as alive as they were.
[ He can still see her when he closes his eyes, can still see what was left of her and, worse, can still recall every detail of the reports where the harm that was done to her was documented, line by line and day by day. Her death was a horror that the world should never have known, and not one day has passed since then that he hasn't remembered her. Some days, he thinks that it's her memory that drives him even more than Rem's. ]
Her death... her life, it changed Rem's mind. That's how she was able to love us the way she did. [ He glances briefly at Knives, then back at the road. ] Does. We're not just things to her. We're people. That's what understanding can do.
no subject
he shifts the book to free one of his hands, scrubbing his face of weakness. he chews his lower lip with a canine, using the pain to try and ground himself. a bandage on a bullet wound. ]
Does she really love us? [ every interaction, every memory, now cast in the shadow of doubt. everything is different. ]
no subject
Every day, she wakes up, and she thinks about you. She's happiest when you're happy, when you're sad she comforts you, and when you're hurt she feels it too. Just seeing you makes her smile, and when you're not there she... [ His voice catches, but he takes a deep breath and continues. ] When you're not there she misses you.
[ The sand crunches under his boots. The breath is cool in his lungs, and the suns beat down hot on his face. One step at a time, holding tight to all the love he's lost, he keeps going. In a moment, perhaps, he'll notice Knives chewing on himself, but right now he can't see a thing -- his vision's too blurred. ]
She wants to watch you grow, wants to see the man you'll become. And she wants that man to be a good one so she guides you, tells you the lessons she's learned in her life so you can avoid her mistakes and borrow her strength. That sounds like love to me, don't you think?
no subject
it feels impossible to separate the tangled threads between what was genuine and what wasn't, the distrust that every interaction with other humans on the ship wasn't cloaked in layers of hidden agendas to incur pain and suffering on himself and vash. he doesn't know where to start or if it's even worth it now.
the only one he can trust is vash, even when he can't understand him.
his lip is bleeding now, but even the taste of blood on his tongue doesn't stop him from digging his canine in further. with his throat tight, still on the verge of tears despite his best efforts to stave off that terrible weakness, he finds it near impossible to respond.
instead, he steps closer to vash and takes his hand, gripping it tight. ]
no subject
I thought you said you weren't hurt! [ Here he was, babbling away about Rem and love, and his brother was right next to him bleeding! How could he have not noticed? ] Did you fall?
no subject
when vash suddenly stops, touching nai's face, his response lags. at once he releases his lower lip from his canine, the sting of pain setting in as some of the fog of disassociation starts to lift. ]
I didn't... [ without thinking, his tongue darts out to dab at the fresh cut and visibly flinches when it hurts. ] ... it's just a cut, that's all.
no subject
[ If there's one thing Vash knows, it's injuries... not that it takes a great detective to tell the source of a hurt when he could see Knives chewing on it.
Surely it's just stress, right? He only just discovered T-- discovered her, he's been brought into this strange parallel future again, and the brother he thought he could rely on is preoccupied with other matters. Surely it's just stress. ]
That looks painful. Here... [ He's got a bottle of water in a pocket that he digs out and offers to Knives. ] To get the taste out of your mouth. I'll hold your book.
no subject
he takes a small swig of the water bottle, only enough to swish in his mouth. he pauses, looking ready to spit it out onto the dirt road before reconsidering with scrunched brows and swallows. he holds the bottle back out to vash. his lip had stopped bleeding, leaving an unsightly gash behind. ]
... Thank you.
no subject
The book is a real beast! His brother's always been smart so Vash isn't surprised that he'd be working his way through something so hefty, but when he turns it over he is surprised at the title. Is it for class, maybe? ]
I can carry this for you for now. It's pretty big!
[ And his brother seems to be carrying enough right now. ]
no subject
[ stubborn to the very end, he can't simply let vash carry his burdens for himself. he doesn't know how long they have to walk to get to wherever vash needs to be, but nai is firmly determined to carry it all the way there. ]
no subject
If you like. [ He hands the massive book back, but his attention is on Knives's torn lip still, and the trouble he can see written all over his brother's face.
Although his heart isn't in it, Vash fixes his smile even brighter, and chirps: ]
Does that mean I should carry you?
no subject
it says something that nai doesn't immediately answer no. not for the first time, he wishes he could be older faster. at least then he could keep up with vash's long strides.
irrationally, he feels fear that vash could leave him behind. if he can't keep up, dragging him down, he could leave him somewhere with the promise to return, but what if he didn't? the maw of fear chews through him without regard for reason, and terribly, he can feel his eyes burning yet again. maybe he should be left behind. he knows he'd leave himself behind for behaving so terribly weak. it was shameful.
he turns his head away from vash and gives a short nod. ]
It-... It'll be faster, right? I don't have freakishly long legs like you do.
no subject
That ball of grief in his chest threatens to rise up again, but Vash just smiles all the more broadly and lets the pain pass over him. ]
I didn't mean it like that. [ They have to find a new way to relate, then, or he has to find a new way. Too bad he wouldn't have the first clue how to go about that on his best day, which today is most decidedly not. ] It is a long way, and it is urgent, but you're more important than anything else. If you want to walk, then we'll walk. I'm just glad to have the company.
no subject
I want you to carry me.
[ he levels vash with an obstinate frown. ]
If it's important to you, then it's important to me that we get there soon as quickly as possible. That's what I want.
no subject
All right. ...Thank you.
[ Still kneeling, he half turns, so Knives can climb onto his back. Piggyback is probably the best choice here, if the book won't get in the way? ]
In that case, you can be my co-pilot. Tell me if you see anything in the sky, okay? Anything that looks like a ship? That's what I'm looking for.
no subject
[ book tucked between his chest and vash's back, nai climbs aboard. he hooks his arm around his neck and his legs around his chest, propping his chin on vash's shoulder. ]
Why are you looking for a ship?
[ all he can see when he looks out is desert sands and blue skies. ]
no subject
There's somebody taking all the plants.
[ It's a fine line, the border between honestly and stupidity. How could he possibly tell his little brother that he's got the world in a panic, and that Vash is the only one who can stop him? A century and a half of mistrust, of violence, of loneliness... he won't do it.
And since he can't take the blame this time, he'll simply invent someone to point the finger at. With any luck, Knives will find a way back home before things go too far. ]
These towns, they depends on our sisters for everything. Water, food, everything's made by plants. Without them, these towns are dying. These people are dying.
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