On The First Day

[nml_mods]

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.

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.


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.]

Comments

Location: the orphanage outside of December

[love_and_peace]

[ When he opens his eyes, the ark is gone, and so is Wolfwood. The orphanage behind him looks the same, the courtyard blasted and filled with rubble, but the doors and windows are sealed, and when he looks closer he realizes that the blood on the ground has dried, and been mostly covered by sand. It's as though he blinked, and a week passed. How is this possible? ]

Is there anyone here?

[ Did he pass out? Did something happen with his gate? The ark had attacked, he remembered that much, and he'd raised a defensive dome over the orphanage to stop it from being destroyed, and then...?

Nothing. There's a hole in his memory. Where Knives and the ark have gone, where Wolfwood has gone, and Livio, he has no idea.

The last he remembers the ark was moving west. He'll worry about the lost time laster. For now, frantic that he's too late, Vash starts off in that direction as fast as his legs can carry him. ]

[littleblades]

[ seated underneath his favorite tree in the gardens, nai had planned to spend a few hours reading. he slides an index finger between the dog-eared pages where he had last left off when a tremor shakes the ground beneath him.

in the time it takes to blink, the familiar greenery aboard the ship is gone and replaced by the uncaring heat of desert and rock. the tree he had been seated under was now replaced by a broken wall that cast a measly shadow over him. nai stares ahead, reality slowly sinking in as his grip on the book tightens more and more.

his head jerks up when he hears a familiar voice calling out in the distance. heart pounding, nai rushes to stand with the book tucked to his chest and heads in the direction he heard the voice coming from. if it's who he thinks it is...

nai doesn't call back out, not until he can see who the voice belongs to first. instead, he scurries around the building and the rubble that littered the surrounding area, only stopping short when he catches sight of a very familiar red coat running away from the building. ]

Vash!

[ nai screams the name until the air in his lungs gives out. there's no way he could catch up to his brother's running, but if he's loud enough to grab his attention, then that would be enough. ]

[love_and_peace]

[ A child's voice screams his name in the distance and Vash screeches to a halt so fast he stumbles and nearly falls. There's no children here who should know him by that name, no children who should be here at all! They should have all left with Brad and Miss Melanie, so how is there one here now? That poor kid must be so frightened! They...

It takes him a moment to realize what -- to realize who -- he's seeing. It can't be. ]

Kni--?

[ His legs move automatically, carrying him back to the orphanage before he can even fully register what he's seeing. He can't be here, not here, of all places! Not now! ]

You came back?

[ Why did you come back!? ]

[littleblades]

[ with vash's attention properly acquired, nai starts to run to meet him halfway. he didn't miss this, the taste of sand and dirt on his tongue with every breath he took, nor the way the sun bore down on him unrelenting. he clutches the book tight to his chest as he moves, only slowing to a stop when vash is within holy book-throwing distance.

he doesn't throw it, not yet, but the urge is there. ]

I didn't want to come back.

[ he's a little out of breath, shoulders moving as he tries to regain control over his breathing. there's more on his mind than just this new predicament, his pinched expression evident of that. ]

[love_and_peace]

[ Vash stops when the younger version of his brother does, swaying slightly, weariness written all over him. Knives looks angry, and in his heart Vash fears that he knows the reason why. Last time they'd met, he'd told this version of his brother a whole series of lies about the future to come, in the hopes that, by trying to stop his Vash from losing faith in humanity, this version of Knives wouldn't make the same terrible choices.

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?

[littleblades]

Obviously something is wrong.

[ 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! ]

[love_and_peace]

No. [ Vash repeats, nodding in confirmation. That's good. That's something. ] I'm glad.

[ 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?

[littleblades]

[ nai looks between vash and the offered hand, but chooses to ignore it as he walks past vash to head in the direction he'd been running in before. he can walk on his own just fine without having to hold his brother's hand, after all. the storm of emotions brewing inside him keeps him at a distance. ]

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. ]

[love_and_peace]

[ Knives walks right past him. Vash closes his eyes and allows himself just one moment to imagine the world he'd tried to build: the ships made it to their destination, ample resources allowed for healthy, vibrant growth, and he and his brother were happy, living among loving, caring humans on a distant green world.

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. ]

[littleblades]

[ he bows his head, eyes hidden beneath his bangs as they walk side by side. every moment since they learned the truth, nai's every thought has been consumed by seeing her. he is haunted, his dreams now turned to nightmares that leave him clutching at bedsheets on the verge of screaming until his throat burns bloody and ruined.

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?

[love_and_peace]

[ Vash, meanwhile, keeps his head up, eyes forever on that horizon. The ark could reappear at any moment, and he's already lost too much. Knives cannot be allowed to hurt his younger self.

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.

[celestialcrybaby]

[It had been so many months since Octovern. Almost a year. Long enough that Vash had recovered and finally made his way back out into public and had managed to shake the people who'd been following him. And he might have just continued to wander aimlessly, only...there was one place he had to see, first. One person he wanted to look in on, though he knew he was far beyond the need for care or worries or concern, now. But the weight was still heavy on his chest, and there were still feelings he was struggling to make sense of now that he was gone. So he wanted, just once, now that things had settled and he might have time to process it all, to go back, sit down, and have a proper good bye before disappearing back into the desert before anyone knew he'd been there and could disturb the grave.

Which was why, when the shaking started and the thunder cracked inside of his head, he was walking East, towards the orphanage, his coat tucked inside of his rucksack and a simple shirt and pair of pants in place of his leather gear in the hopes of avoiding detection for as long as possible. He was climbing over a pile of rubble in the path when the voices filled his brain, and for a second he thought he was having a flashback, and he stumbled as his foot caught on the stone and sent him lunging forward into the sand. This was different, though, not the same, but close enough to the cries for help that he'd heard in Octovern that it left him dazed long enough for the rumbling to start. And then he felt the world shift on a molecular level, so close to the way it felt to use his own powers but on such a grand scale that he had a moment of panic before a clap of thunder sent it all crashing back down to reality.

When the fog began lifting from his brain, he found himself whole despite the momentary fear that he'd lost control of his own powers that the event had caused, and he crouched in the sand for a moment, letting himself get reacquainted with reality before a distant, strangely familiar voice managed to bring him out of his daze. He dragged himself to his feet, taking a moment to dust himself off and then glanced up just as the sound of feet racing through the sand reached his ears.

That was the moment he had the second biggest shock of the day, and he visibly recoiled at a figure he'd only ever seen in the mirror, running toward him from the direction of the orphanage. Only the hair on the man in front of him was much lighter than the hair he'd seen in the mirror that morning before checking out of the inn he'd stayed at.

Startled and confused, he dropped into a defensive position, raising his left arm, palm outward in a warding gesture as he glared out through bewildered eyes.]

Woah hey, no, that's close enough, friend!

[love_and_peace]

[ He would swear that the man came out of nowhere. One moment the road before him was clear and the next, there's a very familiar looking figure -- dressed for travelling incognito and with what looks from this distance to be solid black hair, but still unmistakably familiar. Vash stops dead in his tracks the instant the man appears, gun out and ready.

Defensive position and friendly greeting or not, for him to be here, today of all days, means that he's an enemy. Another trick of Legato's maybe, or yet another human with lab-grown powers that his brother has unearthed from somewhere. Either way, he doesn't have time for this. ]

Sorry, but I'm in a hurry. Will you let me pass?

[celestialcrybaby]

[He brought both hands up immediately when he found himself staring down the barrel of his own gun, straightening up slowly. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he had a suspicion his - their? - sisters were involved, and that just brought up more questions than it answered.

And here, he'd hoped his life was going to start getting easier.]

I'm not going to shoot you. I don't want to fight. I was just...on my way to visit a friend, that's all...

[And that was when he realized the direction the man in front of him had been coming from, and recognized just how much of his hair was still blonde. And the readiness he had for drawing his weapon so quickly just made a lot more sense. Even if it didn't, even if this shouldn't even be possible. Was he dreaming, or was this the universe's twisted idea of some sick joke?]

I...think you may know who I'm talking about.

[love_and_peace]

[ Whoever built this double had done their homework. The hair was wrong, of course, but it other than that, it looked just like him. It sounded just like him.

Vash lowered his gun to his side, but kept his finger on the trigger, just in case. ]

If you're heading for the orphanage, then you should know there's nobody there. They're all gone.

[ His voice wavered a bit on that gone, and he clenched his teeth hard to prevent it wavering any further. There would be time to grieve later, if he survived. ]

[celestialcrybaby]

[He let his hands lower slowly, but he could see even from this distance that the other's finger was still on the trigger, so he continued to keep his hands out and away from his body, letting him see that he wasn't reaching for his own gun.

He gave a small sigh, shaking his head as he glanced over that red shoulder to the distant building on the horizon.]

The kids, yeah, and Melanie. Made sure they got out on the refugee ship before the Ark showed up. Someone's still there, though. I-...we...buried him out back. Didn't we.

[It wasn't a question, and he heard the way his voice wavered in almost exactly the same way. So surreal, too surreal, and still he couldn't figure out how or why this was happening or whether it was even real.

But then...it should have been easy enough to tell, shouldn't it?

He flexed his jaw for a moment, debating on whether or not he wanted to risk the vulnerability it could cause, before reaching out with his mind, feeling for the other's consciousness and trying to make a connection only their kind could be capable of, sending out a quiet, wary wave of thought-feeling-voice into the air.]

I don't know what's happening or how we both got here, but I know what you're going through.

[love_and_peace]

[ The other Vash wasn't attacking, at least, and after the day that he'd had, he'd take that tiny bit of respite gratefully.

If it wasn't a trap, if this other version of himself standing in the roadway wasn't an illusion, or a shape shifter, or some other unbelievable scheme cooked up by one of Knives's followers, then how was it possible he was here? He didn't feel threatening... although Vash would be the first to admit that his ability to tell when somebody was hostile rarely worked as well as he'd like. He certainly wasn't acting hostile. All he was doing was delaying Vash's advance to December, and hadn't he already delayed himself enough, with whatever malfunction his gate had caused while fighting off the ark?

The kids, and Miss Melanie, they'd all escaped on the refugee ships, yes. He didn't nod confirmation as his double spoke, but his whole posture -- and the finger on that trigger -- relaxed somewhat. But then we buried him out back, said his double, and Vash's shoulders slumped in defeat as the tears that welled up. He blinked them roughly away, not daring to risk a moment of impaired vision around such an obvious threat, but if this imposter wanted him vulnerable, that was the moment. That was his chance.

And still no attack came. Instead, soft and gentle as a cool breeze on a hot day, a voice rippled through his mind, offering understanding and connection. The sound he made in reply couldn't be called anything other than a sob. ]

...Who...?

[celestialcrybaby]

[The moment the other man broken, he couldn't help but glance away, his own vision blurring. Hearing that pain, so familiar, a constant weight on his heart, coming from a voice that was simultaneously his own but also separated from his physicality, was so strange. But the disconnect didn't make it any easier. It was still so fresh, such a recent, raw emotional wound that it didn't take much for him to break down in much the same way; the smell of cigarette smoke as someone walked by with a lit stick hanging out of their mouth, the sound of someone speaking with an accent just similar enough that for a moment it fooled his brain into thinking he was standing nearby, the clap of church bells at noon.

For all the weirdness of feeling his own mind mirrored back at him, there was something reassuring about it. He really didn't know how or why, but there was no mistaking who was in front of him, now. At the same time, there was a moment when his own mental thought-answer almost coalesced in reply before he blinked, giving a soft, bewildered laugh under his breath. Doing so, however, reminded himself of the girls' horrified reactions, wondering how he could smile with blood pouring down his head, chased from town on the threat of an actual stoning, and his realization that somewhere along the way, he'd started having trouble recognizing what an appropriate emotional response to the things that were happening actually was. He tried to quash the humorless smile on his face, and was mostly successful.]

Who am I, or who did we bury? [Truth be told, both were valid questions right now. How in the Hell is he standing here, having a conversation with himself in the flesh from months past? And also, pretending not to know who they had laid to rest behind the orphanage, if only to get confirmation that the person in front of him actually knew and wasn't an imposter, wasn't an entirely terrible idea, now that it occurred to him.] I'm not one of Emilio's puppets, at least. I really don't know what's happening, but I promise, I'm not a lie.

[The next thought-voice had lost all tones of amusement when he continued, grim and quiet and undeniably sad.]

We buried Wolfwood. Out between the buildings, by the play-yard. He doesn't ever have to leave, now, he's...home. [He reached up and rubbed at his sternum, at the physical ache in his heart, shifted to press the well-loved lighter he now kept in his breast pocket just a little closer to his chest. His own vision was well beyond clarity at this point, too. And, because it was something only they would know, only they had been around to see, undeniable proof of who he was, he added.] It hurt too much the leave him at first, so we sat with him in the grave until he'd gone cold.

[He didn't sob, but he couldn't stop the way his lip trembled, or the tears that now rolled unabated down his face. When he spoke again, it was physically, suddenly feeling too vulnerable to keep a full connection, despite keeping his mind open to the other, in case he still needed the non-verbal avenue open to continue the conversation.]

I really was just coming by to check on him, before...I don't know. Disappearing for a while, I guess, until things calmed down again. Just in case I couldn't visit him again for a while. I'm not sure what's happening. I was just walking, and I heard our sisters crying out just now, and then you were running toward me.

[love_and_peace]

[ Who are you? Vash begins to think back, but the other him answers his question -- and more -- before he can even begin to send along that connection. I'm not a puppet, he promises. I'm not a lie, and the way he phrases it rings true. Would Knives have bothered telling a mind reader how he can Vash used to joke as kids? It seems like far too much effort to put into a trap, especially now, but the alternative is just too unbelievable. How could there be another version of himself? How...?

But his whirlwind of questions fades as the other Vash continues to speak. We buried Wolfwood, and even though it's not his memory, not his experience, Vash can feel every shovelful of soil behind those words. He can feel the dirt under his nails, the weight of the stones in his palm. The weight of the corpse in his arms.

His jaw aches from smiling, but he can't make his face relax. It's locked into a rictus grin that just grows wider as the other Vash continues, pouring horrors into Vash's heart and mind. Part of him recoils from the knowledge, but still he sifts through every sentence, every flash of feeling that accompanies those terrible words. He would have buried Wolfwood out behind the kitchen, yes. He would have waited, at the edge of a fresh-dug grave, to make sure of the body within. He'd thought Wolfwood dead before -- he would have made sure. He would have had to be sure.

But he's not sure, can't be sure, because these aren't his memories. He never washed the blood off Wolfwood's face, never searched his pockets for any remaining vials. Never debated whether to save it for Livio, or to see if he could force one more miracle. Never got to say goodbye.

His voice is as stiff as his gestures when he's finally able to reply, tight with the effort of keeping himself under control. ]

I heard them too. [ His sisters. Their sisters, maybe? Maybe. ] The rescue ship had gone, and Knives was... I looked up and he was there. [ He doesn't know how long he sat there in silence beside Wolfwood. It could have been seconds, or hours, he doesn't recall. Time stopped when Wolfwood stopped breathing. The world had died with him, until Knives had dragged it back into focus. ] He attacked, and I put up a wall, and... and I heard the other plants.

[ They'd been calling for help, he sends along their connection, in feelings more than with language. It's the way he usually communicates with their sisters, in images and feelings, rather than with the words they often don't seem to understand. He'd thought it was the plants trapped on the ark, crying out in distress as he responded to Knives's bombardment, crying out in fear as Knives drained their lives away, fuel for the attack on his little brother while Vash had been distracted with grief. And then the attack had ended, and the ark was gone, like it had never been there. The ark, Livio, Wolfwood... all vanished.

How can he be sure Wolfwood is dead without a body? ]

So if... If you're me from the future, then you know where Knives is now. Where can I find him? Is he still in December?

[ His grief has to wait -- Knives must be his priority, if he's not already too late. ]

[celestialcrybaby]

[He could sense when his reply began broaching into territory the man in front of him hadn't lived yet, the combination of horror and resignation enough to make it clear that he had misjudged the situation, just a bit. That, and the uncomfortable grin on the others' face, were enough to make him feel like he'd been dunked in ice water.

He was about to ask where he had come from, if he had yet to bury him but, if the streaks of his hair were anything to judge by, had definitely been there when he died.
But then he spoke before the question could coalesce itself into words, and it made at least some sort of sense.

It was both strange and at the same time a comfort when the other began communicating the way he did with their sisters, like some kind of DNA-deep instinct that he so rarely got to act on, something that was coded into the structure of his bones. Words were more difficult, words could be misconstrued and twisted and misunderstood, forgotten. The way their sisters communicated was the feeling of simply being known, understood, accepted. He couldn't help but reply in kind, even after he'd pulled back on his own just moments earlier.

The Ark had left, taking their sisters with it, there had been no calls for help in December. It had been in Octovern, he had connected with them, given them their choice, left it up to them, and they had reached out, called out, abandoned Knives' mission of death and destruction and reached out in turn to humanity in a shower of gleaming feathers. That had been where the call had come from, only...this time it had been different. Something had changed, and with that change had come...whatever this was.]

They're safe. Er. Were safe. He didn't stay here after the attack. We had time to...[He gestured vaguely, uncomfortably, didn't want to say it out loud.] Livio is fine. I mean he is where-...when? I come from? It's...the war is over...It ended months ago.

[For him, at least. But...if the man in front of him isn't a lie, either, and he has yet to stop Knives, then...

He felt a sudden wave of nausea hit him with full force as the implications sank in. He doesn't want to do this all over again. He can't-...Not Legato again, not fighting with his brother, letting himself take what should have been a fatal blow for him and then carrying him away as he lost consciousness. Waking up, knowing he's nearby, sensing him in hiding as Dr. Bond nursed Vash back to health and told him who had begged the man to save his life but had never come back to speak to him in person once he had regained consciousness.

Feeling his presence suddenly...gone, when the day had come to leave six months later, and knowing, knowing, that he was now, for the first time in his entire life, really, truly alone.

He swayed back a step, felt a weight settle on his chest that made him feel as if his lungs were struggling to draw in air. He wanted to say something, but words caught in his throat, and where before the mental connection had been a conscious action, suddenly he knew it was the only way he would be able to communicate until the spell had passed. Where he had pulled back out of a sense of vulnerability moments before, his mind was reaching back out in a wave of what he dimly realized was a panic attack.

Oh, oh no, had he projected all of that outward? Had he forgotten to pull away to avoid overwhelming the other, the younger, him? His emotions flared even stronger, shamed, worried.

To someone watching them from a distance, he might have even looked calm. To anyone with the communicative abilities they had, he was calmly losing his shit.]

triple trouble, an indeterminate time later

[dontdeserve]

[ There are no Plants here, either. No Dependents, at least. Vash sighed softly to himself and kept going. There might end up something useful to know, and the fact that there were Independents, somehow, was confusing, but there was only one way to find out what it meant.

Once he had come close enough to brush not one but two presences, he'd withdrawn his senses, politely. It felt rather rude to observe from a distance. But that also meant that when he reached the city, he had no idea where to look for them.

So of course, now he was walking the city. Looking. ]

Hello?

[celestialcrybaby]

[His mind still felt flayed open and raw, his shoulders were still hunched up near his ears. But Vash had at least settled enough that he could almost appear outwardly calm to anyone who didn't know any better. What hadn't changed, though, was the way he continued to crush his own senses down, keeping them from reaching out, afraid of causing more pain. So he was almost caught unawares when he heard another voice call out from not far away. And if he hadn't been just forced into becoming familiar with the sound of his own voice coming from outside of his own head, he might have thought he was losing what was left of what had already been an admittedly tenuous grip on his sanity.

He gave a wary, worried glance at the other Vash, a grimace on his face, before he turned to face the direction the voice had come from, his arms tucked in tightly against his chest over his white button up.]

God, again...? [He sighed, looking around to see if he could spot the third man before he had to reply, and when he didn't immediately see anyone approaching, he lifted a hand to cup around his mouth and shout out a reply.]

Over here.

[love_and_peace]

[ Vash, still getting used to the idea of receiving that kind of mental message instead of just being on the sending end, didn't respond nearly as quickly as his older self. There was a buzz at the back of his mind, like a whisper from a long way off, and it only registered as another plant -- as another independent -- when the other Vash straightened up to respond.

The other Vash called out a greeting, of sorts, and Vash took that as his cue to pack up the gun kit. There was really only so many times a gun could be cleaned in one sitting before hitting the wall of diminishing returns, but he needed something to keep his hands busy. He'd promised not to leave this other Vash, and he'd keep his word, but their brother was still somewhere nearby -- December, if he was lucky -- and Vash had a pending date with the destiny he now knew lay at his feet.

Somehow, he was going to keep Knives alive. The thought gnawed at the back of his mind as he closed the kit and slipped his gun back into its holster, fixing his smile into something bright and welcoming, in anticipation of their guest. Somehow, there was a single step he could take that would be different than the one his predecessor had taken, a single word swapped for another, a shot aimed a hair wider, something. Something he could change, to change the whole future, just one tiny bit. ]

Another one? How many of us are there?

[dontdeserve]

Comiiiing!

[ he called back, and then he got to running in that direction, his mind not transmitting, but not closed up either, since he'd never had to do that before. He always needed to hear their sisters, and Nai... he never reached out to him that way, anyway.

He came close, and he did half expect to see the one like him whose image he had caught before it faded away--

He did not expect there to be two. One with dark hair. And one nearly so.

He slowed down, looking between one and the other. ]

Um... hi?

[ Several, Vash. There would be several of you. ]

[celestialcrybaby]

[He'd mostly slipped into a maudlin quiet since he'd gotten settled, his mind racing faster than he wanted it to but strangely calmed by the sight of the other him going through the motions of cleaning his gun. It was familiar, he could do it blindfolded, it was mundane, and it helped to distract him at least a little bit from what was running through his head, though not entirely by much.

He had honestly almost reached the point of feeling foolish more than anything by the time the sound of the other's voice had chimed out. The other him had places he had to be, otherwise countless people would end up dying. It felt wrong of him to want him to stay for fear of the information he'd dumped on him leading him to do something that might cause things to change in ways he couldn't predict. At the same time...if they were here, and their sisters had aleady cried out for help from Octovern, then that meant there was another-...

Which made the fact that there was apparently a third of them here, right now, even more bizarre. But perhaps not quite as bizarre as the sight of the newcomer.

That was the moment when his senses began their first slow, timid reach outward, by sheer force of will, brushing against the very edges of perception until he could just sense the strange familiarity of him despite the little differences, and then pulling back almost immediately again.

It was him, definitely another of them. The differences weren't enough to change that fact. And it was both a source of bewilderment and reassurance.

He lifted his right hand and gave a small wave from where he sat on a pile of rubble, leaned over slightly, his heels digging into the sand and his feet pointed up in a sort of curl that seemed to come naturally to his frame when he was unconsciously trying to keep himself contained, self-soothed. Tense and relaxed all at the same time in a weird sort of way.]

Hi. [His eyes narrowed as he looked at him, a curious look as he took stock of the clothes he was wearing, the sight of his shining prosthetic. A prosthetic that didn't seem to have any room for a gun, and that fascinated, worried, and pleased him in turns. He held up his own arm, wiggling the metal fingers and pointing to it with his other hand before tucking them back around his stomach.] That's new. Don't think I've ever had one quite like that, before.