nml_mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nml_mods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
he clutches at Vash's arms--]
Vash, where the hell have you--
[that'll come in a second. more importantly--]
I don't know...we were all here, and then-- there was this noise, like when-- [Nick died] before. And now it's almost like everything's the way it was then...
no subject
I was just-...I didn't wanna-...[No, but then Livio was redirecting himself away from that question and back to Vash's, and his own eyes looked around frantically as he spoke, trying to find any sign of the small herd of children and caregivers who'd been there just moments before.
When Livio's words sank in, the unspoken implications dawning on him, he froze, his own memory of that night flashing back in his mind, and his already pale skin blanched. No, he remembered the noise he spoke of. How could he not, he'd been at the epicenter of it when it struck. And he was right.
The blood on the ground - so much, in massive puddles, trails, flecks that muddied the sand all around them - and the piles of rubble and bullet shells and rocket casings lay scattered about, now that he was conscious enough to really look for them. And he felt sick.]
How-...What-...??? [Words were catching in his throat, refusing to form and frustrating him, but he knew himself well enough not to fight the little spell until it had passed. He was normally so verbose, but sometimes, sometimes, words were just hard.
He glanced up at Livio, reaching up to clutch back at his arm with the one he was holding and even to grasp the hand on his own arm with his free hand, an attempt at offering grounding reassurance. At the very least, the feeling of another person's hand under his own helped give him something to focus on when a horrifying thought crossed his mind and his attention snapped back in the direction he knew a broken, old couch had stood amongst the rubble of an old house.]
Nick...! [The name rasped out of his lungs before he was tearing off around the orphanage, hoping and praying the weird sense of being thrown out of time was just a figment of his imagination.
Shouldn't he have been more concerned with the missing children? A part of his mind that was still calm enough to have rational thought suggested as much, but the panic of the moment had already gripped onto the entire reason he had come back to December, latched onto the grief that had been clawing at his heart for months, and didn't feel inclined to letting him go until he had appeased its morbid, painful curiosity.]
no subject
but then Vash is leaving him
everyone leaves him, tearing off, Wolfwood's name on his tongue-- and horror chokes Livo, horrified at what he might find. the big man tears off after Vash, desperately--]No, no, nonono, VASH! Wait, don't-- WAIT!!
no subject
If he was-...
If Wolfwood was-...
He had to check! He had to know, he couldn't bear the guilt if he let himself be stopped because it was the rational thing to do and it turned out that crazy little idea had turned out to be true, and he'd just left him out there! He could handle seeing him again, even if-...even if he was-...
When he finally rounded the corner and scrambled to a stop amongst the pile of rubble where a house had once stood, the sight of the old, unoccupied couch filled him with both immense relief and horrible grief. The bright, red stains of blood that coated one side of its surface did little to help matters, especially when his feet carried him closer and he could see that the blood...it was drying, yes, almost completely faded to a dark brown. But it was still fresh.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat, felt a wave of dizziness hit as he looked slowly down and around. At the bottle of whiskey on the ground, alcohol dripping from the neck, boot prints that matched his own in the sand leading away from the sofa and dug deeper in the sand than the ones he'd just made, as if he had suddenly weighed twice his normal weight when he'd finally walked away from the couch.
Carrying his body.
When he turned to look in the direction of the orphanage where he knew there should be a grave, he felt as if he were moving through quicksand, movements sluggish and dazed. And when he began walking in that direction, his steps were much less rushed.]
no subject
the big man spots the bloody couch and almost collapses. he knows, he knows he's the last person Vash wants to see, that he should see, but he's the only one here...he's the only one who can stop him.
so he hurries after the plant, shouting, reaching desperately, until finally Vash slows, walking like he's in mud. Livio catches up, and gently places his hands on his shoulders]
It's okay. Let's just go. This is taken care of. You already-- he's already taken care of. We don't have to go there, okay?
no subject
He gave a small, humming sound as he came back to reality, shaking his head and covering his face for a moment to hide the way it crumpled, the way his lip trembled. He hummed again, soft little noises that weren't quite whines and weren't sharp enough to be crying. Trying to build up to being able to form words again, before finally he found his voice, soft and miserable as it might have sounded.]
I...came to visit...wanted to visit him. Didn't think...didn't think anyone would be back yet. 'S...why I was hiding. Didn't want to bother you guys, some creepy old man just...lurking by the orphanage. Just...wanted to...come and say good bye an' then...and then leave again. That's all.
[Not that he needed to explain, but it helped to reorient himself, get himself out of the weird headspace that had come over him. He gave himself a moment for the tears to hit, let himself feel them, process the panic he'd just had. And then he did his best to shove all of it back down inside of his chest, wiping at his face and readjusting his sunglasses, and then looking up at Livio with an apologetic grimace that tried to be a smile.]
Sorry, sorry. I'm fine. Your kids are missing, let's go. we need to look for them.
no subject
he keeps his hands gently, gently on his shoulders, soft enough to shrug out of the bigger man's hold if he wants.]
It's okay. If Melanie's with them, even a worm doesn't stand a chance. We can take a few minutes to just breathe. You shoulda come out, [said lightly] the kids love seeing you.
no subject
He shook his head gently, glancing around them, though he didn't shake him off. It helped, at least a little, the weight of his hands helping keep his thoughts grounded.]
But where did they go? Did you see what happened? [His face twisted almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitching. His voice was softer when he continued, and he deliberately didn't look up at him.] I...I don't think I would have been great company, Livio. Past few months've been...kinda hard...
[But then he looked up at him again with a watery smile, his eyes closing almost immediately to keep the tears back and because, for some reason, it made it easier to talk without his voice cracking around the pain when they were.]
Maybe sometime soon, though, yeah? I didn't get to meet them properly, last time. Things were...things were too much. They might not even recognize me now, anyway, right? Had a lot more blond hair back then.
[His little laugh probably wasn't fooling anyone.]
no subject
You don't gotta be good company. Let us just be around ya, how bout that? You don't gotta decide on anything right now. You're right, let's take a little look around-- can't call you tow-headed either.
[he thinks that's the word. maybe its not, he isn't sure. a distraction is nice, though]
omg I haven't heard tow-headed in YEARS, my country upbringing is very amused!
It's...so strange. It's like after everyone left on the ship for Octovern. But how? [He had a moment of actual laughter. That was a phrase that he hadn't heard in a couple decades, now, but it amused him.] Eh, you still could. I answer to pretty much anything these days, really.
[Wolfwood had gotten him fairly used to all sorts of nicknames, after all. He probably still would have been calling him Blondie, just to spite him. But then maybe that was just the fact that when he thought about his voice, it was often the sound of him calling him that that he remembered that was talking.]
We should probably check inside, just to be safe. If they're in Octovern again...I'm sure they're fine, but...I'd hate to leave someone here, all alone, because we didn't check.
i was like MAN i dont wanna say two toned that's just not IT so now you know im old
a nod. this gives them a purpose again, a mission even. that's what he knows]
How about just Vash? We'll find whoever needs help on the way, too.
Oh, I doubt I'm much younger. XD I should throw that one at the baby cousins and confuse them lol
I suppose I could get used to that, too. [And then he was giving a small sigh and turned toward the orphanage before he began making his way across the yard and to the large double doors.] I would have hoped there wasn't anyone that needed help, now that things were starting to settle down. I guess I got my hopes up too quickly.
you should!
Eh...I think it'll settle soon, again. But you got us to a point we could even think about it-- no one can take that away from you.
Must carry on the old southern slang for the future generations!
The tone of his voice when he spoke back up again sounded uncomfortable, though.]
I...didn't really do much of anything, though. I just had to stop my brother. You guys are the one who had to pick up the pieces and start over. If I was able to do any real good, things would have gotten better a lot sooner.
[He really didn't feel like he deserved any of the credit. Any good he might have done in Octovern was just a drop in the hat to try and begin making up for everything that he'd caused over the years. It didn't even make a dent, as far as he was concerned.]
YES!!
[Livio's shocked-- he grabs Vash by the shoulder, gentle, but firm enough--]
Vash, that's impossible! You may have superpowers and shit, but you're just a guy. A great guy, but you did what you could...it could have been way harder without you.
no subject
Still, he tried to give him a smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes.]
Maybe. But if I hadn't been here, July wouldn't have happened. If I'd tried harder, Knives might not have ever started any of this to begin with.
[He glanced away again, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, where if he'd had enough energy left, he might have expected to start feeling the first small feathers beginning to form on his skin. That was beyond him, now, at least, so instead, it was just the old, normal feeling of shame that rolled down his back.
The Big Fall, the chaos as humanity tried to rebuild from the ruins of their previous lives, the Eye, the Gung Ho Guns, all of it, he could have done more to keep it from happening, and so many lives could have been saved. But there wasn't anything he could do to go back and change that, now.]
Thank you, though. I want to help, now that things have blown over. It's just a bit hard, with the bounty hanging over my head again.
no subject
and nothing the big man does will convince Vash. he lets his hand fall from Vash's shoulder, expression falling in turn.]
I know you want to help. I don't think you can 'what-if' your way into blaming yourself for this, either, any of this. You were a child. You think I don't think-- what if I never left the orphanage? Or my-- any of it?
[seriously, he wants to just. shake him!]
You do help.
no subject
He was upset with himself for making the man feel that guilt, bringing that to the surface because he was wallowing in his own self-pity, and he hated that Livio felt he was in any way responsible for what had been done to him, but at the same time, his words caused a strange little tussle in his head - He had been only a child, he hadn't known any better, but he'd still done things that directly contributed to the pain that was happening all around him, but how could he have known? He'd been so young, life had been so easy before Tessla and he hadn't had the frame of reference to recognize the decline Knives had begun, but shouldn't he have at least tried more to help when he knew he was hurting anyway?
He was quiet for a long while, emotions flickering across his face that hinted at a bit of the struggle he was having, making sense of it all. In the end, his expression settled on something that said the thoughts might not have really sorted themselves out yet, but at the very least something had come out on top, and the rest could be considered more later, when he wasn't dragging someone else down with his problems.]
I guess...I'm still just trying to find the answers, is all. But I hope you're able to find peace with what happened. I...I never really asked what your story was. Didn't feel like it was my place, and I know how hard it can be, to dredge up old hurts. But I know, as hard as life can be for other people, for the kids who grew up like you and Nicholas...it's like everything is stacked against you. [He gave him a small, sad smile, and at least this one seemed more genuine. He really believed what he was saying, even if he still struggled with his own guilt.] You've done the best you could. I know you blame yourself, but...you're still a good man, Livio. I couldn't have done what I did without your help.
no subject
he didn't mean for that to happen, either. Vash is always trying to make him feel better, even when he's miserable and hurting. his lower lip wobbles]
Vash, you-- [opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again--] I didn't..I couldn't--
[is he trying to make him cry or]
You too.
[someday, he wants to tell Vash about himself. maybe some day he will]
no subject
Look, don't pay too much attention to me, huh? I meant every word I said, but if you do, I'll just get us both crying. Leave that to me, I'm the big crybaby, right? Though I guess you didn't get to spend enough time with me to notice, before. Trust me. It's a whole thing, always has been. Show me a picture of a cute puppy while a sad song is playing on the radio, and I'm a goner!
[He's certainly cried over less. And no, he wasn't going to think too hard about just why that was the case. He's fine, just fine, he's just sensitive is all!]
Come on, let's make sure we don't miss anyone. [He turned, making his way deeper into the orphanage, beginning to poke his head into any doors he came across.] You'll probably know more about all the good hiding spots than I will. Where did you guys always sneak off to during playtime?
no subject
That ain't the point. The point's--
[he isn't sure what it is anymore. but he keeps frowning, worried, incredibly so, but in the end he nods]
I guess a couple of places.
no subject
Maybe it was better, with the current mood, that that particular memory hadn't been pinged in his head.]
Hey, a couple more than I would know, so that helps.
[He began poking his head into doors, pausing to listen and barely even breathing for a lot of the search. He knew, sometimes if kids were scared, even the sounds of friendly voices were enough to send them into hiding. It could be a great survival technique, until it ended up getting them overlooked when actual help arrived.
Still, from time to time he would call out, his voice friendly and soothing and gentle in a way that he usually only had when speaking with small children. "Is anyone there?" "Its ok to come out, Livio is here, we're not angry," Or the old rhyme Rem had taught him when he was young, the phrase that meant Hide and Seek was over and they needed to come out. Did kids still use it?]
Olly olly oxen free!
no subject
it's much better than this conversation, than dragging the recent-past back to his mind and almost crying. embarrassing himself. Livio looks around a little more frantically, ear perked in case of little feet, little breathing sounds, anything like crying.
nothing.]
no subject
It was probably pretty easy to see, when he turned and looked back at Livio and sighed, ruffling a hand through his own dark hair and then shifting to stand with his hands on his hips.]
Okay. No kids. And the rest of this place looks like...well...
[He glanced at the window in thought.]
If...say somehow they all did end up back in Octovern...[And he didn't even know how that could have happened, but all the signs pointed to that possibility. He groaned, throwing his head back in frustration.] What the Hell??? How is that even possible???
no subject
he nods at Vash.]
I've no idea-- you know as much as I do, which ain't anything. Whatever...happened to all this, transported them maybe?
(no subject)
(no subject)