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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
I could say the same about you, you know. [ he huffs, tugging at one of vash's bangs. ] Your hair looks like you cut it with a blender.
no subject
[ At least, once they're safe, he means. Once they know what's going on, once they have someplace to go to serve as temporary home. Once he's done distracting himself from his fear by poking and prodding at all the ways his brother seems different, here. ]
How come it's so long all of a sudden? It was shorter than mine this morning.
no subject
I already told you, it's because of our gates. [ at least his, he isn't sure about vash. but it has to be, right? ] This morning you looked just like me, hair style included. [ so stop poking fun at rem's terrible hair cutting skills! ] We're different, but also the same. I believe we're from different universes - like in those science fiction movies. [ he has his theories, of course! unfortunately for vash, nai doesn't hesitate to unleash them on his poor brother. ] Want to know how I know?
no subject
Don't say stupid things! [ He puts one hand flat on Knives's chest and gives him a shove -- not hard enough really to even make him stumble back (at least, that's not the intent!) but just hard enough to get his attention. ] You're Knives, and I'm Vash, and I'm your brother, I don't care what universe we're in!
no subject
[ another little difference, knowing the vash back home would have started the waterworks the moment things started getting physical. ] You'll be my brother no matter what, but I'm trying to tell you important information! Clean the sand out of your ears, Vash!
no subject
My ears are fine, it's your brain that's got too much stupid in it!
[ Because look, he's seen those sci-fi movies, okay? And the whole point of people coming from other universes who look like loved ones is that they aren't the loved ones, and then there's usually slimy aliens and lots of chewing, and this is his brother!
...Right? This is his brother? He doesn't ever want to doubt that, but now he's got doubts, and it's frightening for so many reasons. ]
If you say I'm from another universe one more time, I'm gonna knock you down!
no subject
another shove back! ]
You are from another universe! I am too! I can even prove it, idiot! Stop being so- so obtuse! [ putting all those hours spent reading vocabulary to good use here. ] As your brother, I demand that you listen to me!
no subject
There's a ball of something painful in the back of Vash's throat that just hurts worse and worse every time Knives says that he's different, and he's either got to cry it out or yell about it. Yelling is by far the better choice, so with an angry shout he launches himself fully at Knives. ]
You take that back!
[ This is a full on grapple that will end with Knives on the ground and Vash pinning him down. Face up or face in the dirt, held down by Vash's hands or pinned under his butt, one way or another Knives is going to stop saying those things. ]
no subject
[ nai screams back, the wind knocked from him as vash tackles him into the dirt. immediately he brings his legs up to try and kick him off, hands scrambling to grapple with vash's own hands. by this point rem would have pulled them apart, but she isn't here right now.
so nai aims a kick to vash's gut, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling. ] Stupid Vash! Listen to me!
[ he growls, then an idea strikes him. with his face half pressed into the dirt the soft, glowing marks that he shares with his own vash start to appear over his face and neck, the rest disappearing past the collar of his suit. ] See?!
no subject
Vash has never scrambled backwards so fast in his entire short life.
It's true. Everything Knives was saying is true, he's an alien from another dimension pretending to be his brother! Vash scoots backwards until his back hits a discarded crate, which he then ducks behind, hiding, hands pressed tight over his mouth so he doesn't make a sound. That's not Knives.
no subject
Vash...
[ the marks fade back into his skin for now as nai stands up, brushing dirt off of his clothes with a frustrated tick to his brow. without saying anything else he walks over to the crate vash is hiding behind and kicks it away. ]
What are you doing? C'mon. [ he reaches to grab his brother's wrist to tug him up. ] If you were listening at all, this wouldn't be such a surprise. Do you know how many different versions of you I've met here? [ two! or maybe now three. ] We're different, but you'll always be my brother, so stop crying, okay?
no subject
You glowed!
[ A bad haircut and tighter clothes is one thing, but glowing? ]
That's not normal!
no subject
It's normal for me and you, and our sisters. [ he crouches down, resting his hands on his knees and frowns. ]
I didn't show you to scare you, Vash... [ he worries his lower lip, brows pinched. ] ... What should I do to make- make you feel better?
no subject
Do it again.
[ He's not getting up yet, isn't quite ready to take fleeing in terror off the table, but... ]
Make it glow. Lemme see it?
no subject
Promise you won't run away again first.
[ he doesn't want to keep chasing his brother down! ]
no subject
I'm not gonna run away if I'm asking for it, dummy! Just do it!
[s But he's met Knives, and he's a stubborn jerk, so... ]
Fine, I promise, now glow!
no subject
[ he resists the urge to throw a kick out at vash for being a dumb bratty idiot and shifts to sit on his legs instead. bringing up his markings is as easy as breathing, but under the watchful eye of his brother-slash-not he can't help but feel a little awkward.
he stares at vash with an annoyed look, features decorated by softly glowing markings. ]
There. Happy?
no subject
He cups Knives's face in his hands, stroking over the pretty lights. They aren't hot, like he thought they might be. He can't feel them at all, except somewhere in his gut, somehow, where they just feel like Knives, but more. ]
I can't glow! How come you can glow and I can't?
[ He traces over every single light on Knives's face, peering at his eyes to see the swirls there, poking them to see if the light shifts with touch... he even leans in and licks one, to see if it tastes any different than regular skin. ]
no subject
Maybe you can do something I can't? I don't know- hey!
[ he jerks his head back with a yelp when vash licks him. immediately he tries to scrub away the feeling, huffing. ] That's disgusting! Don't lick me, weirdo!
no subject
no subject
[ nai squeals in horror, trying to hold vash back by his shoulders as he's knocked back to the ground. ] Vash, stooop! Don't lick me!
no subject
I'm a plant too, and I wanna glow! Show me how!
no subject
Stop- stop! Get off, Vash! [ better watch out because he's coming for vash with his own tickling attack. ]
no subject
[ The kicking throws him off balance and he screams with laughter as Knives's ticklers find his sides. But he's not beaten yet! ]
Not until you tell me how to do it!
no subject
Annoying little brothers who try to lick me don't deserve to know!
[ and for that nai attacks vash's sides again. take that! ]
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