nomans_land | On The First Day

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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.

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.]

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His touch is feather-light and careful, the muted hum of his own presence harder to hide this way, but he's already been found, so is that important?

"This doesn't take much effort. All I want you to do is think about the last couple cities or towns you've visited. The buildings, the environment. How did it smell? What did it sound like?" Almost all of that is completely irrelevant. But it's like being told to think of a white worm, it's almost as if one is compelled to immediately. It would take time, a delay to think of somewhere else.

All he needs is a skyline. He knows what he left the world as, how it's been rebuilt, and what it was like when he was still scouring the world for his abused sisters.

"The last couple--"

It doesn't take much. Not to think of Jeneora Rock, and the devastation Nai brought to it, the blades cutting into the rock, nor the last words from Rosa, her holding her son close.

Not to think JuLai, as it was as he approached it... and the crater that he found himself next to, after he was called in here.

"JuLai. I was- before here, I was going to JuLai."

The words are almost choked with the emotions and confusion, about what the city has come to.

Knives has been the perpetrator of countless murders, the ruin of numberless and nameless towns, but he doesn't ... recall Jeneora Rock's destruction that way. Or the skyline that was, hypothetically, July.

There's nothing at all wrong with his memory, but they don't fit with this narrative. He'd never even thought to use his blades quite that way.. if he even could, anymore.

"A chaotic and noisy place." His tone is neutral; Knives still didn't like humans but he knew how Vash felt. Should feel.

But how to explain the differences? How to explain where the hell his house had gone, why his brother looked inexplicably younger, strangely softer, even though so much else was clearly the same? But July also shouldn't be a hole like that. A ruin, absolutely, but just ... missing? Where was the debris field? It's puzzling, though he lacks the horror that Vash felt thinking about those places, he shares some of the bewilderment. "I had hoped for answers, but it seems there's even more questions, now."

He shifts slightly, to reach to pat Vash on one shoulder - the one that still had a natural arm. It's meant to be soothing, but such things don't come easily to him. "Let's put that aside for now." Who were those people and why did they even matter? "There should be a town some iles in that direction. Someone there might have the pieces to fit into this puzzle. Are you up for more travel?"

"Right. I was walking, anyway." Vash settles his bag better on his shoulders. "But Nai-- or do you prefer that I call you Knives?" It's important to ask. He's pretty sure.

"There was a definite shift in time, with whatever happened. JuLai was right in front of me, and then it was a crater that had been like that for years. And there are no plants nearby. At all." Beat. "Other than us, obviously."

Deep breath.

"So there may not be anyone in the town to answer."

He may or may not have run into a couple of towns like that already.

There's a nod, as if Knives had figured on something similar already. The information about no plants being around is a bit more of a surprise, he hadn't reached out and knew better than to try. While they were inevitably incredibly forgiving and would respond if he asked them to, it no longer felt as if he deserved it. Not after what he put them through.

"Knives.. is probably better. I haven't been 'Nai' since I was half your age." Or younger. The fact that Vash IS so young is really all he needs to know there's some kind of time shenanigans going on. It made him feel tired. .. More tired. "My home used to be right over there. I can't tell if I've moved forward or backwards, but given you.. I suspect backwards."

And of course, the missing home. And tree. His tree! It had taken so much coaxing to establish itself and properly grow! He begins his westward path again; with nowhere else for Vash to go he'll likely head the same way. "Depending on the timeframe, there may also be people there who are ... very hostile. If they are, scream and carry on and pretend I'd forced you to come with me, they'll focus on me, and you can leave town." His tone doesn't waver, as if this is normal and expected, just another bullshit part of dealing with humanity. "You look different enough from the posters that they'll likely decide you're someone else."

"Knives." Vash nods, and yes, he notes the surprise, just giving a wry smile in return, but his eyes are a little scared. This can't be right. It's horrible, really.

Then the rest of the words follow, and he immediately starts shaking his head.

"I can't do that." Knives, any Knives, should know that. He might be good at concealing unless directly poked, his ability to lie is, uh. Less than great.

"If there are people who are hostile, I do what I always do. I run away. I'll just carry you on my back, it won't be a problem."

He bites his lip a little. "The posters... would they look like. Well, different coat, kind of ragged on the edges, and hair all up. And glasses kind of different? I think I caught that image when everything changed. There were plants who asked. 'Help us. Help him.'"

Vash has a certain hope that whatever they were taken from will be... fine. At least for a while.

It's fine for them, it'd take more than a dry desert to kill an independent. But that didn't explain where their missing sisters were. He could guess, depending on the year. "Oh, yes. Run away. That's precisely what I want you to do." And meanwhile, he'll drag their attention in another direction. Vash the Stampede was bad, a walking disaster, but many of the non-Terran humans also favored him highly.

His brother, on the other hand.. "And no carrying, I'm not that old yet. If I've gotten so slow that humans can catch me, I'll deserve it." And by the thin echo of disgust to his tone and expression, he has no intention of being caught.

That echo of a distant cry suggested where they should be looking, though. "..More or less. But black hair, not blond. A bit taller, more.." Knives hesitates for a moment, considering how to try to not make it sound insulting. "Worn." Like rocks in high wind, scoured by the sand and time. "The future... is not particularly kind to you. Wasn't. I suppose there's time to change some of that, if the Terrans mind their own business."

"We both run, then." Sorry, Knives, if there are people who are hostile, he is absolutely not leaving you behind. Carrying is still an option if you object to that. But also... "It's not about you being old." Not technically. "It's about preserving your energy." He might not know all. But he knows enough to know that is a problem. Or will be, sooner rather than later. "What happens after that always ... looks miserable."

'Looks,' he says, as though he hasn't felt it through to his core, unwilling to turn away even though he knows what will follow. You are not alone, he has said so often, and he would not let them be alone, even then.

Anyway.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch enough of the image to be sure about all the details. It was as though the call had already been made and I caught the last of it as it was already fading." But probably Knives would be correct. Seeing Knives' hair... Vash can figure out a lot, too. His eyes squeeze but then open again, determined.

Then he blinks. Wait... what?

"Terrans?"

There's what looks awfully like a dismissive wave. "That's the plan, albeit in different directions. You're neither fast enough nor strong enough to dodge bullets while carrying someone my size." What follows after power runs out isn't ... completely awful, if certain species weren't actively draining it. He'd just stop one day. If he used his power to its last mote, then ....

He had no plans on finding out what that would feel like. "Time catches up to everyone sooner or later. As long as I don't use any of my abilities, I've got a while yet." Which means relying on, ugh, guns. And trickery, deceit and an unhealthy dose of bluff and intimidation. "But no apologies needed." Cries for help tended to not be super detailed.

If Vash was pre-July it made sense he wouldn't know about the arrival of the Space Feds, and he considers how best to describe that. "The stories we were told as children, of humanity's origins. It seems they hadn't completely destroyed their home world. In about ...two years give or take, after July is obliterated, they make themselves known and arrive here looking for the survivors of the Fall."

That's pretty neutral and unbiased sounding, and he's pleased that he'd managed it. It took EFFORT. "Their version of showing up to help is attempting to make their rules and regulations everyone else's, and the humans here don't appreciate it. They meddle. In everything. Don't let them find out what you are if you can avoid it. They have rules and regulations about that too."

Of course it does. "Different-- but--" Vash tries to complain about being separated so soon after meeting, but then he clamps his mouth shut, looking away. It's Knives' privilege, to want to be rid of him. To not want to be saddled with someone as clueless about this world as he is, or with... whatever happened to get him from how Vash knows him to... this. After a moment, he faces him again with a grin. "And don't be so sure I'm not fast enough, I've had a lot of practice!" Specifically with dodging bullets. He's very good at it!

He considers the rest of the information, and the implications. His mouth turns down at the corners again.

"People got hurt again, didn't they." Quietly. And yes, he knows that would not be Knives' priority, or even something he was bothered with, but it matters to him. One more faction to keep from hurting the others. While staying out of their reach? Something like that. "I'll keep an eye out, thanks, Knives."

Knives glances back at Vash, brow furrowing. "Weren't you traveling with someone at about this point? Or has he not arrived yet? You'll get used to splitting people's attention and meeting up later, the point is to separate an angry crowd so everyone is individually dealing with fewer hostiles." If this is how it started, and by the time Wolfwood was finished Vash's strategies had vastly changed and improved, he really should have given more kudos to that lying, backstabbing bastard when he had the chance. It was definitely the right move to assign him to the task. Somehow he suspects it would have NEVER gone as well if he'd sent the likes of Elendira.

Or heaven forbid, Legato. Who wouldn't be able to get over his jealousy enough to be useful.

"Fast enough, or fast enough while carrying another ninety kilos?" There's a touch of mocking to his tone, but it's not meant to be vicious. "I'm not very small and light you know."

People get hurt. People always get hurt. By the time the Terrans arrived though, Knives had already seen to most of the population. "Still are. They haven't erupted into anything like open warfare, but human nature doesn't change. The Terrans deserve a bit more caution since they have the technology and knowledge to control plants, and if they want to, cut you off from everything that makes you a plant. Not just the things you don't know you can do yet, but even the song of our kin." Just in case, because oh no what if Vash decided he wanted to fuse with a bunch and get more powerful??? "They do it to their own Independents already."

Things that would never happen, but paranoia and humans go hand in hand.

For a moment... just a moment, all cheer vanishes from Vash's face, no matter how fake, and he looks ... blank. Then he shrugs, pulling the smile back on.

"He was with me on the way to JuLai. When I showed up here... he was not with me." He is not okay with that.

But also yes, Wolfwood probably will teach him a lot of strategies since Vash survives because he doesn't have much choice in the matter... Wolfwood has had to work for it. And again... yes. It was likely one of your better choices ever, in the overall scheme of thing, to give him that assignment.

That said, Wolfwood had his work cut out for him. "That way two people can get hurt, if things go wrong. I just get everyone coming after me and outrun them. And I'm generally aware how big you are, what with the whole benig twins thing." And yes, knowing this, he still thinks he can do it. But he's not going to fight him over it, he's just saying.

Then he sighs. "You can never forgive them, can you. For what a few of them have done, you don't see any good, any kindness, in any of them." The words are quiet, because they hurt him so much. His eyes are cast down but the words that follow are not a placation, they are still a promise. "I won't be caught."

"Is that so?" How quickly Vash has already gotten attached, it seems. "He'll turn up, whether you want him to or not." That ends badly one day, he already knows that. But until then, it was a precious thing to his brother.

The matter of whether or not running away and splitting up is the best idea when dealing with dangerous crowds is set aside because of what follows it, and Knives stops completely, then turns around, expression stormy, to jab a finger at Vash. No blades, though his voice is very stern.

"No. Stop with hypocritical rhetoric and trying to dismiss everything you don't like to hear because you're sad about humans. This isn't about whether or not humanity is capable of kindness, I am warning you of things the Terrans actively are doing right this moment and will absolutely attempt to do to you based on nothing but your species and the fact that you are an uncontrolled independent. I'm not guessing."

He makes a brief negative swipe with one hand, frown deepening. "You may love and cuddle the humans as much as you want; but you need to know the difference between ones that bite and ones that don't, not just for your sake but the sake of all your little friends. Terrans bite. Their trained, indoctrinated, chipped and controlled Independents bite. And they're sharp enough to use who's around you if they can't get at you directly." As far as he's concerned, the humans of No Man's Land are bad, but the Terrans are obnoxious.

You should know your brother enough by know to be aware that he does get attached, and never gets un-attached.

"I won't take lives." This part, he's adamant about. But then he softens, because he can hear oh so clearly the protectiveness that so often took a very strange turn recently, annd he can process that, unlike ... most of his recent encounters with Nai.

"But I won't let myself be caught." This one he is evn more certain about. It sounds liek a promise.

"Did I say kill anybody?" And now he's visibly exasperated, setting his hands on his hips in a gesture so human it's probably best to not point it out. "Did I say fight at all or did I say run away, and hide what you are from them?"

It's things he'd heard for a long time. But this younger version couldn't possibly know that, they'd been apart at that point longer than they'd been together. He rubs the bridge of his nose for a moment, eyes closed, before he gives a heavy, put upon sigh. "From where you stand and what you've experienced, you might not realize I am very familiar with your code of ethics, and you're no longer familiar at all with mine. I'm not about to tell you to go on a rampage, betray a friend, or shoot someone you casually just met on the street an hour ago and so on." There were certain things that just weren't worth the effort. Vash was as fixated on his ideals and beliefs as Knives was, and just as unlikely to change them, ever.

Vash doesn't flinch at the snap. Instead, he is visibly relieved.

"From where I'm standing..." softly, "you have been trying to get him to kill everyone since..." His right hand rubs the left shoulder, above the cut. "For a very long time. Sorry."

A small nod.

"Then I'll stay out of reach of any groups of people - humans - until I know if they are Terrans or not, and even if not, I'll only approach with caution." This part he knows he needs to specify, because if Knives put this much energy in explaining to him, it matters, and he had better pay attention. "And... would you be willing to tell me? How... you see the world now."

Because Knives is still his brother. And he wants to know, and cares. And loves.

"Since the Fall." Most of his life. Almost all of it, really. They were what, a year old? A year and a half? It has indeed been a very long time. Slowly, Knives turns and heads westward again. There either would be a town, or there wouldn't, and the only way to find out was to go and see if anything else changed - see what time it really was.

And the only way to know if Vash really heeded his warning would be to let time pass too. For now, what he has as an answer will have to do. If he had to take on the Terrans to prevent his brother from being chipped and brought to heel like a stray pet, then he'd do it, but ...

... But these days it would be harder to do.

The crunch of pebbles underfoot is no good distraction. "It's not what you'll want to hear. I have not had a moment of revelation that humans are good and wonderful and worth saving." At least there was no deep sand to wade through. "My perspectives," Knives says quietly, "Haven't changed. I can't forgive them for what they've done, and I can't forgive them for what they intend to do. Our sisters are still born slaves and die slaves, in pain and misery. What I do about it ... has by necessity, shifted." He raises one hand, fingers curling. "I lack the power I had once and I have no desire to reclaim it. Our enslaved sisters made their choice, long ago. The prize of their freedom wasn't worth the price of plant fighting plant."

And he could not make that decision FOR them. They might struggle with mortality, with concepts such as right or wrong, but Knives wouldn't deny them the choices they could make. "They didn't hesitate in aiding me in my assault on humanity, but they shared the same struggles I had with turning weapons on our own kind."

He had to come up with alternatives, without the support of his kin, without involving his kin, so no fight could arise, he'd need time. Time he didn't have.

If Knives expected Vash to be disappointed, or to argue, to try to persuade him, well. He is not getting none of these things. Vash just keeps walking quietly next to him, for a while neither words nor strong emotions coming from him, as he considers the words. There is sadness, that their sisters did agree to lash out, but much like his brother, he cannot and will not blame them for the choices they have made. But the more he learns about the future, the more he loses faith that he will ever be anything but sad, anyway. So he smiles, as he always does.

When he finally speaks, it's quiet, and a little tired, and a little... hopeless.

"Have you... ever... forgiven me?"

He does not think Knives would have.

"You haven't done anything yet that needs forgiving." Knives' answer is prompt and flat. "I won't blame you for things you haven't done and may never do. But listen, Vash."

The future is not kind.

"You don't have to take it, but you have an opportunity I never had. If I've moved back in time, if it's still early enough.. make use of my knowledge. If you don't like how things turned out, you have time to change things for the better." Better for who?

But more responsibility, more work.

"I mean... that I never could see the things as you did. For not... being at your side."

That, he has done. He knows he has.

Slowly, he breathes out.

"I don't know how they have turned out. Only some. Not enough to know what can be changed and what... I'd like to change."

This at least is easier to dismiss, though it still made him ache all these decades later. "It is worse to be with someone who doesn't want to be with you, than to be alone. You had your life to live." And Knives was such a distant concern that humans Vash hadn't even met yet had a higher priority for time and attention.

He supposed it would always hurt. But it was a dull and familiar misery, one he'd learned to live with. Vash would return to his humans and leave him alone again soon enough.

"If you want to know, I'll answer anything I can, but I am not ... familiar with the fates of most of your companions. Age alone would catch most by now." It wasn't much at all, really, but... better than nothing maybe.

"So you haven't." It's not even resigned, just a simple acceptance of the fact. "I'm sorry." It doesn't change much of anything, but it's the truth.

He never had this kind of conversation with Nai. And... he suspects Nai won't let him have it, either. But it's always... different, when things are said outside your head.

After a moment, he nods. "I'll have to find them myself. That makes sense. And - whatever you think I should know?"

"Forgiving requires believing that something is going to change, and I know it won't." Knives on the other hand is resigned. He'd never had a chance, even as a child. A human always came first. "It doesn't make me upset anymore. I can't blame a cat for being a cat, and I can't blame you for being who you are." But he knows how it'll end.

The same way it always does, and it never matters. He wasn't important enough.

What he thought Vash should know is ... a lot of things. Too much, and most of it wouldn't be heeded. Tiredly he raises a hand, one finger raised. "Wams are intelligent and a hive mind. Not a collective like plants, but similar. The bigger and older the wam, the smarter it is. Make friends with Zazie, if she's still alive, she's one of them. Make friends with the wams. It's their world, after all, and she's less my 'servant' than an interested third party." Important to know, even if the wams had decided to try to brainwash him, and he made them pay for it. Another finger. "Learn to use your natural gifts. Without that knowledge you're a victim waiting to happen. If you can't control yourself, that means someone else can, and will. Someone like me. You won't have a say in what happens afterward, so learn. Quickly. Even if it's uncomfortable, or frightens you, take control of yourself so nobody else can."

Third. "Trust your guide. He was sent for a reason, and as far as I know he's never betrayed you, even when it seemed like he might have. Don't let him fight alone, that's going to go badly and you'll blame me."

Fourth finger. "If time continues forward from your point, stay out of July if it .. somehow is still there. And Augusta. I will handle it myself, if need be. Do not go alone if you must go. If you go alone, these cities will be destroyed because you didn't follow point two."

Fifth. "You'll eventually encounter a man named Legato. Blue hair, yellow eyes, utterly faithful. He'll try to kill you. He won't succeed but you're not going to have fun in the meantime. He is also part of that other issue of control. He may .. MAY listen if I tell him to stop, but it's unlikely; it's possible I can turn his devotion to including you as well." There's a pause, and Knives frowns. Actually, of every being in his entire life, the only one who ever prioritized him.. "Actually, how do you feel about being worshipped?"

"It doesn't require--" anything but for you to forgive, but Vash swallows that down, shaking his head. "Sorry. Don't mind me."

Vash listens, carefully. He nods at the first point, winces slightly at the second, his left hand flexing unconsciously, but he listens.

Then the third one just makes him hunch, looking down, a frown etched on his face. But he listens.

"I think I've seen Legato, one time. He was in a car riding around the sand steamer that went haywire. Was made to go haywire. And I don't think worship will happen? I don't know, I tend to overstay my welcome far too quickly to know. I'd think it will be uncomfortable. And the guide - his job was to bring me to July, and we were almost there. In this place, July is... rubble. And he - he thinks we're all dead and this is hell. So he left already."

And Vash is miserable about it but that doesn't matter. He looks away. "I'll work on my powers." That's the only one he thinks he has any control over right now. He has no idea where to start, but he understands Knives' point. "I didn't even think I had any until years and years after the crash. When I opened my Gate with my left hand and you had to cut it off so it wouldn't suck everything and everyone in."

Yes, his gate goes in, not out. Think on that, Knives. ~~His certainly did.~~

It requires knowing it won't happen again, for Knives. Otherwise he's just enabling someone or something that is going to keep hurting him. Nobody else will protect him, so he has to protect himself.

"I don't expect so either, but I won't eliminate the possibility." Legato was a peculiar being even for a human, and singularly focused on what he believed. Altering it, even at Knives' request, would surely be a challenge. Especially given Knives has moved on, as has the world. He didn't remember anything about a steamer, which meant it wasn't ever particularly important, but if Legato's already been encountered then he was sure to turn up again. "If he brought you that far, fought by your side, probably fought with you and all those other things friends do, do you really think he'll consider the matter over even if everyone WAS dead?" He glances back over his shoulder, one black eyebrow raised. "Surely you have a better sense for his temperament by now than I do, I'm decades out of date."

That Knives might have more faith in Wolfwood than Vash himself does strikes him as both terrible and ironic, and laughing is probably a bad idea so he strangles it down. "July should be rubble, but if the flash I saw is a sign it's less a debris field and more a hole. Isn't that interesting?" And he shouldn't talk about the loss of tens of thousands of people like it's a diverting interesting thing to puzzle over instead of some terrible tragedy, but he can't see it as a tragedy even now. "But besides that. Don't give up so quickly on your human. He's more tenacious than that. And so are you. I always felt it was a good idea to fight for the things that really matter. If he really matters..." Then fight for that friendship, clearly. It's Vash's decision, it always was, but oftentimes his brother needed a push to get moving.

He does certainly remember cutting off Vash's arm, but it wasn't because of that. It's a good thing he's facing the other direction, because it makes it a lot harder to see how puzzled that makes him before he buries it. Well, perhaps Vash has decided what happened wasn't what happened and merely invented one that sounded better. That his power included localized black holes, given Knives knew damn well what those little horrid bullets did, made perfect sense. But what a bizarre juxtaposition, combining that with being dismembered.

"If it makes you feel any better the first time I tried to use my own power I put a blade right through my leg and pinned myself to a swivel chair for two days." Something he would not admit to, in another situation. There was this .. ongoing oppressive gloom that shrouded Vash. Perhaps he could pierce it, a little. Nobody was perfect.

On The First Day

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